Baldwin took a deep breath, “In that case, I think we’d better organise a search. It may have nothing to do with the death of Kyteler, but it certainly seems suspicious that on the day her body is found – especially so close to his house – he disappears. Very well.” He glanced at Tanner, who nodded, and then, at the knight’s dismissive wave, took the youth by the arm and led him out. It was only when they were gone and the door shut behind them that Baldwin turned back to Simon and sighed in relief.
“Let’s just hope they find him, eh? I think he could help us with some points about this death, especially now he’s decided to run away – that looks suspicious, doesn’t it. It seems like a clear sign of guilt, thank God! It wasn’t the Captal’s son.”
They spent the morning riding up over to the north on the road towards Bickleigh, the peregrine on Baldwin’s arm in the hope of finding a suitable prey for their meal later, but saw nothing worth hunting. At last, when the sun had risen to its zenith, Baldwin snorted and gave a long grumbling sigh.
“This is ridiculous. I can’t concentrate. Simon, Margaret, would you mind if we turned back home now?”
They exchanged a glance, then both nodded. Motioning to Edgar, Baldwin handed over the falcon, then turned his horse back home.
Up and down hills, the whole shire was smothered by the freezing blanket of white. In the distance Margaret could occasionally see the distant, grim greyness of the moors above the Dart, seeming different somehow from the rest of the countryside, gloomier and more menacing, proudly crouching on the edge of the horizon like a great cat waiting to pounce.
As they rode to the long track that wound through the ravine before the manor, Simon pointed excitedly at the path before them.
“Look at the prints! The search party must be back.”
Rounding the last bend in the trail before beginning the half-mile long straight section that pointed straight as a lance to the building itself, they could see the horses tied to the rail by the door, nuzzling at the ground or pawing the snow, trying to get to the grass that lay beneath.
“Edgar, see to the horses,” Baldwin called, throwing the reins to his servant before running indoors. Pausing only to help his wife down, Simon hurried after him.
The search party was waiting in the hall, sitting at Baldwin’s tables and putting the knight’s men to good service fetching wine and bread. Before them sat the figure they had seen the previous morning.
Simon studied him with interest. The day before he had looked nervous and scared of the bailiff and knight, but now he seemed dulled. He could have put it down to exhaustion, but Simon was sure he could see a glitter of defiance in the blue of the youth’s eyes.
“Tanner?” the knight called, and the constable walked up from the bottom of the table.
“Hello, sir.”
Motioning towards the farmer on the floor, Baldwin asked, “Where did you find him?”
Giving the boy a look of contempt, as if at his stupidity in being so predictable, the constable said, “Down south on the way to Exeter. He walked there overnight, apparently. He says he decided to leave. He wants to go to seek his fortune in Gascony.” Shaking his head, Tanner glanced down at the boy.
Baldwin nodded. “Greencliff?” he said. “You know how this must make you appear to us. You’re not stupid. Tell us about the day that the woman Kyteler died. What were you doing? Where did you go?”
But the youth merely stared back at him with eyes that suddenly filled with tears, and refused to answer.
After the search party had left, the constable cursing as he tried to form the ragged group of men into an escort for their prisoner, Simon stood for some minutes, gazing after them with a puzzled frown. When he turned, he saw Baldwin close by, glowering at the ground.
“I am surprised,” said the knight slowly. “I find it difficult to believe that Greencliff is a murderer, and yet…”
“It’s hard to see why he would keep silent if he was innocent. Especially when he must know he’s the obvious man to suspect. And the body was right by his house.”
“Yes, it was. But that’s what worries me. I would have expected him to leave the body in the house or dump it somewhere else. Not there, right by his own place – it’s almost as if he was trying to get us to suspect him!”
“How do you mean?”
“Come on, Simon. If you were to kill someone and wanted to avoid being found out, surely you would hide the body somewhere more imaginative, somewhere away from yourself, somewhere – even if the body was seen – it would not be connected to you, wouldn’t you?”
Simon nodded slowly, but doubtfully. “Perhaps, Baldwin, perhaps. But equally, what if he had put Kyteler there hoping to hide her better later? He might not have expected anyone to see her there. After all, he might have thought he could get to her before anyone rose, to hide her in the trees where nobody could find her.”
Scratching at his beard, his mouth drawn up into a cynical grin, the knight nodded. “I suppose so. But surely, if that was his plan, he would have been about his business early, before old Samuel Cottey would be up?”
“Don’t forget the body was away from the road, hidden in the hedge. Maybe he thought he was going to be up before anyone else. In any case, why would anyone else have put the body there?”
“To implicate Greencliff, of course.”
“But wasn’t it too well hidden for that?” Simon frowned. “Away from the road, and under the hedge like that. If someone wanted to make sure that Greencliff was blamed, surely they would have made the body easier to find?”
“It was well away from the road,” Baldwin admitted.
“Yes. And yet Cottey found it… I wonder how…”
“What?”
“How did he find the body over there? He would not have been able to see it from the road. I think maybe we should go and talk to old Sam and find out exactly how he did find Kyteler.”
Chapter Nine
At the door to Cottey’s old house, a ramshackle affair built half of logs, half of cob, on a small hill amid a series of small strips of pasture and crops, with a huge wood-stack before the door, they found a young woman scattering seed for the chickens that scampered at her feet.
They had ridden from Furnshill almost as soon as they had decided to see Cottey, the black and brown dog insisting on joining them. The mastiff, taking one look at the cold snow, appeared to decide that the fire inside held more delights for a lady such as herself. Now Agatha Kyteler’s dog capered along in their wake, occasionally throwing himself headlong into a thick drift when the whim took him. Arriving at the door to the house, he was a great deal more white than black or brown.
The girl stopped tossing her seeds and watched as they rode forward, and then, at the sight of the dog, she put her basket down and crouched, holding her arms widespread. The dog went into a convulsion of ecstasy, tail wagging madly, panting in apparent delight, as he danced slowly around her, allowing her to stroke and pat him.
Baldwin grinned as he swung a leg over his horse’s rump. She was a reasonably attractive woman, only just jut of her teens, with an agile, if sturdy, body. He could not help but notice that she appeared to be well-formed. When she glanced up at him, he saw that she had light-grey, almond-shaped eyes above a wide mouth with full and slightly pouting lips. Her hair was mousy, almost fair, and hung in a braid down her left shoulder. He drew in a breath, and let it out in a short sigh. She looked very attractive. “Calm down, fool! She’s only a villein. You’re just getting desperate, that’s all,” he told himself.
“Are you Sarah Cottey?” he asked, and she rose to her feet, wiping her hands on the front of her tunic. The innocent action pulled the cloth taut over her breasts, and Baldwin cleared his throat and averted his eyes.
“Yes, sir,” she answered with a smile, seeming to notice his glance and subsequent embarrassment. She wiped her hands again as if taunting him.
