His eyes slitting with the intensity of his concentration, he slowly eased himself into his chair, and gradually a smile spread over his face.
“What do you think, Baldwin?” asked Simon as they left Godfrey’s hall. Edgar had already been dispatched to the inn to see what his charming spy could tell him, and the two were alone as they made their way up the hill toward John’s house on foot, leading their mounts by the reins.
“I don’t know what to think, quite frankly. It seems strange that Putthe should be so keen to transfer our attention from John to the smith, but I must admit I find it hard to believe the Irishman could have murdered Godfrey.”
“It was strange that Putthe should want to bring Jack into it,” Simon mused.
“That struck you too, did it? Yes, Putthe might have seen John out in the yard, as he first said, but if he did, someone had already knocked out Cecily and killed Godfrey. It could have been the smith, Jack, of course, but equally it could have been John. What I don’t understand is why John should have stepped back in to strike down Putthe if he had already knocked down the other two and was about to make his escape.”
“Maybe John didn’t realize Putthe had seen him? Or maybe he thought it was the only way to silence Putthe so he could run off.”
“But he hasn’t run off, he is still here,” Baldwin pointed out, stopping near the Irishman’s open gate. Inside they could see the man sitting comfortably on a stool with his back to the wall, sipping from a great jug of ale. “So why should a man attack someone like Putthe unnecessarily, and then not make a run for it?”
“He didn’t realize he would get found out,” Simon offered.
“After a murder, I tend to find most men prefer not to gamble on a thing like that-not when the stake is their own neck,” Baldwin said caustically. “A killer would have bolted. This man hasn’t.”
“By the same token, neither has anyone else from the town, have they?” pointed out Simon reasonably. “What’s good logic for John is surely good for another as well.”
“I take your point: whoever was responsible is brazening it out-and of all the people in this town, I can think of none better qualified than him. He lives by deceiving people.”
“You almost sound as if you admire him, Baldwin.”
The knight threw him a quizzical glance. “Do I sound so? I suppose I do, really. He is gloriously unashamed. All he does, he does to please himself, without embarrassment. Yet such a hedonistic attitude can be dangerous, especially in a small town like this. It’s too easy to make enemies.”
“As he appears to have done.”
“Yes, although I confess I believe that most of his detractors are inclined that way more as a matter of principle than from any genuine dislike for him. He just isn’t unpleasant enough to upset many people, and in fact most people like him precisely because he is cheeky and irreverential. There is something attractive about a man who treats you as an equal when you both know he is not.”
As they watched, John lifted his jug in salute, as if offering them a drink. Baldwin groaned. “Ah well, we might as well hear what he’s got to say for himself.”
John watched the two approach with a fixed smile on his face. There was no point being nervous, he knew, for any officer of the law would be likely to construe that as a sign of guilt. John had not survived the last few years by being incautious. He treated danger with great respect; it was just that his variety of respect was sometimes regarded by others as excessive flippancy.
“Sirs, I’m your servant. How can I help you, now? Are you thinking about buying something from me?”
“I think you know well enough why we are here, John,” Baldwin said mildly.
“Now, there I suppose you’re right. So could I tempt the pair of you to a little ale, gentlemen? You’re on my property, after all, and I consider hospitality to be one of the cardinal virtues.”
He was not surprised when the Keeper refused his offer; Baldwin’s views on alcohol were odd enough to have become a minor talking point in Crediton. Hearing Simon’s approval, John walked inside and was soon back with a small bench for the two of them, another jug in his free hand. “I’ll admit it wasn’t made by my own hand, sir, but you’ll not reject it on that account, I’m sure. It was made by a delightful widow over at Tedburn, who was grateful that I’d take away her surplus in exchange for some little favors I had on me at the time.”
Baldwin nodded sourly. He had no wish to hear what kind of favors had been so happily received.
John grinned, seeing his expression. “Only old clothes, Sir Baldwin. Nothing else.”
“It was about Godfrey’s death we wanted to see you.”
“Ah yes, a terribly sad thing, for a man to die like that in his own house.”
“You know how he died?” Simon cut in quickly.
John smiled gently, as if apologetic that a potential snare had been carelessly evaded. “And doesn’t all the town know by now? The man’s groom has told everyone at the inn, and that means there can be no secret about any part of it. He was found on his belly, his head stove in like a crushed egg, his servant on one side of him, his daughter on the other, and no sign of another person in the house except the girl’s young maid.”
“Were you there that night, John?”
The Irishman paused, the jug almost at his lips. Shrewd eyes met the knight’s. “Why would I be up there?” he asked innocently.
“As to that, you might have been trying to see Mrs. Coffyn, knowing her husband was away again; or perhaps you were trying to see someone else? Or hoping to remove Godfrey’s plate?”
While he took a long draft of ale, John recalculated quickly. Somehow the Keeper had guessed a great deal in a short time, but he obviously couldn’t have arrived at the truth or he’d not be asking such indirect questions. He carefully set the jug at his side and folded his hands over his belly. “Well now, you seem to have unearthed some things I’d have preferred to have kept quiet, but I’ll not blame you for that. No, I wasn’t on my way to see Mrs. Coffyn. She’s not my sort of woman. Even if she was, I’d not have tried to get to see her, not with all those damned guard chappies to protect her. I wouldn’t want to meet them on a dark night! Nor was I on my way to rob Godfrey. I’m no thief, and if I was, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal from my own neighbor.”
“Why were you there, then? You were seen.”
“Me?” John raised his hands, palms uppermost, in a gesture of frank unconcern. “Who could have seen me?”
“Two men, John,” Simon lied blandly. “Not all Godfrey’s servants were allowed out for the night. Two men stayed put.”
“Come along, now,” John said, but the bailiffs assertion had thrown him. He knew Putthe had caught a glimpse of him through the open door to the yard; the bottler had warned him that he’d already told the knight as much-but another? John upended his jug and waited, curbing his impatience.
“John, I know you were there for some reason,” Baldwin declared. “If you don’t tell me why, I’ll have to assume the worst. Perhaps I might wonder whether you were trying to see Mrs. Coffyn, you understand? The only way I could verify that, if you won’t talk, would be to see Matthew Coffyn and ask him whether he knew you were out that way that night, and could you have got up to his wife’s room without his knowing. And then, I suppose, he might decide to come here and have a talk to you himself.”