Peter then bound atte Bridge’s wrists and ankles, and perhaps crammed a wad of fabric in his mouth should he wake from the blow. Then with his lad Peter carried his victim from the Weald toward Cow-Leys Corner. Mayhap Thomas regained his senses while carried thus, and struggled, so that the child lost grip on his ankles and there were then two grooves made in the road; these ruts Kate and I found next morn, and also mud from the road on the back of the doomed man’s heels. Perchance Peter delivered another blow to quiet Thomas before continuing to Cow-Leys Corner.
But what of the stool? How would Peter have come by that object? He traveled the Weald to appraise Philip Mannyng’s shattered door. Perhaps as he passed he saw Maud sitting at her door, working at some task in the sun, and later made off with the stool she sat upon when she left it. Might he have even then had use in mind for it? Who can know?
Peter, the apprentice, and the laborers continued their work, stretching wattles between posts to make ready for the plaster. I lost interest in the business and departed the toft. As I set foot on Church View Street I saw and heard a large cart approach, drawn by two horses. I stopped to see what this conveyance was about and watched as a man atop its load pulled upon the traces and halted his beasts before Galen House.
“Where’s the carpenter?” he asked.
“He is at the rear of the house, framing wattles.”
“Peter requires these tiles an’ here they are. Not ready yet for ’em, I see,” the tiler said with a glance at the empty sky where ridgepole and rafters should soon be placed.
“Need another load anyway. We’ll just leave this lot in the toft an’ return next week with more. Wat,” he called to his apprentice, “lead the ’orses ’round back an’ stack the tiles. I’ll be there shortly. Good worker,” the tiler said to me, with a nod to his apprentice, “but bull-headed.”
“So long as he lays a roof which keeps me dry, his disposition is of no concern.”
“He’ll do that well enough. I’ll see to it. Got to return to Witney, so best help the lad.”
The tiler touched his cap with a finger and hastened off in the track of his cart. I set off for the castle, where I hoped a few circles of the parapet would clear my mind and set me toward my duty, when I decided where my duty lay.
I had made one circuit of the castle wall and leaned against a merlon, staring at the forest which hid Cow-Leys Corner from view, when I heard Kate call up to me from the castle yard. Her expression indicated peevishness that I had returned and not told her of it. She strode to the gatehouse and a moment later appeared on the parapet.
“What news?” she asked breathlessly. Climbing the circular stairs of the gatehouse was becoming more of a task for her as her belly grew.
“I have no evidence to charge a man before the King’s Eyre,” I replied.
“But you know the truth of Thomas atte Bridge’s death all the same,” she asserted, reading my unspoken thoughts.
“Aye, so I believe.”
I told Kate then of what I had seen in the hour past. She looked away as I spoke, and together we studied the Ladywell and Lord Gilbert’s millpond beyond.
“Will you seek more proofs against the carpenter?”
I could not answer, for I did not know.
“Mayhap he is innocent,” Kate brightened, “and you will be spared dealing with him… or if you charge him before the king’s judges a jury may discharge him.”
“I wish he was guiltless, but of all men he had best cause to slay Thomas atte Bridge, and because he is not a practiced miscreant he could not hide his guilt when I looked him in the eye an hour past.”
“The town needs a carpenter,” Kate added softly.
“Aye, there is that.”
“And Peter is not likely to slay any other. It does not seem to be his nature.”
“Nay,” I agreed. “He has always been a peaceable sort, since I came to Bampton. But might a man who has succeeded in murdering a foe, and escaping penalty, find it less irksome should the desire again arise to eliminate an adversary?”
Kate made no reply, nor could I answer my own question. We stood thus for some time, until we heard below us Wilfred closing the castle gate and cranking down the portcullis. Kate then took my arm and drew me silently from the parapet to the stairs and our chamber. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” so says Holy Writ. I had experienced enough evil this day. I would seek my bed and await the evils of another day.
I placed my feet upon the cool flags of our chamber floor next morn before the Angelus Bell ceased ringing from the tower of the Church of St Beornwald. I had resolved in the night to seek the carpenter and confront him with my suspicion against him, so departed the castle before even breaking my fast. The task before me was onerous and I wished it over and done so soon as possible.
Peter’s apprentice, the laborers, and Warin were at their work, but Peter was absent. I watched the apprentice busy himself with placing wattles while he occasionally glanced to the street to see was his employer arrived. He soon tired of this, left the workmen to the task, and clambered down from the scaffold.
“Peter seemed unwell when we quit work yesterday,” the apprentice said. “I’m off to Rosemary Lane to see is he ill.”
I circled the structure to where Warin was placing bricks and his apprentice mixing mortar. From this place a few moments later I saw Peter’s apprentice appear at a run from two hundred paces down Church View Street.
The youth skidded to a stop before me and breathlessly gasped a single word: “Gone.”
“Who?” I asked stupidly.
“Peter, an’ all his household.”
“His house is empty?”
“Aye. None there. Goods is gone, tools an’ such. Horse an’ cart, as well.”
Before the lad finished his declaration I set off apace for Rosemary Lane. There I found Peter Carpenter’s house and yard as the apprentice said, all abandoned.
I entered the empty house. No chests or pots remained. Tools were absent from Peter’s workshop, and the crude shed which had sheltered his horse and cart was vacant. Peter had fled in the night, loading possessions upon his cart and slipping away while the town slept, after the beadle had completed his rounds.
I returned dolefully to Galen House. The apprentice stood where I had left him, open-mouthed.
“Are you competent to complete the work Peter has begun,” I asked him plainly, “or must I seek another?”
“Uh, aye,” he stammered. “But what has become of Peter?”
“He has fled the town.”
“But why so?”
“I am uncertain,” I lied. May the Lord Christ absolve me of this sin. “Go this day to Alvescot and tell Gerard the verderer what you need in the way of roof-tree and rafters to complete my house. Then carry on as before. I will pay you what you are due. The tiler promised soon to bring another load of tiles and I wish the rafters ready when he comes.”
The apprentice nodded and immediately set off afoot for Alvescot. No matter, he may ride back on Gerard’s cart with the timber and rafters.
From Galen House I walked to Father Simon’s vicarage and announced my presence with vigorous thumping upon the door. The clerk soon appeared, recognized by my scowl that some grave matter troubled me, and hastened to announce my presence to the vicar.
“Good morn, Master Hugh,” Father Simon greeted me pleasantly, although I suspect he guessed that my reappearance at his door brought little good. “How may I serve you?”
“You may send servants and clerks to Cow-Leys Corner to unearth Thomas atte Bridge, then bring his corpse to the churchyard and bury the fellow properly.”
“What? I cannot. A suicide…”
“Thomas atte Bridge did not take his own life, as you well know.”
The vicar was silent for a moment. “How would I know this?” he finally demanded.