Simon asked politely, ‘How is your good Lady?’
‘My wife? She is well.’
His unenthusiastic tone amused Simon. Although he had never met Sir Roger’s wife, gossip had it that she ruled her household with a rod of iron.
As they reached the tilt-yard field, Sir Roger glanced at Simon. ‘What is it? You look as glum as a whore in a nunnery.’
‘Lord Hugh won’t be very impressed when he hears there’s been a murder. He wanted a quiet tournament. God knows what he’ll have to say to me.’
‘Quiet, eh?’ Sir Roger chuckled. He glanced at the paper on which Paul had noted the injuries, then whistled quietly. ‘Well, that’s a coincidence. Dudenay, a man who was bludgeoned to death in Exeter recently – his head was beaten savagely, too.’
‘The dead man back there – Wymond Carpenter – he used to work with a fellow named Dudenay,’ Simon told the Coroner. ‘He was their banker. Did you find his murderer?’
‘No. I’ve reached a dead end on that investigation. Naturally the first thing I did was go to his home and look at his books.
‘Apparently he was owed money by several people. Squire William and his father Sir John of Crukerne both owed him a fortune; so did Sir Richard Prouse and another man… Sir Walter Basset.’
Simon considered. ‘Let’s ask the other usurers here whether they can help.’
The usurers tended to keep together. Since they could pay well for their privileges, they took seats up close to the entertainments. That was also where they were needed, so that a knight who lost his bout could speedily pawn his goods to pay his ransom.
Simon walked with Sir Roger along the outer line of the tents, past the knights and squires, past the hucksters and on to the edge of the third field. There Simon stood and surveyed the bankers and merchants with a suspicious eye. There were times when a man needed to make use of their services, he knew, but that didn’t stop him feeling doubtful about them. It seemed as dishonest a way to make money as he could conceive, lending it out in return for interest. It was deeply immoral; not like a man with an honourable trade, like a glovemaker or saddlemaker or a mercenary man-at-arms.
Near the entrance to the usurers’ section was an empty table, and next to it sat a wizened old man with a narrow, hatchet face and a pale shock of fair hair. He sipped from a large mazer of wine while a clerk sat at his side making marks on a long scroll with a reed.
‘That’s the one to ask,’ Sir Roger murmured. ‘Always scared and confused. Rarely knows whether he needs a piss or a shit.’
Hiding a smile, Simon followed in his wake as he strode to the trestle. Once before it, the clerk and the old man eyed Sir Roger with respect. The Coroner was familiar to all who traded in Exeter.
‘Master… ?’ Simon enquired. The man had a small board with the picture of a star and a cock painted roughly in yellow.
‘I am called Alan of Exeter. Do you have a need of some ready cash? I–’
‘No,’ Sir Roger said flatly. ‘We want to know how closely Benjamin Dudenay worked with Wymond the Carpenter. What do you know about them?’
Alan’s eyes were suddenly hooded. ‘Why should I know anything, Coroner? What business could I have with such as them?’
‘Enough, Alan, or I’ll tell Lord Hugh about your wine imports.’
The old fellow paled. ‘If I could help, I’d be pleased to, sir, but how I can serve you, when I know nothing?’
‘You know already that Dudenay is dead. Now Wymond has been murdered and I seek the murderer before someone else is killed.’
Alan fiddled with a reed. ‘I can tell you this much: Benjamin used to work closely with Hal and the carpenter. He funded their more magnificent builds, charging interest when the Lords paid for the work, and in return he would get a good profit from the knights who attended. It was easy business for him. It made many of my friends and companions here’, he waved a hand to encompass the other money-lenders in the field, ‘very jealous – although not me, of course.’
‘Why not you?’
In a reversal of his previous nervousness, Alan playfully tapped the side of his nose. ‘Benjamin always made a load of profit from tournaments.’
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘Come, Coroner! Benjamin made his living by lending money to knights and noblemen of all sorts and charging them large sums in interest. And then he also gambled heavily on them, too. He would take bets from anyone. Who would win a tilt, how many courses he would take, whether a rider would be knocked from his horse… He was bound to make enemies – he was fleecing men trained in killing and earning money from their misery. Me, I take less interest and never bet. That way I can seem more sympathetic.’
Simon tried to prevent his revulsion from showing in his voice as he asked, ‘Did he share any enemies with Wymond? Could they have been killed by the same man?’
‘Perhaps. Hal and Wymond both helped Benjamin. They built the stands, and then they’d help during the jousts by passing lances to fighting knights as well, so they both got good positions to watch everything. As did Benjamin.’
‘You think their only shared business venture was tournaments?’ Sir Roger asked suddenly.
Alan agreed, but he looked shifty and his smile had gone.
‘Not necessarily always in Devon?’ Simon pressed him.
‘No. Wymond and Hal have travelled all over the country,’ Alan agreed reluctantly. He cast about quickly to see that no one else observed them, then hissed, ‘Coroner, it doesn’t do to enquire too closely into their business.’
‘Eh? What do you mean?’
Alan leaned forward. ‘Because Benjamin and his friends were spies, that’s why. They listened to all the conversations between knights and reported the lot back to Despenser.’
‘Oh, Christ’s bones!’ Simon murmured, recalling how he had coldly insulted Hal about his building expertise.
‘Yes, Bailiff. I have seen Wymond myself, eavesdropping around knights and squires, then going back to report to Benjamin. What else would he be doing but spying for the King? It’s said he was up with Earl Thomas before Boroughbridge. Perhaps someone from the losing side saw them here and took revenge.’
Simon groaned inwardly. The very last thing he wanted was to discover that Wymond was a spy for the King. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, they haven’t been here recently. Last time I saw them in these parts was during the tournament at Crukerne – oh, a good few years ago now.’
‘How long ago?’ Sir Roger insisted.
Alan frowned at the ground. ‘I suppose five or six years back – yes, 1316.’
‘Have there been any tournaments since then?’
‘Coroner, there have been pageants of all sorts since then! I have helped at small tournaments, at markets and at saints’ days. All exactly the sort of events where you’d expect to find Hal and Wymond. Yet they weren’t there and I know that Hal was seen in France with Despenser the Older.’
‘That’s all I need,’ Simon said glumly. Then a thought struck him. ‘How is Hal getting the money together to pay for the show now his banker is dead?’
Alan tapped his nose again. ‘He has some good friends, Bailiff. I have always been a loyal vassal of Lord Hugh, and when Hal approached me to help our Lord by advancing money, I was happy to assist. I have already given Hal money to buy more timber. I understand he wasn’t happy with the wood supplied.’
‘So it will be added to the bill for Lord Hugh?’ Simon said. ‘You can tell Hal from me that I will be advising Lord Hugh not to pay any more for wood. I know how Hal was trying to save money by risking the use of inferior stuff.’
Soon Simon and Sir Roger had left the old money-leader and were wending their way towards a wine-seller. Both men were more than ready for a refreshing draught.