When Bascot entered with Ernulf and Gianni, Gillie sat up and began to entreat the Templar. “I won’t catch the wasting disease, will I, sir? Please tell me I won’t. I didn’t touch any of the lepers, but we were very near to them. Brunner made me go there with him. And he tied me up so I couldn’t get free. Will God punish me for being a harlot and make me a leper? Am I damned, sir? Please, please help me.”
Bascot hunkered down beside her. Her face was scratched and dirty, her hair tangled and laced with wisps of straw and her clothing torn and stained. Her fresh country expression was gone, replaced with the haunting look of fear. He was unused to wailing females but could understand the girl’s terror. Leprosy was a terrible disease and no one knew how to cure it. Once the disease was contracted, the unfortunate victim was given the last rites just as though they were already dead and then they were consigned to live in a community with others that had been stricken in the same way, to stay there until they died. The leper community’s only sustenance came from alms given by the church, and their care was entrusted to a few monks or priests brave enough to enter their dwelling place. They were not allowed to travel away from their hovels without ringing loudly on a bell to warn healthy citizens of their approach and they were forbidden to try and contact any members of their families. For all intents and purposes they were already dead and buried, their only joy of life what little comfort they could find in each other’s company. He could see pity for Gillie etched on the faces of those around him, even young Gianni.
“Now be quiet, Gillie, and listen to me,” Bascot said, searching for words of comfort. “If you didn’t touch any of the lepers’ sores then it is most unlikely you will get their disease. As for God’s punishing you for being a harlot, you know as well as I that if you confess your sins and do penance, Our Lord will forgive you. Especially if you do not return to the life of a bawd.”
Beside him the priest murmured agreement and, after a few minutes, between them they managed to calm the distraught young doxy.
Once she was sitting quietly, albeit still shaken and trembling, Bascot asked how she had come to be where she was found.
“Brunner made me go with him. He said that there was someone who would kill him, and me, too, if we did not hide. We left the stewe-house and went out Pottergate to where the lazar houses are. I was frightened, but he wouldn’t let me go, and we went to this shack. It was a mean place, not as good as my da keeps his pigs in. There was no food, and not even a pallet to lie on. I told him I wasn’t going to stay there, not only ’cause it were so terrible, but because the lepers were right there, just a short distance away. He beat me and then he tied me up.”
“Did he leave the hovel himself?”
“Aye, he did. He had to because we had no food, you see, and he was as hungry as I. And he wanted wine, as well.” She added this last with contempt. “He went out all wrapped up in his cloak. It was just on dusk. He told me he’d be back before long.”
Gillie’s eyes grew dark with fear as she remembered. “But he didn’t come back. It got dark and there weren’t no candles, nor could I have lit them if there had of been, tied up as I was. I tried to cry out, but my throat was parched from not having anything to drink, and I was half-scared anyway that if anyone heard me it would be a leper.” She shuddered. “I ended up just crouching where I was, all bound with rope. Finally I fell asleep and didn’t waken until I heard a noise outside.”
“Was it Brunner returning?” Bascot asked.
“It was, but I didn’t know that then. I heard voices, boots scuffing on the ground. Then there was a cry, and I heard a thud against the wall of the shack. Then silence. I was so frightened, I just lay there and didn’t make a sound. It was morning before anyone came. A monk, from All Saints. He was going to the lazar houses and saw Brunner’s body outside, I suppose. Anyway, he came in and found me and loosened my bonds.” She looked at Ernulf. “Then the serjeant’s men came and brought me here.”
Bascot looked to Ernulf, who nodded. “The monk saw Brunner lying on the ground and went to see what ailed him. Found him dead and then the girl.”
“I might have been killed, too,” Gillie wailed.
“You’re right, you might have been,” Bascot said sternly to stop her breaking into fresh sobbing. “So you had better tell us anything you know about this matter or else Brunner’s murderer may come looking for you.”
“But I don’t know anything, sir. Honest I don’t. Brunner told me to tell you that pack of lies the day you came to the stewe-house. Only he didn’t know that dead girl was pregnant, I swear, because he was as surprised as me when you said she was with child. All he kept saying was that there was someone who would do for him if he wasn’t careful, someone high-placed, and that person would do for me too because I knew about the lies.”
“He said someone high-placed, did he?” Bascot asked and Gillie nodded. “And he didn’t know who it was?”
“I don’t think he did,” Gillie answered slowly, taking a moment to consider. “He just kept saying he had been given a warning and he didn’t want to end up like the alekeeper.”
“We found this parchment tucked into his hose,” Ernulf said to Bascot, proffering a dirty piece of much-used vellum with black inky figures drawn on it. Bascot took the paper and looked at it. The meaning was plain, dead Wat with his skull broken and Brunner with a knife through his heart. When the stewe-keeper had received it he must have been alive and it had been sent as a warning. Now, it was the truth.
“The sad thing is that we nearly caught hold of Brunner while he was still breathing,” Ernulf said. “Just this morning, at dawn, that little serving maid from the brothel come to the castle gates asking for me. Said she’d seen Brunner yestere’en and had followed him as far as Pottergate. He must have been coming back with the food. A loaf and some cheese was found beside his body. The little maid couldn’t get away to tell me last night-trade was too brisk at the bawdy house-but came as soon as the doxies had finished their night’s work and were all asleep. If only she’d come before, we might have got to him before the killer.”
“Did you ask the maid if she saw anyone following Brunner?”
“I did. She says she didn’t notice. She was too intent on following Brunner, but she couldn’t go through Pottergate after him because the bawds would be expecting her back. Also, it was nigh on dark and she was nervous of going outside the city walls on her own. Her mother had sent her out for some wine, you see, and would be angry if she was gone too long. She’s a good little lass, but scared of her mother, I reckon. Anyway, she did just as I told her to do, as soon as she could. Just a shame it wasn’t earlier.”
Bascot returned his attention to Gillie. “You’re sure you haven’t forgotten to tell me anything? A name Brunner might have mentioned, or something about his connection with the alekeeper?”
“I don’t think so,” Gillie replied, her sobs forgotten as she tried to remember. “He just kept saying over and over again that we had to hide, and stay hidden.”
Bascot rose and, as he did so, she looked up at him, fear once again on her face. “What is to happen to me, sir? Am I to be punished for telling you those lies? I didn’t want to, Brunner made me. He really did.”