‘Ah, but William had intended marrying her.’
‘Yes.’
‘Except since Geoffrey is dead, he can hardly be the murderer,’ Baldwin said. He sighed and closed his eyes. He had a headache. It was painful to see Simon and his family suffering like this. If he could, he was determined to prove who was the real murderer.
‘I daresay this was the random act of an evil man,’ Sir Roger said with distaste. ‘You often find murderers are like that. How else can you explain their behaviour? Murdering an architect and carpenter, and a banker, and now this fellow – it’s madness.’
‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said, his attention fixed on the dejected figure of Simon. ‘However, I have usually found that there was an understandable explanation for any murder when I sought it.’ He faced Odo again. ‘What else can you tell me about this fellow?’
‘I am not sure I know much more.’
‘You mix with the squires, don’t you? Heralds always do. You must know their secrets.’
‘Perhaps a few,’ Odo said easily, allowing himself a small smile. ‘But I confess I have no idea who could have killed Sir William. He appeared to have many friends.’
Coroner Roger clapped his hands together. ‘It is plain enough that I must discover first where William went last night. What did he do and whom did he see? Once we know that, we can begin to form an impression as to who could have done this foul thing.’
Odo gestured to Simon. ‘What of you? If you were with other people… ’
‘I was exhausted after the strain of the last weeks,’ Simon said. ‘I went to my bed early.’
‘Oh,’ Sir Roger sighed.
Baldwin nodded. ‘If I may make a suggestion, Sir Roger, why don’t you speak to the other squires and get an idea from them as to whether there could be any other people with a grudge against Sir William.’
The Coroner nodded and was about to leave the room when another herald appeared in the doorway, peering in nervously. ‘Bailiff? I have been sent by Sir John of Crukerne – he asks whether you have chosen your champion yet.’
Baldwin glowered and stated loudly, ‘The Bailiff will refute this ridiculous accusation in court. There is no question of his being foolish enough to respond to a grieving parent’s very natural misery.’
‘If the Bailiff will not give Sir John satisfaction to resolve this matter speedily,’ the herald said hesitantly, ‘Sir John says he will assume the guilt and cowardice of the Bailiff. He will come and whip the Bailiff over the whole length of the tilt-yard.’
‘Tell Sir John that he can do no such thing and that should he attempt it, he would be arrested,’ Baldwin grated.
‘Tell him that the Coroner will have him arrested if he so much as thinks of it,’ Roger blustered furiously.
‘Sir,’ the herald turned to Baldwin, ‘I fear Sir John is determined, and the mood of the crowd is growing ugly. There are too many who are prepared to declare the Bailiff guilty, and there is a clamouring for his blood. If he doesn’t accept the challenge, hotheads could demand the Bailiff’s head.’
Baldwin glanced at the Coroner.
Sir Roger set his jaw. ‘I’ll go and reason with the miserable churls. I’ll have no lynchings here.’
‘No!’ Simon declared. ‘Damn the bastard, but I’ll find me a champion. I’ll not have any man declaring me a coward. I will venture God’s judgement because as I stand here, I swear I am innocent.’
‘Who will you employ as champion, Bailiff? You can’t fight him yourself,’ Coroner Roger asked.
Simon looked at him. ‘Who could I ask?’
Baldwin sighed. ‘I shall fight for you, Simon. God help us both!’
Simon gave his farewell to Meg and tried to kiss his daughter, but Edith buried her face in her mother’s neck and wouldn’t look at him. ‘Look after them, Hugh,’ he said stiffly as he withdrew his hand from his daughter’s back.
‘I will, sir.’
‘Simon – Baldwin, be careful, won’t you?’ Meg suddenly cried out. ‘No, Baldwin, you can’t go like this. Wait!’ She deposited her daughter on the bench and ran from the room, returning a few minutes later with a scarf which she thrust into Baldwin’s hands. ‘Wear this, my dear old friend, as a token.’ She reached up and kissed him, resting her warm palm for a moment against his cheek.
He took her hand. His features were stern and composed, but he managed to give her a gentle smile as he gazed into her weeping eyes. ‘I will wear it, Lady, and I will bring your husband back to you, safe and unharmed, I swear. For as God is my witness, I reject the accusations against him,’ he added in a louder voice, gazing sternly at the herald.
Odo was still in the room, standing near to Sir Peregrine. ‘Sir Baldwin, I entirely agree with you that the good Bailiff is innocent – but how can one prove another man was guilty?’
‘Herald, I do not know,’ Baldwin said. ‘All I can ask is that Coroner Roger questions all those he can, and if you could help him, I would be most grateful.’
‘I shall help in any way I may,’ Odo said sincerely.
‘And as soon as this mess is sorted out, I’ll have that dog’s turd Tyler out of my Lord’s household,’ Sir Peregrine said savagely. ‘I’ll not have his vicious tongue spreading villeinous rumours like this again. Cretin!’
Simon nodded in gratitude, but he could find no words as he walked from the hall behind Baldwin.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Bailiff’s thoughts were disjointed as he wandered along the castle’s corridor towards the entrance and out into the sunlight. The sun was high now and the air was still, so Simon could feel the heat scorching his bare arms. One moment he was seeing his daughter screaming in horror, the next he saw Sir John’s pale, shocked features as he took in the sight of his murdered son. And now Sir John intended to kill Baldwin in order to prove Simon’s guilt.
Simon felt himself jostled but ignored it. His mind was too set on other matters. He allowed his head to droop, disconsolate.
‘Stand up straight!’ Baldwin muttered at his side. ‘Don’t walk like a felon. Remind them who you are.’
‘I don’t know… I… ’
‘Simon!’ Baldwin turned and eyed him with glittering eyes. ‘You are innocent. If you look like this, everyone will want to convict you out of hand even if I win. Would you like Edith to go through the rest of her life accusing you? Then stand straight and look these bastard sons of whores in the eyes.’
‘I don’t think I can,’ Simon confessed.
Baldwin grabbed his shoulder. ‘Then think of this! If you didn’t kill the lad, the murderer is out there, in that crowd. If you don’t care about being accused, that’s one thing, but you might see the guilty man and meet his eye. When you do, you may just see something there that makes you recognise his guilt. You may recognise the stare of the murderer!’
Simon gaped. He had been so entirely bound up in his own misery that the fact that another man was guilty had slipped from his mind. Now he felt a return of his anger, and with the resentment of being forced to endure the punishment that another man deserved, a flame of rage consumed him. He gritted his teeth. ‘I shall watch all the men.’
‘Good,’ Baldwin said, ‘because I need your support, Simon.’ He looked up at the castle, at the flags hanging limply from the poles. ‘God knows, I need all the help I can get,’ he murmured almost to himself. ‘It is many years since my last joust.’
Simon felt as though a rock had materialised in his belly. ‘When did you last fight like this?’
‘Me?’ Baldwin considered. ‘About 1306 I practised with friends in the lists in Paris.’