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Baldwin nodded behind Alexander, and Simon was grateful at least for that, although his own words depressed him. He wasn’t of a mood to seek out another killer. Already in the last few months he had sought murderers in Gidleigh, in Galicia, and in Ennor. All he wanted was to be able to return to his home, far from the air of menace that seemed to permeate the vill of Cardinham. This mill in particular felt evil. It wasn’t only the body in the millhouse itself, it was something about the whole place, as though the soil itself was tainted. As it was, he told himself. The soil was polluted with the man’s blood, while the mill had been the instrument of his body’s desecration.

All he wanted right now was to be home again, his beloved Meg cradled in his arms, and to be far from death and hatred. But his own words had already condemned him to remaining here for at least a little while longer.

Chapter Nineteen

Baldwin was interested in the period between Serlo’s leaving the tavern the previous evening and his actual murder. When Roger returned with a cart and some of the men from the castle to take the body back to the vill, Ivo was with him. He immediately walked over to Baldwin.

‘Sir Baldwin, I thought you ought to know-’ he began.

‘Not now, man. I am busy,’ Baldwin said without turning.

‘This is only quick: rumour is, Athelina was having it away with a rich man, and she is dead because he dumped her. She’d been trying to get him back, see. Maybe he was angry that she kept pestering him.’

‘Do you know who he is?’

‘No. Julia didn’t tell me that.’

Baldwin thanked him and filed the information away for later. Soon the cart was rumbling back towards the vill, Roger going with it to guard the body, Alexander bringing up the rear. When they were alone again, Baldwin suggested that they might sensibly begin their investigation into Serlo’s death at the tavern.

‘What of the dead child?’ Jules asked with a frown. ‘At least we could dispose of that inquest swiftly enough before looking into this latest murder.’

‘I think not,’ Baldwin said with a short sigh. ‘The child is a straightforward matter, but you still need witnesses.’

‘Yes.’

‘There are two: his four-year-old brother, and his mother Muriel who is not only distraught at losing her son, but also has a debilitating injury. Now she has lost her husband as well. I feel it would be too unkind to impose a Coroner’s court on a woman in such affliction.’

Jules grimaced. ‘Perhaps it would be a little unfair — yet I should seek to close at least one case.’

Baldwin nodded. Then he peered at Jules from the corner of his eye. ‘Of course, it’s possible that the murders weren’t committed by the same man.’

‘Unless Alexander’s right,’ Simon mused. ‘And Richer was responsible for all.’

‘You really think he could be guilty?’ Jules scoffed.

‘I consider it entirely unlikely, but possible,’ Baldwin said briskly. ‘Which is why I think that we should speak to Richer urgently, as soon as we are done at the tavern. If Simon can imagine Alexander being right, you may be assured that others in the vill will feel the same, and that could lead to more violence.’

Jules nodded, and soon they were walking back towards the vill.

On the way, Simon couldn’t help but notice Alexander. He stood outside the last home at this side of the vill, and on seeing the three, he quickly withdrew. Simon was sure that it was his own house, and he studied it with interest.

The Constable’s dwelling was much in the style of a large Devon longhouse, but with more outbuildings, as befitted a wealthy man. And it was no surprise that he was wealthy, Simon thought. Money grew money; Alexander had helped Serlo buy the mill, so the two controlled all the flour used in the vill; the Farm of the Ovens was owned by Alexander, so every loaf baked brought in more money. Every loaf baked meant payments to Serlo and Alexander. That was surely a cause for bitter resentment.

Comparing Alexander’s wealth to the general poverty all about, Simon wondered whether jealousies had sprung up between the Constable and his neighbours. Perhaps that was why Serlo had been so arrogant, because he felt secure while his brother ran the place — and if that was so, maybe someone had attacked and killed Serlo in order to get back at Alex. It was astonishing the lengths to which some men would go in order to gain revenge on another. Simon decided he should mention it to Baldwin later.

The tavern was a welcome sight. As soon as Simon saw it, and smelled the odour of pies and meat, he recalled that he had not yet broken his fast. He shot a look at Baldwin, but his friend was peering down at the ground before him like a man who was about to launch himself on the most important journey of his life and who doubted whether he would ever see these stones and pebbles again. There was an air of anxiety about him which Simon had not noticed before, and the sight gave him pause for thought. If the murders here were enough to make Baldwin pensive, Simon was justified in being worried.

‘Wine!’ Jules shouted rudely as soon as they entered.

Susan glanced at them with a frown. Sighing without pleasure, she crossed the floor to them. This early in the morning, the place was empty, apart from two grim-looking customers at the bar, to whom she had been talking.

‘You don’t have to shout, and a little politeness would cost you nothing, my lords,’ she said stiffly.

Baldwin smiled up at her. ‘Susan, could we prevail upon you for three goodly jugs of your finest wine, as well as a little bread and meat?’

‘Yes, of course, Sir Baldwin,’ she said with a glance at Jules that could have frozen an ocean, and left them to fetch their order.

Ignoring her, the Coroner said, ‘What is your opinion, Sir Baldwin?’

‘I say that we should question all about Richer’s dispute with Serlo, and see whether there could be some link between him and these deaths, if only to prove that Alexander’s accusations are false.’

‘Why should we bother wasting time on such matters?’ Jules snapped. ‘We should only trouble ourselves with those issues which have a direct bearing upon the murders, surely?’

‘You are a Coroner,’ Baldwin said mildly, ‘and must focus on the discovery of the killer so that the Justices know whom to execute, as well as keeping a track of all the fines and forfeits for the law. I am a Keeper of the King’s Peace. I am keen to prevent further bloodshed; that is my focus. If we find the killer, but do not prove that Richer was innocent, we shall be leaving trouble behind when we depart, and that will mean Alex or Richer may soon die, and you will return. I trust you do not wish that?’ he added with gentle sarcasm.

‘In the name of my mother’s sire, no!’ Jules stated.

‘Then we should learn all we can about this enmity,’ Baldwin said, and leaned back against the wall as he awaited Susan’s return.

As soon as she had served them a platter piled with cold meats from the previous day’s cooking and a pair of loaves fresh from the oven at their side, Baldwin asked her to fetch a cup for herself.

‘I don’t have time for wine at this time of day, Sir Knight,’ she said pleasantly enough.

‘Today you do,’ Baldwin said, a hint of steel in his voice.

‘What makes you say that?’

Simon answered her. ‘You were discussing the reason why over there with those two men, weren’t you? This is about Serlo.’

‘There are others you can ask.’

‘I suppose this bread came from his brother’s oven?’ Simon enquired.