The Traitor of St. Giles Page 20

  ‘So, you think he wouldn’t want to avenge her?’

  Avicia’s voice was almost a wail of despair. Felicity put a hand over hers and smiled. ‘I bet we can think of something.’ Her eyes widened. ‘What about speaking to his wife, to Joan Carter’s mother? Maybe she can help persuade him?’

  ‘Do you think she would listen when he wouldn’t?’ Avicia asked doubtfully.

  Felicity ignored her. There was no point going today, not with the feast at the castle. Everyone, including Andrew and Matilda, would be going there. But tomorrow, that was a different matter.

  ‘Of course she’ll listen. She was Joan’s mother, wasn’t she?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Baldwin and Simon spoke to an elderly steward at the castle who told them that Nicholas Lovecok was staying with his brother-in-law Andrew Carter and gave them directions on how to get there.

  Carter’s house was in a part of the town Simon had never visited before, to the north eastern side. Like many towns, there were large areas of Tiverton which were very poor and shabby, and the two men had to pass through miserable quarters, past hovels which lacked doors and windows, with piles of human excrement lying in the shallow gutter that was the only drain, while in the shadows they saw rats scuttle. Women stood and murmured quietly as the two approached, only to fall silent, watching Simon and Baldwin with glittering eyes as if the men were dangerous killers or representatives from a hated lord.

  ‘They don’t seem to like us,’ Simon grunted.

  ‘An obvious comment – but I can’t argue with its accuracy.’

  ‘The thing that impresses me is how they always appear so clean,’ Simon said, ignoring his friend’s sarcasm.

  ‘It astonishes me, too. When you look at the state of the road here, or the quality of the houses, I can never understand how they manage to get their shirts white or remove the stains from their skirts.’

  Simon dodged a small pile of faeces and winced as a toddler walked through it giggling fruitily. The bailiff turned away and saw gladly that they were almost at the edge of the poor area. Ahead of them the sunlight glinted off clean cobbles and fresh-looking limewashed walls. The maidservants here looked more wholesome than the women in the poor alleys and byways.

  To Simon it felt as if they were leaving an area of degradation and sickness. There was a miasma, a foul air, about it which was absent in the more expensive parts. It was a relief to walk along the clean cobbled road, with a goodsized gutter fed by a spring which washed away all muck before it could accumulate.

  The odours were better too. Here an occasional dog rose or honeysuckle clung to the wall of a house, while the scent of drying herbs was all about them, as was the smell of cooking meats as people prepared meals. Only a few places held the stench of dried urine where a man had pissed against a house’s wall, or the foul odour of a dog’s defecation in the shadow of a building, and Simon only saw two corpses, one of a dog, quite fresh, and one of a cat, very far gone and disgusting in putrefaction.

  They were soon at the merchant’s house and Baldwin rapped smartly on the wooden door. There came a bellow from inside, a pattering of feet, and soon a girl was in the doorway. A pretty maiden, Simon thought; fourteen or fifteen years old, with a hanging head and cap awry, she gave him the impression of shame. Her embarrassment made him assume they had interrupted her in some carnal pursuit, and he peered over her shoulder expecting to see a bottler or steward tying his hose in the background, but there was no one.

  Baldwin appeared to notice nothing amiss. ‘Is Master Nicholas Lovecok here? We were told he was staying here with your master.’

  ‘No, sir,’ she said, and her voice was small and faraway. ‘He’s not here yet; usually he visits a tavern on his way back from the castle.’

  ‘What of your master? We should speak to him as well.’

  There was a call from the hall, and Simon was sure he saw a hunted terror in the girl’s eye as she listened. Then, standing back a little, she let the two men enter.

  Sir Peregrine was in the castle’s yard when Jeanne and her small entourage returned. He smiled and bowed, but unenthusiastically. Wherever he looked, he seemed to see women. His eyes followed Petronilla, who cooed with evident delight as she gathered up Stephen. Sir Peregrine felt a stab of jealousy. ‘Was the Fair to your liking, my Lady?’

  Jeanne waved a hand at the overladen Edgar and Wat. ‘I think you can tell that for yourself, Sir Peregrine!’

  Seeing Petronilla hurry back to save a bolt of cloth tipping from Wat’s arms into the dirt, Sir Peregrine gave a dry chuckle. ‘It looks as though your child is carrying as much as he can.’

  ‘Child?’ Wat demanded, glowering.

  Quickly Jeanne moved in front of him to conceal his furious scowl. ‘Yes, I like to make the servants work for their keep, rather than letting them get slack so they have to be beaten.’ This last was spoken directly to Wat, but in a moment she was facing Sir Peregrine once more. ‘Have you seen my husband? Is the inquest over yet?’

  ‘We have not held the inquest as yet. Too many of the jury are involved in the Fair, and Harlewin thought it would be best to wait until the Fair is over. Your husband went out, I believe. Perhaps he went to seek you?’

  ‘If he did, he failed,’ Jeanne observed with a faintly caustic tone to her voice. She would have liked Baldwin to have joined her. It was many months since they had attended a fair together. Ah well, she thought, he never liked wandering around stalls. And maybe he’d gone to try to find her and had missed her in the crowds. It would have been all too easy to miss each other in the hectic crush.

  ‘No doubt he will soon return,’ she said, motioning to her servants to take the stuffs up to her room and watching them closely until they had disappeared through the door to the hall. She would persuade Baldwin to join her at the Fair tomorrow.

  ‘I have no doubt,’ Sir Peregrine said.

  ‘Then good day for now. I shall see you at the meal,’ Jeanne said and walked off to follow after the others. At the top of the stairs she happened to glance back. Sir Peregrine was still standing in the yard, looking sad and pensive, and Jeanne felt a burst of sympathy for him. She had lost a husband, but her man had been a bully and it was a source of delight to her that God had seen fit to permit her to marry Baldwin. But Sir Peregrine had found his ideal mate and lost her in childbirth. That was an ironic twist of fate.

  As she watched she saw Toker enter the gateway, nod to the porter, and go up to Sir Peregrine, looking about him all the while. He noticed Jeanne and gave her a sneering nod. She walked indoors with a feeling of disquiet. There was something cruel and unpleasant in Toker’s face.

  Later she would remember that moment.

  Andrew did not rise – he saw no need to. These two weren’t officials in this town and had no authority to investigate any matters. Waving to a couple of chairs, he took a gulp of wine and belched.

  ‘We were hoping to find your brother-in-law,’ Baldwin said, sitting.

  ‘He’s not here. What did you want to see him about?’

  ‘Perhaps we should save that until we have a chance to speak to him.’

  ‘But while we’re here,’ Simon said, ‘we have a few questions for you about the death of the felon.’

  ‘Dyne? The bastard was lucky!’ Andrew said, eyeing Simon with distaste and gesturing again to an empty seat. Simon ignored his invitation and remained standing, arms folded.

  Baldwin sniffed. ‘He was severely beaten and executed – and so was another man last night.’

  ‘Another?’ Andrew looked at him with surprise. ‘Who?’

  ‘William, Sir Gilbert’s servant. It seems most strange that the knight’s own servant, a man who could have seen something on the night that Sir Gilbert died, should now himself be dead.’

  ‘A coincidence, surely. Where did he die?’

  ‘We found his body in the river. But the question has to be, did he see something incriminating on the night of Sir Gilbert’s murder, or was he kil
led for another reason? And there are rumours . . .’

  ‘In a town like this there are always rumours.’

  ‘Really? Because, you see, there are stories that Dyne was innocent.’

  Andrew dropped his cup. It shattered on the floor, shards of pottery bouncing in all directions, but he didn’t notice. ‘What? Do you mean – but they must be inventing it. It’s peasants talking . . . blasted fools and cretins the lot of them! What do they know?’

  ‘Often rather more than we do,’ Baldwin murmured.

  ‘Well, if he was innocent, who killed my daughter? And why did he confess, eh? Answer me that!’

  ‘There have been accusations,’ Simon said shortly.

  Andrew shot a look at the bailiff. ‘What sort of accusations?’

  ‘You need not concern yourself with them,’ Baldwin said. ‘But we would like to check some points with you about last night. Where were you?’

  ‘Most of the time in here, why?’ His face hardened. ‘Do you mean to accuse me of murdering this servant? By God, if that’s what you mean, I’ll . . .’

  Baldwin had been leaning back contemplating the merchant, but now he sat forward and his eyes glittered with near-anger. ‘Stop ranting, man! If you want to cause people to suspect you, you’re going the right way about it.’

  ‘You dare to come in here and accuse me of . . .’

  ‘We are attempting to see who was not involved. However, you have to admit that from your point of view it would be best to clear yourself as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Me? What do you mean?’ Carter blustered.

  ‘Simply this,’ Baldwin rasped coldly. ‘Sir Gilbert was murdered, and the only man who could have seen who did it is also now silenced. At the same time, we have discovered that the servant and his master had not enough money to rent a room here in Tiverton, much less make their journey back to London. There are some who might consider that they were robbed.’

  Andrew’s face was a picture of astonishment. ‘Robbed, you say? What the hell would I want to rob them for? I’ve got plenty of cash of my own, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Where were you last night?’

  ‘I went out to a tavern for a while, but most of the time I was here.’

  ‘Alone?’ Simon snapped.

  ‘Why . . . no.’

  ‘Who was with you?’

  ‘My maid.’ He broke off and bellowed, ‘Rose!’

  It took only a moment for the girl who had opened the door to hurry in. Baldwin eyed her with interest, convinced that she must have been listening at the screens.

  ‘Rose, tell these men where I was last night.’

  She stared at the ground. ‘My master was with me. In his bed.’

  Simon shot the merchant a quick look. The bailiff was certain he saw a small smile of self-satisfaction in the man’s eyes. Simon looked down at his feet with a small frown. Some men would happily take advantage of any of the women in their households, but to deflower a child as young as Rose seemed almost barbaric.

  ‘For how long?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘For most of the night,’ she said slowly. ‘From before dark to early morning. Then I had to rise to get on with my work.’

  ‘Thank you, child,’ Baldwin said, and she turned hurriedly and walked out.

  ‘You see?’ Andrew said smugly. ‘Was with her all night.’ His expression changed swiftly, and he licked his lips as he gazed from one to the other. ‘But there’s no need to talk about this, is there? I don’t want my wife to find out, or—’

  ‘Or your brother-in-law?’ Simon asked sharply. ‘You mean to tell me you spent your time with your maid when your wife’s brother was here?’

  ‘He wasn’t about last night.’ He stopped, a hand flying to his mouth as he realised the implication of his words.

  ‘Really?’ said Baldwin smoothly. ‘And I wonder where he would have been, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. Up at the castle, probably. He delivers much of the wine to my Lord Hugh.’

  ‘When did he get back?’

  ‘Not until late.’

  ‘Where did your wife think you were?’ Simon asked.

  ‘My wife and I were married because it was convenient. It was useful for me and useful for Nicholas. That doesn’t mean I have to enjoy sleeping with her.’

  ‘She knows you sleep with her maids?’

  ‘I have not slept in the same room as her for years. She likes her bed in the front of the house, where she can look out over the road. Her chamber is above the hall here. I like mine at the back, where it’s a bit quieter. Nicholas sleeps here in the hall like any guest.’

  ‘And the servants?’

  ‘Most are at the back. There’s a small hall for them all out there.’

  ‘And each night you call Rose to your room?’

  ‘She is paid well for her services,’ Andrew stated, and there was a small smile on his round face again as he realised what Simon and Baldwin were thinking: they were jealous of him! Well, and so might they be. With girls like Rose in his household Andrew was jealous of no man. ‘She is very experienced, you know,’ he began confidentially. ‘She . . .’

  ‘I have no wish to listen to your vulgar bragging about how you have raped your servants,’ Baldwin interrupted sharply. ‘Suffice it to say that I think it a disgrace that a man should so forget his common humanity as to take a girl of that age to his bed.’

  Andrew sank back in his chair with a sneer.

  ‘But,’ Baldwin continued, ‘I do want to hear about your brother-in-law. You say he returned late. How do you know, if your room is at the back of the house? If he slept here in the hall, he’d have come in through the front door, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘No, he came in through a door at the back, in the alley that runs behind the house. I heard the man who guards the gate asking who was there and opening it.’

  ‘Would that have been towards the middle of the night or later?’

  ‘About the middle of the night. It was black as pitch outside.’

  ‘When you executed Dyne, were you together with Nicholas all the time?’

  ‘No. We separated to find the man.’

  ‘Who found him?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘Why did you beat him so harshly?’

  ‘He had a knife. I had to beat him to make him surrender. Nick arrived later. Why?’

  ‘Yet you told the Coroner that you knocked his dagger away with ease,’ Baldwin reminded him. ‘The night before you found the felon and killed him, were you with your brother then?’

  Andrew frowned with the effort of recollection. ‘No, I don’t think so . . . No, I was here. That’s right. I’d been with him for much of the day, and we had food prepared, but he sent a ragamuffin brat to us to say that he had been detained at the castle and would feed himself there or at a tavern.’

  ‘What time was he back?’

  ‘Again, it was after I had gone to my chamber,’ Andrew said dismissively. ‘And Rose was competent to remove any interest I might have had in affairs outside.’

  ‘But it was late?’

  ‘Oh, I suppose. Yes, he would have been quite late home.’

  ‘There is one more thing. We heard at the inquest that there was a woman dressed in green at the scene. Do you know who that was?’

  ‘No. I’ve no idea,’ he said coldly.

  ‘Husband, there is no need to lie for me.’

  In the doorway stood Matilda. Baldwin thought her suffering was almost tangible. She was as pale as a corpse, with bright eyes that spoke of plentiful weeping.

  Andrew stood. ‘My dear, you shouldn’t be up. Why not return to your bed and rest?’

  To Simon he sounded unnecessarily solicitous, but then the bailiff remembered the tenor of their conversation and realised that Andrew was terrified that his wife might have overheard his confession of adultery with his maids.

  Matilda waved aside his concerns. ‘You wanted to know who it was in the woods, Keeper? Well, it was me. I was there to try to
kill that hideous man Dyne. I wanted revenge.’ She crossed the floor and took her husband’s arm, a cool, elegant woman with the pallor of mourning lying heavily upon her.

  Baldwin studied her with interest. ‘You must have been furious when you heard that Dyne was to be exiled.’

  ‘Why should he live when he killed my daughter? The evil wretch deserved his end.’

  ‘My wife had nothing to do with his death,’ Andrew said heavily. ‘She didn’t see what happened. We sent her home first.’

  ‘You went?’ Baldwin asked her, ignoring Andrew.

  She met his gaze. ‘No, of course not! I waited in the woods out of sight. I saw it all.’

  Simon noticed Andrew’s face at this point. The man had gone quite pale.

  Matilda continued, ‘He received a fitting death; I was satisfied. It was the least I could do for Joan and for her father.’

  Baldwin glanced at her, then her husband. ‘She wasn’t your daughter, Carter?’

  ‘No.’

  Matilda smiled faintly. ‘Joan was the daughter of my first husband. I was widowed. That was why Nicholas and I came here. And here I met Andrew.’

  ‘I am surprised your brother could bring his whole business down here. Why did you not remain with him at your old home?’

  ‘At Witham?’ The name seemed to make her realise she had said too much. She appeared suddenly flustered, making a short angry gesture with a hand. ‘Nicholas was living with my husband and I. When my husband died we both chose to leave. That is all.’

  ‘Please, go on.’ Baldwin nodded encouragingly. Simon, having noticed the woman’s apparent slip and swift recovery, glanced at his friend but could see only eager interest in Baldwin’s eyes. It was the name she had mentioned, he was sure.

  Matilda looked up at her husband’s face with pride. ‘I went off after Dyne with every intention of killing him, but then I saw my man here. Dyne was in the road at the time. When Andrew rode off without killing the wretch I realised that he and my brother were going to lay in ambush farther along the road. I decided to follow Dyne myself, both to make sure that he didn’t escape back to Tiverton, but also in order that I could see his death.’