“But you said she was good with herbs and making medicines. Is that why people were prepared to think it was her, do you think?”
“Yes, I think so. She was very skilled, she knew all about different plants. That doesn’t mean she was a witch, though, and after all, everyone was happy to take advantage of her knowledge when they needed her.”
Baldwin nodded thoughtfully, and Simon was sure he was thinking of Sam Cottey, the man who denounced the old woman as a witch but still used her poultice when he hurt his arm.
“When we spoke to Grisel Oatway, she said that she saw you there, at Kyteler’s house, on the day she died. Tuesday. Why were you there?”
“Tuesday? Yes, I was there. I went to speak to her about my pains. Last time I was with child she helped with the sickness and cramps. I wanted to see her about some more herbs, like the ones she gave me before.” Seeing the knight’s raised eyebrows, she giggled. “Yes, I’m carrying a baby again.”
“Oh… Fine, well…‘ To Simon’s amusement, he saw that it was the knight’s turn to be embarrassed. ”I see. You did see her?“
“Oh, yes. Yes, I was there early in the afternoon.”
“Do you know when?”
“Not really. About two hours after noon, maybe.”
“How was she?”
“She was fine. A bit tired, I think. She used to spend so much time out collecting plants, and I think it was getting to be a bit too much, really.”
Simon cleared his throat and leaned forward. “You seem to be one of the very few people who knew her, like Sarah Cottey, but no one seems very sad that she’s been killed.”
“Why should we be sad? The poor old woman never tried to make friends here.”
A picture came into mind of the Kyteler cottage, fresh painted, with a new roof. “The house was well-looked-after. She was surely too old to paint and thatch – who did that for her?”
Jennie Miller smiled knowingly. “She wasn’t stupid,” she said, and her voice seemed to imply that she was not certain that the same could be said for Simon. “Whenever someone went to her, they had to pay in some way. She was not anxious for money, she had little need for it. No-, she asked for things that were useful. If someone needed her help, they had to help her.”
“How long were you with her on the day she died?” asked Baldwin.
“How long? About an hour. Maybe a little more. I don’t know. Sarah might be able to help, she was there just as I left.”
“Do you know why she was there?”
“I think you should ask her that, don’t you?”
Baldwin studied her with a small frown, but slowly began to nod his head. “Perhaps we should,” he agreed.
“Grisel Oatway said you and Sarah were still there when she arrived?”
“Yes. I waited until Sarah had finished. She’s an old friend, and I wanted to speak to her. We started to walk up the lane towards the village…‘
“How long was she with Agatha? When roughly did you leave?”
“Oh… She was there maybe a half-hour. Anyway, that’s when Grisel came rushing down towards the cottage. She was mad! Another of her chickens had been taken.”
“She was mad? Mad enough to…?”
“If you’re going to ask me whether she was mad enough to kill, I’m not saying yes or no,” Jennie Miller said tartly. “How could I say? She was furious, certainly, she could hardly talk without spitting. When she got to the cottage we could hear her voice clearly, shrieking at poor old Agatha while we walked back.”
“You didn’t go to help?”
“Help who? Would you have gone to separate two strong old women like them? I’d think even a knight could be nervous of doing that!”
“Yes,” Baldwin said, with a sudden smile. “You may well be right.”
“When you left, did you see anyone else on your way home?” asked Simon.
“Anyone else?” she paused, then spoke more quietly, “I thought I did. but Sarah didn’t.“
Leaning forward, both men kept silent as they waited.
“Back towards the road, I could swear that I saw a woman slipping off the track and into the trees as we came close.”
“Who?” Simon felt as though they were getting closer to the details now, nearer to an understanding of what had happened.
“I don’t know,” she said, glancing at him with a sympathetic smile, seeing his near despair. “It was dark there under the trees like I say. It was a woman, I think, but she was wearing dark clothes. Both cloak and tunic‘
“And Sarah didn’t see her?” he persisted.
“Ask her, but I don’t think she did. She would have said. I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t sure myself.”
“Do you know of anyone who hated her enough to want to kill her?” Baldwin asked.
She screwed her face into a cynical wince. “It’s hardly the sort of thing people are going to talk about in the lane, is it? No, I’ve never heard anyone talk about murdering her.”
“Not Grisel Oatway, for example?”
“No.”
He sighed and gazed into the fire for a moment. Looking up, he caught a thoughtful glance from her.
“There is something else.”
“No,” she said, but she looked troubled.
“It is very important, Jennie,” the knight persisted, seeing her waver. “Whoever did this could kill again. He’s like a mad wolf: once it’s tasted the blood of a man, we have to kill it because it’s not scared of people any more. It kills once, then it knows it can kill. Whoever killed Agatha Kyteler can do it again, because he knows he can do it.”
It was then, when his friend sat back, looking like a kindly father persuading his daughter to obey for her own good, that Simon saw her expression change. She stared at Baldwin with a curious resolve, as if the decision was as difficult as agreeing to take a lover, but once her choice was made, she was committed.
“Very well. But I cannot believe it was him.”
“Who?”
“Harold Greencliff. When we came to the edge of the trees, where the lane meets the road, I saw him.”
“With Stephen de la Forte?”
“Not that I saw. I didn’t see Stephen, only Harold. I thought he was alone.”
“What was he doing?”
“Nothing. Just standing there with a horse.”
“His own horse?”
She gave a quick laugh. “Harold have a horse? No, he does not need a horse. Anyway, it wasn’t a man’s horse. It was a nice little mare, brown with a white flash on her head and little white mark on her left foreleg like a short stocking. He was standing and holding her just off the road, almost in the trees. He looked like he was trying not to be seen.”
“If it was Greencliff, did Sarah Cottey see him?”
She smiled sadly, but shook her head. “No. Sarah would have commented. She couldn’t have seen him.”
“Why?”
“Sarah and Harry grew up together. They were as close as brother and sister. I think she still expects him to…‘
Baldwin gently prompted her. “Expects him to what?”
Sighing, she stared at the flames. “To ask her to marry him. She’s always loved him. But he doesn’t love her.”
“Who is he in love with?”
“I don’t know, but find the owner of the little mare and I think you’ll find out.”
Outside once more, they found Hugh lurking sulkily, still holding the three horses by their reins. He was about to make a comment when he caught sight of the two men’s expressions and decided quickly not to. The look on his master’s face told him that this was not a good time to mention the weather. Handing their reins to them, he watched sullenly while they mounted their horses, then climbed on to his own and, shivering slightly, trotted off after them.