had to bring it out piece by piece. Think of the size of the plates we found-only a few at a time could be carried without making him look suspiciously heavy-and what about sudden clanking noises? It would have taken five, or ten, maybe more trips to bring it all out. Three men were needed to carry the chest into the room, and the chest itself wasn’t that heavy, it was the weight of the silver inside. And how would he have explained so many trips to his master’s solar? No, I refuse to believe he could have done it that way.”
“There’s another thing, sir,” Cristine said. At Baldwin’s nod, she continued, “This man, Cole, was new to the group. Those chambers are only for Sir Hector and his closest men. I think if Cole went in there just once he’d be asked what he was doing. These soldiers don’t seem very trusting.”
“A good point, Cristine. So, to return to my idea, did you see anyone waiting outside Sir Hector’s room today? A man with a horse, perhaps? Maybe a wagon?”
“No, sir,” she said, her eyes round. “I went past there many times, and I never noticed anyone. I’d have said if I did.”
“See?” said Simon. His friend ignored him.
“Other rooms behind the hall have windows which look out to the front, don’t they? Cristine, would there be any surprise if someone was spotted waiting in the street with a wagon?”
“Of course. And they’d be told to move, too. The street’s not very wide, is it? If someone sat there waiting, there’d be plenty would tell them to clear off.”
Baldwin was about to ask another question when there was a series of hoarse shouts. Turning, he saw the captain emerge from his rooms, bellowing.
“What is it this time?” groaned Paul.
“Come on, Baldwin,” Simon muttered, levering himself upright with difficulty. “It’s about time we were back at Peter’s…”
“Sir Baldwin!” Sir Hector pointed at them, and Paul the innkeeper felt his earlier premonition of evil return in full force at the sight of the man’s ghastly face. “Sir Baldwin, come here! There’s been a murder.”
7
M oving urgently, they ducked behind the tapestry into the antechamber at the rear of the hall. The rooms at either side formed a solar for wealthy guests where they could relax in privacy away from the row of revellers at the inn. On the right was Sir Hector’s bedchamber; to their left, storerooms. The captain led them inside one of these; a white-faced servant was waiting for them, gripping three smoking candles in his hand.
“I was looking for some clothes, sir,” he explained to Baldwin. “My master asked me to fetch a fresh shirt, and when I opened the chest, there was a cloak on top, and then this serving girl!” With a trembling hand, he lifted the lid and Baldwin found himself looking down on the still, calmly beautiful face of Sarra.
Simon choked and turned away, stumbling to the window. It was not the sight of death-he was all too used to that-but the oval face with the narrow nose, surrounded by a mass of fair hair looked, at first glance, like his wife. The eyes seemed to stare directly at him, as if in rebuke for his behavior.
Ignoring him, Baldwin studied the chest and noted the details dispassionately. He took in the general layout of the room before concentrating on the body before him.
The storeroom was low-ceilinged, stinking of damp, with a small window overlooking the road. It was ill-lit by the candles grasped by the servant, a darkly suspicious-looking man, with square features and a grizzled beard. In here were placed a number of chests which held some of Sir Hector’s less valuable belongings. Many were open. Baldwin saw clothing, some armor, bolts for a crossbow, wineskins, saddlebags, a helmet…the kind of detritus which accumulates round a warrior after many years of travelling.
The chest was vast. Standing at least three feet high, and four feet long, it was made of wood bound with iron hoops, and held the captain’s clothing. Baldwin leaned forward to study the interior while Simon groaned once more at the sight of the body inside.
Sarra lay twisted, with her arms hidden beneath her. Her knees were bent and turned to one side to allow the lid to close. Her posture was that of a young girl snatching a rest, but she was as lifeless as a rag doll. A strip of green cloth ran tightly from her mouth to the back of her neck, making caverns of her cheeks. Baldwin felt her forehead, but there was no heat. She had been dead some little time. Her breast too was still, with no motion as of breathing, and he sighed: another young life wasted. Feeling a quick anger, he drew his dagger and cut the gag, pulling it away. More cloth projected from inside her mouth, and he gently removed that. Whoever had wished to silence her had made a very competent job of it.
She was dressed in a light blue tunic, embroidered with tiny flowers. Touching it, he could feel that the cloth was expensive, and he noted the fact with a raised eyebrow. A serving-girl would not usually be able to afford such material. Her head lay on a bolt of fine, golden fabric which Baldwin thought could be gauze, and her hair mingled with it. She looked as if she had just awoken from a slight sleep, her eyes freshly opened, and he half-expected her to smile and welcome her visitors.
“Help me get her out,” he said, and heard the harshness in his voice. It was one thing to find the corpse of a man, for men were born to fight and die, but quite another to find the body of a young and beautiful girl. The servant helped him, taking the knees and lifting while Baldwin grasped her shoulders. They set Sarra down alongside the chest, and Simon saw that her hands had been bound with another cord made from the same stuff as the gag. “So that’s how you died, then,” Baldwin muttered.
“How?” Simon asked, curiosity overcoming his squeamishness. Peering over the knight’s shoulder, he saw the stain on the clothing in the trunk. “Stabbed?”
“Yes. And viciously, too. Look, the thrust of the blade went right through her and damaged the cloth behind her. She was in there already, then, before being killed.”
Simon winced. “Why kill her?”
Baldwin glanced at him. “Why? Because she saw someone, I would imagine. She witnessed the robbery, and had to be silenced. What I would like to know is, why her killer bound and gagged her. Was he not going to kill her at first-and then something made him change his mind? No matter: she was stabbed and left to die alone in the darkness.” He gently rolled the body over. “Bring the candles lower. Ah, yes. One knife-wound high in her chest, on her left side.” He pursed his lips. “Another here, a little lower, just above the breast. From where they came out at the back, both were angled sharply.” He studied the cloth carefully in the inadequate light, trying to make sense of the marks on it. After a minute or two he sighed and looked up. “I’ll need to look more carefully in the daylight. It’s impossible to see anything in here.”
“The poor girl.” Sir Hector was standing above Baldwin staring down at Sarra’s body. The captain was clad in hose and boots, bare-chested, but wearing his sword-Baldwin assumed correctly that he rarely went anywhere without it. His torso was as white as a lump of goose fat making him look strangely young, but with livid pink stars and slashes of scar tissue from his career as a soldier.
“You knew her?” Baldwin asked coldly.
“She was a serving-girl here called Sarra.”
“Did you see her today?”
“Not that I noticed.”
“When were you last in here?”
Sir Hector looked round the little storeroom with distaste, “I am not in the habit of entering places like this. I watched to see that my chests were brought in yesterday when we arrived here, but I’ve not been in here since.”
Baldwin spoke to the servant. “Has anyone been in here today?”
“I was here this morning, sir-it was when my master asked for his tunic before he went out-but she wasn’t there then. I’d have seen her, and if I had, I’d have called for help as soon as I did, I’m sure.”
“So she was not here earlier. She must have been killed today.”
“Cole must have done it when he robbed me.” Sir Hector’s eyes were fixed on the body, but there was no mistaking his anger.
“Perhaps,” Baldwin said musingly. “Though it seems odd.”
“Sir, I didn’t kill her! You must believe me, I-”
