‘Someone who knew how to kill.’
‘Yes. A soldier. Or perhaps a sailor.’
Simon nodded. Both had seen too many corpses in their time. An inexperienced murderer stabbed several times to make sure of his victim; only a man who knew what he was doing selected the correct place carefully, killing with one blow.
Harlewin joined them. ‘Not much to learn here. It’s getting late – we may as well return to the castle.’
Simon looked at Baldwin.
‘William, you will need to pack your things,’ Baldwin said. ‘We will wait for you. Coroner, you carry on.’
Harlewin le Poter glanced at the sailor. ‘If you wish… but first I need a surety. Come, master Mariner. Open your purse there!’
‘I only have four pennies,’ William said mournfully, holding his wallet open in proof.
‘Give me them. That will do.’ Harlewin gazed back at the trees, his mouth askew with dissatisfaction. ‘It’s a bad day; a bad thing! Two men dead, and little enough for the King.’ He nodded to the man-at-arms, who already sat waiting on his horse. ‘We’d best return to town. We can hold our inquest there, before the town’s jury.’
The doleful Piers clicked his tongue and the wagon jolted off behind the Coroner. Baldwin found his attention fixed on the bodies jerking in the back of the cart as it rattled and clattered over the ruts in the road. He was convinced the head would bounce out long before they got to Tiverton.
‘What’s his problem?’ William asked.
‘He was hoping for more money, I expect,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘The murdrum fine.’
‘So? You think he won’t be able to charge murdrum now?’
‘The murdrum is levied where no one can swear to the corpse being that of an Englishman,’ Simon told him. ‘If my Lord de Courtenay knows this man, how could the Coroner refuse to accept his word? A dead felon is free of fines anyway, he doesn’t rate. No, only the knight matters and now the Coroner can get nothing for him. Most galling.’ He looked about him. ‘Did Sir Gilbert say he had been here recently?’ he asked William. ‘You mentioned that he knew Lord Hugh.’
‘No. He told me it was the first time he had been here in almost thirteen years.’
‘Thirteen years?’ Baldwin asked. ‘That’s interesting. Tell me, this dog appears unhurt, yet he looks a sturdy enough creature. Why did he not protect his master?’
‘He was with me in the camp. Sir Gilbert only took Merry with him.’
‘Take us there and on the way you can tell us what happened.’
William nodded and led the way to the riverbank. ‘We’d been travelling for ages when we got here three days ago. We stopped here latish and made camp. Then the day before yesterday, in the morning, I remained here while Sir Gilbert rode off.’
‘Did he say where he was going?’ Baldwin asked.
William gave him a steady look. ‘He said he was meeting friends in Tiverton.’
‘Who?’
‘How should I know?’ William said with exasperation. ‘He went, that’s all I know.’
‘But he returned?’
‘Yes. During the night. He seemed in good spirits, as if he’d heard good news. Reeked of cheap wine too. In the morning he said we should wait a day longer before going to town. And no, he didn’t tell me why! I didn’t care, it was good to take a day to rest. Dogs didn’t like it, though.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘The pair were restless. Unsettled. Kept barking at the trees.’
They had arrived at a small enclosed area of grass inside a stand of young oaks and sycamores which formed a natural windbreak. At the other side of the greensward was the river, swift-flowing here, and William had laid out their camp in a natural hollow near the water.
Baldwin walked to the horses. Two were tethered, one strong-looking mount, the other a packhorse. ‘You had only the two horses?’
William blinked. ‘I… No, my master’s never came back last night.’
‘It probably ran off. I daresay it will be found sooner or later,’ Simon nodded. ‘You were talking about the dogs.’
‘Oh… um, yes. Sir Gilbert cuffed them and pulled them back, but they’d settle a moment, then stare at the trees again.’
‘Weren’t you afraid of outlaws?’
‘Look how far it is to the trees there,’ William said. ‘Anyone wanting to attack would have to cover the verge, the road, and then the grass to get to us here. If they tried it, the dogs’d be loosed and me and Sir Gilbert armed before they got halfway.’
Simon nodded and the sailor continued. ‘Anyway, in the afternoon two men rode past heading for Exeter. Didn’t think about them at first, but… What with the dogs being uneasy, I’d kept an eye on the trees and after a while I saw a man peering at us. He realised I’d seen him, and ducked down out of sight. I was about to tell Sir Gilbert when we heard hooves approaching fast. It was the same two men I’d seen earlier. Both well-seated on expensive mounts.’
‘Names?’ Baldwin pressed.
‘One was called Andrew. A big fat man, red-faced and enormous girth. Bigger than the Coroner himself. The other was thinner, but with really dark, nasty eyes. When he fixed those eyes on you, you could feel them.’
Baldwin found himself recalling Andrew Carter and his brother Nicholas from the castle. The descriptions fitted both.
‘And you say they approached from behind you? From Exeter?’
He nodded.
‘What did they do?’
‘They stopped and asked whether we’d seen a felon on the road, an abjurer. Said they were there to make sure he didn’t run and hide in the woods. I told them I’d seen a fellow in the trees. Soon as I did that, they were all set to be off after him, but the thinner man, he called the other one back, said: “Andrew, slow down! We don’t want to get separated”.’
‘They went off together?’ Baldwin said.
‘Yes, but Sir Gilbert was fretful afterwards. It’s every man’s duty to help the Hue and Cry chase down a felon, yet I think he was dubious about them.’
‘Why so?’ Simon demanded.
‘He said that the two looked more bent on murder than on justice. If an abjurer is forced to leave the road given to him against his will, it’s the same as forcing him to leave his sanctuary. It’s not his fault and he should be protected. Sir Gilbert fancied that these two men would give their victim little sympathy. He told me to stay here, released Merry and set off after them on his horse.’
‘Why take only the one dog?’ Baldwin mused.
‘Perhaps because Aylmer hasn’t a good nose? He hunts by sight.’
Baldwin glanced at Aylmer, who lay with his head on his forepaws watching them. ‘Why take a dog hunting when the animal doesn’t know which scent to follow? To hunt the two from the road?’ He shrugged. ‘Continue.’
‘That was all. He disappeared among the trees, but never returned. When daylight came, I went to the road but I couldn’t see anything, so I came back and released Aylmer. I was sure something had gone wrong. That carter appeared then and I asked him to stop and help me. It wasn’t long before we came across Sir Gilbert’s body, the dog a few yards away as you saw them.’
‘I see.’ Baldwin walked to Aylmer and untied him. The dog was reticent and growled, unhappy to be led away by someone other than his master, but Baldwin cuffed his backside and growled back, ‘Learn obedience, you bastard!’ The dog showed his teeth but walked with him.
Simon said, ‘You say he left the dog at the camp to protect you? Was the knight carrying anything valuable with him that needed protecting?’
‘No, sir. Nothing,’ said William innocently.
Chapter Eleven
When Father Abraham got back to the church, the baby, wrapped to make a neat bundle, had been set in the arms of its dead mother. The midwife – superstitious old soul – had insisted and Father Abraham considered it preferable to leave the matter to her rather than continue arguing. The daft besom was determined to have her way, even though it was practically heretical. After all, the mother, whoring bitch that she was as far as Father Abraham was concerned, had at least been baptised, and the child would have to be buried far from her. No unbaptised child could be placed for eternal rest in his churchyard.