“Where?”
“At the inn, in the yard behind it. I was sitting near the rear door when I heard something out at the stables. The horses were making a racket, and I went out to see what was upsetting them. That’s all I know.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged, and for the first time looked a little ill-at-ease. “I remember crossing the yard. No one else was about, and I didn’t hurry, there seemed no point. There’s the one big door and separate boxes set out on the left, and I think I just got inside the door when something caught me. I fell, and I can remember being dazzled; it was dark in the stable, and I’d been trying to get used to it when I was struck. When I fell, I rolled, and the sun was in my eyes.”
“Did you see who had struck you?”
Cole reached up and touched the hair above his left ear. “No,” he admitted wryly. “I wish I had.”
“Let me see.” Baldwin walked over to him and peered at the man’s head. He was not lying about being hit, that much was evident. Just over his ear was a tangled mess where the greasy hair had become matted. Baldwin probed, making Cole wince and hiss. There was a crust, Baldwin saw, and a little broke off in tiny clumps which he studied closely. In the dark of the jail it was hard to be certain, but it looked and felt like dried blood. He glanced back at the man’s face. “Was there anyone else there who might have seen this happen?”
“I don’t know.” His impatience was reasserting itself. “I was unconscious. Someone must have seen me go in, I imagine.”
Simon broke in. “When did all this happen?”
“Sometime in the late afternoon.”
“We found you late at night. Do you expect us to believe you could have been out cold for that long?”
“All I know is, I went to see what was happening to the horses, and when I came to loads of men were staring at me like I was something that’d just crawled out of the sewer.”
The bailiff subsided, looking at Baldwin, who recognized the other’s expression: baffled confusion. The knight ventured, “If what you say is true, do you have any idea why someone could have tried to make you look like the guilty one?”
Cole glowered at the ground. “Yes.”
“Could you tell us, then?” Baldwin prompted smoothly.
Cole hesitated. “I want to get him myself. It’s me he’s hurt-I want to have my own revenge.”
“Do you realize the position you are in?” asked Baldwin in disbelief. “Your captain has had all his silver stolen-some of it was found on you-and a murder has been committed, probably during the robbery. Why should we listen to you when-”
“Murder?” His face had paled, his shock so palpable, Baldwin was convinced he had no idea that Sarra had been killed, though whether that was because he thought she had merely been injured and would recover, or because he knew nothing of the attack on her, was another matter. “What murder? Who’s dead? This is a trick- you’re trying to get me to confess to the robbery by threatening me with-”
“Shut up!” Tanner snapped curtly, but Baldwin held up a restraining hand. He surveyed the prisoner.
“This is no trick; we’re not trying to trap you. All we want to do is clear up a particularly nasty murder, and right now you are the main-well, the only-suspect.”
“But I know nothing of this. Who’s dead? Is it one of the soldiers?” His face was ashen, and he reminded Roger of a sack which has suddenly lost its contents. The cheeks seemed to draw in, the eyes to stare with the dreadful realization of his danger.
“Tell us who might have put this on to you. You were only there with Sir Hector for a day or so-did you anger someone? Or was it somebody from your home?”
Cole took a deep breath and met the knight’s gaze steadily. “It was someone in the band. I’ve no idea who, but it must have been one of them.” Baldwin nodded encouragingly, and the youth carried on haltingly, his voice betraying his emotion.
“Sir Hector’s men came through this way some five years ago. Back then I was only fourteen, but my brother Thomas was nearly twenty, and a strong, hard man. He was a good brother, and he looked after the family, four brothers and a sister, after our father died when he was eleven, working for any farmer who needed help. When my sister decided to marry, he slaved to earn enough to make her a dowry. But then our mother died, and my youngest brother with her, and Thomas had had enough. He wanted to marry, but the girl he loved was already betrothed, and the day she wed he told me he was going to go away.”
“This is all very interesting, but-” Baldwin murmured.
“It’s important, sir. Thomas left me in the care of John, my remaining brother, and went off. We didn’t know where, all we knew was, he’d gone. Then-oh, it must have been a year later-we had a message. Someone came past our place and visited us. He told us my brother had joined Sir Hector’s band, but he had died in Gascony, during a fight.”
“There are lots of wars in Gascony, especially on the border with France,” Baldwin said, and Cole nodded.
“Yes, sir, and I’d have thought no more about it, except this man said Thomas had been killed while fighting as an archer for Sir Hector. Now Thomas was a good fighter; known for it. But archer? He couldn’t hit a barn if he was stood inside it: he was awful. No one would let him near a bow in battle. He was the sort to stand with a pike and protect the bowmen, but not ever get near a bow himself. It made us wonder.”
“Many messages like that get confused, especially after a battle,” Baldwin noted thoughtfully.
“I know, sir, but it still seemed strange. The messenger was very definite. When I pressed him, he insisted that he had been told Thomas had been an archer. Anyway, John was killed two months ago, crushed by a wagon at the farm. There was nothing to keep me there anymore, and when I heard Sir Hector’s band were passing by again, I felt I had to come and see them to find out what happened to Thomas.”
“It hardly required you to join them,” said Simon dryly.
“No, sir,” Cole agreed. “But when I saw them all at the inn, I guessed they might not tell me much. I thought the best way to find out the truth was to join them. Otherwise they’d just close their mouths and keep their silence, and I want to know what really did happen.”
“What did you find out?” Baldwin had become interested despite himself.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I asked after Tom with a few people, but they all seemed never to have heard of him. And then this happened.”
9
S imon heaved a sigh of relief at being out of the jail. It was too small, too dark, and he had felt claustrophobic in there. The air might not be any better outside, with the stench from the street worsening as the sun warmed the waste in the sewer, but at least here there was sunlight and the noise of free people rushing about trying to earn a living. It was infinitely better than the atmosphere of the jail.
“We’d better get to the inn and rescue Edgar and Hugh,” Baldwin said, glancing up at the sun. It was rising in the sky: it must be midmorning.
They crossed the street, dodging a horse and cart. To their left, the tripod still stood outside the shop, but the bailiff saw that the butcher had disappeared. Simon happened to glance in through a window, and there he caught a glimpse of the young apprentice. Grasping a massive cleaver, he was hacking at a pig’s carcass dangling from a hook in the wall, splitting it in half down the spine. Every now and then the lad paused to wipe his forehead, clearing the sweat as the flies danced. Simon smiled. He could understand how tiring it must be to lift the massive axe-like tool and swing it in this heat. The apprentice would have several bodies to joint, and if he did not complete his work, his master would surely leave him in no doubt of his incapacity as a trainee. He looked young to be hefting a weapon like that, at maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, and the bailiff could not help glancing at the solemn face of the young rector, wondering whether Roger de Grosse realized how lucky he was.
It was dark in the alley inside the market entrance, which was a comfort after the furnace heat of the street where the shining cobbles seemed hotter than the sun itself. There was no breeze, and even in the shade he could feel the fresh sweat prickling under his armpits and all down his back, but he had to smile. He was calm, with no
