At that moment, with the sun above lighting her head like a halo, John of Irelaunde was blinded. “Have I died? Are you an angel?” he asked querulously. Before she could answer, the cart hit a stone and jolted, beating his bruised skull against the boarded walls. “Jesus’ Blood!” he swore, and when he glanced upward again and saw her smile, he gave a pale grin in return. “Ah, Mistress Cecily. You must be an angel-almost the best angel I could have hoped to meet this morning. I hope you won’t mind taking a message to my sweet girl?”
“Poor John. Was this all because of me?”
“Well now, I think it was, but don’t speak of it to anyone, or he might be taken-and then all this would have been in vain. Just keep quiet!”
Simon rode slumped on his horse, grinning. “You must be losing your touch, Baldwin. This town used to be quite a calm and quiet place, and now you’ve got a nutter of a smith trying to rouse the rabble.”
“You think it is because of me?”
Simon smiled at the knight and Baldwin gradually relaxed, even giving a self-conscious grin. “All right, so I am a little prickly. But that idiot got under my skin.”
“It’s not just him, it’s the murder. We still appear to have little to go on.”
“No. We know so much, but none of it makes any sense. For example, I am not sure why the smith was at Godfrey’s house.”
“You want to go back and ask him?”
“Thank you for the thought, Simon, but I don’t think it would be productive. Still, I wonder if there is anything that could link the smith to Godfrey.”
“He was ugly enough-do you think he might be the killer?”
“Who, Jack?” Baldwin laughed. “Oh, who knows? He’s repellent, certainly, but I don’t like to judge everyone by their outer appearance. That is what people like Jack are guilty of when they look at lepers. I don’t want to commit the same crime as them.” Baldwin mused quietly a moment. “The difficulty I have is, Godfrey used him on the afternoon he died…”
“Yes. For a horse that had cast a shoe.”
“And they had kept the shoe so it could be refitted.”
“A sign of real tightfistedness.”
“True,” said Baldwin, but there was a faraway look in his eye. “Many would have thrown the old shoe away, surely, and had a new one made.”
Simon put his head to one side, considering. “And then come to the smithy to get a new one the right size.”
“Precisely what I was thinking. If they had asked for a fresh one, it would have meant they would have had to bring the horse here. But they kept the old one, and that meant they could have the smith go to the house. All he needed was a rasp, some nails and a hammer.”
“But why should they want him there?”
“Let me finish: taking a horseshoe off is easy enough. All you have to do is lever it. It could well be that someone wanted the smith out of here, so they took off the shoe and pretended that it had fallen off just so that Jack would go to the house.”
“That’s one explanation, Baldwin, but don’t forget there’s another possibility. What if someone wanted the smith there, at the house? It could easily have been done to make sure that he was in Godfrey’s hall.”
“True, but why? Why would they want Jack there? And again I come back to Putthe: he could have levered off the old horseshoe in order to give an excuse for Jack’s presence at Godfrey’s.”
“You’re thinking that they could both have been involved in the killing? But that doesn’t make sense! All they achieved in having Jack at the house was to make him a suspect. There was no witness to his departure, no witness to his return, no gain for him whatever. Effectively all he did was point to himself with a large sign saying, ”Look at me! I was there on the night Godfrey died!“ It only served to bring him to our attention.”
“Perhaps it also tied him to his accomplice? If he and Putthe were partners in this felony, perhaps Putthe didn’t trust his confederate enough, and wanted to ensure that equal risk was enjoyed by both?” He threw his hands in the air with disgust. “It’s no good, it’s all guesswork. All we really know is that this man was at the hall for some reason. Whether he was there for his own purposes or for someone else’s entirely we may never know.”
“There’s another factor, though. What if the victimization of the lepers has something to do with it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure, but it seems an odd coincidence that Jack should start fomenting trouble so soon after the murder. I assume this was new to you? You’re not aware that there’s been a load of trouble brewing over lepers recently?”
Baldwin scratched his beard. “No, it was a complete shock to me. But before we go worrying at that idea, let’s go and speak to Putthe again. I’m not convinced he’s told us all he knows. And while we’re there, I want to talk to Mistress Cecily, too.”
“You can’t suspect her of killing her own father!”
“She’s not told us the truth,” Baldwin said. “I am certain she’s lied.”
“What about?”
“About being unconscious until she was woken in her room. I don’t believe her.”
“Sir Baldwin! Sir Baldwin, sir!”
The knight glanced up. Running toward them, his habit trailing, was a young novice monk. He came to a halt before them, panting and red-faced from his exertion.
“Well? Do you have a message for me?”
“Sir, someone’s tried to kill the Irishman, and my Dean asks you to join him as soon as you can.”
Simon and Baldwin exchanged a glance, and without a word the two men set spurs to their horses and galloped to Peter Clifford’s hall.
Waking from a short and troubled sleep, Rodde grunted as he rolled over. Immediately a cool, damp cloth was at his forehead, and he smiled through his pain. “Thank you.”
“It is nothing.”
His eyes snapping open, Rodde stared up at Mary. “What are you doing in here? What if the people in the town hear?”
Rodde knew as well as she that it was forbidden for any women other than wives or other relations to visit lepers in their cabins. “Women of easy fame” were supposed to be excluded from the camp, because it was too easy for gossip to start.
“It’s all right. I’m here too,” said Ralph. He was sitting near the door, gazing out over the lawned space. “Mary refused to let me continue to minister to you.”
“You’ve done enough, Brother. You were here all night, and got little sleep. Rest now, and I’ll see to these men.”
“Sister, you have a great heart,” said Ralph, and rested his head against the doorpost. Soon he was asleep, his arms crossed over his chest.
Rodde could hear Quivil snoring in his corner. He spoke quietly. “You should still be careful, Mary.”
“It’s too late for that,” she said, and while her hand soothed his brow with water, she told him what had happened.
“You mean they will make you leave your home?”
“They want me from the town, not just my home.” He could feel her hand tremble, even though her voice was calm and steady. “But nobody will get hurt. I’ll go.”
Rodde’s face hardened. “So they’ve won? The Keeper and the others will allow this to happen and won’t do anything to stop it?”
“The Keeper was furious, but it’s not his decision, it’s mine. I want to help people who suffer, so I’ll go to a convent. There I can do more good than I can here.”
“Mary, you were named well, you are as good and kind as Christ’s own mother. But this is unfair! That you should be driven from your home for caring for other people is an outrage.”
“No, because it means I’ll be going to do something worthwhile,” she said serenely, dipping the cloth in the bowl once more.
Rodde rose to his feet. Setting his hat on his head, he took up his staff.
“You are leaving the camp?” she asked.
