Crediton?”
She looked up. Her smile did not alter one jot, Simon saw, but there was a fixity in her face now as she looked at his friend. Some of the friendliness had gone. “Mercenaries?”
“Yes. The same troop which your sister noticed so many years ago. The same captain, Sir Hector de Gorsone, the same men in the band. She knew them, didn’t she? She knew him, Sir Hector, better than any, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. It was because of her that Sir Hector threw out another wench, Judith. She’s dead now, you should know that. So is your sister’s latest replacement, another poor girl called Sarra. Both dead, and neither for any good reason.” Baldwin sighed heavily. “If your sister comes here over the next few days, send a message to us, Ellen. We have to speak to her. Otherwise, I think she might be in danger.”
“Danger!” she scoffed. “What sort of danger?”
Baldwin looked at her long and hard. “Did you not hear what I have been saying? This knight has had three lovers in Crediton: the first is dead, the third is dead; the second is your sister. Tell me when you hear from her.”
21
O n the ride back to Crediton, Baldwin was deep in thought. When they reached the top of the hill leading down to the town itself, Simon turned to face him.
“You said her sister could be in danger, Baldwin-but why? Why on earth should this bloody man want to kill all the women he has known in this town?”
“That’s not necessarily the way to look at it, Simon,” Baldwin said. He patted his horse, then irritably waved away the small swarm of flies he had disturbed before continuing, “This knight may not have harmed any of them. It is startling how clear the links are to Sir Hector, isn’t it? Two women die, and both were short-term lovers of this knight. Both times there happen to have been arguments or rows with him. Sarra at the inn had a shouting match with him, and was shortly after found in a chest in his very room; Judith bumped into him in the street, and got herself stabbed.”
“Yes, so there’s a clear link to him.”
“True, but then, if you reverse the perspective, who would benefit from these women being found and their attachment to Hector being discovered?”
“Nobody, surely?”
“I can think of several. The mercenaries themselves. Take Wat: he wants to get rid of his master; I think that is plain enough. Otherwise he would not have been so forthcoming about Sir Hector’s relationship with Judith.”
“Maybe he wanted to see justice done.”
Baldwin gave him a long, intense stare. “Justice done-Wat? I think you mistake him for a pleasant man, for a gentleman, Simon. He is not; he is a mercenary-a ruthless, dedicated killer and despoiler. A knight should fight for Christianity, for the greater glory of his name and reputation in this world and the next. He should defend the weak and unfortunate, showing courtesy and largesse. Have you noticed any of these attributes in Hector or his men-Wat, for example?”
“I’m sure they-”
With an uncharacteristic burst of anger, Baldwin reined in his horse. “Simon, don’t try to be their apologist. They are evil, nothing more. Men like them ride where they will, offering allegiance only to those who pay them, and no one else, but even that is only for as long as it suits them. They have no conception of honor or largesse; all they want is the next sum of money, and they are casual about how they receive it.”
“Calm yourself, Baldwin,” Simon said soothingly. “I accept that you understand more about such men than me; I’ve never come across them before.”
“My apologies, Simon. This whole affair is starting to make me smart, and like a bear baited at the pole, I turn on whoever I can reach.”
“When we came out today, you were thinking that the matter could be resolved by looking at the local situation. Surely that has worked, in the main? Now we have learned that the butcher’s wife was also known to Sir Hector. It seems fairly clear that he threw over Judith for her, and quite probably the same thing happened to Sarra when he met Mary Butcher again in town.”
“Yes. And now she too has disappeared,” Baldwin said grimly.
“She may not be dead, Baldwin. Think on this; if she was intelligent, as soon as she had heard about Sarra and Judith dying, she might have put two and two together. Maybe she’s run off to protect herself?”
“It is possible, certainly.”
“In terms of this whole affair, though, let’s just hope that Stapledon’s men catch the two thieves. At least they might be able to shed some light on the thing.”
Bishop Stapledon wandered out into the garden with Peter Clifford and expressed his delight at the mixture of plants. Peter, he knew, was very keen on his herbs and spices. Several plants he had arranged to be delivered from far afield.
Irises were among Peter’s favorites. As he explained-at some length-the plant was an almost perfect example of God’s bounty. The roots could be crushed for ink, the flower yielded a juice which could be used as a salve for teeth and gums, the leaves thatched for mats or patching roofs, and if it was needed for none of these purposes, the flowers were both beautiful and sweet-smelling.
The Bishop smiled and nodded as Peter led him round the garden, keen to avoid hurting his host’s feelings by letting his boredom show. Lilies and roses were pointed out to him-they filled a bed near the house-while further on, toward the orchard where the apple, pear, cherry and nut trees grew, was the herb garden. Rue, whose smell the Bishop cordially detested, flourished here, but there was also sage, chamomile, lavender and other attractively perfumed plants. After an hour, even the enthusiastic Peter began to observe the Bishop’s attention waning, and they walked over the lawn, full of daisies, violets, primroses and periwinkles to create an aromatic and attractive cover, to the shelter of an oak where there was a bench.
Here they found Margaret and Hugh. Edith was a short distance away, playing a game with Rollo which seemed to involve pulling flowers from the lawn. Hugh stood as the two approached, but the Bishop waved him back to his seat. “May we join you?”
“Of course, my lord.” Margaret moved along the bench and Hugh stood again resignedly and went to station himself behind her. From here he could see the children. Rollo had frozen at the sound of men’s voices, but seeing two men he recognized, and after a brief confirmatory glance at Hugh, he resumed his game. Hugh suspected he was so used to seeing the priest dispensing charity that he knew he had nothing to fear from men in holy garments.
The men sat, and Stapledon looked at Margaret. “I hope you do not mind me noticing it, but you look very refreshed. Are you feeling somewhat better?”
She could not hide her pleasure from him. “It is not just me,” she confided. “My husband was very sad over the death of our son, but he has almost recovered from it. These last weeks have been difficult, but I think we have got over our pain. Peter’s kindness has helped so much.”
The Bishop nodded gravely. “Your husband was extremely upset. I know how hard it can be. I suppose all of us in the Church are aware, for we see so many tiny coffins being interred, and death can strike the richest as well as the poorest in the land.”
“We shall have another son, God willing,” Margaret said.
“Yes.” Stapledon was watching Rollo. “That young fellow likes playing with your daughter.”
“Edith likes his company too. They are not so very different in age, and where we live she does not have many friends. It is pleasant for her to find someone with whom she can enjoy a game.”
“Yes,” he repeated, then frowned, lost in thought.
“Bishop? Bishop!”
Stapledon looked up, jerked back to the present, to see Roger running over the lawn. The Bishop forced down a sense of annoyance. At last he had begun to relax, and Roger’s bursting in on his pleasant mood of calm was vexing. By the time the rector had approached, however, the Bishop had managed to dispose of the exasperation
