Baldwin spoke gently. “I am sorry, Putthe, but I have to ask these questions. I assume you ran from here straight into the hall?”
“That’s right.” Putthe tried to sit up, but settled himself back against the bolster. A thin dew of moisture shone on his forehead, making it glow in the candlelight. “I hurried along the screens and in through the door, and saw them lying there. I was about to go to them when I was tapped here”-he gingerly indicated his bruised skull-“and down I went. Next thing I know, I’m in here, lying on my palliasse.”
“Was there anyone in the room in front of you when you entered? Obviously someone was behind you, but did you see anyone near the window?”
“I ran straight for the hall. As you can see, I had to turn into the screens passage from here, facing the door to the garden, and turn right into the hall itself.”
“So what did you see?” Baldwin asked impatiently.
“Sir, as I ran through the passage, I had a clear view of the yard beyond. John of Irelaunde was out there.”
“You saw someone out there?” Tanner scoffed, returning with more candles and setting them on barrels. “From how far? Across a darkened courtyard, and at night too? Your brains are addled, man!”
“I know what I saw.”
Baldwin studied his obstinate face. “I wonder. How can you be so sure it was him?”
“I know John well enough. He hurt his ankle recently, and this man was limping a bit, but for another, there was light in the yard. The master was nervous about the men from Coffyn’s place, like I said, and had a torch burning so no one could get at the horses or equipment without being seen.”
“You are seriously suggesting that a weak little fool like John could kill your master?” Baldwin asked, and picked up his cup once more.
Putthe could see that he wasn’t convinced. The knight settled back in his chair, peering at him over the top of his drink with a magisterial air. He looked like a benign cleric giving absolution for a minor sin. Shaking his head, Putthe knew he would have to provide the last clue. “Sir, you don’t understand: John of Irelaunde was known to my master.”
“Speak plainly-I am no mindreader.”
“My master found John crossing the garden-his garden. He thought John was using it as a covered shortcut through to somewhere else.”
Now Putthe could see he had the knight’s attention. Baldwin slowly set the cup down again and leaned forward with both elbows on his knees. “Why should he pass through here to another garden?”
“There are rumors about the man’s liking for women-especially those who are young and bored,” Putthe said, looking away.
“You mean Martha Coffyn?”
The servant nodded. “That’s what I think. That’s what my master told me.”
“I too have heard this,” Baldwin murmured, and shook his head. “Why should he come in here and beat you, your mistress and your master? The fact of his adultery is no reason to murder. But you may not be aware of the other thing-did you notice the sideboard tonight?”
Putthe threw him a glance of blank incomprehension. “The sideboard? What do I care about that?”
“Putthe, the sideboard looks empty to me,” Baldwin explained. “Could you tell me what should be displayed, so that I can verify what is left there.”
The bottler grimaced in concentration. He recalled: “On the top shelf there was a pair of silver plates and a drinking horn; on the next was a row of six pewter plates and a silver salt-cellar, shaped like a swan; on the next was another row of six plates, but there were two large flagons as well…and on the last shelf was a row of eight smaller plates.”
“And you are quite sure of that?”
“Of course I am!”
“Much of it has gone, Putthe.”
“What?” The injured man started up from his recumbent position, winced, grabbed at his forehead and slowly eased himself back. “That just proves it, then! It was that miserable Irish bastard. He knocked us out to steal all the stuff, and now he’s got clean away!”
“Before we assume anything like that, do you know of anyone else who might have wanted to kill your master?”
“No,” said Putthe with conviction. “My master was a quiet man. He only ever helped other people. You speak to anyone, they’ll all tell you about Master Godfrey of London.”
“Yet you say John did hate your master enough to kill him.”
“And you are certain it was John you saw out in the yard?” Tanner asked again, dubiously.
“Why don’t you ask him! John was found in the back by the master some while ago; John was carrying on with Martha Coffyn; John needs money. If you’re right and the plate has gone, you can be sure it’s John has got it! And now, if you don’t mind, I need to get some rest. My head feels as if it’s going to fall off my shoulders!”
“It’s too late to see the girl now,” Baldwin said as they left the bottler. Tanner, could you go to her and ask if she will talk to us in the morning? Then go next door and tell the neighbor-Coffyn you said his name was, didn’t you?-well, say the same to him. And put a man on guard in the room with the body. I’ll want to study it again in daylight, in case I missed something. For now, I need to think.“ He went back along the screens and out through the door to the yard. Tanner and Edgar exchanged a glance before following him.
“What is it, sir?” Edgar asked as he joined his master.
“Hmm? Oh, it’s just that I was thinking if someone had killed Godfrey and run away immediately, he would not have gone straight through the front door. There are always too many people out there on the main street. No, I was wondering whether that someone might have come out here, through the back. And the more I stare out this way, the more I feel certain that the killer made off through the garden.”
“Ah,” said Tanner. “But he’s not the sort, Sir Baldwin.”
“You think so? He was willing to defraud the people of the town about losing his sight, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, that’s very different.”
“And what if he was trying to steal the plate and got interrupted? He might have knocked Godfrey down without meaning to kill him.”
“Do you want me to arrange for someone to keep an eye on him?”
Baldwin grimaced doubtfully, then shook his head. “No. If he was to run away, we’d soon catch him.”
“He’s no murderer, I’m sure, and I don’t think he’d break into a house either.”
“Neither do I, but that’s not what other people will think, Tanner,” Baldwin said softly, still staring out toward the little shack that lay only a few hundred yards up the hill. “Let’s just hope no fools take it into their heads to assume the worst of him, eh?”
As the trio turned away, Baldwin and his servant retrieving their horses and making their way home, John sat on his bed rubbing his sprained ankle.
The palliasse was thin now, and the rope mattress beneath was painful through the straw filling, but the little Irishman hardly noticed. In his mind’s eye he could still see that room, the two men on the floor, the girl lying near the window.
His heart was still beating furiously. The effort of stealthily making his way home had exhausted him. Especially since all the way he could hear the cries of the men searching for him; the men who would hold him to be hanged because of the sack on his back.
He was very scared; he had to make sure he wasn’t searched-not until he had managed to remove the sack of pewter concealed beneath the hay in his little barn and had placed it in a safer cache.
Edgar rose before the dawn, as was his habit. He was a little light-headed from lack of sleep, but he ducked his head in the bucket by the well, puffing and blowing with the cold as he towelled himself dry. Pulling on his tunic, he stood awhile watching the eastern sky as it lightened.
Ever since his time with the Knights Templar, he had enjoyed this early part of the day. It gave him a sense of serenity, as if he was alone in the world, and to enjoy it all the more, he sat on the old oak stump on which the logs were split. From here, by gazing along the length of the house, he could see the sky changing its color, tingeing the clouds with silver and purple, before suffusing them in peach. Almost before he realized, the darkness of the night sky was gone, and in its place was the clear, fresh paleness of the new day.
