He stood up and looked round at the circle of frightened faces. ‘We’ll get Landstock over tomorrow. And he’ll bring the Coroner. Now get Matthew into the chapel, and you, Dick,’ he said, looking at one of the kitchen boys, ‘get down to the Priory and ask for a priest for the night vigil. I’ll be along later, but first I want to talk to you, Giles, and you, Geoffrey,’ he said, looking at his bailiff, a short, thick-set man with a cropped head and a face creased like a bull-dog’s. ‘Upstairs to my study. Then I shall want to talk to you all. No one, except Dick, is to leave the house. Now get moving. I want Matthew laid out decently on a table in front of the altar. Light two candles. The best ones,’ he added. ‘The ones we use for Easter. Matthew was a good man, one of the best servants a man can have, and I shall miss him. Now, with no disrespect to Matthew, as I know he’d understand, I need some food. Giles, bring me some cold beef and bread, then after a while, you, Geoffrey, come and join me.’
* * *
Alone in his study, Nicholas wolfed down the food which Giles had brought him. He still felt numb with shock. Matthew of all people! Who could possibly want to murder him? What was the motive? Admittedly he was severe with lazy servants, but on the whole they respected that. They knew where they were with him. It was impossible to hate him, and one would have to hate to kill someone. He’d been generous to his friends, and loyal to the family. He’d been the first to congratulate him on his marriage to Mary – Mary, always delicate, with a pale, fragile beauty like one of the lilies which he grew in his garden.
He finished eating and pushed the plate away. Suddenly, the tiredness vanished. He had a job to do. He had to find out whose hands had been round Matthew’s neck, who had squeezed the life out of him and arranged him so neatly at the foot of the tower. And he wanted to bring that person before the justices of the peace and see him sentenced to death by hanging up on Marchester Heath.
He got up and opened the door. Geoffrey Lowe, his bailiff, was standing there.
‘Come in, Geoffrey. Now, who found Matthew?’
‘Giles did.’
‘When?’
‘About an hour and a half ago. I remember we were just about to…’
‘Just answer the questions if you please. Why did Giles go out to look for Matthew?’
‘Because we all wanted to know where he was. We missed him, my Lord. We knew you were coming back any minute, and we wanted our orders. Then young Joshua, you know, old Tom’s son, he runs the warren when his father’s poorly, well, he suddenly piped up.’
‘I know Joshua. He’ll make a good warrener one of these days. Well, what about him?’
‘Well, he thought he heard the sound of breaking wood, and he thought of all those young birds hatching, and we all know there’s a gang of thieves in the area. Lots of folk have lost their new hatchlings. So Joshua asked Giles to come out and take a look at the sheds. All was quiet, and Joshua came back to tell us, but Giles wasn’t satisfied and decided to take a look round. That’s when he went to check on the stores over in the tower and found Matthew.’
‘It could be that the thieves were trying to get into the tower and Matthew challenged them and got killed for his pains.’
‘It’s certainly possible, my Lord. Thieves would want Matthew out of the way otherwise he could identify them later if they got caught. No one wants to end up on Marchester Heath with a rope round his neck.’
‘That sounds feasible. But why should the thieves strangle him? Surely, they’d knock him down with something. Strangling’s a bit chancey; especially when it’s someone like Matthew. He was strong as an ox.’
‘Unless their look-out grabbed him from behind and held tight.’
‘Could be. Now go and get Giles for me, and then Joshua. And I want you to get off to Marchester and fetch Richard Landstock. This is Sheriff’s business, that’s for sure. Oh, get along with you man,’ he said, seeing Geoffrey’s horrified look at the prospect of riding four miles to Marchester in the middle of the night. ‘Landstock’ll give you a bed for an hour or two. I want you both back here by first light. Take Merlin. He’s reliable. There’s a good moon tonight, and the stars will light you on your way. Now, be off, man. There’s been a murder here, and possibly thieving. We’ll have to move fast if we’re to catch the devils responsible.’
‘We’ll catch them, sir. Someone will know who they are and spill the beans. Everyone liked Matthew. He treated us fair. It’s not right he should be bumped off by common thieves just because he got in the way.’
Giles and Joshua confirmed what Geoffrey Lowe had said and Nicholas ordered everyone off to their beds. Tomorrow, when the Sheriff of Marchester came, they’d all have to make statements. But he wasn’t ready for sleep. First, he had to look at the place where they’d found Matthew’s body.
Outside in the courtyard he shivered. This tragedy was going to affect them all. It would be impossible to replace Matthew. He turned to look at his sturdy manor house, built in the Norman style, which the first Lord Peverell had built after Duke William conquered the land and parcelled out the various manors to his followers. It looked more like a castle than a house, but over the years the harsh outlines had softened. The surrounding wall was still turretted, and the moat, which in early times was designed to keep out attackers, was now stocked with fish for the table. Mary had done that. She wanted to build a fine, modern house, furnished with chairs and tables bought in London, and she’d wanted to cover the cold, stone walls with Flemish tapestries. But it wasn’t to be; she’d died too soon. She’d left the vision behind her, though, and one of these days, when times were more settled, he’d get down to it and build the sort of house which she would have approved of. Meanwhile, there was her garden, and that gave him immense satisfaction.
He walked over to the tower, which in earlier times was the last stronghold when the place was under attack. Now it loomed up in front of him, looking sinister in the moonlight. An owl hooted. All around, he could hear the rustling sounds of small creatures which had drifted in from the surrounding fields and were settling down in the piles of straw scattered over the courtyard. He tried to visualise where Giles had found Matthew’s body. It couldn’t have been thrown from the tower, Nicholas thought. The body was intact. No broken bones, no bruised skin except for those deep claw marks. Whoever murdered him must be very naive to think they could cover up their crime by making it look as if Matthew had accidentally fallen from the tower. Those tell-tale marks round Matthew’s throat were a give-away. There was no doubt that he’d been murdered. Most likely he’d interrupted thieves. They had then compounded robbery with murder and were destined for Marchester’s Heath. And he’d catch them, sure enough.
He went back to the house, stopping to look in the chapel. Matthew had been laid out in front of the altar; a lighted candle had been placed at his feet and head. One of the monks who was also a priest was kneeling beside him saying the prayers for the dead. Nicholas recognised him. Father John. He’d been a member of the community at the Priory for a long time. Nicholas remembered him from his boyhood. He nodded to him, but the priest, wrapped in his prayers, didn’t look up.
Nicholas walked over to the body. ‘Rest in peace, Matthew Hayward,’ he said, looking down into the waxen face. ‘I promise you that I’ll not rest until I catch whoever did this to you. Goodnight, Matthew, the best of stewards.’
Chapter Two
Next morning, Nicholas woke up late with the sun streaming in through the window, caressing his face. He opened his eyes and slowly his brain clicked into life. Then he remembered. Matthew lying in the chapel, his demoralised household waiting for instructions, and Landstock on his way from Marchester. And then there was also that urgent news he had to tell Prior Thomas.