31 - City of Fiends

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, Philip thought he was a sodomite with Gregory, but Laurence loved Agatha. He said so as he died. It was the last thing he said. And Gregory couldn’t even leave that. He had to taunt Philip even with that.’

  ‘I heard,’ Simon said. He looked over to where Gregory had returned and stood contemplating the two bodies in the roadway. ‘You! Paffard! Come here.’

  ‘Why? Do you wish to take my words already? Shouldn’t we wait for the Coroner?’

  Baldwin said, ‘We shall hear your testimony as soon as the Coroner arrives, but there’s no point in standing out here. William, and you, Gregory, come into the house now.’

  The bottler looked as though he was about to refuse entry to William, but all were startled by the sound of Thomas’s voice, overhead, screaming high and shrill.

  Paffards’ House

  The room was whirling slowly. It was just as Sir Charles remembered when he was young, and very drunk. In those days, to shut his eyes had been hazardous, and now the same sensations were assailing him. And he was so very tired.

  ‘Move. Out of the way, woman,’ he said, his words slurred.

  She stood with her sword ready, but in her eyes there was only terror for her son. ‘Leave him – take me,’ she entreated. ‘He’s so little.’

  ‘He’s more valuable than you,’ Sir Charles said. He moved around her, so his back was to the door, and then made his way, step by halting step, along the corridor. ‘Don’t forget, I can stab quick as a snake, and he’s dead. You can do nothing to stop me. One mistaken move, woman, and you lose your son.’

  He was almost at the stairs, when he heard the running boots below, and he felt a small thrill to know that this was finally his end. They wouldn’t let him leave. Casting about him at the hall, he noted the woodwork. It was good workmanship, he thought dreamily. Perhaps if he had been trained as a carpenter, he would have been happier: with a skill that did not involve fighting, with a livelihood that did not depend upon killing.

  He stood with his back to the wall as Baldwin came rushing up the stairs. Mistress Paffard was still to his right. ‘Mistress, please have your son back,’ he rasped. The pain in his side was growing. It was as if the whole of his right side had been seared in a forge, and it felt worse inside than out. He was dying, he knew, but he also knew it could take hours of agony.

  ‘Sir Charles, please submit,’ Baldwin said.

  ‘Sir Baldwin, I have known happy times with you,’ Sir Charles said. ‘From Galicia, to the Isle of Ennor, to Cornwall, we were companions for many miles. I think you know me well enough to know I will not throw down my weapon. It’s not my way.’

  ‘Nevertheless, as Keeper of the King’s Peace, I demand that you yield.’

  ‘Damn you!’ Sir Charles managed, and smiled. It was easier to do that than to lift his sword. He used both hands, and charged at Sir Baldwin.

  Baldwin stepped to the side and as Sir Charles ran on, Baldwin thrust his sword forwards and up, so that the point entered Sir Charles’s neck just above the collar of his tunic, and the blow pierced his spine. His body clattered to the ground at Baldwin’s feet.

  Paffards’ House

  They congregated in the hall while the jury arrived to view the bodies. There was a subdued atmosphere, and Baldwin was as aware of it as any. He had another man’s blood on his hands now. There had been many times in the past when he had been forced to kill a man, but rarely had he been so aware of the shame that came with a killing. Sir Charles had not been a threat to anyone, he was sure. The man was already more than half-dead.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Simon asked.

  Baldwin glanced up. He had been staring at his sword, which was wiped clean of Sir Charles’s blood, but which he had not resheathed since the short fight. ‘Yes. Only regretful that another man had to die.’

  ‘There have been too many already,’ Simon said. ‘Still, I think Sir Charles was glad it was you. He knew you wouldn’t miss.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘He certainly did not try to protect himself. Even a child could have done more to parry my effort.’

  ‘He didn’t want to,’ Simon said.

  Baldwin had not considered that. It was some sort of relief to think that the man had been willing to see Baldwin as the agent of his death. And a responsibility, too.

  A knocking at the door caused him to look up. The familiar bellowing voice could not be mistaken, and a short while later Sir Richard was in the hall with them.

  ‘Well, Sir Baldwin, I think we are closer to the truth about Paffard now,’ he said when he heard that Sir Charles was dead. ‘This feller went to the gaol, and there he managed to murder Henry Paffard. Aye, I am sorry, Mistress Paffard, but he had to silence your man. Paffard himself was giving information to Sir Charles. It was his messages told Sir Charles where the Bishop was goin’ to be. That’s how he knew to kill him. From what we heard, it was their plan to liberate the Bishop’s treasure and gold to help the Dunheved brothers and Sir Edward of Caernarfon. That much money would buy them a lot of support.’

  Baldwin nodded. It was a simple enough plan, but could have been strikingly effective. If the money had been successfully brought to the Dunheveds, it would have purchased them many more men.

  ‘What now?’ Simon said.

  Baldwin sighed. ‘It will take time to document all that has happened today.’

  Sir Richard sucked on his teeth. ‘I think you should be cautious before writing anything down. If news of Paffard and Sir Charles’s plan was to become common currency, there could be repercussions. With a new Sheriff needed, we could have a hard man placed here, charged with cowing the city to ensure that no similar plots could be entertained. I would think it’d be safer to forget much of what has happened.’

  ‘If the Coroner is in agreement,’ Baldwin said. ‘I shall ask him.’

  Sir Richard nodded and then, his expression softening, he gestured towards Wolf. ‘You ought to be careful there, Baldwin. Before long, you will lose your hound, at this rate.’

  ‘I think that boy is desperate for a dog of his own,’ Baldwin agreed.

  In the corner of the room, Wolf was sitting very upright, Thomas before him, and Wolf’s paw on Thomas’s shoulder. As Baldwin watched, his dog very gently bent his head and rested it on the boy’s shoulder, his mouth working quietly.

  ‘That’s his sign of highest affection,’ Baldwin noted. ‘He can give no higher praise.’

  ‘I’m sure that the boy will be most grateful,’ Simon said drily.

  Baldwin grinned, and then walked over to the boy. Wolf looked up, and would have gone to Baldwin, but he held up a hand and frowned briefly, which was enough to make Wolf remain where he was. ‘You like my dog?’

  Thomas shot him a look very quickly, then hid his face in Wolf’s neck.

  ‘He’s a good fellow. Brave, but kind. It’s what I always look for in a dog, whatever the type. Have you never had a dog?’

  ‘No.’ Claricia walked over and lifted her child. ‘My family hasn’t had dogs. Henry didn’t care for them.’

  Thomas was silent. He was still remembering the man who had caught him, who had held him so tightly. And then, he also remembered that horrible skeletal smile under the shed.

  ‘There’s a dead man under the shed,’ he said. ‘I thought it was trying to hold me there with it, Mother. I was so scared!’ And he burst into tears.

  ‘What?’ Claricia asked. She tried to pull him away, but he clung on tightly. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Out at the yard, where the shed is – a skeleton. I was hiding there, and I felt this hand on my leg, Mother, and I was scared, really scared!’

  She stared at the men in the room. There was a silence, and Baldwin sheathed his sword. ‘Master Thomas, could you show us where this was, if we come with you?’

  Paffards’ House

  Thomas felt a shrinking sensation as they all walked through the passage, out past the kitchen, where Joan was being fed warm bro
th by a solicitous Sal, and out to the yard behind.

  ‘Where was it?’ Baldwin asked gently.

  Thomas stared at him. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could say nothing. Instead he tried to cling still more tightly to his mother.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she said, but he knew it wasn’t. Nothing was right at all. Not since the day his dog had been killed, not since the day he saw his brother in the firelight. Not since his father said he had killed those ladies. Nothing ever could be right. He began to sob quietly.

  There was a whistle, and Thomas peered out from the protection of his mother’s neck. He saw Wolf come out and sit by Baldwin, and Baldwin crouched, and spoke without looking at him.

  ‘A big dog like this will always protect the people he loves,’ he said. ‘And there is no one he loves more than small boys. Did you know that? It’s because they are more fun. They play, and they like to cuddle the dogs. You should come here, and let him guard you.’

  Thomas gripped his mother more firmly.

  ‘A dog like this can make you feel all your troubles are leaving you,’ Baldwin said. He rose and moved away.

  Thomas held on, but Wolf was looking about him in an interested manner. He sniffed idly at some grasses. When Thomas looked over at Baldwin, it was clear that the knight was expecting him to climb down and hug the dog again. It was tempting, but he couldn’t. Even as he watched, the dog was ambling towards the shed where he had hidden. He gave a little cry, and hid his face again.

  ‘Was it there?’ Baldwin asked, looking at the shed. ‘Was it there, Thomas?’

  ‘There’s nothing there but my ales,’ John said.

  Thomas looked at John, and felt again that fear he had known all those years before when his dog had been killed. There was something in his eyes that terrified Thomas. He couldn’t speak.

  Baldwin followed his dog towards the shed.

  ‘There’s nothing in there,’ John said again. ‘Come, I’ll show you.’ He walked to the door purposefully, unlocked it, and opened it with a flourish. ‘See, sir?’

  Baldwin entered, and Thomas watched, shivering slightly. He wanted Sir Baldwin to see the body, but he daren’t show him, not himself. That would be awful. The skeleton underneath was terrifying, and John was even worse.

  He saw Baldwin come out again, and the knight shook his head, smiling. ‘There’s nothing in there, Thomas. It’s perfectly safe.’

  ‘There’s nothing in there, master,’ John repeated as he closed the door and locked the padlock again. He looked straight at Thomas. ‘Nothing at all. You just had a nasty dream.’

  The people with them began to move away. They all thought Thomas had been making up his story, that he had dreamed it all, just as John said. Thomas himself could not hold John’s gaze. Instead his eyes went to Wolf, who was sniffing at the side of the shed. The side where his plank had come down.

  Baldwin was about to call Wolf away, but decided to inspect the side of the shed, where Wolf was sniffing with keen interest. ‘Simon? Could you come here a moment?’

  Suddenly there was a flash of steel as John brought out a dagger from beneath his robe. It gleamed wickedly in the sun, and Baldwin had to move back with a muttered oath as it almost sliced his robe. Thomas saw him stumble, and then recover his poise and draw his sword, but before he could attack, Edgar had clubbed John over the head with the pommel of his own sword.

  Paffards’ House

  John was brought to with a bucket of water from the well thrown over his face. He came to spluttering, angry, and with his head aching badly, momentarily confused as to where he was, and why he was lying on a bench. He tried to sit up, but his hands were tied, and it was impossible to do so without help. Edgar was there, and he pulled on John’s arm to haul him upright with all the grace of a miller heaving a sack of grain.

  ‘You have much to explain,’ Baldwin said sternly.

  The knight was before him, and John recognised the other two knights, Sir Richard and Sir Reginald, the city’s Coroner. Gregory and William were here too, staring at him with loathing. But it wasn’t to them that he looked.

  ‘I have done nothing but serve my mistress.’

  ‘You have done her a great disservice. You say that this was all at her instigation?’

  ‘No. I was acting without her.’

  ‘Then what do you tell us?’ Sir Richard demanded.

  ‘She was Evie – a maid. She was a strumpet, a right forward wench,’ John said. He was tired and his head hurt, but he wasn’t going to submit to these fools. ‘She was waggling her arse at the master, and my mistress was upset. So I removed her. I thought it would stop him – after the earlier one.’

  ‘What earlier one?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘Clara. She was the first wench Master Paffard started to swyve in the house. Before that, he just made use of the bitches down at the stews. I know – I saw him there. I was with Agatha when she was little, and we were trying to walk past, but he was lustful and went to spend himself with one of those whores. In front of his daughter! She didn’t realise, I hope, but what if she were to tell her mother what she had seen? Eh? It was shameful! And the mistress must have known. She’s a very intelligent woman, my mistress.’

  ‘I am sure she is.’

  ‘So when he started to make his use of the maids here, I saw it must stop.’

  ‘You killed this Clara?’

  ‘No. She was lucky. I took things and made it seem that she had stolen them. I showed the things to my mistress, and she was happy to tell Master Henry. He wasn’t going to keep a thief in his house, so he threw her out the same day.’

  ‘But Evie was different?’

  ‘She wouldn’t have been so easy. She was a shrewd little vixen, that whore. She had Master Henry so tightly bound round her little finger, it’s a miracle her finger didn’t fall off. She had him paying for new clothes for her, for necklaces, and rings. And all at the time he was ignoring his own wife. The poor mistress was forced to watch all this. And when she complained, did he listen to his rightful wife? No. He beat her with a belt. She was in her bed for days, and the only one allowed in to see her was Evie. She took up the food and drink. That was cruel of the master. I swore then that I’d never let my mistress be so foully treated again.’

  ‘So you killed this Evie?’

  ‘I didn’t want to. She found me when I was putting things in her room, same as I had with Clara. Said she was going to tell Master Henry, and that I’d be forced out of the house. And then she began to bait me about it: she jeered at me, saying she’d get a better man for my mistress, a man who was more virile than me. Said I’d always wanted to lie with my mistress, and that was why I was so pathetic. Sir, I couldn’t tell you half what she said.’

  ‘And you couldn’t bear her words?’

  ‘How could I? Saying I would lie with Mistress Claricia? That would be like bedding my own daughter. I have looked after her since her birth, all the time while her mother died, and her father, and then her sister. I helped her through all that, and when she married, I helped her again. And ever since, I’ve been here.’

  ‘So you killed for her. How did you bring Evie to this grave?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘I killed her in her room, and when all were busy in the shop or out, I took her body down to the pantry and wrapped her in a sack, then carried her out to my shed. It took no time at all to lift some planks and install her beneath. And I would have been clear, except a dog came into the yard and started trying to get to her. That and the rats.’

  ‘What of the smell?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘It was winter. The chill kept that away. The privy was nearby, and that smell covered the other.’

  Baldwin nodded. ‘And then you began to suspect that Alice was behaving in the same way?’

  ‘She was worse. She didn’t want little trinkets, she wanted a house of her own. And Master Henry was going to buy one for her! All that money on a house? He used to have a chest of money behind the wall in the hall
, but he took it and used it all to buy a place in Stepecoat Lane, which was to be hers.’

  ‘What happened to it?’

  ‘It is still his, I think. You should ask him.’

  Sir Richard and Baldwin exchanged a look. Baldwin continued, ‘How did you manage to kill Alice?’

  ‘She was a fool. That day she flaunted herself at the master again. He went with his family to the inn to have a meal, and she persuaded him to come back and lie with her while the others were eating. He did, too. He came back under pretence of forgetting his rosary. He and she were loud, very loud. And I became more and more angry the longer they went on. He didn’t care what anyone thought; he didn’t care if it broke his wife’s heart. He didn’t care what I must think either, hearing him whoring away, when he knew I adored my mistress. No! So I sent her out into the yard to take a message to the apprentices, and followed her and killed her. It was easy, so she didn’t suffer. Later, I took her body out into the alley and left her there. She had company.’ He laughed. ‘There was a dead cat.’

  ‘What of Juliana?’ Baldwin said.

  ‘She went to the master and threatened to tell about his family’s affairs.’ John’s eyes went to Claricia, and then to Gregory.

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘How do you think my mistress would feel to know that everyone was pointing at her behind her back and laughing at her? All her friends, her neighbours, all the people about her here, knowing that she was being made a fool of and could do nothing about it?’

  ‘How will they all feel to think that she held a murderer as a bottler in her household?’ Sir Richard said.

  ‘Why did you cut away Juliana’s lips?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘She was going to talk about my mistress all around the city. I wanted to show that people couldn’t get away with that sort of behaviour. So I showed them. All of them.’

  ‘And you stabbed her eyes.’

  ‘Because she had seen . . . She said she had seen things.’

  ‘You admit to slaying three women. And you killed Philip Marsille tonight as well,’ Baldwin observed.

  ‘I would do it again, gladly, for my mistress. You think it is easy to watch the child you have raised being insulted in that way?’