‘I recall hearing that he was here once at the outset of the famine, and because of his efforts the city was saved from disaster.’
‘I wonder what led him to try to arrest the magician,’ Simon said. ‘A fellow like him should have overwhelmed a poxed oldman like this fellow. Perhaps he was lured into a trap intentionally.’
‘We may never know. Let us only pray that no more men need die and that you soon find the stolen message.’
‘We shall if we may. If God wills it,’ Baldwin said irreverently. ‘Have you had a demand for money?’
‘No. I should have told you if there had been any such thing.’
Baldwin frowned, but it was Simon who voiced his thoughts. ‘In that case, I really wonder whether there has been some sortof error. The pouch was still with the messenger, wasn’t it? Were there other messages in it?’
‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘This was the only one we know of that was missing.’
‘Was it the only written message you confided to him?’ Simon asked.
‘Yes,’ the bishop said, with a sidelong look at Baldwin.
‘Then if it was so important that it alone was taken from the pouch, I do not understand why someone has not yet asked youfor money to return it. It makes little sense.’
‘It was important — but perhaps the thief did not recognise its value.’
‘Then why take it? Why not cast it away and find another message more interesting to him?’
‘Who can say?’ the bishop said uncomfortably.
Baldwin enjoyed his discomfiture. There were two messages in James’s safekeeping: the one about the trustworthiness of thesheriff, if his guess and Rob’s information were correct, and another that proposed further persecution of the queen. Eitherof them could have caused great pain to others. If he was wrong, the sheriff could have been condemned without the opportunityto defend himself; his suggestion that the queen should be made to suffer still more indignities and humiliation was unchivalrousin the extreme.
Baldwin said, ‘I told you when you first asked me to help that it would be a difficult task. I do not know whether the messagestill exists or has been destroyed, whether it is in the city or has been spirited away … nothing! For me to find it, I shall need a miracle of some sort. But we will stretch every sinew to rescue it if we may.’
The bishop’s wine arrived, and he smiled wearily. ‘I thank you for that at least.’
‘Shall we come here again tomorrow to report what fortune we have enjoyed?’
‘No. Tomorrow you must attend the mass. It will be a beautiful service, and with the work you have undertaken, you need yourday of rest. Perhaps we can meet afterwards to discuss matters of lesser importance?’
Chapter Forty-One
Exeter City
The man who had murdered his friend was gone, but he could find out where with some luck. He was back in the house as soon ashe realised what the magician had been attempting. Squatting in front of Michael, he eyed the bloody mess of cloth wrappedabout his hand. ‘You should learn to talk more quickly.’
‘Please — I don’t know how to help you. You must believe me!’
‘Ah, but I don’t.’
‘I cannot tell you anything more.’
The girl had returned. She held a large bowl of warmed water from the copper, and she stood in the doorway with a terrifiedlook on her face.
Michael shook his head at her. ‘Go! It’s not safe for you here!’
‘Oh no, I think she ought to see to your wounds,’ Robinet said with a flash of his teeth. He had the knife in his hand againnow. Against the wall, he saw one of the fingers, and he picked it up and studied it. There was a crash, and when he glancedround the girl had fainted again. ‘You should get her viewed by a physician. She seems too phlegmatic for words. Now — youwere going to tell me where he’s gone.’
Michael looked up into the man’s eyes and saw nothing there but a cold intensity that spoke of his determination. ‘I don’t know anything,master.’
‘You can do better than that. You will have to.’
‘Master, I can’t tell you what I don’t know!’ Michael pleaded.
‘A man with no fingers is a sad sight. You know that?’
Michael withdrew his hand as his torturer reached for it.
‘Now, naughty. If you don’t help me, I may get angry, and look to something other than your finger. Do you want that?’
‘Please! I don’t know anything.’
‘The only thing that looks worse than a man with hands but no fingers is probably a man with no fingers and no eyes.’ He wasspeaking ruminatively, with a pensive expression that sent ice into Michael’s blood. Gently, he reached for Michael’s bleedinghand, and took it, pulling the linen away as he did so. ‘Ah, good, clean cuts. I thought that knife was good and sharp. Now- you’ve lost those two already. What is it to be next? The thumb or the next finger? What? Not sure? Shall I decide for you?’
‘The bishop! He’s going to kill the bishop, God save me!’ Michael burst out, pulling his hand away and weeping.
‘Enough!’
Michael was close to puking. The interruption gave him the moment’s respite he needed. He turned his head and retched emptily. There was nothing more to come.
‘Leave us, Langatre.’
‘I will not! You are committing a gross offence on that man, and I will not permit it!’
‘You will learn to keep your silence.’
‘Why? So you can execute him? What if he is telling the truth? What if he is nothing more than an innocent tradesman who rented a room to a stranger? You are performing a foul injustice on him. Out of my way!’
‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Langatre. Leave me with him for a few more minutes. He will tell me where the murdereris.’
‘You are no better than a murderer yourself. I will not leave you. I demand that you release this man to me instantly. Ivo? Ivo! Get in here. If he tries to harm that man even by so much as a scratch, you will strike him with your staff.’
‘Master, I don’t think …’
‘I am sure you’re right and fortunately there is no need for you to do so! If he so much as scratches that man, you knockhim down. Do you hear me? Right, now, Master Michael, you come with me. This man will not harm you any more.’ Langatre pushedpast Robinet and leaned down to help Michael to his feet. ‘Come, fellow. Where is the nearest leech?’
Exeter Castle
Coroner Richard was unhappy to see the girl bound, wretched and groaning with despair, but he wasn’t willing to risk her grabbinga dagger and putting paid to another life. No. Best to see that she was kept controlled.
‘What will you do with her?’ he asked the sheriff.
‘She is a murderer. She should be gaoled until the next court is held. If the bitch comes before me, I’ll have her hangedin a day!’
Coroner Richard nodded. Understandable, he reckoned. The silly minx had killed off a perfectly good young servant for no reason. Well, only because she wanted to kill someone else and her blow went awry, which was not the best legal defence against a capital crime he had ever heard. No, he was fairly sure that she would soon join her dead friend.
There were some who asserted that extreme cases of dementia like this were caused by demons who inveigled their way into thebody of their victim, and then began to cause mayhem. The coroner had no idea whether that had happened in this case, buthe wondered whether it was possible. In some cases, so he had heard, the use of prophylactic flogging could bring on a recovery,as could the use of starvation occasionally. Perhaps this was a case where such a treatment could be considered.
‘Yes. I’ll have her hanged in a trice, damn her soul!’ Matthew said.
The Coroner looked at him without speaking. The sheriff was visibly shaking as his wife put her hand over his shoulder andtried to comfort him. He hardly seemed to notice her, but after a little while his hand rose and took hold of hers. Still,he could not speak without a quaver in his voice.