Hermitage, Wat and Some Nuns

by Howard of Warwick

  ‘Up you get, Hendig.’ Wat bent now, got his hands under Hendig’s shoulders and pulled.

  It was as if he had tugged the lever on a vomit machine. What must have been the entire contents of Hendig’s body moved out through his mouth. Hermitage was amazed the drunken shape had the strength to pump this out with such speed, and that it could continue to function without what probably included several major organs. There must be quite a queue behind his teeth.

  The pool that used to be inside Hendig spread out on the floor and there would be no question of lighting a fire for some considerable time.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ said Cwen turning quickly for the door.

  Even Wat and Hermitage took a step back as the odour of Hendig’s last meal - probably several of them - permeated the room.

  Hendig raised himself to his hands and knees, probably to avoid the risk of drowning. After a last liquid cough, he sat back on his haunches and surveyed the room.

  ‘Better out than in.’ He grinned at his audience as if he did this sort of thing every day.

  ‘Not for us,’ Wat observed.

  ‘You’ll have to clean that up you know,’ said Balor, ‘again.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Hendig replied, as if this was a regular occurrence.

  ‘So, master Hendig,’ said Wat, ‘surprised to see us?’

  ‘I’m surprised I can see anything at all after that mead,’ Hendig replied.

  ‘Not expecting us to be somewhere else,’ Wat pressed, ‘like on the road to Derby?’

  Hendig wiped his mouth with his sleeve. ‘You can be wherever you like.’ He pulled his legs out from under him and rested with his back against the wall. Hermitage would be very surprised if he had the strength to stand after what he’d just produced.

  ‘So you didn’t come to the tavern last night?’ Wat pressed some more.

  ‘Why bother?’ Hendig replied, ‘when we have such fine mead delivered to the door.’

  Wat frowned but seemed content that Hendig was not their remover. Hermitage thought the young man wouldn’t have been able to move to his own front door, judging by the state of him now.

  ‘We need some questions answered about Gilder,’ said Wat.

  ‘Oh, Gilder,’ said Hendig, dismissing the name, ‘he’s dead you know.’

  ‘We know,’ said Wat, looking puzzled. ‘We spoke to you about it yesterday.’

  ‘Did you?’ Hendig looked at them all. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ said Hermitage. ‘You told us about the messages you delivered for Gilder and the one you were going to be given on Wednesday. And how you found the body.’

  ‘I said that?’ Hendig asked.

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Must be right then.’

  ‘Do you really not remember?’ Wat asked, sounding very suspicious.

  ‘It’ll come back,’ said Hendig. ‘It usually does.’ He belched.

  Hermitage tutted. ‘If you carry on like this my son, you will kill yourself.’

  ‘Nah,’ Hendig waved Hermitage away, ‘I’m still young.’

  ‘You can be both young and dead you know.’

  Wat looked at Hendig, his eyes saying that he did not believe a word coming out of the young man’s mouth. ‘You remember Gilder himself though?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Hendig, with a shudder.

  ‘And the jobs you used to do for him.’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’

  ‘It’s the message he told you was for Wednesday we want to know about,’ Wat insisted.

  ‘He never told me what it was going to be,’ Hendig protested. ‘He just said be there in the morning. And when I was, there he was. Dead.’

  ‘It’s coming back then?’ Wat raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It does after I’ve had a good clear out,’ Hendig explained, nicely, smacking his lips. ‘Haven’t got any more mead have you?’

  ‘What did you think it might be about?’ Hermitage asked. ‘You had delivered many messages for him, they must have followed some sort of pattern. What sort of thing did he usually send?’

  ‘Pay up, or else, was most common.’ Hendig shrugged.

  ‘To the monks, the nuns and the moot? That doesn’t sound very likely. The monks, yes, they could owe him rent, but not the others.’

  ‘Messages to the moot tended to be complaints,’ Hendig went on. ‘About the state of the roads leading to his buildings, the taxes charged, the corruption that was rife, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Corruption?’ Hermitage asked.

  ‘Gilder thought everyone was corrupt except him. How else could they have any money? They must have stolen it from him. The nuns? I think I only ever took rude messages to the nuns, he wouldn’t want to talk to them. He asked me to throw the contents of his pot over the abbess once, but I didn’t. Don’t fancy making her any angrier than she already is.’

  ‘And what about other jobs?’ said Wat. ‘You said messages and fetching and carrying.’

  ‘Erm, did I?’ Hendig was suddenly reluctant and glanced towards the door.

  ‘Yes,’ said Wat, ‘you did. What other jobs?’

  ‘He was an old man, he couldn’t move stuff about on his own.’

  ‘Move what?’ Hermitage asked.

  ‘Stuff.’

  ‘What on earth is stuff?’

  ‘Eh?’ Hendig wasn’t following.

  ‘What does the word stuff mean? I’ve never heard of it.’

  ‘You’ve never heard of stuff? Really? Everyone’s using it these days. Some of the old folk still talk about furniture and the like, but it’s all stuff.’

  Hermitage looked to the door to see if Cwen could help. First sheriffs, now stuff. What was the world coming to? If people only talked properly things would be much easier.

  ‘What stuff?’ Wat pressed on, ignoring Hermitage’s pedantry. ‘Exactly what stuff?’

  ‘Just stuff. He was a rich man, he had a lot of stuff.’

  ‘There wasn’t much in his house,’ said Hermitage, trying to get the hang of what stuff was.

  ‘Ah, well.’ Hendig was all reticent again.

  ‘Come on,’ said Wat, ‘out with it.’

  Hendig looked very reluctant to speak.

  ‘Look, master Hendig,’ said Wat, getting courageously close to a man who had just emptied his stomach in spectacular style, ‘we are looking for the killer of Gilder and just at the moment you are the closest thing we’ve got. You could well have been the last person to see him alive and the first to see him dead. You work it out.’

  ‘I didn’t do it,’ Hendig squeaked, working it out quite quickly.

  ‘Pleased to hear it,’ said Wat. ‘Now, what stuff?’

  Hendig took a look at Balor and spoke, mostly to the floor. ‘He has a store house. Down by the river where he could take things in and out.’ He hung his head.

  Balor looked very surprised.

  ‘Well,’ said Wat, with some satisfaction, ‘we now know where the stuff was. We still don’t know what it was.’

  ‘His treasures,’ Hendig grumbled.

  ‘Aha,’ Hermitage burst out, despite himself.

  ‘No wonder there was nothing in the house,’ said Wat. ‘How many people knew about this?’

  ‘Very few,’ said Hendig. ‘Me and Eggar and that was about it.’

  ‘We know where Eggar got to then,’ Wat said with an insincere laugh. ‘Do the moot know about this?’

  ‘Gilder didn’t think so but they’re a pretty nosy bunch. Bit hard to hide a whole store but he disguised it as the gong house.’

  ‘Gong house?’ Hermitage asked. He was starting to think he had arrived in a different country. Why wasn’t anyone speaking English anymore? Or Latin, or French?

  ‘Yeah,’ said Hendig, clearly wondering why Hermitage couldn’t follow a simple sentence. ‘The gong house. The go-on house.’

  Hermitage was none the wiser.

  ‘The privy, Hermitage,’ Wat explained, ‘the go on.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Hermita
ge, understanding now, but hoping that the topic was not going to be considered in detail. He’d had a very bad experience with a garderobe once, and didn’t want to repeat it.[

  You can share that bad experience by reading The Garderobe of Death.]

  ‘That’s right,’ Hendig went on. ‘Shrewsbury is a sophisticated place, we don’t have people tipping it in the streets, mucking the place up, in case you hadn’t noticed. That’d be disgusting. All the gong is carefully collected from the houses in special buckets and taken away to Gilder’s gong house.’

  ‘And what happens then?’

  ‘We throw it in the river.’

  At least that was normal.

  ‘Sending the delivery to Worcester, we call it.’

  ‘And Gilder’s treasure is in the gong house?’ Hermitage asked. It sounded like a rather risky place to keep your worldly goods.

  ‘In a separate bit. The gong house works at one end and the store is at the other. Stops people poking about.’

  ‘I imagine it would,’ said Hermitage, in distaste. He had a sudden sinking feeling that Wat was about to suggest they go and have a poke around.

  ‘I think we need to see this store,’ said Wat.

  ‘What’s that going to tell us?’ Hermitage asked. ‘We know he was rich.’

  ‘If his treasury has been interfered with we’ll have a good idea why he was killed,’ said Wat. ‘That might help us figure out who did it.’

  ‘It’s still there as far as I can tell,’ Hendig piped up, quickly.

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘First thing I checked. I knew there’d be trouble for the whole town if Gilder’s stuff was all gone.’

  ‘But you didn’t actually mention it to the whole town, or tell anyone that it even existed.’

  Hendig hummed a bit. ‘Well, not yet, no. I’ve been busy.’

  Wat folded his arms. ‘Busy seeing if anyone asked about it, and if not, taking it yourself.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Hendig protested. ‘I’d tell Balor about it. It is his after all.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wat, very deliberately, ‘it is.’ He turned to Balor. ‘You’d better come with us. See just how big your treasury is.’

  Hendig let out a little groan of disappointment.

  ‘After all,’ said Wat, ‘things are looking even worse for your friend Hendig now.’

  The groan turned into a squeak.

  ‘Discovered the body, knew there was a stash of treasure and didn’t tell anyone. Looks like he had one of Hermitage’s motives and plenty of opportunity.’

  Hendig clearly didn’t follow this, which was probably just as well.

  Wat beckoned Balor and Hendig to follow and started for the door.

  He was pushed back straight away by Cwen coming in. She pushed the simple wooden door closed behind her and pressed her back against it.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Hermitage asked.

  ‘There are people,’ Cwen explained. Which was no explanation at all.

  ‘What sort of people?’ Wat asked, cautiously.

  ‘Soldier sort of people. Guards, weapons, helmets, angry. Those sort of people.’

  ‘Coming this way?’

  ‘Very definitely coming this way. Looking straight at the place.’

  ‘They probably want Hendig,’ said Wat, generating another nervous noise from Hendig, a much more earthy one this time.

  ‘Why do they want me?’ he managed to get out.

  ‘Probably worked it out, if we have.’ Wat shrugged. ‘The moot may not be bothered about Gilder being dead but they can’t be seen to let killers get away with it.’

  Hendig’s eyes ran around the room, probably looking for a hole big enough to get out of, even if they had to leave the rest of the body behind.

  ‘Might let you off with a quick execution.’ Wat smiled grimly.

  Hermitage could see that the evidence against the young man was damning. All the motive and opportunity was firmly in place and shining like a burning witch. But now that he saw it he wondered if it was enough. Someone could have motive and opportunity and still not do it.

  ‘Erm,’ he said, putting a finger up as he thought of something.

  Wat looked at him quizzically.

  ‘This Eggar chap?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s just that, well, he would have been with Gilder even when Hendig wasn’t.’

  ‘Your point?’

  ‘He knew where the treasure was, and now he’s gone.’

  Wat and Cwen looked as if they were wondering why Hermitage was raising this.

  ‘So he could have done it?’ Hermitage said, wondering why they were wondering.

  Cwen frowned for a moment. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, surprised by the revelation.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Hendig, very pleased with the idea. ‘I didn’t check the treasury in detail, some of it could be missing.’

  Hermitage thought that sounded like it suited Hendig rather than being the truth. ‘So if the soldiers come and take Hendig and, erm, you know, execute him.’

  Hendig stopped looking so pleased.

  ‘We’ll never know about Eggar.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ said Wat, looking with disinterest at Hendig.

  ‘Does it matter?’ Hermitage did his best “shocked and disappointed.” ‘Of course it matters if the wrong man is executed and a killer gets away with it.’

  ‘We don’t know it’s Eggar.’

  ‘Well, I’ve added another factor to Father Cuthbert’s list. Motive, opportunity and run away. If the person we’re thinking about had the motive and opportunity he might have done it. But if the person had the motive, the opportunity and has run away, it’s even more likely to be them.’

  Wat looked very disappointed to have Hendig whipped away like this. ‘So why aren’t the moot looking for Eggar?’

  ‘Because they didn’t care about Gilder being dead at all until we turned up. Now they have Hendig here,’ said Hermitage. It was very disappointing thinking but he had met the moot and judged that they might act first and think later. Or act first and having acted decide that the thinking wasn’t necessary after all and they could get on with some more acting.

  ‘So we save Hendig from the guards?’

  There was a loud hammering on the door.

  ‘Hm, might be too late for that,’ said Cwen, knocked slightly off her feet as she rested against the door.

  Hendig reached out and grasped a handful of Hermitage’s habit, like a child who doesn’t want to be taken to see grandma.

  ‘We can at least accompany him and argue the case before the moot.’

  ‘And what are they likely to do?’

  ‘Open up!’ a gruff voice called from outside.

  Hermitage spoke quickly, ‘If they accept that it might have been Eggar but he’s gone, they could leave it at that. They don’t really seem bothered at all and this might give them a way out.’

  Hendig nodded enthusiastically that this sounded like a very good idea.

  Before they could discuss it further, Cwen was knocked completely aside as a very large guard barged his way into the room.

  The man had to duck to enter the house and his presence filled the room. If ever an individual was built for his trade this one was a guard. He had a chest like a defensive wall and carried a short sword as if it was a stick.

  He was followed by two much smaller but still effective-looking guards. He surveyed the room, looking confused that there were so many people. He looked at Hendig who quaked accommodatingly. He nodded acknowledgement at Balor and frowned at the rest of them.

  Eventually the insides of the man, which must be quite some way off, started to rumble and a deep, aggressive voice rolled into the room.

  ‘You’re coming with me.’

  Hendig gave a massive sigh and dragged himself up from the floor. He got very unsteadily to his feet, took a deep breath and stepped in front of the guard.

  Hermitage was impressed with his bravery facing up to the situati
on. Of course there was nowhere else to go which probably helped.

  The guard’s massive arm rose and reached out to Hendig’s shoulder. As it rested there, Hendig actually sagged under the weight.

  With a single movement the guard brushed Hendig towards the door, stepped forward and grabbed Hermitage by the scruff of his habit.

  ‘Eek,’ said Hermitage.

  The guard nodded to his companions who stepped up and took hold of Wat and Cwen.

  ‘You come here eating our food, killing our merchants, it’s disgusting,’ the guard commented.

  ‘What?’ Wat exclaimed. ‘Gilder was dead days before we even got here.’

  ‘It’s no good you getting all clever with me.’

  Hermitage could see that it really was no good getting clever with this guard.

  ‘Explain it to the moot,’ the massive man said. ‘Then we can get on with the execution. Three at a time should bring quite a crowd.’

  As they were dragged from the house Wat managed a deep scowl at Hermitage.

  ‘You’ve done it again, Hermitage,’ he complained.

  As they were pushed up the road, Hermitage cast a pleading glance back at the house. At the doorway Hendig and Balor stood side by side.

  Hoping for some sign of encouragement, Hermitage was disappointed when Hendig waved brightly and called, ‘Byeee. Thanks for coming.’

  Caput XV

  Dealing With The Culprit

  ‘What is it about you?’ Wat asked as they sat in the lock-up under the moot hall. ‘Every time you investigate a murder, someone concludes you did it.’[

  This is not strictly true but you’ll have to read all the books to find out for yourself.]

  Hermitage tried an apologetic face. He was sure Wat’s accusation wasn’t really the case but would have to think back and work it out.

  Cwen was sitting with her back against a wall and a very sulky look on her face. That was not a good sign and Hermitage tried to vanish into the darkness of their cell.

  It was a simple lock-up for a simple purpose. Anyone so drunk they were causing damage, or upsetting people would be thrown in here to sober up. When they had, they would be let out. It was thus important that the place had no attractions that would make anyone keen to stay.