‘This is an unexpected pleasure, my lady,’ he said, noting her fragrance as she swept in. ‘Do be seated.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, settling down on a stool. ‘I am glad to find you at home, Saewin. I feared that you might already have left.’
‘I will do so before long. I am needed at the shire hall.’
‘That is what I have come to talk to you about.’
Loretta had a poise and confidence which made him feel slightly uneasy. A wealthy widow, she lived in one of the finest houses in the city and had other property further afield. Saewin knew her by sight but rarely spoke to her. Loretta was an intensely private woman who was not often seen abroad. The reeve recalled that the last time he had caught a glimpse of her was at a service at the cathedral.
‘How can I help you?’ he said.
‘By giving me information,’ she explained. ‘I understand that the royal commissioners have arrived in the city.’
‘Yes, my lady. They came yesterday.’
‘You have no doubt spoken with them.’
‘It was my duty to do so. I had to take my instructions.’
‘So you will know the order in which cases come before them.’
‘Of course, my lady. I have to ensure that all the relevant witnesses attend. When the first commissioners came, many problems were brought to light and several people failed to appear in order to attest their claims to certain holdings. This second team from Winchester have come to look into the irregularities uncovered by their predecessors.’
‘Is the name of Nicholas Picard still on their list?’
‘Indeed, it is.’
‘Even though the poor man was cruelly murdered?’
‘The lord Nicholas may have died,’ he said quietly, ‘but his land remains and some of it is the subject of bitter controversy.
Ordinarily, the holdings would be inherited by his wife but that is by no means certain. Two other claimants came forth at the first hearing and they are now joined by a third.’
‘Who is that?’
‘The abbot of Tavistock.’
‘His claim is of no account,’ she said with a dismissive flick of her hand. ‘Besides, the abbot has property enough to satisfy him.’
‘That does not appear to be the case.’
‘He is not a serious contender here. I am.’
Saewin blinked in astonishment. ‘You, my lady?’
‘I wish to give formal notice of my interest in the holdings under review. Convey it to the commissioners at the earliest opportunity.’
‘Why, yes,’ he said politely, ‘but I am bound to wonder why you did not come forward when the first commissioners were in the county.’
‘That is my business.’
‘Of course, my lady.’
‘Make their successors aware of my claim.’
‘I will,’ he agreed, ‘but they are certain to ask what weight should be attached to it. What may I tell them?’
‘Advise them to look into the history of those holdings. They were once in the possession of William de Marmoutier, my late son. He bequeathed them to his mother.’ She stood up and moved to the door. ‘Tell them that, Saewin. And be sure that they send for me.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘I intend to fight for what is mine by right.’
Without waiting for the servant to show her out, Loretta turned on her heel and made for the door, leaving the reeve to grapple in vain with a number of unanswered questions. Her intrusion into the dispute was far from welcome. It could only make the squabble over the dead body of Nicholas Picard even more acrimonious.
Gervase Bret was kneeling at the altar rail in the chapel when he heard the footsteps approaching. He broke off from his prayer. It was not the steady gait of the chaplain which caught his ear nor the respectful tread of another worshipper. The feet sounded slow and furtive. When the door opened, it did not swing back on its hinges. It inched open so that an eye could scrutinise the interior of the chapel. Gervase rose and stepped back into the shadows, wishing that he was wearing his dagger. It was the last place where he would have anticipated danger, but that is what he sensed now.
Only two small candles burned on the altar, leaving most of the chapel in relative darkness. Gervase flattened himself against a wall and waited. The door opened wide enough to admit a sturdy figure. The newcomer moved stealthily down the aisle. Gervase stepped out to accost him.
‘What do you want?’ he asked firmly.
Ralph Delchard jumped back in alarm with a hand on his heart.
‘Heavens!’ he exclaimed. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’
Gervase was astounded. ‘Is it you, Ralph?’
‘Yes. I thought the chapel would be empty at this time of day.’
‘I came in to pray.’
Ralph smiled. ‘Well, there is no point in pretending that that is why I am here. Nobody would call me devout. Besides,’ he said, ‘it is not the chapel that I came to see but the morgue.’
Gervase did not need to ask why. The moment he knew his friend’s destination, he was a willing accomplice. Both of them were eager to view the corpse of a man who figured so largely in the irregularities which had brought them to Devon. Without any more ado, they crossed to the door in the side wall and went through it. Finding themselves in a gloomy vestry, they were about to withdraw when they noticed a faint glow at floor level on the other side of the chamber. They groped their way to a small door.
As soon as they opened it, they knew it led to the mortuary.
The stench of death was sweetened by the presence of herbs but it still rose up to attack their nostrils. Gervase coughed and Ralph turned his face away for an instant. They then went down some steps towards the flickering candle which had cast the strip of light under the door. The corpse was laid out on a stone slab and covered with a shroud. A crucifix stood at its head and the candle burned in an alcove. Ralph exchanged a glance with Gervase, then held the candle over the corpse. They shivered in the dank atmosphere. After bracing himself, Gervase took hold of the shroud and peeled it back from the face. The shock was severe.
‘God preserve his soul!’ he murmured.
‘Poor wretch!’ said Ralph.
‘Was this Nicholas Picard?’
The sight of such a grotesque visage made them take a step back. Blood had been stemmed, wounds had been bathed and some bandaging had been used but enough was visible to show them what a terrible end the murder victim had met. Skin had been torn from the face, lumps bitten out of it and deep lacerations left in it everywhere. The throat had been cut so viciously that it was surprising the head did not part from the body. Gervase could not bear the sight but Ralph took a more considered inventory. When he had finished, he replaced the shroud over the face.
‘This is the work of a fiend,’ he decided.
‘Who could want to disfigure him like that?’
‘I do not know, Gervase, but we now have even more reason to find the villain. That is not a human face. It is a piece of raw meat. The lord Nicholas looks as if he was attacked by a wild animal.’
‘An animal would not carry the knife which slit his throat like that.’
‘True. That is the work of a man’s hand.’
‘Was there only one attacker?’
‘Saewin the Reeve felt that there had to be more than one. A trained soldier like Nicholas Picard would not easily be overpowered by a single adversary. Unless,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘he was disabled in some way. By drink, maybe, or by fatigue. Yet what could have tired such a healthy man? All he had done was to ride into Exeter on business.’
‘Something must have thrown him off guard.’
‘Why did he not travel with an escort? He had over twenty knights on whom he could call. If the road was perilous, an escort would have been essential. Why did he choose to ride alone?’