The Tolls of Death: (Knights Templar 17) (29 page)

‘I think not,’ Baldwin said with a short sigh. ‘The child is a straightforward matter, but you still need witnesses.’

‘Yes.’

‘There are two: his four-year-old brother, and his mother Muriel who is not only distraught at losing her son, but also has a
debilitating injury. Now she has lost her husband as well. I feel it would be too unkind to impose a Coroner’s court on a woman in such affliction.’

Jules grimaced. ‘Perhaps it would be a little unfair – yet I should seek to close at least
one
case.’

Baldwin nodded. Then he peered at Jules from the corner of his eye. ‘Of course, it’s possible that the murders weren’t committed by the same man.’

‘Unless Alexander’s right,’ Simon mused. ‘And Richer
was
responsible for all.’

‘You really think he could be guilty?’ Jules scoffed.

‘I consider it entirely unlikely, but possible,’ Baldwin said briskly. ‘Which is why I think that we should speak to Richer urgently, as soon as we are done at the tavern. If Simon can imagine Alexander being right, you may be assured that others in the vill will feel the same, and that could lead to more violence.’

Jules nodded, and soon they were walking back towards the vill.

On the way, Simon couldn’t help but notice Alexander. He stood outside the last home at this side of the vill, and on seeing the three, he quickly withdrew. Simon was sure that it was his own house, and he studied it with interest.

The Constable’s dwelling was much in the style of a large Devon longhouse, but with more outbuildings, as befitted a wealthy man. And it was no surprise that he was wealthy, Simon thought. Money grew money; Alexander had helped Serlo buy the mill, so the two controlled all the flour used in the vill; the Farm of the Ovens was owned by Alexander, so every loaf baked brought in more money. Every loaf baked meant payments to Serlo and Alexander. That was surely a cause for bitter resentment.

Comparing Alexander’s wealth to the general poverty all about, Simon wondered whether jealousies had sprung up between the Constable and his neighbours. Perhaps that was why Serlo had
been so arrogant, because he felt secure while his brother ran the place – and if that was so, maybe someone had attacked and killed Serlo in order to get back at Alex. It was astonishing the lengths to which some men would go in order to gain revenge on another. Simon decided he should mention it to Baldwin later.

The tavern was a welcome sight. As soon as Simon saw it, and smelled the odour of pies and meat, he recalled that he had not yet broken his fast. He shot a look at Baldwin, but his friend was peering down at the ground before him like a man who was about to launch himself on the most important journey of his life and who doubted whether he would ever see these stones and pebbles again. There was an air of anxiety about him which Simon had not noticed before, and the sight gave him pause for thought. If the murders here were enough to make Baldwin pensive, Simon was justified in being worried.

‘Wine!’ Jules shouted rudely as soon as they entered.

Susan glanced at them with a frown. Sighing without pleasure, she crossed the floor to them. This early in the morning, the place was empty, apart from two grim-looking customers at the bar, to whom she had been talking.

‘You don’t have to shout, and a little politeness would cost you nothing, my lords,’ she said stiffly.

Baldwin smiled up at her. ‘Susan, could we prevail upon you for three goodly jugs of your finest wine, as well as a little bread and meat?’

‘Yes, of course, Sir Baldwin,’ she said with a glance at Jules that could have frozen an ocean, and left them to fetch their order.

Ignoring her, the Coroner said, ‘What is your opinion, Sir Baldwin?’

‘I say that we should question all about Richer’s dispute with Serlo, and see whether there could be some link between him and these deaths, if only to prove that Alexander’s accusations are false.’

‘Why should we bother wasting time on such matters?’ Jules snapped. ‘We should only trouble ourselves with those issues which have a direct bearing upon the murders, surely?’

‘You are a Coroner,’ Baldwin said mildly, ‘and must focus on the discovery of the killer so that the Justices know whom to execute, as well as keeping a track of all the fines and forfeits for the law. I am a Keeper of the King’s Peace. I am keen to prevent
further
bloodshed; that is
my
focus. If we find the killer, but do not prove that Richer was innocent, we shall be leaving trouble behind when we depart, and that will mean Alex or Richer may soon die, and you will return. I trust you do not wish that?’ he added with gentle sarcasm.

‘In the name of my mother’s sire,
no
!’ Jules stated.

‘Then we should learn all we can about this enmity,’ Baldwin said, and leaned back against the wall as he awaited Susan’s return.

As soon as she had served them a platter piled with cold meats from the previous day’s cooking and a pair of loaves fresh from the oven at their side, Baldwin asked her to fetch a cup for herself.

‘I don’t have time for wine at this time of day, Sir Knight,’ she said pleasantly enough.

‘Today you do,’ Baldwin said, a hint of steel in his voice.

‘What makes you say that?’

Simon answered her. ‘You were discussing the reason why over there with those two men, weren’t you? This is about Serlo.’

‘There are others you can ask.’

‘I suppose this bread came from his brother’s oven?’ Simon enquired.

‘Not his, no! The lord’s! Alex just takes our money to use it,’ she said bitterly.

‘Would someone kill Serlo because of Alexander’s Farm of the Ovens?’ Simon pressed. ‘Or would they kill him because of his own farm – the mill?’

‘Why would someone kill him for that?’ she demanded with a twist of her lip.

‘If he was taking more multure than he should, people might have rebelled,’ Simon guessed. ‘Someone could have grown hot-headed.’

‘I don’t know anything about Serlo’s death,’ she said, and would have turned away, had not Baldwin gripped her forearm, not harshly, but tightly enough to keep her there.

‘Maid, we have to ask questions about his death. You know that, and you know why: to stop unrest in the vill. Please help us.’

She stood with her chin high, but then gave a slight nod and accepted the space on the bench which Simon indicated for her.

‘Serlo was here last night,’ Baldwin continued when she was seated. ‘Did he leave here alone?’

‘No, he went with Angot,’ she said. ‘I told Angot to get him home safely, because he wouldn’t make it there on his own.’

‘Angot is here?’ Baldwin enquired, looking at the two at the bar.

‘Yes. He’s there.’ She pointed.

Baldwin beckoned the man, and soon Angot was behind Susan, standing nervously with a pot in his hand. ‘You helped Serlo home?’

‘Yes, I took him home.’

‘All the way to his door?’

‘Nearly,’ Angot admitted. He was terrified as he spoke, knowing that he was the last man to see Serlo. He briefly explained why he had left Serlo on the way to the mill. ‘He didn’t want my help any more. He was bitter. Turned very nasty.’

‘How was Serlo when he left here?’ Baldwin asked Susan.

‘Very drunk, but what else would you expect? His son was dead.’

‘Whom do you know who might wish to kill Serlo?’ Simon asked Angot outright, waiting to hear Richer’s name.

The man shrugged. ‘He was a miller; always took his tenth of the grain, and sometimes, when the customer wasn’t watching, he took more. That didn’t exactly make him popular.’

Simon nodded. ‘What of the tolls? He was taking gifts from travellers, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes. He was always short of cash lately.’ Angot pulled a face. ‘Since Dan’s death, he’d been hit hard with costs. He had the
deodand
to pay, and the funeral, as well as replacing broken bits of his machine. It’s all expensive.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I see. In your opinion, is there anyone in particular who might have wished to see him dead?’

Angot laughed shortly. ‘He managed to insult loads of people over the years.’

Susan chipped in: ‘He took his brother’s position seriously. If a man insulted Serlo, he insulted Constable Alexander. Serlo was so used to being related to the most powerful man here, he thought he could get away with anything. And Alex saw to it that he did, generally.’

‘It’s not just that,’ Angot said, gaining confidence now. ‘He put on a bold front, but he wasn’t brave himself. He was a younger brother, you see. Alexander was his hero, he looked up to him all the time, and he wanted to prove himself to Alex. The trouble was, anything Alex touched turned to gold, while everything Serlo tried failed. All he could do was mill. Everything else was a disaster.’

‘Alexander alleges that Richer atte Brooke could have been responsible. What do you know of that?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Richer?’ Susan said, and she began to smile disbelievingly, but then she recalled Serlo’s words the previous day and the smile died on her lips.

‘What?’ Baldwin pressed. ‘You have remembered something. What is it?’

‘It was something Serlo said yesterday. Richer came in, but when he saw Serlo, he turned to leave; said he’d go, to save Serlo
further grief. But Serlo said something … I can’t recall exactly, but it was something about he’d only lost one boy, while Richer had lost all his family. It made Richer go quite pale as he walked out. Did you hear that, Angot?’

He shook his head. ‘I was drunk.’

‘What did you think Serlo meant?’ Baldwin enquired.

‘He was implying that he might have had something to do with Richer’s family’s death. I don’t believe it, but there was something in Serlo’s voice as he saw Richer going: cruelty, you know? And there have been rumours for a while now.’

‘Rumours of what?’

‘That Serlo was up near Richer’s house on the night of the fire. It was long ago, and I was only a child. But I can remember Iwan telling someone about seeing Serlo up there on that night.’

‘So he
could
have been guilty of arson; he
could
have killed all Richer’s family?’ Simon breathed.

‘No!’ Angot protested. ‘He could bully to get his own way, but kill a whole family? Never. Anyway, I think it was him went to the field to call the rest to help with the fire. Why’d he do that if he was the arsonist?’

‘We cannot ask him now,’ Baldwin sighed. ‘Susan, if you’re right, do you think Richer could have heard him and guessed what he … wait!’ The sight of Richer, sitting with his head in his hands came back to him, and he knew that the question was unnecessary. ‘This was mid-afternoon? A little before we came in?’

‘Yes. Quite early in the afternoon.’

Baldwin stood. ‘I think we should go and seek Richer.’

Simon looked down at the plate of meats. ‘Yes. In a moment.’

‘No, now, while the scent is still fresh,’ Baldwin said, and started towards the door.

‘Fine. You go, I’ll have some food first.’

‘Can’t you get something later?’ Baldwin asked, a trace of peevishness in his tone.

‘No,’ Simon said bluntly, taking up a slice of meat and studying it with satisfaction. ‘And neither can the good Coroner, so sit down again and wait a short while. Susan, you cook a good piece of beef!’

Richer was sitting outside the castle’s hall on an old saw-horse which the grooms used to polish the saddles.

He had tried to eat, but his belly was too weakly today. His humours were all unbalanced since hearing of the death of Athelina. It still seemed incomprehensible to him that she had been taken away just at the time when he was hoping to marry her at last. Most of the time he had little fragments of thoughts, things he would like to talk to her about, half-born ideas that he squashed. He was used to death, God knew, but he couldn’t really believe that she was gone. She was so vital, so vivid …

‘Richer.’

He opened his eyes, to find himself confronted by the Coroner, the Keeper and the Bailiff. The elderly clerk was standing behind them.

‘Godspeed, friends,’ he said without pleasure.

‘We have some questions for you. Have you heard the news?’ Baldwin said.

‘Yes. It’s … um …’ Almost too late he realised that he should say nothing that could show his personal allegiance. ‘Astonishing.’

‘What do you know of it?’ Coroner Jules said quickly, like a man who was determined to get a word in before others took over the conversation.

Richer was irritated by his manner. He had better things to consider, today of all days. ‘The same as you, I suppose. Why?’

‘We’ve heard you may have been responsible.’

Richer almost smiled, thinking this was some form of pleasantry at his expense, but it faded when he saw that they were all watching him with unreserved gravity. ‘How could I have been involved? I’ve been in the castle for a few weeks now. It would take an age to ride to London and back.’

Simon blinked, then looked at Baldwin, and suddenly gave a laugh. ‘We are fools! We came here asking about news, and all friend Richer can think of is the escape of Lord Mortimer from the Tower! No, Richer,’ he continued, his smile disappearing like the first waft of smoke from an open fire on the moors. ‘We wanted to hear about Serlo. What did he have to do with you?’