‘Mistress, fetch me a jug of your best wine, and my friends here will have …?’
Sir Jules ordered wine, but Simon, who was desperately thirsty, demanded a quart of cider. When they had done, Baldwin leaned forward. ‘Mistress, we shall be here for one drink, and we shall not leave under the threats of the miller, but please order him to be silent. We are officers of the King, and if he abuses us, we shall have to respond.’
‘I’m sure he’s not serious, master,’ she replied, wiping her hands more vigorously in agitation. She was a pretty woman, Baldwin thought, with a round face, bright blue eyes and hair the colour of straw at harvest-time, more yellow than gold, which hung in natural ringlets about her features, unflattened by her coif. ‘He lost his son today and-’
‘We know, but he cannot insult a Coroner and a Keeper of the King’s Peace with impunity. Make him silent, or command him to leave.’
‘I will.’
She threw Serlo an anxious glance and made her way back towards him. She had set up her bar at the far end of the room, near to where he sat, and as she served the cider and drew off two jugs of wine, she leaned towards Serlo and spoke.
There was silence. At first Baldwin thought that the man had taken the hint and would leave them in peace, but then he saw the slow dawning of anger on Serlo’s face. The miller reddened, then his scowl grew into a ferocious glare. He said nothing, but sat staring fixedly at Baldwin and the other two while the woman served them.
She returned to the table and set their drinks before them, saying in an undertone, ‘I hope he’ll be sensible, master. Don’t think too harshly of him. He’s been very unlucky today. To lose a son …’
‘We all know of his misfortune,’ Baldwin said, ‘but he must respect our offices, whether he likes us or no. Make him remain silent like this, and we shall leave as soon as we have finished our drinks, mistress.’
She flashed him a smile. ‘You can call me Susan, master. Everyone else does about here.’
‘Thank you. Tell me, Susan, how has he been? He looks as though he’d like to begin a fight. Is that how he reacts to ale?’
‘In all truth, yes.’ She allowed her gaze to float over them. ‘I don’t think he’d try his luck with three armed men though, Sir Knight.’
‘You may call me Baldwin,’ he said. ‘Well, that at least is a relief.’
‘He’s a bully, Sir Baldwin. The only person who’s likely to feel his fist is his wife.’
She spoke with some contempt, and Baldwin thought to learn more if he could. ‘This Athelina: I heard that she was widowed some nine years ago. Yet she still lived in her own little house. How did she support herself?’
‘Not in the usual way,’ Susan said with a broad grin. ‘Any man asking Athelina to whore for him would end up with a blackened eye, no matter what some men might say.’
‘He has made some comment about her?’ Baldwin enquired, seeing her gaze harden as she glanced at Serlo again.
‘He was talking in his ale earlier, that’s all. Said she should have whored and paid him that way for the house. He’s all mouth when he’s been drinking. I think it’s because he never had a mother. His own died when he was a babe, and he was brought up by his brother.’
‘A hard life for a child,’ Baldwin mused. ‘This Athelina … if she didn’t rely on the old profession, how did she earn money?’
‘She enjoyed the support of the church. And there were the gleanings, alms, money from the castle. Many here are very poor, so she often went to the castle.’
There was a subtle alteration in tone that caught Baldwin’s attention. ‘So she would go to the castle for food and perhaps …’
Susan smiled again. ‘Like I said, no whoring for Athelina. No, she was the sort of woman to give herself entirely, never by halves. She loved her old man, Hob, and when he died, she never looked at another local man again so far as I know.’
Baldwin thought he caught that curious intonation once more, but as he glanced up at her, her face hardened. ‘Perhaps Athelina had a lover, one who was not a “local man”?’ he wondered. ‘One of the castle’s men-at-arms?’
‘Perhaps. She was still a handsome woman.’
‘How could she afford the house? The miller over there was apparently making money from her, and the first reason why everyone assumed that she had committed suicide was her inability to pay an increase in rent. How did she manage to pay before?’
‘I don’t know,’ the alewife said, making as if to leave.
‘Wait, Susan,’ Baldwin said firmly. He remembered the Coroner, who sat silently without evincing the faintest interest in the conversation. ‘We are investigating a murder, and the Coroner here is interested in all aspects of her life.’
Sir Jules coughed slightly to hear this. He had been enjoying his wine without being plagued by questions he must ask or people he should see. When Baldwin started questioning this maid, he had thought it was because the knight was interested in her for himself; he hadn’t realised it was in order to further the inquest. So far as he was concerned, the investigation could wait until his official inquest. All this was speculation, nothing more. He tried to appear interested.
‘So, Susan,’ Baldwin continued, ‘do you know how she earned money before?’
‘No,’ she said, a hint of sulkiness in her tone. ‘It wasn’t my business. All I can say is, she was fine until a year or so back, and suddenly life was more difficult. Recently she’d been worried about money.’
Sir Jules decided to show he was also listening and wiped his mouth. ‘So you think that she might have grown despondent about money, and that made her occasionally lose her reason?’
‘Maybe. Sometimes.’
‘And what about the boys? How were they?’
‘They were worried about her, I suppose.’
Sir Jules said, ‘If she was murdered, who was most likely to kill her?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What of the miller there?’ he asked. ‘He’s a bully, cruel by nature. He could beat his wife, you say, but he holds his tongue against us — he sounds just the sort of man to kill a defenceless woman. Maybe this mention of whoring is because he desired her?’
Baldwin shook his head. ‘What do you think, Simon?’
‘I think he had no reason to kill. Perhaps he desired her, but so what? He probably desires you too, Susan. You’ve certainly the looks and figure to make a man love you …’
She dimpled.
‘But,’ Simon continued, ‘there would have been no purpose to his hurting her. He wanted her money, didn’t he? Anyway, she started getting strange a while ago, before Serlo increased her rent, which shows that there was something else that made her depressed.’
‘I agree,’ Baldwin said. ‘Whatever caused her to start to lose her mind may have had a direct influence on her end.’
‘But it may have nothing to do with her death,’ Sir Jules said. ‘After all, it could be a rapist who wanted her and decided to take her, with or without her agreement. Serlo the miller would be that sort of man.’
‘It’s possible, yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I think we would be remiss not to investigate all the possible solutions. And the fact of her melancholy is curious. You are sure, Susan, that you weren’t told why she was so suddenly afflicted?’
‘She wasn’t the sort of woman to confide in all and sundry,’ Susan said and went to serve another customer.
‘Should we question that miller now?’ Sir Jules asked.
Baldwin was tempted to say yes, but a glance at Serlo dissuaded him. The man was sitting slumped, head hanging miserably. Every few moments he would shake it as though in disbelief. He was past rage at the world, and now was sunk in grief.
‘No. He’s consumed too much ale. Wait until tomorrow. We can ask him then, before the inquest of his child.’
‘So we have learned a little today,’ Simon noted. ‘She was desperate for money. Fine until a year or so backalong, Susan said. Since then, the money dried up.’