‘You appreciated my swiftness to decide to cut his hands off and release you.’
‘Oh, yes. I appreciated that enormously. I did not appreciate your quick decision to torture Michael, though. Even if thereasons were good, your methods were atrocious.’
‘If I had been successful, you would have thought otherwise.’
‘Perhaps so. But tell me: why the deception?’
Walter shrugged. ‘When your bailiff detained me, I already knew Robinet was dead. When we had eaten our pies he said he wasgoing to have a look round, and when he did not return I went in search of him. When I saw my friend dead in that room, Iwas enraged; but then I realised that I might be able to turn it to my advantage. As a king’s man, I have had to kill before,of course, and it does not scare me, but if my enemy knew of my skills, it might make it harder to find him. I thought that if he thought he had killed me and not Robinet, he might try to come to find me to destroy meas well, thinking that I was a messenger who also might have known of him. If he knew that I was the king’s killer, and hehad murdered the wrong man, he would be more likely to flee the city, and then I’d never catch him.’
‘I see. So, what now for you?’
‘I bought my little house here with a view to a new life. It would appear that events have conspired against me. Although I like this city, I do not think I could ever live here safely. I shall sell up and move away.’
‘That sounds to me like an excellent idea,’ Baldwin said. ‘I would do so swiftly.’
‘Very well. God speed, sir knight. And you, Bailiff.’
‘God speed, Walter,’ Baldwin murmured.
‘Well?’ Baldwin said a moment or two later. ‘Does that clear things up?’
‘Yes. A little.’
‘Only a little?’
‘There is still the first man to have died.’
‘You do not think that my explanation will suffice?’
‘No. No more than you do.’
Baldwin nodded, and then looked away. ‘This is a sad story, Simon. I would appreciate your help in telling it. Come, let usfind a friendly tavern.’
There was a favourite which the pair of them had used before, the Blue Boar, which lay a little way from the Palace Gate. Simon led the way, and soon they were sitting, legs stretched out before them, while a maid brought them large jugs of a sweet,light ale.
‘Well?’ Simon pressed him. ‘What is this story?’
‘It is the tale of an old man. He is sad, he is lonely, and he is guilty. His guilt comes from the night many years ago, eightor so, when he was the father of three little children, and owned a thriving business. He had a house in an alley not farfrom here. But he had extreme views. As a trader, he had friends all over the country, and one day he learned that a good,kind businessman and associate of his had died. Hanged when the king sent the whole posse of the county against one city. Bristol.’
‘The tax riots?’ Simon guessed.
‘Exactly. And shortly after that, there were rumours from Exeter that a man here was fomenting trouble. The king had no desireto see his treasure wasted in another costly adventure, so rather than wait until matters got out of hand, he sent a man here.’
‘Not Walter?’
‘I am afraid so. Walter came, he saw the man, and saw how to remove this little nuisance. He went late one night, and setfire to the man’s house. It killed his little children, and dreadfully burned his wife, but the man himself … well, hehappened to be at the tavern that night. He knew nothing of it.
‘This man suffered the torments of hell over his lapse that night. He was ruined, because his house was also his store andfactory, and all his goods were burned along with his property, but he was also saddled with a bitter, vindictive and vengefulwife. There can be few more hideous lives than that of a man who feels such guilt. And he had even lost the love of his woman.’
Simon took a long gulp of ale. ‘Will Skinner?’
‘Yes. I don’t know what happened that night, but I’d bet it was something irrational that simply made him snap.’
They finished their drinks and stood.
‘We can leave him, Simon. We could return to the inn and leave the fellow alone.’
‘We would never learn what made him do it, though,’ Simon said.
‘Do we need to? I am not so sure. And there is another thing,’ Baldwin added, looking about him. ‘Before Walter, or Robinet,whoever he is, managed to cut John’s hands from him, John shouted at us. He said he would see Walter and the sheriff in hell. Plainly he hated Walter for ending his life … but I should like to know why the sheriff was mentioned in the same breathas the man who was killing him. Yes. You are right. We should speak to Will Skinner again and hear what he has to say.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Exeter City
It was only a short walk to Will’s house, and once there, they asked Will to accompany them to where he had found the first bodyagain, away from his wife. She appeared distressed to see Will being taken, but Baldwin was not of a mood to take much noticeof her.
‘I’ve told you all I can, masters,’ Will said when he saw them standing in his doorway.
‘We want a little more.’
With a bad grace the watchman jammed a hat upon his head, took up his staff, and joined them.
‘Do you go the same route every day?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Yes.’
‘It reminds me of a story. A man who had lost his family in a fire. Every day this man walked past his home. Every day herelieved that nightmare. Simon, how would you live with yourself if you had lost Meg’s love and Edith and Perkin in the samenight? It is hard to imagine how any man could cope. But he did. Until one night when he snapped. He was walking past hisruined old house, when what should he see but a man pissing in the ruins. It enraged him. Made him mad with anger, and hedrew his knife and killed the man.’
‘Not pissing. He’d puked. Right there where their bodies had lain.’
He could see that scene again in his mind’s eye as though it was only last night. There was the little line of three bodiesnear the alley itself, all set out neatly, their faces yellow in the glow from the flames as his house burned, and then, asthough there were only moments between the two occasions, he saw Mucheton heaving again, vomiting over them. Except no — theyweren’t there by then. It was some years since they’d died. ‘But I thought he was throwing up over them. I couldn’t bear it. It was right where they’d been. And here he was … Well, he fell back against the wall. I went up there, and peered throughthe slats in the fence, and I could see where he’d done it. So I turned to speak to him and almost fell flat on my face. Hewas right there, passed out. So I … I don’t know why, it was just in my head to do it. I drew my knife and ran it abouthis throat.’
Simon studied the man. He remained still now, his hands gripping the slats of the fence as he stared in at the house wherehe had once been happy. And now all was lost.
‘I have one more question, Will,’ Baldwin said. ‘The man you killed in the undercroft. Why was that?’
‘You think you know so much, don’t you? You know nothing. Michael, his father came from Warwickshire, all right? And Michael is an old friend. When John tried to kill the king, the Sheriff of Warwick was one of the conspirators. So when the whole thing went wrong, he declared that John had died in prison,and freed him. He told John to come here. He thought Exeter should be safe enough for him. And then, of course, he arrivedonly to see the messenger he’d last seen in Coventry. He assumed the man must be here to warn the sheriff and others abouthim.’
‘Which was a concern?’ Simon questioned, thinking about the bishop’s suspicions about Matthew.