And screamed.
Simon had a premonition of disaster as the shrill cry broke out. He turned and his eyes met Baldwin’s, and then he was moving towards the river as fast as his legs would take him, closely followed by Baldwin and Coroner Roger.
Edith’s scream had come from near the horse-lines, at the riverbank where the pavilion field met the market, and many squires and archers who were not needed by their knights, as well as several knights who would not be jousting for some time, were also hurrying to see what was going on. Simon saw several faces he recognised, including Sir John, Odo the Herald, the King Herald Mark Tyler, and Sir Peregrine.
Simon forced his way to the front of the crowds as the screams came with redoubled force, and then he saw her: Edith, her mouth wide with horror, her hands clenched at her sides as she stood, petrified, uttering scream after scream.
His heart felt as though it would burst to see her so desolate – but he was also filled with dread. Whatever could have so terrified his daughter like this? Perhaps Hugh was hurt – or Margaret?
He ran to her side, pulling her stiff body to him, murmuring soothing noises, patting her head and rocking her slightly from side to side. He felt her head gradually sink into the angle between his shoulder and neck, until he could sense that she was relaxing, and could gently turn her away from the awful sight that had so shocked her.
Baldwin was already at the body, and he gave Simon a look of sympathy. Simon couldn’t understand what it meant, but then he saw the bloody face of Squire William lying among the grasses and brambles.
‘Dead?’ he mouthed, although the question was unnecessary.
Baldwin nodded without speaking. The Coroner was already standing over the corpse while bystanders shuffled and glared at Simon suspiciously.
‘Who is it this time?’ Mark Tyler demanded, swaggering over with his thumbs in his belt. ‘Another carpenter? Or is it someone more… ’ He broke off as he took in the face. ‘Gracious God in heaven, Sir William of Crukerne!’
Sir John had followed in the King Herald’s wake and now he stood dumbly staring down at his dead son. He gave a single choking sob, sinking to his knees, his features twisting in despair and desolation.
Baldwin put a hand to his shoulder, but the knight shrugged it away. ‘Who did this?’
Nobody answered him. Coroner Roger cleared his throat, then bellowed, ‘Back, you whoresons! Stand back, in Christ’s name! Jesus, God and Holy Mother Mary, if you don’t give me room I’ll have Lord Hugh find space for you in his worst dungeons. Back, you misbegotten sons of a worm-infested mongrel!’
He stood a while staring down and Simon could see that he was reluctant to get between Sir John and the corpse. ‘Sir John, you recognise this boy?’
‘It’s my son,’ the man said dully.
‘I know who killed him!’
‘Who was that?’ Sir Roger called, scanning the crowd which stood so thickly at the bankside. ‘Who can tell us who the murderer was?’
Simon too was staring at the figures on the bank. Edith was quivering and sobbing in his arms, and he was trying to pull her away from the scene when the voice called out again.
‘It was the Bailiff! He was arguing with the lad yester’ even, because young William fancied his daughter. That’s who killed your boy – it was Bailiff Puttock!’
Sir John slowly turned to face Simon. ‘Is this true?’
Edith suddenly went rigid in his arms. She pulled away, her eyes staring into his with an expression of revulsion. ‘Did you, Father?’ she said brokenly. ‘Did you kill him to keep him from me?’
Simon felt his heart shrivel within him at her accusation. ‘By Christ’s bones, by the life I hope to win in heaven: NO!’ he declared, but even as he said the words he heard Tyler’s snide voice.
‘I said he was the murderer, didn’t I? I accused him only yesterday, because he murdered Hal and Wymond. Now he’s slaughtered this honourable lad as well. Is there no end to his lust for blood?’
Sir John stood and walked to Simon. Baldwin automatically stepped between them. ‘Sir John, this is only an unsubstantiated accusation, nothing more. I do not believe it, and you shouldn’t either.’
‘Bailiff, I accuse you of the murder of my son and I demand trial by battle to prove your guilt or innocence.’
‘Trial by… ’ Simon stuttered. ‘But I’ve done nothing. I can’t fight you, a knight!’
‘Name your champion, Bailiff. I challenge you to trial by battle, and if I kill him and win, you will hang. I swear it!’
Margaret sent Hugh to fetch them wine, but then sat with Edith cradled in her lap, sobbing. She had given her son to Petronilla and now rocked her daughter as she listened to the men talking.
Sir Roger was shaking with emotion. ‘Bailiff, you can’t accept the challenge. It would be insane. The man’s a killer, he’s often killed his foe. Prove your innocence in court, it’s much safer.’
‘He challenged me before all those people,’ Simon said dully. ‘Even my own daughter thinks I am guilty. If I refuse, many will assume I did do it, that I don’t dare to throw my fate into God’s hands, that I prefer to bribe officials, jurors and lawyers to find for me.’
‘Let people believe what they want,’ Baldwin said earnestly. ‘Do not risk yourself in this way.’
Simon met his eye a moment, but then looked back to Edith and his wife. ‘Meg, I am so sorry. I should never have come here. It was a matter of pride. Stupid pride. I thought that if my father could organise tournaments, I could do it as well. I never thought I’d be risking everything.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Simon,’ Baldwin said.
A servant thrust his head through the doorway. ‘Bailiff? Oh, good.’
Behind him was the herald Odo and Sir Peregrine, both with grim features as they entered. Simon wasn’t interested in their sympathy. All he wanted at this moment was some private moments with his wife and daughter, to try to soothe them and persuade Edith he was innocent.
Baldwin said to the Coroner, ‘Have you completed the study of the body?’
‘Yes, and I am afraid that there is nothing to show who could have killed the fellow. He was stabbed twice in the back, then his throat was cut. Blood everywhere.’
‘So he died there,’ Baldwin noted. ‘And was not beaten to death like Benjamin and the others. Is there any suggestion that someone other than the Bailiff might have been responsible?’
‘Only Simon has been accused.’
Simon nodded. ‘Everyone thinks I did it, don’t they? Even my own daughter.’
Baldwin frowned. ‘Never mind what everyone thinks, Simon. You did not kill the lad, so we must show you are innocent.’
‘If you think so,’ Simon said wearily. He walked to his wife and dropped onto the bench at her side, putting a hand on Edith’s back. ‘But how I can prove that? I know nothing about the boy.’
‘Then we shall have to find out about him, won’t we?’ Coroner Roger declared.
Odo cleared his throat. ‘I think I might be able to help a little, Sir Roger. I knew the lad. He was in the host at Boroughbridge, serving under Harclay. He captured Andrew, squire to Sir Edmund of Gloucester.’
‘Is Andrew the kind of man to take offence?’ Baldwin asked, recalling that the watchman had seen him the night Hal died.
‘I would say not,’ Odo said firmly. ‘He always struck me as honourable.’
‘Did Squire – sorry – Sir William have enemies?’
‘I only know of one. Geoffrey, who died last night. Geoffrey had married Alice Lavandar and would have declared their matrimony after being knighted.’