There were many others he knew. The Coroner, like Sir Peregrine, Baldwin avoided. Men gained reputations when they won positions of power, and Coroner Harlewin le Poter had earned that of a womaniser, politician and corrupt official. It was a sad comment on the officers of justice that so many were similarly labelled, but Baldwin’s personal loathing of injustice led him to keep away from Harlewin.
Jeanne and he migrated to a corner with people whom Baldwin did not recognise. It was here that he met Andrew Carter and Nicholas Lovecok for the first time, two men whom he was to get to know well. Andrew, he heard, was one of Tiverton’s leading merchants, while Nicholas hailed from Exeter – which was clearly not his original home: his accent was softened with the years, but there were strong traces of Welsh. Baldwin was struck by their appearance: both were pale as if from lack of sleep, and Andrew in particular was curt almost to the point of rudeness.
His wife Matilda was a slim woman in her late thirties. She appeared utterly indifferent to the people about her – indeed, Baldwin thought she was intentionally ignoring them, but then he saw the tic fluttering beneath her eye, noted her gaunt appearance and realised she was suffering from some deep inner sadness.
‘This is Cecily Sherman,’ Jeanne announced.
The newcomer was shortish, attractive, plump and dark-haired. Constantly smiling, she had a gushing manner that was in no way irritating, but more entrancing: the residual girlishness of a young woman. Baldwin placed her in her early twenties. While the men talked she rarely interrupted, but her comments were succinct and often very witty. Baldwin gained the impression that she was a skilled flirt.
When her husband John was pointed out to him, Baldwin saw a heavy-set man, tall, with grizzled hair, cleanshaven and heavy of shoulder. In appearance he looked much like a knight or some other trained martial artist, strong and proud. Baldwin was interested to see that Cecily Sherman rarely glanced at her husband. Her attention, Baldwin noticed, was more often upon the Coroner.
The party was proving enjoyable, if loud, but the jolly atmosphere was ruined when a guard hurried in with the bedraggled figure of Piers Bakere.
‘Did you recognise the corpses?’
‘No, Coroner. The beheaded one I didn’t give more than a glance to. I’ve seen dead men before – who hasn’t? – but tripping over a man’s head… well, it’s not something I’ve done before. As to the knight, I’ve no idea who he was.’
Harlewin le Poter was a vain man, Baldwin thought. He appeared to be listening intently to the baker – but Baldwin was sure that he was merely putting on an act and that belief rankled. The affair sounded too serious to be treated in a frivolous mood.
Baldwin could see the baker clearly. He looked nervous, and there was no surprise in that, with the poor fellow having to stand in front of the most important people in the shire. Piers was unkempt, and his hands seemed to be streaked and spotted with rusty stains. Only later did Baldwin realise that this was, in fact, dried blood.
‘You say that both men were outside the verge?’ Harlewin asked, studying his pot and sipping. He was dressed in bright reds and blues, with a plain white shirt under his blue cotte and red surcoat, and parti-coloured hose hiding his legs. From the size of his belly Baldwin guessed he was not a particularly dedicated officer of the law. If he were, he could not have grown so fat, for there were only two Coroners to cover the whole of Devonshire at present, and since they had the responsibility to investigate all sudden deaths so as to ensure that fines from the vills were all paid whenever the King’s Peace was broken, both should cover many leagues each week.
‘Yes, sir. They were in the woods a long way from the road, far from the town.’
‘And you are sure both were dead?’
A small frown passed over Piers’s brow. ‘You mean the beheaded one?’
‘Don’t be frivolous, fool! I can have you gaoled if you don’t behave respectfully,’ Harlewin snapped, flushing. ‘This knight: how do you know he was dead?’
‘He didn’t wake when his dog howled,’ Piers said as if reciting a story. ‘He didn’t wake when I called him, didn’t wake when I touched him, and his face was cold.’ He paused as if suddenly remembering and added, ‘Oh, and there was a stab-wound in his back.’
‘How did you know he was a knight?’
‘By his golden spurs and his belt,’ Piers said scathingly. ‘How else would you recognise a knight?’
‘Damn your soul, learn courtesy!’ Harlewin snapped, dashing his pot to the ground. ‘You can learn your position in the town’s gaol, if you prefer!’
‘I apologise,’ Piers said with oily sincerity, but Baldwin could see the contempt in his eyes. For some reason Baldwin found himself alerted to Harlewin’s stance and gestures. The man seemed unsurprised by the news, his actions and voice geared more to impressing his audience than extracting information.
Harlewin snapped his fingers to a servant and took another pot of wine. ‘You left these two bodies in the care of this other man?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then I suppose I must organise the posse,’ Harlewin yawned. ‘Although it is most annoying.’ He glanced at the door through which at any moment Lord de Courtenay was expected to enter. ‘Since both were dead, you’ll both have to pay the sureties. You can consider yourself attached.’
‘Sir, I have to get back to my shop,’ Piers protested. ‘If I’m arrested, how’ll I be able to pay the fine?’
‘I hope you have the money. You know the law: if a man is found dead, the finder must be amerced – he has to pay a surety to show he will attend the inquest. You and this other fellow were the first finders, so you must both pay, as must those who live nearest the place where the bodies were found, although…’ he meditated a moment ‘…God only knows who lives nearest. Ah, well. I suppose we’ll have to attach and amerce everyone who lives along the road.’
Baldwin shrugged. There was nothing new in murder at the roadside. He felt sure it would turn out to be trail bastons who came across two unwary travellers; nothing to interest him. He was about to turn away when he caught sight of the Coroner. He was staring at Andrew Carter suspiciously. Andrew was looking away, but his wife clung to his arm and she stared up at him with an expression of pride and joy.
‘Take the baker away. I shall see to him later,’ the Coroner commanded gruffly at last. Two men-at-arms each grabbed one of Piers’s elbows and conducted him away. Immediately Harlewin spotted Baldwin. ‘Keeper, how are you?’
‘Very well, Coroner.’
‘You must have come up the very same road. Did you see anything suspicious? A man behaving oddly?’
‘Nothing. But a gang would surely have remained hidden until they could see an easy target. They would not have attacked me, for I had my man-at-arms with me, and two men properly armed can travel in safety except from a very large band indeed.’
‘True enough.’ Harlewin appeared bored by the affair. ‘I don’t suppose you saw this knight on the road?’
Baldwin gave a faint smile. ‘The baker did say that the man was cold. Surely that would mean he had been dead for some little while? He must have died overnight or yesterday.’
Harlewin frowned, contemplating a dish of tarts held temptingly before his nose. ‘Hmm. Perhaps. Although it’s always best, I find, to wonder at the honesty of first finders. Take this man, Piers. Why should he have come forward so eagerly?’
Simon had joined them and he broke in sharply. ‘Because he’s an honest man and wanted to help capture the murderer, of course.’
‘Ah, Bailiff Puttock! It’s pleasant to see faces from so far afield. So you think the fellow was honest? Let me tell you, I have seen that same man in court more times than I can count for breaking the assize on bread. He often sells underweight loaves.’