Baldwin nodded. ‘Did he say who this third man was? This man who attacked you so viciously?’
‘No,’ Peter said with a shrug. ‘What good would it have done me to know his name?’
‘You did not ask?’
‘I had no interest. After forgiving Wally, and seeing his delight, that was enough for me,’ Peter said with transparent honesty. ‘I felt as though his joy washed away my own pain. Aye, and the years of distress.’
He hesitated a moment as he thought of Joce, and the allegation that Joce was himself the third man, but chose to say nothing. God had given him some peace, and he reflected that the accusation was unsubstantiated. Too many men were convicted because of rumour. No, Peter would confront Joce personally if he could. If not, perhaps then he might repeat what Nob had told him, although by then others would probably already have heard.
‘You are telling me that you forgave the man who caused that to be done to you even after you had saved his life before?’ Simon said disbelievingly.
‘I am a man of God, Bailiff,’ Peter said imperturbably. ‘What would you have me do? Grab a sword and sweep off his head? Jesus told us to love, not hate. He told us to turn the other cheek, didn’t He? Well, I was prepared to try it. I told him I forgave him, and he burst into tears at first, but then his face shone and I confess, I felt a little like God myself, as though He had acted through me. Holy Mother, it was good. When I left him, he was happy and content.’
There was a clearness in his voice that brooked no argument. Simon was still doubtful, but Baldwin nodded understandingly. ‘I believe you, Brother. Apart from anything else, it would be an unconscionable amount of time to sit back and wait for an opportunity to kill him.’
‘If you knew him,’ Simon said, ‘did you know that man with whom he arrived down here? The man whom he later killed?’
‘Aye. He was one of the party which killed my friend and tried to murder me too. An evil man. His name was Martyn Armstrong, or Martyn the Scot. It was the third man who actually swung the axe that did this,’ he added, touching his scar.
‘You must have hated Wally.’
‘I did at one time, but it is hard to stay hating a man for ever. I had no part in killing him, if that is what you mean.’
‘You were seen up on the moors on the day Walwynus died,’ Simon stated. ‘Why?’
‘I had to go and visit one of the Abbot’s shepherds who has hurt himself, taking him some money to help him through his illness.’
‘Did you come across Walwynus?’
‘Yes. I spoke to him on the way. He was hungover. I got the impression that he had drunk a great deal the night before, after I told him I forgave him.’
‘You were seen with him.’
‘Aye, well I walked with him a way, as soon as I saw how bad he was. He could easily have fallen off the trail and into a bog, he was that far gone. I stayed with him until he was home as an act of charity.’
‘You went with him to his home? What was he doing back here, then?’ Simon burst out.
‘I have no idea. His cottage is on the route to Buckfast, so it wasn’t out of my way.’
‘And then?’
‘I carried on to find the shepherd who was deserving of my Lord Abbot’s kindness. An orphan.’
Simon sucked at his teeth. ‘And Walwynus was fine when you left him?’
‘Yes. I swear it. Although…’ His face was suddenly troubled, a crease marking his brow.
Simon said sharply, ‘Yes?’
‘It is likely nothing, but while we were talking, he denied having raped or hurt Agnes. He confessed to being part of the raiding party which attacked me, but said that he wouldn’t lead the men to my hovel, because he wouldn’t have allowed anyone to harm Agnes, not after she’d nursed him back to life.’
‘And that worried you?’
‘It made me think that I had misjudged him, or that he wasn’t prepared to confess with honesty, but… perhaps his memory was playing him false. It can do things like that to people. I don’t know. Certainly he appeared greatly upset when I left him. He was sitting at his stool, weighing his purse in his hand unhappily.’
The next morning, when Augerus woke, he remembered the corpse and shuddered. He had seen Wally’s body being brought in, but had hurried away before the poor devil’s ruined remains could be uncovered. He had known Wally as a sort of business associate, a drinking companion, too, well enough to not want to see the wreck of his body out in the open like this. Reaching the Abbot’s undercroft, he had unlocked the door and entered, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning on it, panting heavily. With the little cup he used for tasting the quality of the wines in the barrels, he had drawn off a good measure of the strongest, red spiced wine, and sank it at a gulp, grateful for the warmth that spread through his body, driving off the chill fear.
Now, in the first light of a chilly grey morning, he felt a queasiness in his belly at the thought of what had happened to Wally, although in his drowsy state he couldn’t deny a stab of pleasure at the way he had treated Joce.
He had given the bastard a shock, a real good one. Standing there and grabbing Augerus like he was some menial who had misbehaved! The thought that Gerard might tell everyone about their little game hadn’t occurred to him, not until Augerus had made him see sense. Now maybe he’d get rid of all the stuff quickly. Before it could be found! Augerus reflected for a moment on the enraged features of his accomplice as he’d held him by the throat up against his front door. Joce could fly off the handle at a moment’s notice.
When he had attended the morning Mass and seen to the Abbot’s breakfast, he pottered for a while in the undercroft, then went to visit Mark. The salsarius was welcoming enough, but he too appeared to have his mind on other things, and after only one bowl of wine and a few slices of dry-cured ham Augerus left him to it. He wanted to visit the parish church to see Wally and pray over him.
He entered the dark church with a feeling of sadness. After making the obeisances, he walked down the aisle to where Wally’s body lay, lighted by the guttering candles. It was gloomy here today, with so little light. Clouds smothered the sun and the great windows with the coloured pictures depicting scenes from the Bible all seemed grim and accusing. As they should be, Augerus nodded to himself, bearing in mind how much this man had stolen from the Abbey.
The sight of a decomposed body was not so uncommon that it was a shock, but to see old Wally lying here was depressing. This was the man with whom he had so often enjoyed a drink, the pal with whom he had swapped jokes and stories around the fireside. Later on, Wally had become his partner in crime, the accomplice with whom he had robbed the Abbey’s guests.
The loss of a partner was always sad, he thought to himself. Even if the thieving bastard had tried to gull him, taking a larger share of the proceeds than he should. And there was the wine, too. It was hard to forgive him that. Pinching the good Abbot’s wine was a sick joke. Even now, Augerus wasn’t sure how he’d managed it. Somehow he must have used Gerard. Jesu! But the lad was a marvel! So slim he could even wriggle through the metal bars at the Abbot’s own undercroft, with a bit of squirming. And then he had the brains to take whatever he had been told, even when he must have been terrified of being discovered.
The acolyte was a natural, although, of course, he had needed to be broken in carefully. That Ned talked about breaking in horses gently, but he had no idea. Taking a dumb brute like a horse in hand was one thing; a boy was quite another. Augerus had been looking for a lad like him for an age.