from nervousness, Baldwin could see, but from a kind of ennui.
“What is all this about, Sir Baldwin? You may feel that this is a good time to insult your hosts, but I do not find your attitude at all impressive, let alone amusing.” Lady Beauscyr was white-faced, but whether from anger or fear he could not tell.
“Very well, lady. My apologies for upsetting you, but I am afraid there is nothing else for it.” He remained beside Sir Ralph, but now his gaze was fixed on Thomas, as if he was explaining the whole matter to the tinner, and the others in the room were merely an audience to the drama.
“These murders have been confusing. At first, when it was only Bruther, there seemed no end of people who wanted to kill him and who could have done it. Another miner – we wondered about you yourself – perhaps even a moorman. And many could have benefited from his death.
“But when the two men-at-arms died, it became clear that the killer must be someone from inside the Manor. The gate is closed and barred at night, and it is too much to think that an assassin could enter. No, the killer was inside.
“At first we thought it had to be Sir Ralph. He came down from the north, where killing is commonplace and the coroners have a hard time keeping track of the dead. Would it be so surprising if he was involved? But he was with a woman that night, at the inn. Unless she and the others there were lying, he was never away for long enough.”
The tinner nodded, watching as Baldwin ambled to John, who stood with his eyes downcast, flicking his dagger up and down. “And John?” Baldwin said, contemplating the boy with his arms crossed. “He was a problem, too. He was with Sir Ralph all the way to the inn, but once there, he left. Of course there was his brother, too, we thought. Robert, who ran from the hall that day and spent it riding over the moors. But we find that he was with his lover almost all the time, and certainly when Bruther was killed. It was not him.”
Simon observed John, who had slowed his knife-throwing and had now stopped. The boy’s jaw jutted aggressively, and his voice was dangerously low as he said, “Are you accusing me of the murder, Sir Baldwin?”
The knight surveyed him silently for a minute. Simon answered for him. “No. And for several reasons. For one, we can’t believe you could have ridden from Wistman’s Wood to Chagford in time. Bruther was at the inn just before you, and you saw him on the road. He had men with him, so you could not have killed him then – there were too many witnesses. After your slanging contest, you carried on to the inn and stayed there for a while before riding off. To have gone to Wistman’s and killed Bruther, then hanged him, and made your way to Chagford would have been impossible. Oh, and there’s another thing in your favor: you thought Bruther had a load of men with him. You weren’t to know he left them at his father’s hall. No, you didn’t do it.”
Robert rose, stuttering in his astonishment. “Are… are you suggesting it was me?”
Sir Ralph glanced anxiously at Baldwin as he said, “No. You did not kill Bruther. You were with Alicia, like you said. And from what she has told us, you could not have had time. You left her late, she says, and I believe her.
“No, whoever did commit the murder had to have had a great hatred for Bruther, and reason to think he would profit by the young miner’s death – or perhaps that his family would profit, I do not know which. In any case, as far as I can tell, this is what happened:
“Bruther was drinking at the inn that night. He went there as often as possible to meet the girl he loved. It was sad that she was the one he chose, for she could not keep herself for one man. Even when she heard of Bruther’s death, she was only sad for herself, saying that he was one of the few who seemed to want her seriously. All others only wanted their brief pleasures of her. Anyway, he left to return home, and on the way he met you, John, and taunted you. I expect he insulted you and your master. Did he dangle the rope in front of you? And then, I daresay, he started talking about your father, how Sir William had been a hell-raiser in his youth, and your father was no better than any common outlaw. He told you about a certain convent in Wales where your father had besmirched the family name, or so I would guess. And you replied in kind, saying you were going to have your fun with his woman.”
Thomas Smyth groaned in understanding. The events fitted together as neatly as a bolt on a crossbow as Simon took up the story. “You carried on, but you were furious with him, weren’t you? Angry to hear about your father’s past, and mad to think the bugger could get away with humiliating you,” he said, looking at John. “You knew Bruther was probably right, your father had been involved in the sack of the nunnery in his youth, and you decided you might as well use his example to help you get money, especially after Sir William had declared that you were low in his esteem after news of your doings in the north. That was why you were so angry when you attacked Meavy, and why you muttered about your father as you stole the poor man’s purse. You knew Sir William had done worse when he’d been young. Much, much worse.”
Baldwin nodded appreciatively and smiled. “And Bruther carried on his way. He arrived at the hall where his father lived, as he always did, but that day was different. That day he knew about Sir William’s past, and he thought Sir William had been told to leave him alone and make sure that his men did too. He was free of any fears about the Beauscyr family and friends. Before it had been because of the security of the guards round him, but not now: now he left the guards at the hall’s doors. Why should he have done that if he did not think he was safe?”
Simon leaned back and sighed, folding his arms. He took up the tale. “Because, of course, he thought Sir William had already, that morning, been given the threat. He thought he was free of serfdom, because his father had said that after this day he need not be worried about the Beauscyr family. The good knight’s horse was outside the hall, and so Bruther went in. He insulted you in there, didn’t he, Sir William? Feeling safe from you, I imagine he taunted you too, passing comments about you and your son. And then he walked back toward his works, confident he was in no danger.”
“He was not to know that his father had not yet spoken to Sir William, was he?” said Baldwin. “Thomas Smyth did not return until it was almost dark. It took him some time to get to Bruther’s hut and back, and he arrived a little after you, didn’t he, Sir William?”
“Yes,” said the older knight. His face was pale, and it was almost as if, Baldwin thought, he would be able to see the stones of the wall through the older man’s parchment – like skin.
Simon leaned forward, frowning, but Baldwin held up a hand for silence. “Yes, he was there a little after you, but it was a little after your second arrival, wasn’t it? Bruther came into the hall while you were there and… well, let us say you were unhappy about his attitude. When he realized his father was not there, he walked out again, and you were left there brooding on his words. He knew your past and you did not want that to come out, so you went after him, and lay in ambush. There was no need to let him go too far, you had plenty of time. When he appeared, you jumped on him, strangling him with the first thing that came to hand – what was it?”
“A thong from my saddle. It had been loose for days. I pulled it free when I left my horse up in the rocks and settled to wait for him.”
“I see. And then you thought it would be a good idea to leave a permanent message to any other villeins who thought escape to the moors might be a good thing – so you carried his body on your horse to Wistman’s, and left him hanging there.”
“It’s true,” Sir William said quietly, his face terrible in its pallor. “I hauled him to that cursed wood and hanged him, then made my way back. I swear I never knew he was Thomas Smyth’s son. I thought he was interested in Bruther because it would embarrass me.”
“Will.” Matillida put a hand to his forearm but he shook it off.
“I did kill him. But the law is on my side. He was my villein, damn him, and he had no right to run away and then taunt me and mine. He was my villein, and I owned him. I tried to persuade him to come back, but he rejected my offers, and then, when he began to insult me… me!.. in Smyth’s hall, and threatened me, telling me to keep my son away from his whore or he would tell of my past, I saw red. I had to do something. I chased after him and ambushed him out on the moor, and then I thought that his body would be the ideal symbol to keep others from trying the same thing. Once I had done that, I rode back as quickly as I could to the miner’s hall and waited for Thomas Smyth to arrive.”
“The bottler did not even know you had gone out, you were so quick,” said Baldwin.
“How did you know, then?”
“You were the only person who was alone and without an alibi. We had thought you were with Thomas, but he only got back around dark. Samuel and Ronald finished drinking about dusk and were leaving the alehouse, so you must have been at the hall for ages. They had time to ride to their inn, drink, and then leave again and yet we had been told you arrived at Thomas’ hall a little before him. It was only today, when we heard the bottler had left
