lord Mortimer. One was a trader he has used – Thomas Redcliffe – while the other was a page in the service of Sir Ralph of Evesham. They’re both dead.’
‘I can see that, you fool,’ Sir Laurence snapped. ‘Why? Did they get into a fight with each other?’
More horses were arriving with other men draped over them, and Sir Laurence stared at them in astonishment.
‘What’s all this?’ Sir Roger Mortimer had arrived and was standing in the doorway of the hall, glowering into the courtyard at the huddle of men. ‘Who are they?’
The man shouted out who the two were, and Sir Roger marched down the steps and crossed the yard. He pushed the bodies over with his boot, then shook his head thoughtfully. ‘This man was known to me,’ he said, reaching down to Thomas Redcliffe’s belt. ‘Who had his purse?’
‘Not us, sir,’ the man on the lead horse said. ‘Could it have fallen from him while we rode here?’
‘Where did you find them?’ Sir Roger rapped out, his eyes going to the gate as though to hurry out even now.
‘These two were by the ferry over the Severn, sir. They were lying almost
‘Were these two alone?’
‘No, there were other men there, but they managed to get on the ferry. They’d been going to take these two on board, I think, but us turning up stopped that.’
‘This is important,’ Sir Roger said. ‘I want to know who was with these two, and who could have killed them. Especially this fellow, because he was robbed.’
‘I don’t know if it’s right, sir, but I thought I heard someone calling out to “Sir Baldwin”.’
‘Really?’ Sir Roger said. Baldwin was not an uncommon name, and he wondered which knight this could be. ‘Search. Someone must have seen or heard something. If the worst comes to the worst, find a boat and go to ask the ferryman.’
The men glanced at each other, then nodded, before whirling their horses about and thundering out through the gate again.
Sir Roger Mortimer grunted to himself, and then caught sight of Sir Laurence. ‘Yes?’
‘You are very concerned about this one man?’
‘I have known him for some years. He used to buy horses for me.’ Then Mortimer continued quietly, ‘He had something of value to me.’
Sir Laurence shrugged. It was none of his business.
‘Sir Laurence, do you want something?’
Sir Roger Mortimer’s eyes were on him now, slightly wide, unblinking, and in that moment, Sir Laurence knew real fear. This man was perfectly capable of killing in an instant.
‘No, Sir Roger. I have work to do. Please call me if I can help you, though.’
There was no answer. He turned and walked back towards his chamber, and all the way he dreaded the blow that must come upon his hideously exposed back, until he had entered his chamber and closed the door behind him.
David was at his board writing. ‘Are you all right, Sir Laurence? You look shaken.’
The knight eased himself into his chair. It creaked as he tilted it back and rested his boots upon the table- top.
‘You know, David, I think there is something very odd about Sir Roger Mortimer,’ he said in a low voice.
‘I could have told you
‘You are a most perspicacious fellow,’ Sir Laurence said. ‘And you have good contacts in the city, don’t you?’
‘What of it?’
Sir Laurence considered a moment. He had an urge to learn all he could about this friend of Sir Roger’s.
‘Find out all you can about a man called Thomas Redcliffe. But David?’
‘Yes?’
‘Your enquiries: make them with subtlety, old friend. We do not wish to arouse Sir Roger’s ire.’
They had set off as soon as they had broken their fast, Simon and Sir Charles. Simon had not been content to leave his wife all alone in the castle, and insisted that Hugh remain with her. Hugh was only too pleased to be spared another journey on horseback, for although he had grown accustomed to this mode of travel of late, it was not with any enjoyment.
It was about noon when the pair reached the little vill where they had been told the body had been found. Simon and Sir Charles looked around for any signs of someone who could help them, but there was nobody to be seen. Eventually they rode up to the nearest cottage – a poor, dilapidated little hovel – and Simon dropped from his horse and rapped on the green, mossy timber of the door.
‘What?’ The door opened a short way, and the bearded face of Halt glared at them suspiciously. His looks were not improved by the scabs on his broken nose, nor the bruises.
Simon smiled winningly. ‘I would like to speak to you.’
‘Well, I don’t want to speak to you–’ His words were cut short by the penny spinning and catching the light as Simon tossed it in the air and caught it.
‘There was a body found near here a few days ago,’ Simon said. ‘Do you know where?’
‘Just over there.’
‘Could you show us, please?’
Halt was keen to help. Crossing his garden to the roadway and taking Simon and Sir Charles up towards the little spinney, he showed them the hole in the hedge made by the jury as they had forced their way through.
‘Do you know who the corpse was supposed to have been?’ Simon asked.
‘No. All the Coroner said was, it was the Squire from over Hanham way. That was all.’
‘Did you know this Squire?’
‘Me?’ Halt shook his head. ‘He was from miles away, master. I’d never seen him before.’
Simon went into the little wood and gazed about him. There was no lingering aura of evil, such as he might have expected. ‘The body was here?’
‘No, sir, it was on the ground over there, and this is where his head was stuck.’
‘His head?’ Sir Charles repeated, interested. ‘You say he was beheaded?’
‘Yes. As if he was a criminal – or a traitor.’
‘To his wife, perhaps, as well as to his parents-in-law,’ Simon murmured. He looked about him, and then walked out, back to the road. There was nothing to be seen there, and to stand gazing about the trees felt ghoulish.
Simon asked where the priest lived – some two miles further on – and the pair made their way onwards after Simon had paid the man his penny.
‘I don’t think much of the quality of the peasants about here,’ Sir Charles said ruminatively.
‘He was a poor example of a dull-witted serf,’ Simon agreed with a chuckle. ‘But look at this landscape, Sir Charles! Good, wholesome territory. Any man would grow strong and hearty in a place like this.’
‘If you say so,’ Sir Charles sighed.
In truth, it was a good day to be out riding. The sun was breaking through the clouds, and as it did so, the leaves and puddles appeared to be outlined in silver. There was the constant calling of birds in the trees and, disturbed by their passing, flies rose up in fine swarms of mist. Simon felt all the worries of the last days fall away from him. It seemed as though all the troubles in this worried land were for a little while dissipated, and while he remained here on his horse, the country, and he, were safe.
His mood stayed with him all the way to the little vill where the priest was living. And then all his euphoria was wiped away as he spoke to Father Paul.
