She too had noticed, and now she smiled as she sipped her wine.
The servant said gruffly, ‘Are you all right, miss?’
‘Yes, thank you, Hugh. I think the good squire is about to leave.’
‘I would prefer to wait and talk, Lady.’
‘And I would prefer to be alone. So please leave me – otherwise I might have to ask my servant, Hugh here, to keep you from me,’ she said.
‘I doubt a servant could keep me from you,’ William said bravely, but he didn’t like the look of the large stick this Hugh carried. It looked well-used.
She frowned. ‘You shouldn’t judge Hugh by his dress. He is a good fighter – but more to the point, if you were to be seen attacking him while I called for help, you would be condemned for molesting me. And a squire found brawling with a servant while attempting to shame a woman, would hardly be looked upon as chivalrous, would he?’
Defeated, William bowed low to her. ‘But my Lady, I shall never attempt to shame you. How could any man look at such loveliness and think of harming it? I shall look to talk to you at the first opportunity,’ he smiled. ‘I can hardly be expected to see such radiant beauty without wishing to enjoy a smile from it. I look forward to seeing you again soon.’
As soon as he had gone, Edith Puttock, Simon’s daughter, gave Hugh a fierce glower. ‘So what were you doing while I was being insulted by that arrogant twerp?’
‘You didn’t look too upset,’ Hugh shrugged.
Edith surveyed him irritably. ‘That’s a bit rich, Hugh. And don’t put on that frown for my benefit. It may work with Mother, but it doesn’t with me. I know you too well.’
It was true. Hugh had been her devoted servant ever since she was born; when she wanted a companion or playmate it was always to Hugh that she turned. Her father was too often away from their home for her to consider him in the same light, and in any case Simon was always the stern master of the household. Hugh, on the other hand, was always ready and willing to drop his chores and join her in her games.
If anything he was even more hound-like in his treatment of her since he had come back to the Puttock household. For the last year or more he had been living with a woman up near Iddesleigh, with Simon’s grudging approval since Hugh had made his oaths at the church door with her. ‘More than I did with you, eh?’ Simon had said to his wife when Hugh told them. Simon and Margaret, Edith’s mother, had made their vows before witnesses in a field during harvest.
For Edith, who was accustomed to Hugh’s constant presence, it had been odd to see him go. Living without him for a year had been strange, as if an adored brother had died. Worse, somehow, was the discovery that a woman could not only attract him, but could tempt him away from the household where he had made his home, especially since she already carried a child who was not Hugh’s. It intrigued Edith to know what this wife of his was like, but that was not the sort of question she could ask him. The differences in her position and age compared with Hugh’s were too great.
Yet some subtle change had taken place. He was less deferential than before, less prepared to accept orders. There was a new independence in his manner.
‘I thought you wanted to talk to him.’
‘An overdressed popinjay like him?’ she demanded scornfully.
‘You looked happy enough.’
‘Oh, nonsense.’
‘You kept sort of smiling at him, like you wanted him to chat.’
‘Rubbish!’ she declared with some little alarm. It was true that he had a pleasant enough face, square and rugged without the lines, which all too often denoted cruelty, at his forehead. ‘I was just being polite.’
‘I thought you wanted company, that’s all. You’re always saying you do,’ Hugh reminded her.
‘Well… ’ She was torn. There was something about the man which had attracted her. She was still inexperienced in the rules of courtly lovemaking. At home in Lydford she knew all the boys and had kissed a few, but there was little need for professions of love. She wouldn’t dream of marrying Bill or Soll or any of the others, for they were all like brothers, but sometimes it was good to sit on top of a hay rick and cuddle a youth, allowing him to kiss her, perhaps, but never going too far, for that was a sin. But this lad with his charm and obvious admiration was different. ‘Well, perhaps I wouldn’t mind seeing him again,’ she amended.
At that moment she heard her mother calling for her. ‘But don’t tell Mother or Father,’ she hissed.
Hugh shook his head slowly. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Good. And now I suppose we should see if we can find Father in this madhouse.’
‘Why should someone do that to him?’ Simon demanded as Baldwin peered down at the naked corpse.
The herald grinned nastily at Simon’s pale face. ‘Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it, Bailiff? Dead within a day of his picking a fight with you.’
‘Shut up!’ Simon snarled. ‘If you haven’t anything useful to say, keep quiet.’
‘Calm yourself, Bailiff. I was only joking! But never mind. I shall leave you to it. Do you wish me to send for the Coroner?’
Baldwin nodded. ‘I suppose so. You will have to send a messenger to Exeter. In the meantime, where were you last night?’
Tyler gaped. ‘Me?’
‘It was as likely to be you as Simon here,’ Baldwin said.
‘But the Bailiff must have seen me in the hall. We ate our meal there.’
‘So you confirm Simon’s innocence.’
‘He left a little after dark.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘Me?’ Tyler repeated, with a rising note of disbelief.
‘Yes – You! What did you do when Simon wasn’t there to give you an alibi?’ Baldwin pressed him.
Tyler set his jaw. ‘I remained in the hall and drank with Odo, another herald, until I slept. All right? Now what did the Bailiff do after leaving the hall?’
‘I went to my bed in the bailey,’ Simon grated. ‘And I was seen by the sentry walking from the hall, I expect, so for Christ’s sake stop accusing me!’
Tyler curled his lip and did not answer. He turned on his heel and walked away.
Baldwin gave a grunt of relief. ‘Cretin!’ he said and led the way behind the tent.
There was a steep bank leading down to the river, which flowed swiftly here. Baldwin stood with an arm wrapped about his chest, his chin cupped in his other hand. Hal Sachevyll wandered slowly after them, looking lost and in a state of shock.
‘What is it, Baldwin?’ Simon asked. He was breathing more easily now that the shattered corpse was out of sight, but still the sour taste remained at the back of his throat.
‘Someone must have persuaded Wymond to meet him. They walked… somewhere, and there Wymond was killed, beaten to death, then somehow taken back to the tent and dumped there,’ Baldwin mused. ‘But surely a fellow like him would be cautious? How was he lured away? What was the murder weapon, and where is it? We have a duty to find it so that the Coroner can confiscate it.’
Simon nodded. Any weapon used to kill was deodand, forfeit to the Church in order to expiate the sin of murder. ‘Surely it was Wymond’s own hammer that was used?’
‘Perhaps, but if so, where is it? Was it tossed in here?’
Simon bent and peered at the river. ‘Possibly, but with the water flowing so fast it’s hard to see.’
‘It won’t be here,’ Baldwin decided. ‘Wymond wouldn’t have been killed so close to his friend. The hammer was used somewhere else and left there. Why bring it here? Or was it kept as a trophy? This is no ordinary felonious murder. The violence used was brutal – quite extreme. Yet I don’t see a madman planning such a killing. The brutality points to a man who sought revenge.’