‘Walter Baderon?’ said Ralph.
‘That is my name.’
‘Then you should know mine because it is one that you will remember. I am Ralph Delchard, one of the royal commissioners on business here in Devon. You are aware of our work, I think.’
‘What do you want with me?’
‘Answers,’ said Ralph. ‘Honest answers.’
‘About what, my lord?’
‘The murder of my colleague, Hervey de Marigny.’
Baderon licked his lips but said nothing. His eyes darted. A frightened voice was heard from the top of the staircase. ‘What is it, Walter?’
‘Nothing, my love.’
‘Who are those men?’
‘I will deal with it,’ he said. ‘Go back to bed.’
‘What do they want?’
‘Go back to bed!’ he snapped.
His wife withdrew nervously. Baderon took the candle and conducted the visitors to the parlour. More candles were quickly lit by the servant, who then scurried away. Baderon could see the faces of his unexpected guests more clearly. They were grim and determined.
‘We have ridden through the night to reach Tavistock,’ said Ralph, ‘and we will not leave until you tell us what we wish to know.’
‘I have nothing to tell, my lord.’
‘Yes, you do. Let us start with the coincidence.’
‘Coincidence?’
‘When Nicholas Picard rode out of Exeter to be killed in an ambush, the last person to speak to him was Walter Baderon, captain of the guard at the North Gate. You were also the last person to speak to the lord Hervey when he left the city last evening to meet his death. Do you deny these charges?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Then you are lying.’
‘I spoke to the lord Nicholas,’ admitted the other. ‘I gave evidence to that effect to the sheriff. And I did meet the lord Hervey some two days ago, though he concealed both his name and his purpose from me. He was trying to trick information out of me. But that was the only time he and I spoke. I swear it, my lord.’
‘He came in search of you last night.’
‘Then he did not find me.’
‘The lord Hervey knew his way to the North Gate.’
‘He did not reach it last night, my lord. Ask the other sentries.’
‘I have,’ said Ralph. ‘They all sing the same tune. The abbot of Tavistock is a cunning choirmaster. He has taught them well.
And he sent you home from Exeter so that you would be out of the way when the body was found.’
‘That is not so!’ protested the other.
‘Then why did you quit the city?’
‘I asked to leave. My wife is unwell.’
‘Another coincidence.’
‘What is going on here, my lord?’ said Baderon angrily. ‘You have no right to barge into my home and interrogate me like this.
Do you have the sheriff’s writ?’
‘No,’ said Ralph. ‘I answer to a higher authority. A royal commissioner has been slain. If the killer is not found and arrested, the King himself is likely to come riding into Exeter to know the reason why. Would you rather meet his displeasure?
As for your wife,’ he said with a glance upwards, ‘she did not sound unwell when she spoke. Upset, perhaps, as well she might be in view of what could happen to her husband.’
‘I have done nothing wrong!’
‘Then why do you insult me with this pack of lies?’
‘They are not lies.’
‘We shall see.’ He turned to one of his men. ‘Fetch his wife.
We will enquire after her health. Then we will let her remain to witness the rest of our interrogation. It is high time she learned what a lying rogue she has for a husband.’
The man-at-arms moved away but was stopped by Baderon’s shout.
‘No!’ he cried. ‘Leave my wife out of this!’
‘Is she too ill to witness your humiliation?’ taunted Ralph.
‘She is well enough,’ confessed the other with a scowl.
‘So one lie has been exposed. Let us examine the others. Did you or did you not talk to the lord Hervey last night?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Did you see him anywhere near the North Gate?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Then where did you see him?’
‘Nowhere. Ask the other sentries. They will vouch for me.’
Ralph’s patience snapped. His forearm caught Baderon full in the face and knocked him to the floor. Blood streamed from the man’s nose and he began to curse volubly. Two of the men hauled him back to his feet. When Ralph threatened another blow, Baderon fell silent. He tried to wipe the blood away with the back of his hand.
‘We have ridden too far to endure these fairytales,’ said Ralph.
‘I will try once again. One more lie and we will drag you all the way back to Exeter in your nightshirt. Is that what you want?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘Then forget what the abbot told you. Speak the truth. I will ask this for the last time so take care how you answer.’ He put his face in close. ‘Did you see the lord Hervey at the North Gate last night?’
‘Yes,’ grunted the other.
‘Did you talk with him?’
‘Only briefly.’
‘Then why did you try to deceive us?’
‘On the abbot’s advice, my lord,’ said Baderon. ‘When I told him that someone had been asking me about the lord Nicholas, he asked me to describe the man and identified him as the lord Hervey. I was ordered to tell him nothing further if he sought me out again.’
‘Why?’
‘The abbot did not want his name linked with the murder inquiry.
He is appearing before you in a dispute. He felt that there would be undue prejudice against him if any taint of suspicion touched him or one of his men. That is why he sent me home,’ he continued. ‘To be safe from further questioning about the death of the lord Nicholas.’
‘Or the death of Hervey de Marigny.’
‘I did not even know of it until you came here tonight.’
‘Is that the truth?’ said Ralph, grabbing him by the throat.
‘On my word of honour!’
‘That is worthless. A few minutes ago, you swore that you only spoke with the lord Hervey once. That was your first mistake.
Make another and I’ll beat you to a pulp to get at the truth. Now,’
said Ralph as he tightened his grip. ‘What happened last night?’
‘I was on duty at the North Gate,’ said Baderon, the words pouring out in a terrified stream. ‘The lord Hervey fell into conversation with me and tried to ask me about the night when the lord Nicholas died. I did as the abbot advised and said almost nothing to him. When the lord Hervey realised that I knew who he was, he gave up and walked away.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Out through the gate.’
‘With you on his tail?’
‘No, my lord!’
‘Some of your men, then.’
‘We remained at our post,’ insisted the other. ‘The last I saw of the lord Hervey was when he walked through North Gate. My men were witnesses. They will tell you the same.’
‘All they have told me is the lie you agreed upon.’
‘Now you know what really did happen, my lord.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes!’ vowed the other. ‘It is God’s own truth.’
‘God’s own truth?’ said Ralph with irony. ‘Or the abbot of Tavistock’s own truth? I fancy that there is a huge difference between the two. Let us go back to the night when the lord Nicholas died. You were on duty at the North Gate. That was the exit he would have taken from the city. What did you do when he rode past you? Did you mount your horse and follow him?’
The lady Albreda was coming out of the chapel when Berold accosted her. Having prayed for the soul of the departed, she was in no mood for jesting and was relieved that he himself was solemn for once. He slipped something into her hand.
‘What is this, Berold?’
‘I was asked to give it to you, my lady.’
‘By whom?’
‘A man at the castle gate.’
‘What sort of man?’
‘I have never seen him before.’
‘Did he not have a name?’
‘He did not stay long enough to give it, my lady,’ said the other.
‘He thrust the letter into my hand, bade me deliver it, then ran away.’