he was surprised to see the old mercenary, Wat.
Peter made a muttered apology and left the room while Baldwin invited the man to be seated.
Studying him, Baldwin was struck by the demeanor of his visitor. Wat had lost his coldness and truculence and appeared almost meek in the way he entered, his eyes cast demurely downward like a young virgin.
The curtain to the screens rattled, and Baldwin glanced up to see that Simon had entered. Baldwin was pleased to note that his friend appeared fully recovered, and walked in with a steady step, sitting beside the knight.
“You wanted to see us, Wat?” Baldwin asked.
“Yes, sir. I thought you ought to know.”
“Know what?”
The soldier looked up and held Baldwin’s gaze. “My master,” he said simply. “I think he must have killed those women.”
Ignoring the bailiff’s quick intake of breath, Baldwin leaned forward and nodded encouragingly. Wat pulled a grimace, as if any discourse with officers of law was loathsome, but then he began to speak.
“You see, I’ve been with him for longer than most. I know all his ways, and I know how he works. He’s not just an ordinary lord, he’s too used to killing. Far as he’s concerned, the only thing that matters is him. Nothing and nobody else.”
“That’s fine, Wat, but I didn’t realize you were a monk,” said Simon caustically.
The tired old eyes faced him. “I’m not, but when I kill, it’s for a reason. It’s for money or gold or food. It’s not for nothing.”
“Go on, Wat,” Baldwin said quietly.
“Well, sir, like I say, I know him. I’ve been with him so long now, over ten years, that I know some things about him. Has he told you we came through this town before? That young lad, Cole-his brother joined the company then, some five, maybe six years ago, when we were last here. That was when Hector met with Judith.”
Those few words made Baldwin and Simon sit up and listen carefully. “Met Judith? You mean your captain knew her back then?”
“Oh yes! She was a tavern-girl at the time, as young and fresh as a new primrose. Pretty much like that Sarra. He took her on his second night, and she went along to his chamber like it was her bridal bed. Silly cow. Two mornings after I saw her, she was weeping like a child. I don’t know why, but he’d beaten her. She looked like he’d whipped her before he threw her out.”
“Was this at the same inn?” Simon asked.
“Yes, sir. But it was a different owner then.”
Baldwin nodded his head. Paul had taken up the inn a little over four years before. He did not know who had run it until then. “You think he killed Judith?”
“I can’t say. All I know is, Sarra upsets him and she dies. Then he sees Judith again, and she dies.”
“Why should he kill her? It makes no sense.”
“It makes sense to me.”
“Why?”
“She was killed, but her son was left alive, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Like I said, we were here five or six years ago. How old is the lad?”
Simon stared. “You can’t mean…If she was his son’s mother, he couldn’t kill her, surely! How could any man, especially a knight-”
“Oh, Hector’s not a knight. He was never given his belt and spurs-he took them from a man he killed.”
“Not a knight?” Simon burst out. “Now you’re raving! Of course he is. He must be! No man can bear knightly arms without being able to prove his right.”
“And how do they prove their right, sir?”
“By force of arms…” Simon said, trailing off as he peered with bafflement at the calm soldier before him. “But there is more, surely. Someone could apply to discover where he was knighted, and by whom.”
“Hardly,” said Baldwin, keeping his eyes on Wat. “The man might have died by now. Or Hector could say it was a French knight, or a Teutonic one, who knighted him. Who could tell whether it was true or not?”
Wat nodded. “And right now, with the French trying to weaken the King and take over ever more of his lands, how could a French knight be found to confirm that he had dubbed Hector? He’s safe enough.”
“But that’s outrageous!” Simon exploded. “A man can’t just call himself a knight.”
“Of course he can. Men often do,” Baldwin said mildly.
“Especially in companies like mine,” Wat agreed.
Simon looked from one to the other, disbelief clouding his features, but their calm and factual tones disconcerted him. “All right, but even so, how on earth could someone kill a woman after she had borne him a son?”
Wat’s eyes were lidded as he surveyed the bailiff. “It’s been done before. Sometimes by kings, sometimes by ordinary men.”
“I see.” Baldwin gloomily rested his chin on his palm. “So you think he killed both of them, though you have no idea why.”
Wat moved uncomfortably on his seat. “I think Sarra was trying to win him back. You see she was wearing that tunic…And I know he’d bought it for someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, just someone in the town.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It was after he’d spent that first night with Sarra, the Monday morning. He left her and went into town. When he came back, he was really happy, laughing and joking. Next day, he bought the tunic. He told me to go and fetch it from the shop, as it was being finished off. He went out again, didn’t get back till afternoon. I think he found Sarra in his room with the new tunic on, and he killed her for wearing it.”
“Just for wearing it?” Simon asked dubiously. “He could kill just for that?”
Wat ignored the interruption. “I reckon he had met a woman while he was out. It was someone he liked, and he bought the tunic for her, ready for seeing her again later.”
“Later?” Baldwin frowned.
“He was out most of the night after his meal. I think he was with her.”
“Who? Judith?” Simon was beginning to flounder.
The look he received was withering. “No. Whoever the third woman was.”
“And who was the third woman?” asked Baldwin, sipping at his water and wincing as he suppressed a fresh belch.
“I don’t know, but I think it was someone he had met when we came through this town last. After he’d thrown Judith out that time, he met another one, and wouldn’t tell us who she was, either.”
“Was he normally so reticent?”
“No.”
“So why do you think he kept her name secret?”
“I’ve got no idea. Maybe she was important, or had powerful friends.”
Baldwin scratched at his head. “And you believe he killed Judith too? Why should he murder her?”
“Oh, I think she must have asked him for money. My captain is not happy to give, as you may have noticed.”
So news of Sir Hector’s attack on Judith had spread, Baldwin noted. He sat back and folded his arms. “Why do you tell us all this now, I wonder. You have known these things for some time. Why come forward now?”
But Wat stood, smiling patiently. “I had no idea he was so dangerous. How can we, his men, rely on someone who can go abroad of a night and murder a woman just because she asked him for charity? Or another because she put on a new tunic he didn’t intend for her? The man is erratic, and we can’t trust to his judgment.”
“So you feel able to accuse him?”
“Oh no, I can’t accuse him, for I did not see him do it, but I felt sure you would want to hear about him.” He smiled at them, then bowed and left.
Outside, he stopped. They had appeared to listen carefully to what he had said, and he only hoped it was
