‘What?’ Simon asked.
‘Blood,’ Baldwin said with suppressed excitement. ‘Look, there’s a large smudge here. It is the imprint of his head, I think. It proves that Wymond was killed outside, not in the tent.’
‘So someone knocked him down out here,’ Mark Tyler said. He had wandered over to Baldwin’s side and was staring down at the mark. ‘Perhaps Hal did it and dragged Wymond in.’
‘No! No, I was asleep.’ Sachevyll looked as if he might vomit again.
Tyler sniggered, unimpressed. ‘Anyone could have killed Wymond and carried him in. Or dragged him.’
Simon interrupted. ‘Could Hal have dragged him in, Baldwin?’
Baldwin pulled a doubtful expression. ‘Sachevyll is not strong enough. And why should he?’
Simon was eyeing the distance from the tent to the market area. ‘Wouldn’t someone have heard a man being struck? It’s only a hundred yards or so. The noise of the blows… When a bone breaks it makes a hell of a din.’
‘So Wymond probably wasn’t killed here, but further away,’ Baldwin mused. ‘The killer perhaps set the body down here – while he glanced into the tent to see whether Hal was awake?’
Tyler gave an irritable, ‘Tchah! Hal was in the tent. Who else could have killed him?’
Baldwin nodded. ‘I think we have to arrest him anyway.’
‘Oh no!’ Tyler exclaimed, his amusement fading like morning mist. ‘You’re not arresting him. Anyone, but not Hal. He’s not finished his work yet, and I won’t have Lord Hugh’s show ruined to satisfy your fanciful whims.’
‘If he committed the murder, he’ll–’Simon growled, but Tyler cut across him.
‘I said no, Bailiff. Or you can explain to Lord Hugh why the field isn’t ready.’
‘He was the man nearest the body; he was definitely the first finder; he may have had his reasons to kill Wymond,’ Baldwin said contemplatively.
‘But I loved him, I couldn’t have hurt him.’ Hal fell to his knees, one hand going to Wymond’s shattered and bloody face. ‘I loved him,’ he choked, and covered his own face with his other hand as he mourned the loss of his partner.
Chapter Nine
They left him and withdrew a few yards, Baldwin eyeing the crouching man with sympathy, Simon with contempt, and Tyler watching them all warily. He would move heaven and earth if that were necessary to prevent Hal’s arrest until after the tournament.
‘Are you sure it wasn’t him?’ Simon asked.
‘Simon, really. Was that man lying?’
‘Who knows? Damned sodomite. He could have been a wife, squatting there like that. Pathetic!’
Baldwin said nothing. His experiences in Eastern countries had taught him that love between men was not so uncommon. Over here, even the King himself was said to be a sodomite whose lovers had included that madman Gaveston, until his death, and now Hugh Despenser.
‘Whoever did this could do it again,’ the Bailiff said grimly. ‘God forbid, but he could strike again. What can we do?’
‘There’s no point in worrying – we have to find out why Wymond was killed. And why so brutally? Surely a stabbing would have been easier and safer.’
‘A madman?’ Simon enquired.
Baldwin shot him a look. ‘Some madman, to have been able to kill in this way without leaving a clue. No, I believe this was a premeditated murder.’
‘A madman, eh, Bailiff?’ Mark Tyler gave a short laugh. ‘Is that what you reckon? And only yesterday you almost drew your knife on him yourself.’
Squire William had risen early, making his way to the lists to exercise his horse, and afterwards had remained, drinking with a few other men who hoped to be knighted. It was good to catch up with old friends after such a long time away, and many wanted to ask him about his adventures in battle.
Knighthood, he felt, was given less than its due respect. Probably it was the fault of the kings who had insisted that base-born men should be permitted to join the knighthood – indeed should be forced to join if they earned enough money. This distraint was no doubt good for the Treasury, but it meant that men who could scarcely lift an axe with both hands were now being received into the ranks of the knights.
William had no qualms about joining it himself. He knew that he was different; he had been born to the nobility. All his youth he had been educated in weapons, in handling swords and knives, maces, axes and lances. His honour was beyond doubt, for it was his birthright.
Even a knight requires leisure, though, and today William wandered among the tents of knights and tradesmen, standing a while to watch the youths of the town playing with their bows and arrows, wrestling, or gambling on two dogs fighting. Children were stoning chickens, and William paused to watch until one child, angry at a competitor’s use of a heavy stone, went to the maimed cock and broke its neck with one easy flick of his wrist. That led to a short flurry of fists as both boys tried to determine whose bird it was, a tussle that was cut short by a large forester who picked up one boy in each huge hand and held them apart with a bemused expression, then clouted them both over the head once he had set them back on the ground.
William grinned at the sight and was about to move away when he saw her.
She was a good height, slim, with slanted green eyes that looked on the brink of laughter. Young, certainly, but with a fiery temperament, he fancied. With her complexion he guessed she must be fair-haired beneath her wimple, and when the sun caught her face she seemed to glow from within. At her side was a thin, scowling man dressed like a servant. He must be her chaperone. William saw the two join the gamblers at the fight, saw them pause to egg on the dogs. The chaperone stayed watching when she wandered a few feet to a stall selling wine. William observed her, feeling the stirrings of excitement.
The young squire never willingly lost an opportunity to prove his worth in the battle of the sexes. He walked slowly towards her, and as he approached and she noticed his intent gaze fixed upon her, he bowed, low and reverent. ‘My Lady,’ he breathed.
‘Sir.’
Her tone was not welcoming, but often a woman would try to conceal her true feelings, he knew. She was younger than he had thought – perhaps not yet fifteen. Probably a virgin. William had enjoyed virgins before, among the peasants on his father’s lands, but this girl was no rough and uneducated wench to be easily persuaded to take a tumble with her lord’s son. She was so well-dressed and graceful in her movements, she must be the daughter of a wealthy man; that would make taking her maidenhead all the more pleasurable. He would enjoy snatching her from under the eyes of a rich parent or guardian, he considered, smiling wolfishly.
Taking a quick look about him to see that his father was nowhere near, he continued with his attack.
‘Lady, I am blinded. Your beauty outshines the sun herself. Your radiance burns me. Your smile could cure a thousand ills and put to flight a legion of devils, for while a perfection such as you exists upon this earth, all ugliness is doomed.’
‘Your attention is not wanted,’ she stated with calm precision, like a much older woman. ‘Please leave me.’
‘Never!’ he declared, swiftly moving to block her retreat. ‘All I offer is my service as a knight. I –
‘You? A knight?’ she asked in a rush as though she was at once overtaken with enthusiasm, but then she sniffed and said more warily, ‘I don’t see your arms or sword.’
He grinned. ‘I anticipate myself. I shall be dubbed during this festival, and then my arms will be your arms, my sword yours; my heart is yours already.’
As he spoke he realised that they were no longer alone. The servant had approached and stood at his shoulder.