Father Paulinus nodded.
‘Good. Then I will commence after the good Father has said Terce. Oh, and your gatekeeper will not keep me standing outside your gates in future. Hild’s killer will hang, my lord de Nouailles, and your dislike of the law will not keep her from the justice she deserves.’
It was a speech for the cook, the men-at-arms, the stable boys, the ordinary folk of Harvington. Hugh Bradecote fully expected Brian de Nouailles to revert to his usual obstructive and unpleasant manner, but he wanted the villagers on his side, on the side of the law. There was something that hung in the silence that felt like an unvoiced cheer, and of the many pairs of eyes that watched the three sheriff’s men and the parish priest walk out of the manor gates, only two held antagonism.
Chapter Twelve
Walkelin did not think; he just walked. Only when the quartet reached the priest’s house did he blink and seem to recognise where he was. The kindly Father pressed him to sit upon a stool, and then went to fetch him a beaker of small beer.
‘I … She was dead when I found her, staring dead,’ he managed, in barely more than a whisper.
Catchpoll looked down at him, and when he spoke, it was in a fatherly tone.
‘Just sit and gather your wits, lad. No point in giving us a jumbled half-tale.’
‘While he does so, Serjeant, I will tell you what I observed from the body.’ Bradecote smiled wryly. ‘I doubt not you would have got more, but I tried to look as you would have looked, and to make the same deductions. What I discovered was certainly enough to prove to the world what we know from knowing Walkelin, that he never harmed the maid.’
He proceeded to recount his examination and what was said. Catchpoll furrowed his brow in concentration rather than disapproval, and sucked his teeth, ruminatively.
‘The nature of the wound is very like that we found in Walter Horsweard, very like. Of course, it does not have to be the work of the same man, but for there to be two killings in the same place … No, the same killer did for them both.’
‘And I am very suspicious of this cry of rape. Why raise a clamour over a crime like that when Leofwine could as easily have just cried foul murder? It is strange.’
‘It would make the villagers even more inclined to go along with their lord’s taking justice into his own hands.’
‘My lord.’ Walkelin looked from Bradecote to Catchpoll and back. ‘When I was taken, it was not just by the steward. There was another man with him, a man about my own age. I do not recall him being named, but they knew each other well, from the way they were together. He was leading a bay horse, one with a big nose. I cannot tell you much about the man, for I was hit, and hit hard, and recall nothing more until I was in the darkness beneath the hall, but he wore a cap.’
‘There was a second man, a man in a cap, and yet Leofwine has made no mention of him, nor used him to confirm how he found you with the girl.’ Bradecote raised a suspicious eyebrow. ‘Catchpoll, I get a prickling feeling over that, don’t you?’
‘Oh aye, my lord, that is not right at all. If Leofwine was so keen to pin the murder on young Walkelin, adding another witness was an obvious course. So why keep him a secret?’ Catchpoll’s eyes glittered. ‘You know, I think this may have saved us ferreting in Warwickshire, don’t you, my lord?’
‘I do. Nephew Aelfric seems to have returned, and with a bay horse also. That is not quite the same as us having words with him, but surely the rest of the manor will not be trying to keep his presence hidden. We will find him.’ He paused. ‘Walkelin, I doubt you will have trouble from the villagers. Your innocence ought to shine clear enough, but I want you to go to Evesham tomorrow, and do what we should have days past; speak with Will Horsweard about the horse. If he says “It was a bay with a big nose” we are far advanced. It might not be quite enough as proof, and if it had any other markings it would help, but if we find it, we can always call Horsweard here to confirm it is the right animal. A horse dealer will know his brother’s horse as most people know the faces of their acquaintance.’
‘What is more,’ Catchpoll added, ‘if Aelfric has indeed returned, it is mighty suspicious that as soon as he does so another body turns up with the same kind of wound. The only problem I see is getting more than Aelfric to the noose. Whether he was ordered to deal with the girl, I would not like to say, but I would wager your horse, my lord, that Horsweard was killed upon command of de Nouailles, perhaps by way of the steward. Either way, the lord of Harvington stands in need of neck stretching for it. Proving that is not going to be easy.’
‘We get ahead of ourselves, Catchpoll. We need to find out about the horse − Horsweard’s, not mine, which you are so keen to stake. If we can find the horse and link it to Aelfric then we can attempt the next step to de Nouailles. I did not note the horses in the stable when I viewed the body, alas. However, for all that our first aim is to take whoever killed Walter Horsweard, the local population will only have an interest in how quickly we discover who killed one of their own.
‘Walkelin, can you give us a clear account of all that happened from the time you met Hild with the washing? She was surely killed for what she may have revealed or might reveal. Think of anyone else you saw when you were going to see Father Paulinus, and describe the man with that bay horse. I think you had best remain here for the rest of the afternoon, but Serjeant Catchpoll and I must be seen to be active in our pursuit of the girl’s killer, and if we linger, seeming to be skulking in here, it will be said our only interest was in getting you cleared of involvement.’
Walkelin chewed his lip, meditatively, sorting his thoughts. There was a lot in his head, but it still felt as if everything had been tossed about like threshed straw. Father Paulinus returned with a beaker, and after downing the half of it, Walkelin wiped his hand across his mouth and began.
‘She did not tell me anything in a way which showed she saw it as important, my lord. Whatever Hild knew, she thought of it as just what she knew of her own place and life.’ He paused. He had travelled about in the following of William de Beauchamp as an ordinary man-at-arms, and since being taken on as Catchpoll’s ‘serjeanting apprentice’ he had seen more of his shire in depth, actually looking at it. He suddenly realised how lucky he was to see so much. ‘I don’t suppose she had ever gone beyond Evesham. Everything she knew was in this village, her little world.’
‘Most folk have a small world, young Walkelin, and are content with it. Don’t you get maudlin over it.’ Catchpoll did not want him wallowing in sympathy for the victim.
‘I know, Serjeant, but …’ Walkelin sighed. ‘I was keen to find out about Aelfric, since he looks our likely killer of the horse trader, and she was open enough about him. I suppose that is why she died.’ He looked suddenly at the priest. ‘So am I not responsible in some way for her death, Father?’
‘Assuredly not, my son.’ Whatever Father Paulinus did or did not know about the law, he was clear in his mind about right and wrong. ‘You were simply a seeker of the truth, and had no thought to put the poor girl in peril. No, the blame, and the sin, lies with the man who killed her, and it will go hard with him in the Higher Judgement, unless his contrition and repentance are total. I took confession of a man once who had killed. He had done so in passion, and in passion Fallen Adam is so often the strongest part of us, but he was truly contrite, and accepted his penalty in this world without any claim for mercy and humbleness to receive the all-important judgement of his Maker. I have always felt that God’s mercy would eventually be extended to him, though of course, who am I to judge?’
‘Some go calm, some go witless scared, and it is not always as you would think, with hanging.’ Catchpoll nodded in agreement with the priest’s words.
Bradecote did not think this had aided Walkelin very much. He wanted to get him thinking.
‘Aelfric. What exactly did she tell you about him? It was interesting before, but now …’
‘She told me he was the son of the steward’s younger brother, and
both his parents are dead. The steward has had him almost as a son and he has been spoilt. He thinks he is the heir to his uncle, and above the other manor inhabitants. It did mean he tried to take liberties, which she said she repulsed.’
‘They all likes to say that. No woman declares herself easy to another man,’ mumbled Catchpoll.
‘In Hild’s case she spoke true, I would think,’ interposed the priest, still clearly attending. ‘She might have given the occasional soft look to a lad, but she was neither foolish nor wanton. And she did not like Aelfric, even before he grew to full manhood. He used to pull her hair before she reached an age to cover it.’
‘Well, she said she had held him off, and her eyes flashed angry as she recalled it. She said he had begun to say his uncle was getting too set in his ways and old, behind his back of course, and he was keen to prove himself to the lord de Nouailles.’
‘A man like that would take upon himself tasks others would shirk, like getting rid of a troublesome brother-in-law.’ Bradecote rubbed his chin. ‘But it would be terribly hard to prove he was ordered to do so. De Nouailles need only shake his head, and say “He was too keen by half, and took mere words of frustration as a chance to show his loyalty”.’
‘And, forgive me, my lord, what threat did Walter Horsweard pose after the second visit when he had made his feelings known? He was spent.’ Walkelin frowned.
‘Aye, finding a real motive for that killing would be difficult.’ Catchpoll sucked his teeth.
Father Paulinus looked troubled.
‘You believe the lord de Nouailles was responsible for the death of the horse trader?’
‘Yes, Father, for who else would have cause to even dislike him in this manor? We know that the man who killed him rode a stocky chestnut, and Aelfric rides such an animal. He also left the manor just after Walter Horsweard.’
‘But I heard it said he was sent upon the lord’s business into Warwickshire.’ The priest looked even more unhappy.
‘Yes, Father, but what better way to arrange it than telling him to first rid the world of Horsweard and then remain out of the way for a while.’ Bradecote smiled, wryly. ‘You think the best of people, Father, as a good priest, but we must think as good officers of the King’s Peace, and think the worst.’
Catchpoll thought this a good phrase, and committed it to his memory for future use.
‘In the case of Aelfric, I admit thinking the best is not easy, my lord. If you were to ask who, if any, of my parishioners could be capable of such a foul deed, then his would be the first and probably only name that I could give.’
‘Other than Brian de Nouailles.’
‘I still do not believe he killed his lady, but for the rest … he is not in charity with the world. I think she was his only hope of truly finding it, and with her death … so you are correct. I pray for him, but in my weakness and frailty I know that I do so because the poor lady would wish it. God has granted the beauty of the flesh to many women, and few see it as she did, as a burden. She had such beauty of soul that it far outshone the mere physical.’ Father Paulinus sighed. ‘She was impossible not to love, and so even a man in whom love would otherwise have been unthinkable, loved her.’ He crossed himself.
‘Well, at least our lists of suspects is the same, Father.’ Bradecote felt sympathy for the kindly cleric.
‘None of which so far gives a reason why Aelfric, returning to Harvington, would straight away take it into his head to do away with the girl Hild.’ Catchpoll brought them back to the problem in hand.
‘Perhaps he saw her and wouldn’t take her no for an answer, simple as that,’ offered Walkelin.
‘Too much of a coincidence to me.’ Catchpoll pulled a face that in others would indicate extreme pain.
‘But if he saw her, with me, a stranger, talking happily, could jealousy have got the better of him?’ Walkelin persisted.
‘I still don’t like it as a reason to up and kill someone.’
‘But if we are correct, he has killed barely more than a week since, and having done so once, he might be far more likely to do so again.’ Bradecote was warming to the only explanation that presented itself.
‘That is true, my lord, but before we cling to this theory of the frustrated lover with the desperation of a drowning man to a floating branch, let us consider any other options.’ Catchpoll ticked off his fingers. ‘He sees the girl with a stranger, finds out the sheriff’s men have traced Horsweard back to the manor, and thinks she might have something to say that proves his guilt. Perhaps she saw him take the track after him or overheard. He is suspicious and worried and acts in haste.’
It was Hugh Bradecote’s turn to look sceptical.
‘Or,’ continued Catchpoll, ‘he knows she has knowledge of him doing away with Horsweard. What if she happened to be as she was today, with washing? He recalls seeing a female figure at the river, with washing. He puts the two things together and sees she may betray him.’
‘Better, but if that is the case, why not run for it, since he has no idea whether or not she has already disclosed this to the law?’
‘I cannot explain that part, my lord, I admit it, but he might feel angry at her. She is a maid who has resisted him before, and now this. He kills her through anger and fear and then, having found his uncle and either lied that he saw Walkelin here do the deed, or perhaps throwing himself upon his blood kin relationship, gets him to “find” Walkelin and have a handy culprit who might, with luck, be dealt with so that he can turn up again in a day or so having no knowledge of the murder.’
‘That would fit.’
‘But it does not make it any easier to take Aelfric for the murder or link him to his lord for the first murder, my lord.’ Walkelin looked miserable.
‘All the more reason for you to discover the details of the bay horse, Walkelin. Even if Aelfric only reappears in a day or so, if he comes on that horse, we have him. Tomorrow you go to Evesham. Now just tell us of any you saw when you went to see Father Paulinus, and Father, could you tell us whom you saw also, that we can discount the many rather than the few from our enquiries this afternoon.’
The priest was the more useful, since he could name the people he saw, and Walkelin had to describe them as best he could for Father Paulinus to give name and direction, but between them they came up with several villagers whom the undersheriff and Serjeant Catchpoll might sensibly speak with before the day’s end.
They had little hope that asking their questions would elicit any useful information, and they were quite correct. They were met with shakes of the head, and much complaint that the presence of the law had not brought security but sorrow to their village. The simple peasantry wanted the culprit arrested and hanged, but the sheriff’s men had somehow brought this calamity to them. Had the strangers not entered the village, murder would not have followed. Bradecote felt as if he had become a raven, a bird of ill-omen. When he mentioned this to Catchpoll, the grizzled serjeant laughed.
‘If that is the worst you get to feel, my lord, you are a lucky man indeed.’
‘That last family we spoke with, the wife had her children about her skirts like a mother hen. Had I got closer she would have pecked me. We are wasting our time and becoming more unpopular, and if unpopular we will not receive the aid we need.’
‘That is true in part, my lord, but if, as you said, we had hidden away in the priest’s house, it would be all over the village, aye, and the Hundred soon enough, that the sheriff’s men only care for the safety of the sheriff’s men, and justice is for those with influence. This way they know we are seeking the girl’s killer.’
‘And will be less than pleased when we tell them it was one of their own that did it.’
‘The law does not make friends, my lord, it just does the job so thieving, murderous bastards do not have it all their own way. Rarely does anyone come and thank us for doing our duty. Far likelier we are to get a soil bucket tipped over us.’
‘That has happened to you, Catchpoll?’
‘Once or twice in the early days, my lord. I have learnt to walk more carefully at times since.’
‘You never mentioned this to me, Serjeant.’
‘No, my lord, but then most would draw the line at throwing filth over a lord.’ Catchpoll grinned, fleetingly.
They returned to the priest’s house a little before Vespers, with nothing encouraging to report to Walkelin, who was wrestling with an idea which was like the hint of dawn, just below his horizon. Something was niggling at his brain, but as yet it would not develop.
‘No need to be downcast. We have not learnt much, except negatives, of how many folk could not possibly be involved, but tomorrow you will follow up our four-legged clue, Walkelin, and everything will seem much brighter.’ Bradecote tried to sound positive.
‘Come to Vespers and pray for guidance.’ Father Paulinus was sincere in his suggestion.
‘I think that our presence might be seen as a blight, Father.’ Bradecote shook his head.
‘Not by God.’
‘No, but He will hear us if we offer up our prayers here also.’
‘Indeed He will.’ Father Paulinus looked more cheered.
When the priest had gone to conduct the office, Walkelin asked if they had heard Aelfric mentioned. They shook their heads.
‘Let us just get your description of that horse, lad.’ Catchpoll permitted himself his death’s head grin, the lips a tight drawn slash in the grey stubble of his close beard.
‘We will avoid all mention of him until your return, and then we will seek him out, Walkelin.’ Bradecote appeared as unconcerned, in Walkelin’s view.
Whatever problems they faced, both the undersheriff and Serjeant Catchpoll did have great hopes of the link with the horse. After all, Aelfric had not worried about bringing the bay back to Harvington. He would not try to conceal it, and if asked, would no doubt claim it was just a horse from his lord’s Warwickshire estate. That could then be refuted by Will Horsweard, and if required, any neighbours in Evesham. Nobody would consider the horse.
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