Seeing his wife walking ahead of him brought to his mind the consideration that she was his now, and must acquiesce to his desires. If he demanded that she join him in a lecherous excursion in the long grasses of the meadow, she must comply.
Suddenly the memory of her ivory skin, the warmth of her body as she encompassed him, was so vivid that the recollection was almost painful. There was a clutching at his heart at the picture in his mind of his wife smiling up at him, the grass cushioning her head, cornflowers and poppies dancing in the wind.
It was too much – he had to have her again! Spurring his mount, in moments he was behind Alice and he glanced about him warily.
They were almost alone, apart from a man or two ahead. No one was watching; it was the work of a moment. He reached down with his switch and settled it lightly upon her rump, giggling to himself as she spun round, startled, like some light-footed nymph.
‘Haha, that got you, my love, didn’t it?’ he chuckled.
‘Who are you? What do you mean by it, sir?’
With a slowly dawning horror, he realised this wasn’t Alice. ‘My Lady, I offer my sincerest… ’
‘How dare you, sir!’ The woman stamped with rage. ‘Do I look like a common slut to be thus tickled? Do I act the whore for your pleasure?’
Whoever she might be, she was not Alice, and her fury made her loud. Ahead, the men had turned round to look at her, wondering at her temper. At such a distance Geoffrey could not see their faces, but he was sure he could hear some laughter, along with some rumblings of anger as well. They thought he had given the woman some intolerable insult, which, he could only admit abjectly to himself, he had.
‘No, my dear Lady, I give you my most sincere apology. You see, I thought you were someone else whom I know very well. I would never have dreamed of insulting you. I would rather cut off my arm than let it demean you in such a way.’
‘It felt like a lewd and intolerable slight.’
‘I fear, my Lady, that I was lewd, common and irreverent. But I thought… ’ he hesitated only a moment ‘… you were my sister.’ He didn’t want to admit he had thought she might be his wife.
‘Your sister?’
‘Lady Cecilia Carew,’ he said.
She drew her chin up. ‘You thought me brunette? And three inches shorter?’ she enquired with a cold sneer.
He felt panic overwhelming him. Two of the men ahead looked as though they were considering protecting this strident young wench, and if he should be slandered as a womaniser, such unchivalrous behaviour could prevent his being dubbed knight.
Opening his mouth to protest his innocence, he found himself incapable of speech. He moved his jaw but no words would come. Face reddening, he bit at his lip.
‘Well, sir? Have you nothing to add?’
Frustration, shame and embarrassment took him over. He jerked at the reins and jabbed spurs to his horse’s flanks, riding off as quickly as he could, although not fast enough to miss the woman’s jeering curses.
He felt the shame colouring his cheeks, flaming them until he was certain that all about could see his embarrassment. When he heard his name called, he was tempted to turn away and avoid whomsoever it might be, but he had ridden into the press entering the next field and couldn’t escape. He set his shoulders and turned to face the man.
‘Well?’
‘Squire Geoffrey? I am called Odo, the Herald. I have been asked to give you a message.’
‘From whom?’ Geoffrey asked haughtily, but then his relief was profound when the messenger smiled lopsidedly.
‘From a Lady Alice, Squire, if you can spare me a moment.’
When Hal had gone, Baldwin threw Simon a frowning glance.
‘You realise the significant point?’
‘Of course,’ Simon grunted. ‘There’s a curfew. All the hawkers and tradespeople would be gone.’
‘So only knights and their servants could be about… ’ Baldwin said thoughtfully. ‘We should first seek the killer among them.’
Simon was quiet a while, staring back towards the market. This tournament was to have been an enjoyable event for him, a reminder of easier, quieter times. He could remember the hastiludes his father had organised, the rushing of destriers, the rattling crash as steel-tipped lances hit shields or armour, the flags flying gaily, the women watching and giving their tokens, promising their bodies to the knights who upheld their honour and unseated their opponents.
The memories were suffused with the warm, comfortable glow that a happy childhood affords. Simon had been a happy lad – and the tournaments in his youth had been wonderful affairs during the reign of the good King Edward I.
And now his opportunity to relive those wonderful times, to prove to himself that he could equal his father in managing such a grand affair, was to come to nought – all because of a confounded murderer.
‘You want me to make Lord Hugh’s most valued feudatories understand that I suspect them of murder?’ Simon said.
‘That could make your life short and interesting,’ Baldwin grinned. ‘No. The curfew is never that strong – but it means that strangers may have been noticed. We should ask whom they saw last night. And the watchmen, of course. If someone was wandering around the place, they should have spotted them.’
‘It’s asking rather a lot to think they’d have seen much in the dark,’ Simon grumbled.
‘Well, the murder happened in the dark. There cannot have been many people about,’ Baldwin said. ‘Come along, Simon. We have solved more confusing riddles before now.’
‘The Coroner must hold an inquest.’
‘By the time he arrives, maybe we shall have discovered the facts for him.’
Simon nodded doubtfully and called a watchman for help to remove the body of Wymond. ‘Do you believe Hal?’
Baldwin looked at him. ‘Why should I not?’
‘It seems odd. If they were so close, why was Hal content to go to bed and fall asleep while his chamber-mate was out? If Hal thought Wymond was only going for a piss, wouldn’t he have waited and raised the alarm when his friend didn’t return?’
‘Perhaps, and yet they had been working so late, is it not possible that Hal was so exhausted he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the hay? They weren’t new lovers, were they – keen to get into bed with each other and… well, you know what I mean. They were like an old married couple from that point of view.’
Simon scratched his head. ‘Hmm, I see your point. And I don’t really believe Hal would have murdered Wymond, and there’s no way he could have carried him back here.’
‘I doubt whether he could overcome Wymond in the first place anyway,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘No, I think it is more likely to be one of the tournament-folk – someone who… what? Wanted to rob? Or was looking for revenge. But why? And how to seek one killer among so many knights and squires?’
‘Good God! I don’t know,’ Simon said despairingly. ‘I am supposed to be organising the tournament, not searching for a murderer.’
‘Then you must leave it to me, old friend. I will see what I can discover by talking to the participants.’
The watchmen arrived and soon Simon had organised men to carry the body on a stretcher. Taking his leave of Baldwin, he went with them, leading the way on a path which wound up the hill behind the castle and back to the road.
As Simon had intended, few saw his procession, but he knew that soon the gossip would spread about the field and when it did, he would have to be present in person to calm the anxious, or those vengeful fools filled with self-righteous indignation and ale. But first Simon must go to the castle; he wanted a clerk to take down details of the body, the clothing and the purse so that Sir Roger of Gidleigh, the Coroner, would have a full report when he arrived. It was a great relief to Simon that Sir Baldwin was there to help investigate the murder.