‘Jeanne! What are you doing here?’
‘I saw this man arrive, husband. I was able to help him a little. Don’t worry, Richalda is at the inn.’
‘With Emma?’
Jeanne smiled. ‘With Jankin’s wife. She is good with children and Richalda is playing with someone her own age. For the first time in a while she isn’t bored.’
Baldwin glanced at the priest as he took a cup from his wife. ‘The coroner will be here before long, I hope, but for now, do you object to my questioning this man?’
Matthew shook his head and waved his hand as though to invite Baldwin to begin. Jeanne passed him a cup too, and soon the men were all drinking from their cups, except for Nicholas. He sat with his head hanging, eyes wide with fear.
Baldwin faced him. ‘Your name?’
‘I am called Nicholas le Poter.’
‘You have come here to seek sanctuary?’
‘They’d kill me else! You can see that.’
‘They say that you murdered this Lady Lucy of Meeth.’
‘It was nothing to do with me! I don’t think I ever saw her, let alone harmed her! Sir, you must believe me! What would I do with a woman like her? I’m just a man who lives by his hands, nothing else. She wouldn’t even look at a man like me.’
‘She was taken on the road from her manor when she had a man with her. The person who killed her is responsible for two lives,’ Baldwin said. ‘I am Keeper of the King’s Peace, and I must learn who did this. Also, we know that Ailward was murdered, and the family of Hugh Shepherd from near to this place. I would discover who might be responsible.’
‘You want to know who was responsible? Ask Sir Geoffrey. He could have desired Lady Lucy. Perhaps he tried to make her wed him? And the man Hugh, he died on the night that Sir Geoffrey had led his men against Sir Odo’s sergeant, Robert Crokers. Maybe he sent some other men up to this man Hugh’s house and killed them?’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because he’s terrified that he’s going to be removed from the manor! A stronger man will soon take the notice of Lord Despenser. If someone was to replace him here, what would happen to Sir Geoffrey? There’d be nowhere for him to go. So all he can do is try to remove anyone who shows an ounce of initiative, and then take over their ideas to increase the wealth of the manor. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. I have no doubt.’
Simon rasped ‘What of the man Hugh?’
‘Him? He was up here on Sir Odo’s lands, wasn’t he? If Sir Geoffrey wanted the favour of the Lord Despenser, he’d increase the lands he controls. If he could, he’d take this man Hugh’s lands in the name of his master. Just as he’d take Lady Lucy’s.’
‘A mere bully trying to increase his master’s estates by theft?’ Baldwin murmured.
‘It has been known,’ Edgar said.
Something in his tone made Baldwin and Simon turn. There, in the doorway, facing Edgar, was Sir Geoffrey. A short distance behind him stood Sir Odo.
At the sight, Nicholas felt he must choke. The expression on Sir Geoffrey’s face was adequate proof of his mood: he was in the blackest temper imaginable. There was no escaping those small, keen, grey eyes. Nicholas tried to look away at Sir Baldwin, but he found the Keeper’s eyes too intense too, as though he trusted no one, and that by merely looking at Nicholas he had seen through to the depths of his soul. The man with him, the bailiff, was hardly better, with his pale complexion and staring eyes. The only man in the church who looked on him kindly was the priest — and Sir Odo. Nicholas knew why, though. ‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend,’ he had once heard Sir Odo say, and it made good sense. That was the sort of rule that he could understand. Now Sir Odo looked at him in a friendly manner, which was in sharp contrast to the expression he wore as he turned back to Sir Geoffrey.
‘This is outrageous! I demand that you leave this man alone until the coroner is here!’ Sir Geoffrey blustered.
‘There is no need. I am only asking some questions,’ Baldwin said.
‘There is every need. The interrogation should take place in front of the jury.’
‘In your back room?’ Sir Odo asked with a cynical lift in his eyebrow.
Sir Geoffrey stared at him. ‘There is nothing out there I need be ashamed of.’
‘Of course not,’ Sir Odo agreed suavely. ‘No, no! It would be terrible to suggest such a thing.’
‘I demand that you leave this man here now. I shall post men to guard him through the night to be sure he is held until the coroner comes. If he wishes to abjure the realm and save us all a lot of time, he can do so then. For now he should be kept quiet and secure.’
‘I agree,’ Baldwin said. ‘I shall remain here with him.’
‘That would be much better, Sir Baldwin,’ Sir Odo said, adding simply, ‘and this is my parish, my manor. I shall decide, Sir Geoffrey, who shall remain here to protect the man.’
‘I didn’t say “protect”,’ Sir Geoffrey snarled.
‘No. But I did,’ Odo said, this time a little more pointedly. ‘I see it as my duty to keep him safe and alive until the coroner can question him. That is what I shall do. So, with your leave, Sir Baldwin, I shall go and seek some men who can guard this place. You will not object to more men to back you up?’
Baldwin smiled. ‘Not at all.’
‘Do you accuse me of something?’ Sir Geoffrey asked.
‘Not I,’ Baldwin said mildly.
‘What of you?’ Sir Geoffrey said, staring straight at Nicholas.
‘Sir! What do you want me to say? That I will rather go to the gallows than denounce you? Then I do accuse you! I accuse you of the murder of the Lady Lucy of Meeth, and of the murder of the little family here in Iddesleigh. And I will repeat this before the coroner. I swear, sirs, I am innocent of these murders, and that man is guilty.’
At the chapel, it took Perkin and Beorn some little while to tidy the corpse.
‘What are we doing this for, anyway?’ Beorn grumbled. ‘Have we become the church’s unpaid fossors? I ought to be home. Look! It’s dark already, and it’ll be light soon enough. I need to go and sleep.’
‘Stop your grumbling and help,’ Perkin said unsympathetically. ‘We may as well get him ready. We’ll have to get him to the church tomorrow, no matter what time you want to sleep.’
That was the trouble, of course. The chapel had no churchyard for the dead. Its open space was dedicated to the living, for it was where the vill’s people would gather on May days and festivals. For a serious matter, like a burial, they had to carry the poor corpse up to Iddesleigh where the church could arrange for a funeral and interment.
Usually it was a rather tedious job, wrapping the dead body and hauling it all that way on a cart, but it was easier than others. A travelling man had once told Perkin that in Dartmoor one parish was so vast that the poor folk of the moors had to walk miles to the nearest church. It was easy to believe. The Church had no interest in where a man might live, nor who his lord was. For the Church the only issue that mattered was the location of the nearest legal church. Churches owned their own lands and protected them as greedily and passionately as any local magnate.
At least poor old Isaac had been so old and desiccated that he would weigh little to transport. And they’d be able to borrow a cart from someone. Nobody would grudge old Isaac his last journey in comfort.
‘Where’s that little runt who was with him, though?’ Perkin asked as they finished. ‘Surely Isaac must have died a while ago. But I haven’t seen Humphrey since he viewed Lady Lucy’s body. Have you?’
‘I know my little Anna said she saw him going up the road after our supper tonight, but that can’t be right.’
‘Why?’
‘He’d have seen old Isaac, wouldn’t he? No churchman would leave another priest lying in a room like this, would he? Stands to reason.’
‘Yes. You’re right, of course,’ Perkin said, but doubtfully. ‘What reason could he have had for leaving Isaac like this? If he had any other business, he’d have to send his apologies and stay here with his old master, wouldn’t he?’