'Ah,' Wat said in acceptance of the fact that when he had known Briston, his fellow weaver's left leg did not end in a pig's trotter. Or at least as far as he could be sure, never having closely examined his friend’s feet.
The man now moved to the head with his knife and dug it in, slicing the top knot open and allowing the rest of the thread to fall away. He even started rolling it up to save it.
Despite the pig’s foot at one end of the body, Wat and Cwen still drew breath as the knife went in. Hermitage wasn't sure whether this was because they were worried the man might be stabbing Briston's head, or damaging hours of a weaver's painstaking work.
Even Eadric and Firman winced as the weapon was plunged.
'Pig,' said the man as the body was revealed. 'All the way up.' He wiped his knife on the grass and put it away.
'Nearly Briston then,' Virgil commented with a hearty laugh. His men joined in, but no one else.
The giant cast his large eyes around the field. 'Seems to be a great deal of interest in the whereabouts of the missing weaver. Everyone wants to know where he is.'
'We don't,' Eadric put in.
'Yes, and who are you?' Virgil asked, clearly wondering what strangers were doing here at all.
'No one, no one at all. And neither is Mister Firman. He's absolutely no one either.'
'What are you doing here then?'
'Pure coincidence. Just travelling and happened upon the place.'
'Happened upon Baernodebi?' Virgil looked to his audience for agreement that this was a ridiculous suggestion. 'You're after Briston.'
'No, no, I assure you.'
'I'm sure you do, but I simply don't believe you. Of course, I could hit you until you tell or get one of my men to stick things in you, but it doesn't matter really. Briston isn't here. As long as I get to him first I'll be happy. I won't be happy if anyone else gets to him. All sorts of horrible things happen when I'm not happy, don't they, Wat?'
Wat nodded.
'Might as well be on your way then,' Dextus suggested as if it was already decided. 'Start looking.'
'Oh, I think I need to keep an eye on you. Don't want you finding him on your own. I know of the amount of damage your stupid monks can do once they get hold of someone. I want Briston in one piece, all his fingers working, that sort of thing.'
Dextus tutted as if this was outrageous nit-picking. 'And if you find him, I can imagine he'll be working away for the rest of his life. Never seeing anyone again, probably not even daylight. The bishop will have his conversation.'
'Which will be so one-sided it'll render Briston speechless. And probably lifeless.'
There was much glaring in the silence. Virgil turned his attention to the others.
'Who's the rather dim-looking monk?' he asked, his eyes having found Hermitage.
Hermitage could take many insults. In fact, he had taken most of them at one time or another. He'd got used to them all and they flowed like water from a water vole's willy. He always bridled at being called dim though. Or stupid, or thick, or an idiot, or ignorant. He knew pride was a sin, but still liked to consider his own intelligence from an objective standpoint. Standing next to anyone he had ever met, his was bigger.
It wasn't his fault; it was like saying his hair was more black. When someone accused him of being stupid, they were being stupid. True, he didn't know things that Wat knew, but then most of the things Wat seemed to know were bad things. He had a lot of knowledge of more serious facts. Biblical most of them, but still serious. And he could piece information together. He could see the holes in arguments. He could pierce to the heart of ill-formed judgement and point out the weaknesses – which usually led to more insults. Thus he took offence at Virgil's assessment of him as dim. He looked at the mountain of man and decided not to debate the issue just now.
'The King’s Investigator,' Dextus replied with mock awe.
Wat winced at the word “king” being spoken out loud in front of Virgil.
'Brother Hermitage?' Virgil asked with happy recognition.
'Erm, yes,' Hermitage replied, quite sure that being known by Virgil was not a good thing.
'De'Ath's Dingle,' Virgil said, as if the name of Hermitage's most recent monastery was impressive in its own right.
'Erm, yes?' Hermitage repeated, rather worried where this conversation was going.
'I had some business lined up there. For the refurbishment, you know. I heard all about it. The old dead monk, the abbot, the king.' Virgil sounded as if he was about to re-tell some myth, 'Absolutely fascinating and all solved by Brother Hermitage, the King’s Investigator.' Virgil smiled at Hermitage. Actually smiled. Right at him. It was rather disturbing.[ Absolutely fascinating stuff, indeed. It does involve all those people and gets solved by Brother Hermitage. And it’s in a book called The Heretics of De’Ath - must be worth a read.]
'Aha!' Hermitage smiled back very thinly. He couldn't tell if Virgil's was genuine enthusiasm or if he was about to be picked up and snapped in half.
'There's no one needs investigating like a king,' Virgil added with feeling.
'Oh.' Hermitage saw the misunderstanding and wondered about correcting it. He quickly reached the conclusion all by himself that this would be an incredibly stupid thing to do.
Dextus was looking backwards and forwards. He was clearly surprised at Virgil's confirmation of the monk's title.
'But that was Harold?' Virgil questioned Hermitage's appointment.
'Erm, ah yes, it was,' Hermitage stumbled, wondering how he was going to be able to explain this without it coming out that he was on the king's side. 'But then I had some business at Castle Grosmal,'
'Robert Grosmal?' Virgil asked.
'That's right.'
Virgil, the giant of a man who could surely squash most other people under his feet without noticing, shivered at the name, 'Ghastly man,' he concluded.
'And, erm, King William was there,' Hermitage shied away slightly as he said the words. 'So I was investigator again, only with the new king.'[ And this tale is covered in The Garderobe of Death - you see a theme emerging?] He felt this was as close to the truth as it was sensible to get. He was the investigator with a new king. Saying he was the investigator for the new king might make things difficult.
Wat nodded encouragingly at his efforts.
'You idiot,' Dextus put in. 'It doesn't mean he investigates kings. It means he does their investigating for them.'
Virgil looked backwards and forwards between monk and priest.
'Does he?' Virgil asked with a worrying grumble in his voice. 'And what's the king's interest in Briston?' he asked with menace in his voice.
His body was clearly large enough to hold an awful lot of menace, but this little hint was quite sufficient for Hermitage. Oh dear. He felt the world fall away from him. He had sinned and the devil was about to hurl his punishment from the depths of his dark kingdom. And it was all he deserved. He had told a fib, he had broken sacred vows, and departed from his own best judgment. Retribution was at hand. A very large hand.
He had only paddled in the murky shallows of dishonesty, yet here he was up to his neck. To Dextus he had implied that he was on the king's business. Now that falsehood was going to bring a very big and heavy man down on his head. He cursed himself. He knew he was doing wrong at the time, he knew he was being led astray by Wat's worldly ways. He should have stuck to his principles. The truth in all things and always the truth.
He felt true regret for the first time in his life. Perhaps that only came when you knew you had done a wrong, and then got the opportunity to watch while it came back and bit you. All the other times things had come back to bite him, he knew he had been true and honest and open. The bruises were still the same, but at least he didn't feel so bad about them. He wouldn't be caught out again. Of course, there was a good chance he wouldn't live long enough to have the opportunity for any more falsehood anyway. If Virgil bit him, he'd probably take his head clean off.
'Quite str
aightforward,' Wat spoke up, taking Virgil's attention. 'Poor Hermitage here was made King’s Investigator. The first time as well as the second. You know what kings are like.'
Well that was true really, Hermitage thought, grateful that a more experienced dissembler was taking over. He immediately felt the regret for this gratitude sharpening its teeth for some future occasion.
'He didn't want the job at all,' Wat explained. 'Then, when we'd finished at Grosmal's place, word about Briston came, so as King’s Investigator, Hermitage had to look into it. And it was a favour to me.'
'Eh?' Virgil was looking puzzled at this explanation.
As was Hermitage.
'Both kings forced Hermitage to become investigator. You know what happens when you try to say “no thank you” to a king.'
Virgil grumbled. There was clearly some recognition of the situation. Albeit reluctant.
'I say!' Virgil's face lit up. 'I've had an idea,' he announced, rather surprised at himself.
'Oh?' Wat said. 'Good.'
Dextus folded his arms and gave Virgil a look that said his expectations were very low.
'We want Briston, this priest and I, right?'
'Yes,' Hermitage said with caution. He was very worried about where this might be leading.
'And these two dung sorters want him as well.'
'No, no I assure you,' Eadric pleaded. 'Just passing through, and we can carry on passing immediately.'
'Do shut up.'
'Right.' Eadric shut up.
'Now, both Dextus and I want Briston alive and functioning. I'll keep him that way because I have great plans for the young man.' The words were those of a benefactor expressing nothing but the best of intentions for his protégé. The tone said that sticking your naked bottom in a viper's nest was preferable to being Virgil's protégé. 'On the other hand, Dextus will wheel him off to the bishop, like the lackey he is, and then Briston's works will grace the world no more.'
Hermitage thought this was probably a good thing. Keeping Briston alive was obviously important, but if the man could be persuaded to stop producing his horrible tapestries, the world would be a better place. Killing him to achieve this did seem a bit extreme.
'So?' Wat prompted.
'Well, we've got an investigator, haven't we?'
Hermitage now saw where this was going and didn't like the view at all.
‘If I go off to look for Briston, I might find him. Problem is, Dextus might find him first. Sort of even chance. If we all stay here, where we can keep an eye on one another, Brother Hermitage can go and find him.'
'If he's still alive,' Hermitage put in, hoping this might put Virgil off his plan.
'He'd better be,' Virgil explained, already holding Hermitage personally responsible for Briston's health.
'A fascinating proposal,' Dextus reasoned. 'Which I have absolutely no intention of taking part in. If you want to stay here while the monk goes looking, good luck. We'll follow our own plan.'
'Well, that's not very friendly,' said Virgil.
Wat took two steps back and pulled Hermitage with him.
Dextus now nodded to his Castigatori, who leaped towards Virgil as one.
His own party gave their leader some space as Virgil faced the oncoming monks. Three of them. All large. All experienced in the ways of violence. And all of them asleep on the floor in the twinkling of a tree-sized fist.
Hermitage found it hard to recall exactly what had happened. He thought Virgil had grabbed the first two by the scruffs of their habits and banged their heads together. They certainly dropped to the ground as one. The third man had launched a vicious attack on Virgil and landed two good blows with his clenched fists, one to the midriff and one to the table-like chin. Each had the same effect: they got Virgil really annoyed. The giant looked down as if he had dropped crumbs on his front. He raised his fist to drop it on the man's head, then took a glance at Dextus but thought better of it. Instead he swung his massive right hand on the end of his massive right arm back behind him. The fist came forward and hit the monk. The monk flew. For a big monk, he flew very gracefully. It was clear that unconsciousness had arrived with first contact. The monk flew backwards in an arc that deposited him at Dextus's feet.
Dextus coughed. 'Well, if you're going to be like that,' he nodded as he surveyed his damaged Castigatori.
'Excellent,' Virgil nodded back and didn't even bother to rub his hand.
'What if I can't find him?' Hermitage asked before Wat could stop him.
'Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you,' Virgil replied, nodding at the very large sleeping monks.
Hermitage was resigned. He'd only done murders up to now. The body didn't tend to move in those cases. This time, there wasn't a body at all. What was he going to do? He didn't even know where to start. Yes he did. 'I'll need Wat,' he said.
'Why?' Virgil's cow-sized eyes squinted in suspicion.
'He helps me. When I'm investigating,' Hermitage explained.
'What's to stop you just running away?' Virgil asked.
Hermitage was shocked. 'I wouldn't!' he said.
'He wouldn't,' Wat added in a rather resigned tone.
Virgil frowned. He summoned his little men to his side and they engaged in whispered conversation.
'Alright,' Virgil accepted, 'but we'll keep your little friend with us.'
Wat and Hermitage turned and saw that one of Virgil's men had slipped away from the discussion and was now standing behind Cwen. With a knife pointing at her side.
'There's no need for that,' Wat barked.
'Of course not,' Virgil agreed, as if his threatening Cwen was really nothing to do with him. 'You come back with Briston and all will be well. Don't come back with Briston and all won't be well.' He left the thought with a shrug.
'In fact,' Virgil added thoughtfully, 'let's add a little urgency. It's what, about three-o-clock now?' He glanced at the sky, and then at one of his men. The man made a gesture.
'Two o’clock,' Virgil corrected himself. 'If you're not back by dusk tomorrow, we'll, erm, what shall we do? Oh yes. Kill the girl. Then the next morning we'll kill one of them.'
'I say,' Eadric protested as he was pointed out.
'And then we'll do the rest until they're all dead. If you're still not back, we'll come for you and kill you as well.' Virgil seemed very satisfied with this comprehensive proposal.
Hermitage simply looked on in horror. Virgil had said all of this as if he was inviting them to a party. They were right about the violent lunatic stuff.
'But…' he began but didn't know where to end.
'But how soon should you start?' Virgil prompted. 'I'd suggest about now,' he growled. Which he did very well.
'You're not going to wait exactly here?' Wat waved his arms around to cover the market place.
'Course not,' Virgil said. 'We'll go and find the local manor. Invite ourselves to stay the night. Come and find us there. Whose is it, by the way?'
'Chap called Stott,' Wat said reluctantly, imagining how old Stott and Parsimon were going to cope with this lot. Not at all, probably.
'Excellent,' Virgil said. 'This is much better than traipsing about the countryside myself. Well, go on then.'
Hermitage looked at him.
'Investigate!' he instructed.
As Hermitage and Wat plodded away from the sorry scene, not really sure which direction they were going or why, Lolby emerged from some trees to survey the wreckage of his home. He picked his way through the tumbled mass of mud and not many sticks, eventually locating his rude cot and pot. The cot was so rude it now resembled the fallen bits of tree it had once been. The pot was intact so he pulled it from the pile, tipping mud and twigs from its inside. He looked with as much contempt as he dared towards the monstrous figures that had done this to his home. Monstrous figures, some of whom were wearing church garb, so needed to be given a very wide berth. Even if they were lying down.
He noticed the revealed body of what had been Briston. He dared a f
ew steps to get a closer look. No one seemed bothered about him and so he peered over the reclining Castigatori and examined the contents of the Tapestry of Death.
'Oh,' he said, in surprised observation.
Virgil and Dextus forgot their mutual glaring for a moment and looked at Lolby. Their looks were of complete indifference.
Lolby looked to Dextus and then to Virgil.
'This looks bad,’ he said with all the nonchalance of a fellow in the tavern hearing about the woes of his enemies. ‘Real mess.’ Now he tutted and drew his breath like a wheelwright looking at a perfectly good wheel that doesn’t need any work at all. ‘I could, erm…' The peasant hesitated and adopted his own pose of indifference as if he was thinking whether he could be bothered to help out. 'I could take the pig, if you like?'
Caput XII
Peasants, the lot
'What on earth do we do?' Hermitage surveyed the now empty site of Baernodebi market. Empty apart from Lolby, happily stripping bits of high quality pink fluff from a pig carcass.
He and Wat had circumnavigated the market while Virgil, Dextus, and the others gathered for their journey to Stott's. The Castigatori had been woken, Eadric and Firman had tried to continue their passing through, to which Virgil had put a very rapid and rude halt. Eventually the band set off to disturb, if not actually destroy, the life of a harmless old Saxon and his ancient servant.
'De'Ath's Dingle and Castle Grosmal were easy.' Hermitage went on, 'There was a body. A dead one. We could look at it, what had been done to it, and figure out what had happened. Who had been there, who wanted the dead, well, dead. What do you do about a missing person? He could be anywhere. And he's probably gone of his own volition.'
'No doubt about it,' Wat added with a scowl.
The wreckage of Briston's tent was heaped like a lazy monument. Virgil had taken the box of special tapestries and Dextus had been allowed to keep the harmless ones. One of Virgil's men had carefully gathered the pink Tapestry of Death and stored it away.
The Tapestry of Death Page 11