‘I didn’t think they had. It was clear that they were appallingly hungover, and when I found them, all were sleeping out in the yard. If they had murdered the people of the house, they wouldn’t have gone to sleep in the rain outside, would they? Anyway, just from their reaction it was plain to me that they didn’t do it.’
‘Who did, then? They all thought it was you.’
‘Me? Ha. No, the couple were dead when I got there.’
‘Who, then, told you to go there?’
‘Sir John de Sapy. He was helping me, and he said that I should meet the musicians there.’
‘Sir John?’ Simon blurted. ‘But he’s no friend to you! He’s with Despenser.’
‘Sir John? But I trusted him!’ Earl Edmund’s face transformed into a grimace of disgust. ‘That prickle has snared John as well? Is there no one immune to his infection? Dear Jesus!’
‘I thank you for your honesty,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I fear that there is little you can do to protect yourself against the man. He has an astonishing ability to cause mayhem wherever he goes.’
‘You hardly need to tell me that.’
Chapter Forty-Three
It was at the middle watch of the day when Père Pierre arrived at the château and asked mildly whether he could see Sir Baldwin.
‘Sir Baldwin, the King has asked me to come here and answer your questions.’
The knight was unable to conceal his feelings. His eyes were bright with anger as he took in Pierre’s features, but the priest met them without blinking. He had no need to concern himself with this man’s feelings. His duty was to a higher master.
‘You are Père Pierre from Pamiers?’ the knight asked him.
‘Well, I originally come from a little way outside. My family name is Clergue. But I became known as “Pamiers” because that is where I worked with my dear bishop, Jacques Fournier. We were there for some years.’
‘What were you there?’
‘A clerk. I was set the duty of saving the souls of heretics. Have you heard of the Waldensians?’
A second man, whom he recognised as the bailiff, had joined them now, and was leaning against a wall with his arms folded. He shook his head, and Baldwin had to explain.
‘They followed a man called Waldes, who came from Lyons, I think. He was a little insane. He wanted the Bible translated into the common tongue so all could understand it. Preachers took up his teaching and began to spread his words.’
‘Yes. They were all snared by his foul lies. He wanted to destroy the Church. So the Pope had no choice, and declared all those who followed his teachings to be heretics. Jacques Fournier and I went down to Pamiers to bring men back to their senses.’
‘Tell me: how many were fortunate enough to die in the process?’ Simon asked nastily.
‘Jacques was always a thorough man. He killed only very rarely, when the criminal was obdurate. His patience was exemplary,’ Père Pierre said, allowing a trace of asperity to enter his voice.
‘I am sure you are right,’ Baldwin said soothingly. ‘And you were the man who took notes during the interrogations?’
‘I was fortunate enough to be able to help him from the time when he first arrived there. I had already been there with Bishop Pelfort de Rabastens, you see, but he had quarrelled with his canons, and all his time was taken up with disputes. It was only when he left — about eight years ago — that Jacques arrived and set up his own inquisitorial office together with the Dominican brother Gaillard de Pomiès. From then I began to take all the records.’
‘You were already there?’ Simon asked. ‘Did you know the man called Jean who tried to kill Arnaud?’
Père Pierre was frankly shocked by that news. ‘It cannot be — you mean he has come all the way here?’
‘Yes. We know that he was a guard at the Château Gaillard. Did you know him before that?’
‘He was in the service of the Comte de Foix.’
‘That same man who died on the journey here?’ Baldwin said.
‘His father, who is dead now, God bless his soul,’ Pierre said, rapidly crossing himself. ‘Count Robert died at Courtrai, God bless him!’
‘Jean was in the garrison, wasn’t he? When Berengar went mad.’
‘Yes. He had been held in Pamiers because he displayed a wanton disregard for the honour of the bishop. He was held, while his heretical views were examined, and then he was allowed to leave, so long as he wore the star of the heretic.’
‘But he didn’t stay there?’
‘Arnaud had been there at the same time, and Arnaud picked him to help at the château.’
‘Were you involved up there too?’ Simon asked.
Pierre glanced at him. He remained leaning against the wall, but he was frowning for some reason. ‘I was often up there in my capacity as chaplain.’
‘To see the Lady Blanche?’ Baldwin snapped.
‘On occasion. I took messages to her.’
‘Did you see her child?’
‘Child?’ Pierre could not help his voice rising. These fools had learned about her child!
‘You know about him, then. Was that the reason you went to London and killed them both?’
‘I have not been to London.’
‘You were there with Sir John de Sapy. You see he has already told us much.’
‘I do not know …’
‘Her name was Thomassia, wasn’t it? That is what the musicians thought, anyway. And her husband was Guy. Both were from the château. I think that they were aware of something about the lady who was installed there. As were the men of the garrison. So you and Arnaud were told to remove all the evidence. You were told to see that all the men there were killed.’
‘This is fascinating, but I do not know what you want me to say in response to this nonsense.’
‘There was the other old man, too. He and Arnaud were supposed to kill all the guards, I suppose. And since then, it has been your duty to tidy up all the loose ends. You were to kill the Comte de Foix, weren’t you? And it struck you as amusing to do it in such a way that it might incriminate no one; that it would be clever to leave him with an explosion so that it would appear as though he had suffered a terrible accident. So you put that powder beneath him and ignited it.’
‘I know nothing of such matters.’
‘Really? Yet I saw you at his side when he fired his gonne. It scared my horse, and when I turned, there you were, just behind him as he laughed. You must have heard him speak of his weapon.’
‘No. Perhaps he was showing someone else, and that person heard all about the gonne, but I was thinking of other things.’
‘Really?’ Baldwin said again. His voice was drooling with sarcasm now, and his disbelief was apparent. It was deeply shaming for a priest to have to hear such doubt.
‘Did you hear what happened to Arnaud?’ Simon asked.
‘Arnaud? He is at the inn near the-’
‘No. He got into a fight with Jean yesterday. He is here,’ Baldwin said.
‘Oh?’ Pierre said enquiringly. ‘Perhaps I should see him, then.’
‘Yes. It would please you to remove yet another embarrassment,’ Baldwin said.
‘You accuse me of killing him?’
‘Let us think of Paul, too, the man you found outside the castle here on the night of last Wednesday,’ Baldwin said. He was trying to make the man stumble in his tale, but it was clearly going to be a hard task. ‘You found him in a terrible state, badly beaten, and chose to kill him. Was it only because he was already so weakened? Like Robert de Chatillon? Another loose end in your coil of rope. No one likes to leave a loose end lying around where it might trip up the unwary, do they? So you had him slaughtered too, and then sought to put all the blame on your easiest target: an Englishman, who also happened to know what had happened in London. But the plan went awry, because he managed to knock Arnaud to the ground, and then escaped back to the castle.’
‘Why should I want to do any of this? To kill this Paul? This Robert?’