He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Edith’s face as she left the lad, but Hugh was sure he saw in her features the same joy, the same happiness he had felt himself last year when he first realised he was in love.
That was why he didn’t tell his mistress about Squire William. He was not to know that if he had, he might have been able to save himself and his master a great deal of trouble.
Later, as the light was fading, Andrew walked along the road towards the tavern where he had arranged to meet William, when he heard feet behind him. He continued without breaking his step, but his attention was concentrated behind him.
Caution was an essential part of him now. It wasn’t an act to impress women, much though frivolous fools like William sometimes assumed it was. Andrew had no need to impress. He was confident in his own abilities. That was enough.
Whoever it was had approached closer now. ‘Hey! Don’t I know you, Squire?’
‘Me, sir?’ Andrew demanded and spun around. Then he recognised Odo.
The herald had lost much weight, he thought. His head was hanging lower than it had before, although that light was still there in his eyes, but at his cheeks and forehead were the lines that denoted pain and exhaustion.
For Odo’s part, he saw that Andrew had improved no end since their last meeting. ‘You have a new master, my friend,’ he stated. ‘It is clear from your tunic and weapons.’
‘Aye. A good man called Edmund.’
‘Sir Edmund of Gloucester?’ Odo asked.
‘You know him?’
‘I have heard much about him. He is without a lord, I hear?’
‘True. But perhaps he will be fortunate here. I understand Lord Hugh could always use a strong arm.’
‘Yes. I am hoping he will want a useful herald with an eye for an enemy’s coat-of-arms, too!’ Odo said with a chortle.
‘A man can grow tired of wandering,’ Andrew said, eyeing Odo’s worn boots and faded hose.
‘And of sitting atop a horse. Yes.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Ah, I seek a man, a squire. I am acting as a go-between, to give messages to him from his beautiful lover.’
‘If only I could be so fortunate.’
‘Andrew, my friend, you and I are too old by many and many a year to hope to win the heart of a maiden. We must accept bachelorhood and assist those who, younger than we, would seek a wife from the ranks of young maidens here.’
‘Godspeed your delivery, then.’
‘Ah, but surely a pint or two would speed me still faster on my way,’ Odo laughed as he pushed his way into the tavern behind Andrew.
When they both held jugs and could drink their fill (for this tavern had no more pots or cups to offer), Andrew glanced at Odo from the corner of his eye.
‘So is this some wealthy young buck who seeks a woman for a night or two?’
‘No, no, no!’ Odo tutted. ‘If that were all, I’d tell him to come here and sample one or two of the wenches. No, he is convinced of his love for this girl. And she declares her love for him.’
‘A pretty tale. I suppose neither has enough money to wed? Or are they waiting for a suitable moment to announce their intentions?’
‘Hardly that. They have already exchanged their oaths and enjoyed the first proof of love, but clandestinely. The girl is a ward and cannot tell anyone of their marriage until her husband is knighted.’
‘A ward?’ Andrew shot him a look. ‘It’s not Lady Alice, the ward of Sir John, is it?’
Odo said nothing, merely sipped contentedly at his jug.
‘And her husband?’ Andrew frowned, thinking his friend had lied. ‘Is it Squire William?’
‘No, another local squire.’
‘My God! Squire Geoffrey,’ Andrew breathed.
Chapter Sixteen
Today being the first night Lord Hugh was staying at the castle, there was a feast planned, to which all the participants in the tournament were invited. First a service was held in the chapel, while servants and more lowly officials were fed so that later they could serve the guests.
While standing in the yard waiting to enter the hall, Baldwin and Simon had an opportunity to share their experiences with the Coroner. When they were finished, Sir Roger cocked an eye at Baldwin.
‘I may be able to give you a little more information. When Benjamin died, it was shortly after he had called in several debts – mainly from knights. I thought Sir John, Sir Walter, or Sir Richard could have been responsible. Or the Squires William or Geoffrey. All these men were in Exeter at the time and attending the court.’
‘The murders could be unrelated,’ Baldwin said slowly.
‘You don’t believe that any more than I do.’
Baldwin turned to the Coroner. ‘How did the banker get involved? If Lord Hugh was paying for the tournament, what exactly was Benjamin’s part in it?’
‘Lord Hugh may have ordered the stands to be built, but he’d not entrust too much money to a messenger, nor would he wish to come here early just to keep an eye on the work in progress. No, he would have passed his instructions to Hal and given the architect a budget. How Hal decided to work within that budget was up to him, but Lord Hugh would only have given Hal an advance on the total owed – and Benjamin, who was a party to all this, would be expected to monitor things so that Hal wouldn’t go over his budget. Afterwards Lord Hugh would reimburse Benjamin for his share of the expenses and give him a profit as well.’
Simon continued, ‘So Benjamin would provide the ready money that Hal needed. And if Hal could construct the whole show for significantly less than Lord Hugh had budgeted, both he and his associates could pocket the difference. Lord Hugh would still pay the full amount to Benjamin as agreed.’
‘Which was why Hal was against buying more wood?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Yes,’ Simon said. ‘Hal bought in the cheapest stuff he could find so that he could cut costs. If I had to guess, I’d say that he later realised it was much worse than he had anticipated. Hal wouldn’t have wanted to have a stand collapse again, so he tried to force me to give him fresh timbers, blaming the townspeople for taking advantage of him. They didn’t, of course. He paid for cheap stuff and that was what he got. Later he went back and bought better materials when I refused to let him have it for free.’
‘So there is no incentive for a murder in that scam,’ Baldwin said slowly.
‘Unless Lord Hugh wanted to punish Wymond and Benjamin for taking advantage,’ Coroner Roger shrugged.
‘Lord Hugh wouldn’t do that,’ Simon responded.
‘Why should someone murder Wymond with his own hammer?’ Coroner Roger wanted to know.
Baldwin answered, ‘I think Wymond always carried his hammer with him. It was as important to him as a sword to a knight – it showed what he was. Where he died was up in the woods – I wondered whether he was lured there with the promise of good, fresh timber. Someone told him where he could get strong wood and save himself having to buy from the town. Then he was struck down and in the dark his killer dropped the hammer and couldn’t find it.’
Roger was thoughtful. ‘I have held the inquest. As you’d expect, there was nothing much to be learned.’
‘No. How can the local jury accuse anyone when there are so many strangers in the town?’
‘Usually all too easily, if it means getting rid of a known troublemaker,’ Simon grunted cynically.
‘I still don’t understand why his killer chose to carry him back to the tent and leave his body there,’ Coroner Roger said, frowning. ‘He could so easily have woken Hal and been discovered.’