A Friar's Bloodfeud: (Knights Templar 20) (38 page)

‘Hugh? Look at me. Look into my eyes.’ Baldwin’s tone was insistent. ‘You have to speak to me. We are seeking the murderous
bastard who killed Constance, but we need your help.’

Looking up, Hugh saw the depth of compassion in Baldwin’s face. He sniffed, and saw that Edgar was at Baldwin’s side. Edgar
nodded gently, and for once Hugh saw Edgar without a smile on his face. This was a lean, sympathetic warrior, not the arrogant
servant of a knight. He leaned forward and touched Hugh’s knee, nodded, and then signalled to the pot boy for an ale.

‘I have been looking after him,’ Brother John said hesitantly.

‘Brother, I am glad,’ Baldwin said. He grinned. ‘I didn’t expect to meet you again so soon after you left Exeter.’

‘Nor did I. Especially in such circumstances,’ John said.

‘What brought you here?’ Simon asked.

John sighed. ‘Oh, I was looking to see my sister one last time. I hoped …’ He found he had a catch in his throat now. Seeing
Hugh failing to cope with his emotions had brought to the fore all his own feelings of loneliness and despair. ‘I hoped to
meet my sister. But she is dead.’

Baldwin stood. ‘Brother, be seated. I shall fetch you wine. Your sister, was she Lady Lucy?’

‘Yes,’ John said, and sat himself down carefully. Suddenly he felt as though he was among friends, and for no reason he could
discern, he burst into tears.

Later, when the two men had recovered somewhat, their story came out, and Baldwin and Simon told them all that they too had
learned.

‘What would Pagan have been doing in your lane, though, Hugh?’ Simon asked.

‘Come to that, what was Matthew doing there?’ Baldwin wondered. ‘Are there any other houses than yours nearby?’

‘There are – farther up the hill,’ Hugh said. ‘That’s as far as his parish goes.’

‘So he was either walking up there or over to Pagan’s house,’ Baldwin said.

‘We’re as sure as we can be that Pagan’s house is where the torture was conducted,’ Simon said. ‘But we don’t know who was
responsible, nor who killed the girl.’

‘Where’s this man Walter?’ Baldwin wondered. ‘He’s the only man we know was there with whom we have not yet spoken. Sir Odo
said he was coming here. Jankin? Do you know if a man-at-arms called Walter is guarding the church?’

‘There is a man called that up there, I think. Davie, could you fetch him? Tell him there’s a quart here for him.’

Baldwin nodded his thanks, and the men waited a few minutes. When Deadly reappeared, Walter was behind him.
He glanced about the room, then walked in, shifting his sword to rest more comfortably on his hip as he came.

‘Friend,’ Baldwin called. ‘We would like to speak to you. There is an ale here for you.’

Walter looked him up and down. The man was plainly a knight, and Walter had seen him at Fishleigh when he returned from the
sergeant’s house over the river. ‘I am tired, and I’m supposed to be guarding the sanctuary-seeker. I don’t have time, friend.’

‘Then, as Keeper of the King’s Peace, I tell you to come here and answer our questions,’ Baldwin said, his smile broadening.
‘I want to know all about you and Ailward and Lady Lucy of Meeth.’

‘I don’t know anything about that,’ Walter declared quickly. ‘It was nothing to do with me.’

‘What was nothing to do with you?’ Simon demanded.

‘The death of that woman. Or Ailward. I had nothing to do with them.’

‘But you were involved in carrying the woman away, weren’t you?’ Baldwin said. ‘You were seen.’

‘One man’s word is …’

‘Whoever told you only one man saw you?’ Baldwin said with frank, if counterfeit, amazement. ‘I’ve spoken to three this night
already.’

‘It was Ailward’s fault. I know nothing about it. He took me to her body, and then had me help him carry it away, that’s all
I know.’

‘Where was she?’

‘Bound to a post.’

‘
Where?
’

He sighed. ‘In Pagan’s forge. Someone had stabbed her to death with a red-hot poker. Left it in her. Poor thing.’

‘And you told no one of this discovery, but instead took her away?’ Baldwin said mildly.

‘She was only a young woman. I wasn’t going to risk my neck for her,’ Walter said reasonably. ‘What else would you expect
me to do?’

Baldwin had a hand on John’s shoulder to restrain him. He left it there, not gripping tightly, but not allowing John to forget
it was there. ‘I would expect you to tell the local officers. Where did you take the body?’

‘We took her over to the mire … but that damned camp ball game came towards us! We thought that was one day we’d be safe
moving her, because the players don’t usually attack up towards the edge there. But Perkin and Beorn came straight at us,
and I had to do something. As Sir Odo’s man I was their natural opponent anyway, so I clobbered Perkin and took the ball from
him, throwing it as far as I could down the slope. I suppose it was him who saw her?’

‘You can suppose what you like!’ Baldwin said with more force. ‘What then?’

‘We took her to the mire. Ailward set stones on her, and we carried her into the middle and set her down.’

‘Why?’

‘Eh?’

‘Why put her there in the middle of another man’s land?’

‘Ailward wanted to put the guilt firmly where it was earned. He told me that Sir Geoffrey had been going to Pagan’s forge
and torturing the girl up there for days. He killed her, and I didn’t mind putting her there so people could see who’d done
it to her.’

‘What if Ailward lied to you?’ Simon demanded roughly. ‘Are you really so stupid?’

Baldwin said, ‘What was going to happen then? If she
was hidden, weighted down with rocks, how was she to be discovered?’

Walter eyed Simon warily before answering. ‘He was going to get someone to suggest that the mire could be drained. That would
lead to her being found. Seems he did that.’

‘Who was he going to tell?’

‘That arrogant prickle, Nicholas le Poter. He was as keen as Ailward to have his master removed. Both wanted the same thing,
like my …’

Baldwin’s eyes hardened. ‘Like your what?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Were you going to say your master?’

‘I don’t know what he’d want. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘You know full well that he would have liked to have had Sir Geoffrey away from here, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know what …’

‘And he could have wanted Lady Lucy’s lands. He is not married, so he could even have asked her to marry him,’ Simon breathed.
‘He could have tried to win her lands legally, if by force.’

‘Is that what you suspect, Walter?’ Baldwin pressed him. ‘If you know something which you are keeping from us, think again.’

‘I don’t know anything else.’

‘Not even about the attack on the house just up from here?’

Walter frowned. ‘What attack? On the miserable …’ He caught sight of Hugh. ‘Oh!’

‘Yes. He didn’t die,’ Baldwin said quietly. ‘Who did that to him? Who killed his family?’

‘How should I know?’

‘You are sweating, man. What would cause that? Who was it?’

It was at that moment that Humphrey burst in through the door.

‘Sir Baldwin! You have to go at once! They’ll kill each other otherwise!’

Baldwin glanced at Walter. ‘Jankin! I want two men of yours to hold this man here until I return. He is not to be allowed
a weapon, and he is not to leave this inn until I get back. Is that clear?’

Sir Odo rode along at a steady pace. He wasn’t bothering with a flaming torch. No, there was little point in it. He’d prefer
to have his hands free for a sword and a dagger.

There were risks in taking direct action, but since Sir Geoffrey had already begun to escalate the pressure, Sir Odo had little
choice. He had to reassert his authority, and one means of doing so was to avenge his man’s murder. That was what it was,
clearly enough.

What was ridiculous was, there was no need for things to have come to such a pass. The two stewards had always managed to
iron out any petty little problems that had popped up between them in the past. Sir Odo couldn’t understand why Sir Geoffrey
had allowed himself to be bullied into this sudden over-reaction.

Their venture could have proved quite fruitful. Why Sir Geoffrey had to ruin everything just now, Sir Odo couldn’t comprehend.
It seemed insane, unless it was something to do with Lady Lucy’s body appearing on his land. Sir Odo didn’t see why that should
affect their relationship, though.

They were trotting up the track to Iddesleigh. Sir Odo
and this group would ride down from Iddesleigh to Monkleigh, and hopefully surprise Sir Geoffrey’s men there, while a second
party was cantering along without torches, taking the road almost due east to distract the Monkleigh men. They would ride
to the sergeant’s house – what was left of it. Since Crokers was dead, Sir Odo assumed that Sir Geoffrey’s men would have
done as much damage to the place as they could. He didn’t like to think what sort of condition the house would be in by now.

They were past Iddesleigh now, and Sir Odo led them down the Monkleigh road for a few hundreds of yards, and then up the trail
that led to Pagan’s house. Sir Odo would lead the men along the top here, and they’d come at Monkleigh’s hall from behind.
Sir Geoffrey wouldn’t expect that, with luck. At the trail, Sir Odo passed the order, and all the torches were handed over
to the grooms who had accompanied them, with a couple of men-at-arms in charge. These all set off down the main road as Sir
Odo led his main force up the shallow incline.

In war, it was always best to surprise the enemy.

Adcock had returned home after the chase of Nicholas le Poter feeling as though his ballocks were ruined. He would never father
a child now, he told himself that night as he sat on his bed and gently cupped them, too anxious to actually look at them,
for fear of what he might see.

This morning he had slowly, cautiously, lifted his blanket to look at them, filled with trepidation. They still felt double
their normal size, and he was confronted with a colourful landscape when he eventually faced them. There were dark purples,
but also interesting salmon pinks and yellowish browns, rather like a sunset on a summer’s day. Not that he
put it like that at the time – that was the description he gave Hilda much later.

They were still bruised, that much was clear, and as he swung his legs over the side of the bed he was rewarded with an appalling
ache that reached from the pit of his stomach to the top of his thighs. It was enough to make the breath stop in his throat,
but not quite enough to make him cry out.

After a day’s careful walking about the estate, generally keeping well away from Sir Geoffrey, he felt somewhat better. He
completed the work on the small mire, and as dusk fell he was still there, unwilling to return to the hall even for his supper.

‘How are you now?’

He looked up to see that Perkin and Beorn had joined him. They stood behind him, eyeing the new ground where the mire had
lain. Some way behind them he saw Pagan. He too was staring at the mire, but with an expression that stilled the blood in
Adcock’s veins. It was a look of pure loathing, as though he detested the place with every fibre of his body.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Nothing. We’re going up to our friend Guy’s house. He’s got a few gallons of ale left from his last brewing, and we wondered
whether you’d like to come with us?’ Perkin said. ‘I’ve heard it said the ale his wife brews is the best in the parish.’

Adcock looked up at the sky. It was past dusk now, and nearer full night time. There was a pale glow on the horizon to the
west, but apart from that the sky was turning from blue to black, and all the stars had begun to glimmer: a silver frost on
the dark velvet background. ‘I would like to,’ he said.

Perkin looked like a man who had used up his last words. He nodded and turned away towards the north. Adcock stood slowly
and stretched. He felt drained and uncomfortable, but at least now he was apparently accepted by the people among whom he
must live. That to him was more important than anything. Even if his life here was to be troubled and full of fears, the fact
that he had the support and companionship of the peasants on the manor would be some consolation.

‘Are you all right, Pagan?’ he asked as he passed him.

‘Me? Yes. Not too bad.’

Adcock followed his gaze to the mire. ‘It’s pretty foul.’

‘Yes. That’s where the young woman was found, isn’t it? Lady Lucy?’

‘In the middle. Horrible sight.’

Pagan shook his head. ‘I can imagine,’ he said, turning away and walking to where the other two men stood patiently waiting.

Adcock walked slowly and carefully, and saw Perkin and Beorn exchange a glance. ‘I’m fine. It’s just …’

‘We know what happened. He’s done it to others before now,’ Perkin said. ‘We can walk more slowly.’

‘There’s no need,’ Adcock said gratefully. ‘Once I start moving, the pain abates somewhat.’

‘Good, then let’s be going,’ Beorn said.

Adcock looked at the two men in front of him. ‘Why? What’s the hurry?’ Now he could see them, he saw that they were worried
themselves. There was some anxiety in their features that he couldn’t understand. ‘What is it?’

‘We reckon it’d be a good idea to be away from here, that’s all,’ Perkin said.

Adcock stood still. ‘Why?’

It was Beorn who growled deeply, ‘If you want to be caught up in a fight, stay here. If you want to live without more pain,
you’d best come with us. We have heard that Sir Odo is going to attack this place tonight.’

‘I should be back at the hall, then! So should you!’ Adcock said.

Perkin walked back to him. ‘Look, if Sir Odo and Sir Geoffrey want to battle things out, that’s fine – but don’t expect any
of the demesne’s peasants to join in. We’re going up to Guy’s house, and you can join us if you want. If you want to remain
here or at the hall, that’s good too. But you’d be much safer with us.’

Adcock licked lips that were suddenly dry. ‘What will they do?’

‘Sir Odo will attack with a small force and he’ll kill a number of Sir Geoffrey’s men. Then he’ll leave. If you’re there,
he’ll probably kill you too. So hurry up and come with us, man!’

Adcock nodded and made an effort to keep up as Perkin and Beorn set the pace up the hillside, away from the house.

‘Are you sure of this?’ he asked at the top when he stopped to catch his breath.

Pagan nodded grimly. ‘Aye. Sir Odo told me.’

It was only a few minutes later that Adcock heard the hooves approaching down the lane.

‘Down!’ Pagan shouted.