inheritance. I had to kill him.”
Simon interrupted. “You knew what you did was going to put the whole blame on to Greencliff, didn’t you? Did you want him to die for what you had done?”
“Harold?” The youth’s face showed momentary confusion, near anger as he frowned, but then he seemed to realise that the bailiff was genuinely unaware of the truth and gave him an comprehending smile. “Oh, no. You don’t understand. I told Harold to go and escape. I knew he could be in danger otherwise. That was why I went to his house after the witch died, to make sure he had gone. I had to make sure he would be all right after I killed her. Then, when I had seen to Alan Trevellyn, I made sure he left for good. He was my friend; I was looking after him.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
It was late when they finally made it home, and both were ready to drop straight to sleep, but there was no opportunity for them to do so. Margaret, Tanner, Greencliff and Angelina Trevellyn were still in front of the fire, and their eyes rose to the door as the three men entered.
Margaret went to Simon as soon as she saw him, with a sigh of relief, hugging him with her eyes closed. “I thought something must have gone wrong,” she whispered, and then, as she squeezed tighter in her joy, she felt him wince and heard his quick moan, and stood back. Now she could see his pain, and the paleness of his face. Even as she saw him try to smile, she turned an accusatory glare to Baldwin. “What’s happened to him?” she asked, and then gasped in horror as she saw the gore over his tunic. “Baldwin! What has happened to you?”
The knight grinned. “Very little, the same as your husband. But I fear we shall all three of us soon die of the cold if we do not get inside and sit before the fire.”
While Margaret bustled, calling for Hugh and helping Simon to a chair, Baldwin walked to his own chair by the fire and sat, pensively watching them. Hugh did not appear – he had fallen asleep in the kitchen by the fire – so Edgar went to fetch food and drink for them. It was only when he had left the room that Baldwin found his eyes being drawn to Angelina Trevellyn. Seeing her condescending smile as she watched the husband and wife, the knight nodded to himself as he turned his face to the fire once more. It confirmed his decision, reached with such difficulty on the ride homewards.
“Come on, then! What happened? And Simon, how did you guess it was him?”
The bailiff smiled at his wife. “There were a number of things that made me start to think of Stephen de la Fort,” he began. “I think the first thing was how so many people started saying how much of a friend he was to Harold, and how they were always together. It seemed as though they had no secrets from each other – Jennie Miller even said that Stephen knew who Harold’s wealthy lover was.” At this, both Greencliff and Angelina Trevellyn stirred, but Simon ignored them.
“Then there was the fact that at both murders, although Harold was there or nearby, he was apparently alone. It did not occur to me at once for, in affairs of the heart, most men will leave their friends behind when they go to see their lover. But there was something odd about the prints back from the Trevellyn house on the afternoon we went to Harold’s house after discovering Alan Trevellyn’s body. It only came to me late. There were the prints of a man and a horse?”
He glanced at the farmer. “You never owned a horse, did you? That’s what Jennie Miller said too. What use would a shepherd and farmer have for a horse? And if you did have one, why walk the horse home? To avoid ice, maybe, but it would be rare for a man to walk unless his horse was lame, and this horse did not limp. No, I became certain that there was another man with you. You confirmed that yesterday.
“So what about the day of the death of Agatha Kyteler? Once again, you were seen while you stood with Angelina’s horse, once again, you were alone there. Was it likely? Later, at the inn, you were seen with Stephen de la Forte again, but he came in after you. You did not enter together. If he was with you when you went to see your lover, when Alan Trevellyn died, surely it was possible that he was with you when Agatha died as well? In which case, where had he gone?”
Nodding, Baldwin leaned forward. “Yes, I think that this is what happened. You two, Harold and Angelina, agreed to meet, but Stephen went with you. Harold, you waited with the horse while Angelina went to see the old woman. When she left, Stephen made some excuse…”
“He said that after seeing the old woman, Angelina would want my company, but he would probably be unwelcome,” said Harold dully. “He rode off as if he was on his way home.”
“I see. So he went a short way, then tied his horse in the woods, and made his way to the old woman’s cottage. When he saw Angelina leaving, he went inside and found her still at her table. He pulled out his knife and killed her.”
“I knew none of this!” the boy cried, and his face dropped into his hands.
“No, that much is obvious,” continued the knight. “What happened was that Angelina told you what she had done, and you were shocked, horrified, by what she had done, when you had been looking forward to raising the child.”
“She said she wanted nothing more to do with me when I asked her to leave the village and come away with me.”
“Yes,” said the knight and threw her a glance. She appeared to be gazing at the youth with a small contemptuous sneer. “I imagine she did. Anyway, feeling as you did, you went to the inn to get drunk. Half an hour later or so, Stephen arrived…”
Eagerly, the bailiff interrupted. “And he was cold, you said! You said he had no surcoat!”
“Yes,” the boy nodded with surprise.
“Look at Baldwin’s tunic, after killing Stephen’s horse!” said Simon triumphantly. “Stephen may have been able to clean his face at a stream in the woods, but he couldn’t clean his clothes. That was another thing that stuck in my mind!”
“Thank you, Simon,” said Baldwin with an imperceptible frown of irritation at the break in his tale. He paused, trying to regain the threads, but Simon was too quick.
“So,” he said, “Stephen appeared, heard what Angelina had said to you, and then started to speak about how the old woman would be sure to talk about such a wealthy woman going to see her, or something, yes?”
The boy nodded miserably. “He said that Agatha never could keep her mouth shut. He said she had told everyone in the village about me and Sarah Cottey. I had to do something to keep her quiet.”
“Yes, that was when you were overheard talking about silencing the old witch!”
“Yes. And Stephen offered to come with me.”
“That’s the interesting bit. I suppose he wanted someone to confirm that it was a shock to him to find her body there.”
“I don’t know. He came up to the cottage, but when I opened the door, and found her there, her dog came out and started to attack him. He said we’d better go, and I held the dog back, for it would have taken him by the throat otherwise. When he had gone, though, I began to think, and…”
“You thought Angelina had done it,” said Baldwin flatly. “So you chose to drag the old woman’s body to your field, so you could bury it and hide the proof of the murder.”
Nodding again, the boy looked up with frank sadness. “I went to the inn first, with Stephen. I left the body there at the house. I didn’t even tell him what I was going to do, I thought it would be wrong to involve him. Then, when we left the inn I took her back with me, through the woods, and left her in the field. I was intending to bury her the next morning. But Cottey found her first.”
“Why did you run away?”
“I still loved – I still love – Angelina. But she made it clear that she did not love me. I was going away. I was going to leave the area and find my fortune elsewhere.”
“I see.”
Simon musingly poured himself some wine. “Who suggested that you should go and see Angelina later? When Alan Trevellyn died?”
“Angelina did,” he said.
