‘Revenge?’ Hal squeaked.
‘How well did you know him?’ Simon asked.
‘As well as you can know a companion. Wymond and I have often worked together,’ Hal added evasively. He dropped to the ground and wrapped his arms about his thin legs, chin on his knees.
‘Was he always so argumentative?’ Simon said.
Hal took a shivering intake of breath. ‘He was determined to see things done properly, Bailiff. And before you get on your high horse, remember you argued as much with him as the other way about. Just because you’re a Bailiff doesn’t mean you’re better than everyone else.’
Baldwin grinned at Simon’s discomfort. ‘Enough, Sachevyll. We’re trying to make sense of this foul killing, and you should wish to help us.’
‘I do.’
‘Then answer our questions. He was the sort of man who’d resort to his fists rather than use words, wasn’t he?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘How long have you known him? Please answer properly.’
‘A good fifteen years, I would say. No, more. I met him when I was constructing a marvellous scene for King Edward I, back in 1304. It was a great Arthurian pageant, and no expense was spared!’ His eyes shone with pride at the recollection.
‘You have worked with him ever since?’ Simon asked. He had no wish to be sidetracked into the architect’s reminiscences.
‘Yes. We worked together again when King Edward II took the throne, and joined forces on the tournament at Exeter in 1306. That was where we met Benjamin Dudenay.’
‘Who?’ Simon queried.
‘He helped finance us,’ Hal said quickly. ‘Then we went to Wallingford.’
Baldwin was interested. ‘Wallingford? That was the encounter Piers Gaveston won, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. Piers was wonderful! So tall and graceful! All the nobles were jealous, you know. No one would fight with him.’
‘He must have been quite a warrior,’ Simon said grudgingly. Like Baldwin, he had heard that Gaveston was a sodomite. Unnatural men like him repelled Simon.
Hal grinned slyly. ‘He was young. All the nobles felt he was a cuckoo in their midst, that he was going to keep on taking whatever honours or glory he could, so they united against him.’
‘How did he win?’ Simon asked.
Hal gave a low chuckle. ‘It was easy. The only folk Gaveston could trust were the unimportant: squires and knights with no fortune; all the strong, young bucks with nothing to lose and everything to gain. Opposing them were middle-aged men who would tire and wouldn’t recover so speedily from buffets. Gaveston and his accomplices ran rings around them.’
‘I have often seen the same happen. When a team of youths attack older men, the younger will win. Bear that in mind before gambling here, Simon,’ Baldwin said. ‘Hal, did Wymond have many enemies?’
‘He was apt to fight, but as head carpenter he often had to. Someone has to keep workers at their jobs.’
‘He could be over-zealous in his chastisement?’
‘Perhaps. Some may think so, but you can’t be too careful. Stands collapse when they are badly built.’ Hal cast a sidelong look at Simon. ‘Or if the timber’s shite.’
Baldwin spoke reflectively before Simon could respond. ‘I recall Nefyn. Many were hurt there.’
‘That’s right,’ Hal agreed. ‘There were so many in the dancing room that the floor collapsed; I fear one of my own stands has fallen before now.’
‘Shoddy workmanship, I expect,’ Simon said dismissively.
‘No, Bailiff. It was when Sir John killed Sir Godwin back in the Exeter tournament. As Sir Godwin fell, the crowds were appalled. They all adored him. An extremely popular, courteous knight, he was. Especially among the ladies. In the rush to the front of the stand, people were crushed at the fencing, and then the whole front gave way… ’
Hal broke off. He could see it all in his mind’s eye. The awnings and carpets red with blood; blood ran onto the grass, thick and viscous as oil. It had been terrible, a bloodbath. Hal saw a child, a little boy, whose body was almost cut in half by a large beam of wood. Next to him was a woman, then another, a little girl who looked like an angel, with a halo of blood, and a man…
‘I still have nightmares about it,’ he told them, his voice low and full of horror. ‘It was a scene of carnage. Knights, squires and heralds all tried to rescue the trapped people, but it was so difficult in the shifting mass of timber. Men, women and children were killed – eleven when it fell, and more later from their injuries. One family was extinguished, with only the father living, while many children survived orphaned. Lady Alice Lavandar was one: when her mother died, Sir John took her on in penitence. I could never wish to see such a disaster repeated. It was hideous.’
‘Sir John took her on, you say?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Why?’
‘Didn’t you know? She was Sir Godwin’s daughter.’
‘No, I didn’t know,’ Baldwin said.
Sachevyll cried mournfully ‘No, I could never wish to witness such a disaster again. Once was enough.’
‘And yet the same thing happened in 1316 at Crukerne,’ Baldwin said sternly.
‘That wasn’t my fault. Sir Richard was forced against the stand and his weight, with that of Sir Walter and their horses, was enough to break the stands. Most of the injuries were from the horse’s death throes as it thrashed. It was awful, but it was nothing to do with me.’
‘You don’t think Wymond made any enemies here?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Other than’, Hal said coldly, brought back to reality with a lurch, ‘the Bailiff here, you mean?’
Chapter Ten
William was determined to see Edith again. Although she was young, that was no barrier. She was attractive, fresh and desirable. If it hadn’t been for that miserable churl hanging around with her, he might have been able to take her off for a walk in the woods.
Not that he was set on a virgin. Inexperienced women ready to be deflowered were common enough, especially in a field of tournament. Christ’s blood! A man had to be careful to avoid wenches hot with lust when he’d enjoyed a good run at an opponent, for women would scream and throw themselves at the winner. He remembered the last tournament he had attended, when he was a mere boy. It was hard to move on the grass near the field because of all the successful knights covering the ladies who had given them the glad eye beforehand. Oh, one or two of the women played hard to get, but they were often all the hornier when they grappled beneath the sun.
He had met enough of them during his time as a squire, following his master from one tournament to another, and when his master had his hands full with one, occasionally William was able to help out with the next one in the queue. When he was younger he had been surprised that older women should fancy him, but he made full use of them. If he didn’t, others would, and at least with his fair good looks he had his choice of the more attractive ones. He soon learned that those women who were most proud in public would behave more lewdly than the commonest slut, given the right situation, and the right situation so often involved nothing more than a strong lusty youth.
And often the worst, most flagrant women, were those who were married and who should never have been anywhere near the tournaments.
He was musing pleasantly on such matters, recalling especially the wife of a knight from Somerset whose bawdy behaviour had exhausted him for almost an entire week, when he saw the brunette.
She was almost as tall as him, a leggy, full-breasted wench with enormous eyes which gave him a cursory once-over as her glance ranged over the crowds. When her gaze passed over him a second time, and lingered on him a moment longer than was entirely necessary, he instantly decided to try his luck.