But before I could interrogate him, it was necessary to calm him down. Humphrey was shaking like a leaf in a high gale, and it was obvious from the welts on the palms of his hands that he had been clinging on to the horse’s reins like a man possessed. Which made me glance through the open door at the sweating animal and recommend to Josiah Litton that the poor beast be seen to before it took a chill. He immediately bustled off while his goodwife hurried to fill a beaker and bring it to Humphrey; indeed, she had the good sense to fill beakers for us all as an antidote to the shock we had sustained. By the time the landlord returned, having stabled the horse and rubbed it down — although not, I suspected, with such care as he would usually have taken — Humphrey was recovering somewhat and appeared in a fit enough state to reply to the dozen or so queries hovering eagerly on my lips.
‘When was the body discovered? And who found it?’
The lad swallowed another mouthful of ale, his teeth chattering on the rim of his cup. He answered the second question first.
‘I found it. When the master didn’t show up for his breakfast, I began to get worried. No one else seemed to care.’
That was understandable. Anthony’s absence must have been a relief to almost everyone.
‘Who was at breakfast?’ I queried.
Humphrey pressed a hand to his forehead. ‘I–I can’t rightly recall. Dame Audrea and Simon and the Bignells — Master and Mistress Bignell and the son — they were all there, at the high table, I’m sure of that. The dame was enquiring what sort of night they had passed. There were some servants at the lower board, the ones who don’t take their meals in the kitchen with the cook, but I can’t remember which. I was beginning to worry about Master Bellknapp by that time and was watching the doors into the hall, expecting him to appear at any moment.’
‘What about the receiver, the bailiff, the chaplain, were they present?’
‘Oh, Sir Henry was. Yes, of course, he said grace before the start of the meal. But as for the others, maybe.’ He sounded distressed. ‘I really don’t recall.’
‘Steady.’ I laid a hand on Humphrey’s arm. ‘You’ll remember later, when you’re calmer. What about the steward?’
‘George Applegarth? Yes, now you mention him, he was busying himself around.’ Humphrey suddenly grew petulant. ‘But what does it matter, where anyone was at breakfast? My master had been in the water for several hours. He was all stiff and blue. His body had caught in a patch of reeds just where the moat curves away to the west in the direction of the woods.’
I was still puzzled. ‘But how did he come to drown? I know the moat is fairly wide there and the bank must have been slippery after yesterday’s rain, but is he, like Thomas Bignell, unable to swim?’
Humphrey began to shiver again. ‘It wouldn’t have mattered whether he could swim or not. Someone had hit him a stunning blow to the back of the head. He stood no chance. He might have been dead before he fell in.’
‘Murder, then,’ breathed Goody Litton, her eyes wide and frightened.
‘No chance of an accident in that case,’ her husband agreed, trying, not altogether successfully, to suppress the excitement that violent death arouses even in the gentlest of us when it doesn’t touch us personally.
My own feeling was one of dismay although not of surprise. There were too many people at Croxcombe Manor who had wished the prodigal dead. Whoever had the thankless task of investigating this sudden death would not find himself short of suspects … A thought occurred to me; more than a thought, a suspicion.
‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded, rounding on Humphrey with an angry suddenness that made him jump. I could tell at once by his guilty expression that my suspicion was correct.
‘I–I was sent after you.’
‘By whom?’
‘D-Dame Audrea.’
‘Why me?’ I asked grimly. ‘And who has ridden for the local sergeant-at-law?’
‘Dame Audrea doesn’t want the law involved.’ Of course she didn’t, not with the finger of suspicion pointing straight at Simon as the suspect who had the most to gain by his brother’s death. But she wanted to know who the murderer was, not only because she was thankful for present deliverance, but also to be wary of him in the future. A person who had found the strength of purpose to kill once, might well find it a second time if the need ever arose. Unless, of course, the murderer was Dame Audrea herself, in which case it was even more desirable for her to keep the law’s representative at arm’s length.
‘So, why have you been sent to find me? How did you manage to track me down?’
I could guess the answer to the first question. I had opened my big mouth so wide that everyone must know by now that I had been employed by no less a personage than the King’s brother, the Duke of Gloucester, to solve several murder cases for him, not to mention other mysteries that I had unravelled on my own account. This would teach me not to boast. It was high time I cultivated that much maligned virtue, modesty. As for how Humphrey had managed to find me, he simply said vaguely that he had asked people if they had seen a travelling pedlar with a dog; and because of my unusual height — and because Hercules had chased and frightened half to death three ducks, a sheep and an unknown quantity of chickens — my progress had been marked and remembered. I cursed fluently under my breath.
‘Dame Audrea,’ he concluded, glancing at me doubtfully, ‘wants you to discover the murderer for her.’
I was just about to refuse this request with less than my usual courtesy, when a thought struck me. To do as the dame asked would give me a powerful bargaining counter. I would try to track down Anthony’s murderer — and hold my tongue about the result if that was what she wished — and in return she would promise to drop her charge against my half-brother. When I eventually returned to Bristol, she would give me letters exonerating him addressed to the sheriff, the mayor, her kinsman, Alderman Foster, and to anyone else it might concern. So, instead of snapping Humphrey’s head off, I smiled benignly at him.
‘Naturally, I shall do my very best to assist Dame Audrea and bring the killer of her son to justice.’
‘I–I don’t think that’s — that’s what she wants,’ Humphrey faltered, confirming my own suspicions in the matter. But then his eyes blazed with righteous indignation. ‘But I do! I want to know who murdered Master Bellknapp! Whatever others may think of him, he’s been a good master to me. Never a blow, let alone a whipping, and barely a harsh word in all the time I’ve been with him. I’ll see he gets justice!’
I pursed my lips. ‘I’d be careful, if I were you, lad, about going against Dame Audrea’s wishes. You could end up in the moat as easily as your master. Your late master,’ I added significantly.
Humphrey eyed me apprehensively, but said nothing. His silence worried me more than any protestations as to his future intentions would have done, but there were more important things to think about.
‘Dinner,’ I said, turning to the landlord and his wife. ‘It must be getting close to the dinner hour and I’ve eaten nothing since breakfast. Master Attleborough here probably hasn’t eaten at all this morning.’ Humphrey shook his head dolefully and I patted his shoulder. ‘There you are, then. Food, Master Litton, is what we both need to sustain us before our journey back to Croxcombe Manor.’
Humphrey and I ate our oatcakes, coddled eggs and slices of boiled beef in a secluded corner of the aleroom, which was now filling up fast as workers from the surrounding fields and woodlands ambled in to refresh themselves after an hour or two’s hard work. (Foreigners are always complaining that the English don’t take work seriously enough, and that we could feed half Europe if only we would put our backs and hearts into our respective jobs instead of lolling about drinking ale and stuffing our faces. But like most of my countrymen, I feel that is the rest of Europe’s problem, not ours. Our first duty is to look after ourselves.)