Simon leaned against a tree, his left hand resting on his hilt, his right thumb hooked into his belt. ‘Well?’
‘I was with my men, as I should have been. What business is it of yours?’
‘And where were you on the morning after the coining?’
‘What, last Friday?’ Sir Tristram’s temper, never cool, was warming rapidly. He was tempted to draw his sword and see how these impudent fools answered then. ‘I was on my way to the abbey with my sergeant. What of it?’
‘You knew Walwynus.’
‘So?’
‘And hated him, from the way you spat in his face last night.’
Slowly and menacingly, Sir Tristram brought himself upright, holding Simon’s gaze with a fury that was unfeigned. ‘You mean to accuse me of murder, Bailiff? If you dare, say the words, and I’ll carve the word “innocent” on your forehead. Go on! Say it. Say you accuse me, and see what happens.’
‘If you try to attack the bailiff, you will have to fight two knights first,’ the coroner stated flatly.
‘I would do so gladly,’ Sir Tristram replied. ‘Do you offer trial by combat?’
‘Be silent!’ Baldwin roared. ‘Christ Jesus! Do you want us to accuse you? We are here to establish your innocence, but if you wish to prove guilt, continue! There are enough questions which suggest you might be a murderer, but there are others which suggest you could be innocent.’
‘Which have you decided upon, Sir Knight?’ Sir Tristram sneered. He watched the three men through narrowed eyes, expecting a bitter rejoinder, and was somewhat surprised when Simon set his head to one side and surveyed him pensively.
‘I have almost convinced myself you must be innocent, but I do not know why. I find it hard to believe that you could have found your way to the miners’ camp and selected a balk of timber and a handful of nails and constructed a morning star. Such premeditation seems unlike your character.’
‘Should I be grateful for that?’
Simon ignored him. ‘If you were angry with a man, I think you are bloodthirsty enough to take a sword or axe or mace and use it. Thinking about protecting your good name wouldn’t occur to you. No, I think you would avenge an insult or remembered slight with a swift response. If you hated Walwynus enough to want to kill him, you would take a sword to him and damn the consequences. You are a fighter. You would scorn subterfuge. Also, you would not have known Wally was here, let alone where he lived. Perhaps you saw Wally and Peter, and followed them up to the moors, but then you’d have got to Hal’s mine after Hal, and he’d have seen you steal his timber. If you came up before Wally, how would you know where to find him later? And how could you know where to go for wood and nails? No, I don’t think you could have killed Wally.’
‘A thousand thanks for that, dear Bailiff.’
‘Of course, it all depends on what you say about where you were last night and on the day that Wally died.’
‘Look – I hated Walwynus. I’ll admit to that gladly. He was a Scotch reiver, a murderer. That fool Peter rescued him and saved him when I and my men nearly had him. He would have died, him and that evil shit Martyn Scot, Armstrong as he was called. If they had, Peter would never have received that wound, so I suppose there is some justice.’
‘You tried to kill Wally; Peter saved him, and then Peter’s woman was raped.’
‘So?’
‘Wally denied doing it.’
‘Perhaps it was Armstrong, then.’
Simon closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again to stare at Sir Tristram. ‘This woman had saved his life with her diligent nursing. And you suppose he would have taken two friends of his to see her so that they could rape her. Does that sound credible?’
‘Have you ever fought in a war, Bailiff?’ the knight asked scathingly. ‘If you had, you would know that the worst actions are always possible. Sometimes they are inevitable. A man who is desperate for a woman will take her wherever he may, and if he has companions, he will offer them the same woman. It’s a matter of courtesy.’
Baldwin took a deep, angry breath. ‘I have fought in many wars, and I have never heard of a man who was saved by a woman and who then repaid her courage and kindness by raping her and offering her to his comrades, finally killing her. That, to me, does not sound true. If it were, it would be the act of a callous and unchivalrous coward.’
‘You can say what you want. I merely offer one possibility.’
‘I offer you another,’ Simon said. ‘You adored this woman Agnes. You craved her, and that was why you hated Peter! He had her; you didn’t. So you raped her. You took her the only way you could, at the point of a dagger. And then you killed her, just so that she couldn’t tell Peter and embarrass you.’
‘That is a disgraceful lie!’ Sir Tristram exploded. ‘You pathetic little turd, you spawn of a poxed sow and a drunken Scotch reiver, you—’
‘Swear it on the Bible.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. If I am wrong, we can prove it. You may swear your denial on the Bible before the abbot.’
‘Never!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it is nonsense!’
‘Your own sergeant might not realise you were guilty,’ Simon speculated. ‘If you were haring about the country searching for outlaws, you could have come across this woman and taken her, later laying the blame for her violation and death at the door of known felons.’
‘This is rubbish!’
‘If you knew her already and desired her, it would make a perfect crime, wouldn’t it? And if you later mentioned to your sergeant or others that the felons had taken another victim, who would argue?’
‘I
