He got up from his bed, scratching idly at the bites under his armpit where some bug had got to him overnight, and gazed abouthim at the room, a wave of dissatisfaction washing over him.
In the last year or two he had spent too much time away from his own bed. He had a young child whom he wanted to see growing,and his wife had another baby in her womb even now. It was wrong for him to be here, miles away in Exeter, when she was aloneat his manor. That was where he belonged, with her.
If he were honest, though, he should not be here in any case. His life was a fraud. Although he held the position of Keeperof the King’s Peace, if his background as a Knight Templar became known the king would remove him from his post in an instant. And if the Templars had not suffered arrests and destruction, he would not be here. He would still be in the preceptory in Paris, a bearded knight ever training to return to the Holy Land to free it from the hordes of Moors who had overrun the Christianterritories. Perhaps he would be dead, killed by a Muslim arrow or scimitar, in which case this new life was actually a rebirthof sorts. Perhaps he ought to think of new ways of working for the realm, to protect it from the ravages of barons like Hugh le Despenser. He had been saved from the pyre … was it possible that he was saved for something more important?
‘God’s teeth!’ he muttered, and completed his dressing. There was no more singular arrogance than that of a man who felt thathis life had a mystical purpose to it. Clad in his red tunic, he went to join Simon and the coroner at their table.
The fire was sparking fitfully in the corner, and the smoke was forming an unpleasant pall beneath the roof. Baldwin casta look up at it. The trouble was, so often a householder in a city like this found himself being passed off with rubbishywood for his fires. There was sometimes little to tell whether a bough was of good wood or rotten, whether it had been properlydried, or whether it was simply wood that was bad for burning, like elm.
‘I think that the good host of the tavern has been rooked by a deceitful woodseller,’ he muttered as he joined his friends.
Rob looked at the fire. ‘It’s the fault of the boy who laid the fire. He ought to know what wood will burn and what won’t.’
‘And you’re the expert?’ Simon scoffed. ‘You are hardly out of your bed in time to see the fire being laid when you’re athome in Dartmouth.’
‘You let the boy lie in his bed?’ the coroner asked, his mouth full of bread. He cocked an eye at Rob. ‘Didn’t I tell youyour duties last time I was in Dartmouth?’
‘And I do them, sir. My master is making fun,’ Rob said with a scowl at Simon.
Baldwin shook his head. ‘Never let your servants get the better of you, Simon. If he’s lazy, give him a good beating every so often. That’s what he needs.’
‘You may not think it much, but it’s a lot better than other fires I’ve seen,’ the coroner said. ‘Anyway, you should pitythose without a fire this fine morning.’
‘There can’t be many who survive without a fire at this time of year,’ Baldwin said. ‘I suppose that man Robinet may be withoutone, if he has taken refuge in some quiet little out-of-the-way place.’
‘True. I was thinking of the girl, though. The demented one in the gaol. She’ll be suffering for her illness.’
‘Which? The one who killed the servant outside Langatre’s house?’
‘Yes. Didn’t you know? She’s in the sheriff’s gaol. Poor little thing. The devil’s got her, right enough.’
‘Is she really lunatic, then?’ Simon asked with a shudder. He hated the sight of the mad, drooling and shouting at people.
The coroner was largely of the same opinion. ‘Yes. Thought the sheriff fancied getting inside her skirts so much that he’dappreciate her killing his wife to facilitate matters. Well, she’ll have a while to reconsider her foolishness in his gaol,and then he’ll have her neck stretched.’
Baldwin shook his head, appalled. ‘That is barbaric, though. The poor chit has a demon in her, but the sheriff should be consultingpeople as to the best way to remove it, not trying to have her executed for something that is beyond her control.’
‘Baldwin, you can’t tell us that a mad woman who has killed her friend and now wants to murder the sheriff’s wife shouldn’tbe kept secure.’
‘Secure, yes — in a hospital where her demons can be exorcised without harming her any more. She is no more responsible for her actions in harming the other servant than we are, if she has a demon inside her.’
The coroner grunted affably. ‘You are too kind-hearted for your own good, Keeper. Look, she must be guilty of some gross sinto be afflicted with this. Either some perversion or a crime. Why else would God have visited this dreadful punishment onher? Better, probably, that she is simply hanged.’
‘What, would you punish the child for something she cannot be held responsible for? It is madness indeed to hang her for anact that was the responsibility of the demon inside her,’ Baldwin declared.
‘What would you do, then?’ Simon asked.
‘Why not bring her to the cathedral with us? Ask the bishop whether he can do something to cure her?’ Baldwin said.
‘You are joking!’ Coroner Richard said. ‘Think what harm she could do in the church with the congregation there.’
‘We could do her a great deal of good, with any fortune,’ Baldwin said harshly. ‘The bishop should be able to drive out herdemons and save her. After all, even if she did kill the servant, she cannot be held guilty. Remove the demon and see whethershe could have done it on her own.’
Coroner Richard drained his cup, then leaned back and considered Baldwin, chewing the last of the bread ruminatively. It wasa bizarre idea, but no worse than flogging the girl. And he couldn’t help but remember how small and thin and frail she hadlooked when she had been knocked down. Little more than a child in reality. He swallowed and decided.
‘Well, if you’re serious, we’d best go to the castle and tell the sheriff that we want to try it.’
‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. And his eyes went to Rob.
At least it was only a short walk to the castle. But it was ruddy freezing, Rob told himself bitterly. The weather was miserable,too. Not wet, but it was surely colder than a witch’s tits.
‘Hi, boy. You getting the keeper’s breakfast?’
He looked up to see the beadle, Elias. ‘We’ve eaten,’ he snarled. ‘I’m just off to the gaol.’
Elias shrugged as Rob explained about the girl. ‘Your master and his friends must be mad. Easier to just have her hanged. If there’s a demon inside her, that’d let it out fast enough!’
Rob nodded as he carried on his way. Yeah, it would be better. At least he could have stayed by the fire then, rather thantrudging through the cold and damp to the castle.
Waking, he looked about him sadly.
Walter had bought this place only a few years ago. At the time he had thought that his life was going to change, as he hadrepeatedly told Robinet over the last days until his death. Well, now it had changed.
Thinking about that sad little body lying before the door in Langatre’s undercroft made him feel the sadness again. That manhad been his only real friend for many years. When Robinet arrived in Exeter, the two of them had immediately felt the bondbetween them renewed, as though they had never parted. And, now they were parted for ever.
He left the place with a few coins from the purse on the window-ledge, walked the hundred or so yards to Cooks’ Row, keepinga wary eye open for anyone who showed a little too much interest in him, and ordered himself a good meat pie. Eating it slowly, he went round the back to the littlealehouse at the corner of two alleys. It was a rowdy place even at this time in the morning, and he knew that no one in therewould be looking for him. The only people who could be on his tail would stand out too distinctly in here. It was the sortof place he could enjoy a form of anonymity.