“That’s one thing.”
“What?” Simon asked, yawning.
“Whoever stole the plate did not see it through these shutters. This was no random, opportunistic theft. Not that I thought it would be, for who would dare to steal from a mercenary captain and his men? No, nobody could have glanced in and realized that the room held a great store of silver.”
“So?”
“So, old friend, the thief must have been someone who was a member of the company, or was the friend of a member of the company. It would seem to bear out Cole’s guilt-but who was his accomplice?”
The next morning Simon awoke later than usual with a vague sense of gloom. Margaret’s body had left a hollow in the mattress beside him, but the dent was cool to his touch. She must have risen some time before. He sighed and rolled onto his back, an arm flung behind his head.
It hurt him so much to see her suffering-and yet he could not find the words to help her. His own desolation was so vast that he could not think how to bridge the chasm which had suddenly appeared and now separated them as effectively as the deep gorge at Lydford. He had no means of spanning it.
To his surprise, thoughts of the dead girl intruded. Her face, which looked as though it was better used to being happy and carefree, was so violated and shrunken in that meager coffin with the cruel band round her mouth, that he felt anger stirring once more against whoever could have inflicted so demeaning a death on her. No matter how hard Simon tried to put her from his mind, the girl kept returning, as if demanding revenge, staring at him accusingly with his wife’s eyes.
He rose and dressed himself. The hall was along a short corridor, and there he found the table laid. Peter, Baldwin, Margaret and Edith were all present, as was Stapledon. Peter waved him to a seat, but it was the Bishop who spoke.
“Ah, Bailiff. I have just been hearing about the dead girl you found. Sad, very sad. To think a young man could do that-steal another man’s silver, and kill an innocent girl as well. It is horrible to discover how dark a man’s heart can be.” He crammed a thick hunk of bread into his mouth.
Simon nodded and sat beside his wife. Margaret was pale, and her eyes looked red, though whether from lack of sleep or weeping he couldn’t tell. While he gazed at her concentrating on her food, by chance the sun escaped from behind a cloud. From the windows high in the walls, sunlight entered at a steep angle, falling through the apertures like a luminous mist in which dust motes danced and whirled, forming pools of color on the floor. One fell near, and by its light Margaret’s face was suffused with a golden tint which revivified her features, softening and smoothing her wrinkles, and renewing her youth. It made her hair glow, and she looked five years younger. To Simon it was as if the woman he had fallen in love with had returned, unlooked for.
Chewing, Baldwin was about to ask Simon whether he had any fresh thoughts on the dead girl when he saw his friend staring at his wife. She turned to catch sight of his expression, and slowly her taut expression eased into a smile, as though she had almost forgotten how to. To his secret delight, Baldwin saw Simon return it.
“Sir Baldwin,” Stapledon said, waving his knife vaguely, “What do you think the boy has actually done with the silver? Could he have hidden it out on the road before he was captured?”
“No. That’s inconceivable, according to the men who caught him. Apparently they had been following him for some time, after they saw him behaving oddly-I think they said ”furtively“-in town.”
“They could have marked the spot where he hid it so that they themselves could return there and claim it.”
“It’s possible,” Baldwin agreed.
“But you don’t think so?”
Baldwin shook his head. “Sir Hector de Gorsone has some thirty odd men with him. He has undoubtedly fought in several campaigns, and his soldiers are battle-hardened. All can kill. It is quite feasible that these two men could have seen where the silver was placed, as you say, but what then? They would not have left Cole alive to say where it had been stored; they would have killed him immediately. Then they could go to it whenever they wanted. If they were to stay with Sir Hector, they would have a hard time explaining where any new wealth came from, but on the other hand, if they were to try to run away, where could they go? And don’t forget they would have incurred the wrath of their captain. He would be bound to seek revenge, if only to reimpose his will on the other men. The two with the silver would find thirty or so highly motivated men chasing after them wherever they tried to go. I think that if they saw Cole making a fool of himself, then witnessed him hiding something, they would have told their master as soon as they found out about the robbery.”
“What if they did not realize that it was their master’s silver? Couldn’t they have decided to profit by someone else’s theft and hidden it to collect later?”
“That is possible, but as soon as they found out it was Sir Hector’s treasure they would be bound to tell him where it was. They would be unhappy to steal from him, I would think, although they might expect a reward for bringing it back.”
“People can react fast to changing circumstances,” the Bishop said. “Perhaps they secreted it somewhere new, so they could go back to it later.”
“Unlikely,” Sir Baldwin decided. “In the first place, like I say, I believe they would have killed Cole to ensure that their secret was safe. Then again, they had no idea how long it would take for the robbery to be discovered, so they could not know how much time they had to hide the silver. I think they would have tried to capture the thief and deliver him up to their master. After all, even if they are mercenaries, they are still soldiers. Their whole life is tied up with their companions.”
“I have known men-at-arms who have been disliked by their companions and who have disappeared as soon as a good sum became available,” the Bishop observed.
“So have I,” Baldwin admitted. “But until I see evidence of that, I shall assume that these two have been telling the truth. And, of course, we do have a suspect in jail. Right now he is the most likely culprit.”
Margaret leaned forward. “Why would he have killed the girl? There was no need, surely?”
“Possibly-and possibly not. There is one simple explanation. He went into the room to steal the silver and either she was there already or she came in a little later. Either way, he knew that if she spoke of him being in Sir Hector’s room his life would be forfeit. He killed her to save his own skin, then hid the body so that he could make good his escape.”
Roger de Grosse was sitting nearby, and he frowned at this. “Surely, Sir Baldwin, if he was intending to make his escape, he would have planned a better means than his own feet?”
“A very good point. But it is possible that in the first case he intended taking the silver and hiding it, so he could return to it later when the fuss had died down.”
“How did he do it? From what you have said, he would have been seen leaving by the hall, and the shutters were closed. He couldn’t have jumped from a window.”
Baldwin glanced at Simon. “I have told them about our talks last night,” he said. “That, Roger, is still the point which interests me. Again, we don’t know how, but several explanations are possible.”
“Could Sarra have been an accomplice? She might have opened the shutters for him and closed them after he left.”
Baldwin smiled. “And afterward he wandered back in and killed her? No, all we know is that he must have taken the silver some time after Sir Hector rose from his bed, and before the captain returned from his meal.”
The bailiff nodded. “I look forward to hearing how he did it.”
8
T he jail was a small building near the market, almost opposite the inn. Commonly it was used for victims of the Pie Powder courts, at which market traders were convicted for selling short measures or defective goods, but it also served for those committed for more serious offenses. Small, stone and square, it lurked malevolently near the toll-booth, a focus of fear for people of the town, for many of those who entered would only leave to make their way to the gallows.
It was only a few minutes’ walk from Peter’s house. Baldwin and Simon set off immediately after their breakfast. Roger had asked if he might join them, and Stapledon agreed that it could be useful for the rector to
