“I do understand your drift, Keeper.” John grinned mischievously. “Could you warn me before you see him, though?”
“John, this is no laughing matter. I must know what you were doing there.”
The smile didn’t leave the Irishman’s face, but it became hard, like a statue’s, and his voice was cold as he said, “You have come here suspecting me of murder, and threatening me with exposure as an adulterer, something that would get me killed, and then say I have no right to behave as I will?” Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, his anger left him. “Let me tell you a little story about an Irishman before I answer your other questions, Sir Baldwin. Then you’ll understand why I make light of anything that happens to me.
“There was this Irishman, Sir Baldwin, who was as merry a little fellow as any who lived on that lovely island. He had everything he wanted: he had a beautiful wife who had been his own since they were both fifteen years old, and as fine a little family as you could hope to see. Three boys there were, and two girls, and this little man had his own farm, with livestock of all sorts thriving happily. Oh, but he was a happy fellow!
“And then, Sir Baldwin, there came a day when this man’s lord said, ”Little fellow, our country has been invaded. Our homes are threatened by monsters from over the sea, and we must protect our farms and our women. Come and help me, because I find I need an army,“ and the little fellow went to the blacksmith and bought himself a good long knife, which he thought might be good for cutting the hedges when he got back, and a leather hat to protect the little brain in his little head, and he went off to join his lord as a soldier. And he was lucky, Sir Baldwin, because the little fellow didn’t die with his lord. No, he managed to escape the lunatics who tried to kill him just because he was wearing the wrong badge, and got home again.”
John was silent for a short space, and he stared out over the wall as if far in the distance he could see the scene. Continuing, he gripped his jug as if for support, but now his voice was less light-hearted. There was a low, angry tone to it.
“Only when he got back, Sir Baldwin, he found there wasn’t a home to come home to, if you take my meaning. His little farm was wasted. All the cattle and animals were dead, or taken. His little family was still in the little house, and the little house had been burned, Sir Baldwin. And the little wife, Sir Baldwin, she was very little, for the soldiers had not left much of her once they had finished their playing with her.”
John stood, without looking at either of them, and went inside. When he returned, his jug was filled again. “So this little fellow, he thinks to himself, Well, I’ve been a good fellow all these years, and there’s nothing to show for it. I worked hard to raise my little family, and now there’s none left; I did all I could to protect my wife, but she was murdered; I built up my farm, and now it’s gone. Maybe I’ll try to enjoy myself instead. No more hard slogging to make the land produce my food for me; in future I’ll take an easier occupation. And whatever happens, I’ll make light of it, because there’s nothing left for me to worry about. You see, Sir Baldwin, when you’ve already lost everything, there’s nothing seems that serious any more.”
Simon glanced at his friend. The knight was frowning hard at his boot, but he looked up at John’s last words. “I am sorry. My words were thoughtless. If I seemed hard, you have my apologies. I can understand your feeling of loss.”
To the bailiff, it seemed as though the two men, the knight and the Irishman, had a perfect understanding. They stared at each other for a moment with a kind of weary, mutual comprehension. Baldwin, Simon knew, had seen many of his friends burned at the stake after the French King had succeeded in persuading the Pope to condemn his most loyal troops, the Knights Templar, the body of which Baldwin had been a part. Both men had lost everything. It made Simon feel oddly apart-and it was something he was fervently glad of.
“So you came here afterward?” Baldwin asked softly.
“Oh, after many interesting exploits and adventures, the little Irish fellow arrived in this pleasant little town, yes. And settled as well he could, for the people generally are a nice sort of folk. They like their pleasures, and they aren’t too worried about a fellow’s foibles.” He gave the Keeper a glance from the corner of his eye, and there was a glint in it. “Even when a fellow is tempted to recover his sight, perfectly justifiably, in the middle of a church service.”
“What of the night when Godfrey died?”
“Well, I said I might speak after you’d heard my story, and you’ve been patient enough,” John said, and stretched his leg out. It still hurt, but only intermittently. “Sir, I was there, although how those buggers saw me is more than I could say. I had been going to see someone. Someone, a friend, who needed a little help and advice. But on my way, I suddenly heard all this shouting and bellowing from Matthew Coffyn’s place. It occurred to me that all this row could bring Godfrey’s household out, so I dodged back carefully, and in so doing almost came across two gentlemen. It made me think to myself, courage is all very well, but maybe discretion is a useful trait as well-which is something a soldier tends to learn very early on in his career, unless his propensity for learning is curtailed by a sword. So I dodged back toward the house, there being nowhere else for me to go.”
“Hold on! You say these men were in Godfrey’s garden?”
“Yes. And it seemed to me then that they were looking for someone-but maybe they weren’t. It’s possible that they were themselves hiding from pursuit.”
Baldwin scratched his beard. “So you went into Godfrey’s back courtyard?”
“Yes, and saw with some delight that it was quiet, and that there were places for me to hide myself.”
“So why go to the open door?”
“Ah, now. It was the crack. It was so loud, I wondered what it could be.”
“A noise like someone striking another over the head?” Simon demanded.
“It’s possible, but Bailiff, I’ve not heard a sound like that for many a long year. It wasn’t as if as soon as I heard this noise, I thought to myself, Oh, so a man’s just been clobbered over the nut! I’m a peaceable fellow, me. I don’t think of such things.”
“You say,” Baldwin continued, “that you were trying to avoid all these men, and yet you went back to Godfrey’s hall, away from your own house, and finally went into the hall. Why go inside?”
“Excuse me for being inquisitive, but if you’re walking past a great hall like Godfrey’s, and you see no one, no stablemen, no maids, nothing, but a great number of torches lighting the place, and a door wide open, and then you hear a loud crack from inside, now wouldn’t you be a bit intrigued? Surely you’d want to glance in at the door, wouldn’t you?”
“So you saw the bodies there, and did nothing?” Simon demanded. “You saw the girl unconscious, and the servant, and left them there? You were the first finder of Godfrey’s body and didn’t raise the Hue and Cry?”
John gave him a very old-fashioned look. “Now let’s just suppose I was in there, and let’s suppose I was about to report I’d found these three people on the floor, when I heard someone’s men running toward me. And let’s suppose I knew there were rumors in the town that I was an adulterer with the neighbor’s wife, and let’s suppose I had every reason to believe this neighbor might want to see exactly how my body fitted together by taking it apart piece by piece. Now, do you suppose I’d sit there politely, waiting for him and his men, with all those bodies lying around me? I know people here don’t have a great respect for the intelligence of my folk, but I can promise you, when men are running my way with swords in their hands, I can be very thoughtful, very quickly.”