‘It would prevent him carrying a body as heavy as Wymond’s back from the far hill,’ Simon said sensibly. ‘I don’t see him being able to kill and bring the bodies back.’ There was something else wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. ‘I don’t believe he is guilty.’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ Baldwin said. ‘But let us go and speak to him again.’
‘What of me?’ Alice said.
Roger glanced at her. ‘You are free, my Lady. I am sorry that I accused you in error, but you should not leave Oakhampton until these matters are resolved. I may need to speak to you again!’
‘Thank you,’ she said, but her face still looked haunted as the men left her.
Chapter Thirty
Sir Richard’s tent was a poor, green-stained linen thing that looked as though it had lasted longer than it should. Inside, Baldwin found the knight sipping at a large cup of wine. He waved a jug expansively. ‘Sir Baldwin! Excellent! And Bailiff Puttock, please come in and celebrate with me. I am drinking your health, really, Sir Baldwin, so it is only fair that you should be here to share in the wine.’
Baldwin felt a slight tremor as of the early onset of nausea but he swallowed it. The pall of the battle of the previous day had not left him yet. The death of Sir John gave him no satisfaction, for in some ways it seemed unnecessary – but then he had to remind himself that it was entirely necessary. Sir John had challenged Simon and called Baldwin to fight. Baldwin had to kill him. It was God’s will.
He took the proffered cup and sipped as Sir Richard held his own aloft.
‘Here’s to the bold Sir Baldwin, who defeated Sir John, the killer of my father.’ He drank deeply and with gusto. ‘Sir Baldwin, thank you for finally avenging my father – something I couldn’t do myself.’
‘Are you sure you couldn’t?’ Baldwin said.
Sir Richard smiled uncomprehendingly. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Did you murder Hal and Wymond and Benjamin as well as Sir William?’ Coroner Roger barked.
‘Me?’ There was surprise on the ruined face, but Baldwin was sure that there was a faint amused smile as well. ‘How could I have done that?’
Baldwin reached forward and topped up his cup. There was silence as he filled it. Then he set the jug down again. ‘This is ridiculous. We have three dead because of their part in building stands. Another man has died – Sir William – and his father perished because he tested himself in battle before God. How many more will die in this tourney?’
‘Are you accusing me?’ Sir Richard said.
‘Do you have an alibi for any of the evenings when these men died?’ Coroner Roger asked.
‘Of course I do. I was here.’
‘Who was with you? Who will confirm that?’
‘Not many like to share their evenings with a cripple who looks like this,’ Sir Richard said sadly. He stood and limped towards a wine barrel. Setting the jug on the floor, he turned the tap. His right hand remained in his belt.
Simon looked at Baldwin, who caught his glance and nodded. ‘How could a man pick up a corpse with only one arm? And yet sometimes a man with one arm will be as strong as another with two.’
‘And how do I show you to be wrong?’ Sir Richard enquired. ‘If I demonstrate that I cannot even pick up a sack of grain, you will simply say that I was deliberately trying to conceal my strength.’
Simon shook his head. ‘I am sorry to have troubled you, Sir Richard. We thought we had the perfect suspect, but you are not the right man.’
Sir Roger was about to protest that he was not so convinced, when the mournful bell began to toll in the castle.
‘What in God’s name?’ he burst out.
Baldwin stood, wine slopping unnoticed from his cup. ‘Good God, not another death!’ He stared miserably at Simon. ‘Will there never be an end to all this?’ He felt he could endure no more.
Sir Roger was already out of the tent and haring up the well-trodden track to the castle.
‘Who now?’ Simon said. He, too, had had more than enough.
‘Perhaps the murderer has murdered himself,’ Sir Richard said, settling himself comfortably on his chair. ‘But in the meantime, Sir Baldwin, I shall sit here in contemplation and drink your health again. Godspeed!’
Two new corpses were already outside the chapel by the time Simon and Baldwin appeared. Margaret was in the doorway to the hall and Simon and Baldwin went to her side. When he looked up, Simon saw Lord Hugh standing on the path that gave up to the keep. He appeared to be listening carefully.
‘Was your master the kind of man to commit suicide?’ Coroner Roger said to the first witness, Sir Walter’s bottler, beckoning a clerk to take notes.
‘No, sir. He would have rejected such a dishonourable way out. However, he had just learned about his wife.’
‘What of her?’
‘He believed she had taken a lover. That she was adulterous.’
‘Lady Helen?’ Coroner Roger said doubtfully and looked at Simon.
Simon stepped forward. ‘Yesterday, while I investigated the death of Sir William, I questioned a groom. He told me that Lady Helen had been walking with Sir Edmund. Sir Walter overheard us. He may have jumped to the wrong conclusion.’
‘I see. Is Sir Edmund here?’ Coroner Roger asked the assembled jury.
‘I am here,’ said Sir Edmund. For once his manner was subdued. He looked to be in a state of shock.
‘What do you have to say about this?’ Coroner Roger demanded, waving at the two bodies on the ground before him.
‘I know nothing of it.’
‘Were you involved in adulterous congress with this man’s wife?’
‘No, I was not.’
‘You didn’t decide that if she wouldn’t allow you to seduce her, no other man would enjoy her? You didn’t kill her, and then slaughter her husband?’
‘No, I did not! As God is my witness, I would never have harmed a hair of her head. I loved her. I was engaged to be married to Lady Helen when I lost a bout against Sir Walter and Sir John six years ago. Afterwards I was forced to flee and attempt to rebuild my fortunes. While I was abroad, she lost faith in me, thinking I would not return, and wedded Sir Walter. I met her to try to persuade her to join me, but she wouldn’t. She insisted that she had legally given her vows to this monster and wouldn’t consider breaking them.’
Baldwin could see that his bloodshot eyes were fixed upon the woman now lying naked upon a cloak. The cruel sword-thrusts in her breast and flank showed all the more distinctly on her pale flesh. Next to her, the body of her husband was almost an anti-climax. The single broad puncture just under his ribs, where the sword blade had entered and pushed up through his lungs and heart, had ended his life as effectively as all the blows rained upon his wife. Baldwin had seen other men throw themselves upon their swords after losing a battle. He had never, so far as he could recollect, seen such a wound when murder had been committed.
Coroner Roger scowled at Sir Edmund. ‘You deny murdering them?’
‘I told you: I could never have harmed a hair of her head. I loved her more than I love myself.’
‘Yet you were prepared to risk her honour by persuading her to leave her husband?’
‘No. By persuading her to return to her real husband. Me.’
‘It’s too late to talk her round now,’ Coroner Roger said, dragging a cloak over the dead woman’s face. ‘Your behaviour has been deplorable. This sort of hankering after another man’s wife may be acceptable in France and other such places, but in this country it’s not what we expect.’
Sir Edmund said nothing, staring as though transfixed by the sight of Lady Helen’s corpse.