House of Shadows (23 page)

‘Why?'

‘Your sister is dead, and you ask why we want to talk to you? We are seeking to learn what happened that night.'

‘Ask that bastard over there. That son of a diseased pig was there. William killed them.'

‘Your father hinted as much,' Baldwin said. ‘Except it really makes little sense. Why should a man like him kill his own son, just to have some form of revenge on your family? He could kill your sister, granted – but why harm Pilgrim?'

‘Pilgrim loved my sister. Perhaps he tried to protect her from his mad father? I don't pretend to understand him.'

‘You suggest that William the elder could have tried to kill your sister? Have you ever seen him threaten her?'

‘I have not seen him attack her directly, but the man is insanely jealous of my father. He would do anything to hurt him.'

Baldwin eyed him. The fellow was arrogant and bitter, but he had lost his half-sister and such feelings were not unnatural. ‘That is no reason to want to harm his own son.'

‘Who else could have done that to Pilgrim? You saw the body there, laid out with love. Who else but a father could have done that to him?'

‘Not you, eh?' Simon said.

‘I would have spat on his face and cut his ballocks off for what he did to my sister! She may have been—'

‘What?'

‘My father's first-born. He loved her greatly,' Timothy
grunted. ‘Look at me: is it any surprise? Would you prefer a son looking like this, or a daughter as pretty as she?'

Baldwin was not to be moved from his questioning. There were, after all, many others who suffered from scars. ‘You say he raped her? That is why you would castrate him?'

‘In a way,' Timothy said evasively.

‘She knew him? They indulged in the natural pleasures of a man and woman?'

‘Yes! I know, for I saw them together. And it was
disgusting
! He had his…anyway, I rushed in, and it was only because she grabbed me and stopped me that I couldn't actually run him through, the cunning bastard!'

‘Where was this?'

‘In my house, in the stables behind the hall. He had inveigled his way into the place, and she went to see him. It was only because she begged me that I didn't tell our father. It would have broken his heart to know what they were up to. Carnal behaviour like that, to a man of honour and integrity, would be insufferable. But I swore to her that if I ever saw Pilgrim with her again, I would have his head off.'

Baldwin nodded thoughtfully. ‘His head yet remains on his shoulders, but that does not mean you are innocent.'

‘Me? If I could have, I would have killed him, and done it gladly. He was a ravisher of women.'

He was about to push away from them, but Baldwin placed his hand on the fellow's breast and prevented him. ‘A few more questions before you go. Did you know that they were married?'

‘Don't be ridiculous!'

‘I have spoken to the man of God who listened to their vows. They were married.'

Timothy's mouth opened, but no words came. Instead he looked from one to the other, and then down at the ground with a frown. ‘But…she couldn't have…She knew what that would do to Father…Why didn't she tell me?'

‘You can answer that for yourself,' Baldwin said unkindly. ‘Are you sure she didn't tell you that she was wedded?'

‘Never! My Christ, if I'd known that…' He looked up at Baldwin again, and now there was a fierce, cold rage in his eyes. ‘If she'd done that and not asked Father first, she deserved what happened to her!'

 

Later, when the two sat to discuss the matter, Simon was unsure of Timothy's innocence.

‘I'd not be surprised if the poxy fool mused and let the resentment build until he seethed against her. He might have reasoned that the affront to the family's honour justified a severe punishment.'

‘Perhaps. I am certain of only one thing: that the coroner's tale is entirely wrong!'

Simon agreed with Baldwin. The coroner's summing-up had been devastating for the vill.

‘So we come to the essential facts. The two bodies. One, the woman, held the knife. I do not doubt that the knife was the weapon that ended both these two young lives.'

‘Clearly he doesn't doubt – he didn't even bother to measure the blade and test the depths of the wounds, the width of the injuries, nor any other comparative measurements,' Baldwin whispered with contempt.

The coroner had continued. ‘The dagger will be sold as deodand. It is clear enough that the woman killed her lover, and, feeling remorse, she first settled his body into that comfortable posture, and then she walked
away to commit self-murder, dropping to lie dead where she was discovered. For these crimes…'

It was at this point, as he was outlining the full total of fines that would be imposed on the poor peasants of the area for allowing this infringement of the king's peace, that Baldwin nudged Simon and began to make his way from the place, muttering angrily: ‘I suppose that little child was strong enough to pick up her dead lover and dragged him across the mud?'

He paused and stared into the middle distance. ‘We never answered why someone should have killed him up there and then dragged him away. Plainly the idea was to conceal his body. Yet why? Surely the likely reason was to hide him from Juliet when she arrived? So someone planned the murder as a double killing. The man was slaughtered first, his body hidden, but treated respectfully, and then the girl arrived and was killed in her turn. But she did not merit such respect. Instead she was left discarded. Why? Was she being punished for a crime of which the boy was innocent?'

Shaking his head, he continued onwards, glowering at the ground as he went.

Rather than make their way nearer to the river, which was invariably damp, especially nearer the king's new moated palace, the Rosary, the two walked down to the priory, intending to make their way past it and down to the road that led to the great bridge.

At the gate they saw Brother Lawrence with a carter. Lawrence saw them approach and suddenly grew curt with the carter, sending him into the priory, before standing and waiting for the two to reach him.

‘You left us swiftly, brother,' Baldwin said.

‘I had no desire to be involved with that whelp,' Lawrence admitted. ‘Is it as I feared, then? More fines for the poor folk who can scarce support themselves as it is?'

‘You will not find a more stern and forbidding coroner in the country,' Baldwin said.

‘He is a measure of the government. Was any culprit selected?'

Baldwin showed his teeth in a smile. ‘Who would you have picked?'

‘Me?' Lawrence looked up at him, then considered. ‘Clearly it is plain that Pilgrim was innocent. Someone killed him, and yet treated his corpse with reverence, so his killer at least recognized that he was a decent enough fellow. He didn't want to leave his corpse lying there…'

‘Which says little for the man who murdered Juliet,' Baldwin said. ‘He left her crumpled in a mess.'

Simon nodded. ‘Perhaps someone else came along and the murderer was forced to flee?'

‘It is possible,' Baldwin agreed. ‘What do you think, brother?'

Lawrence sighed and peered up into the sky. ‘Did you know that this priory has a reputation? Many hundreds of years ago there was an illicit affair between a woman and a chaplain. It is said that the devil came and took them and that the man's ghost is seen here on the flats occasionally.'

‘Here?' Simon asked. He only stopped himself from gazing about him with superstitious concern by reminding himself how Baldwin would make him regret such a display.

Baldwin smiled airily and turned to peer at Simon. Saying nothing to the bailiff, he asked Lawrence: ‘How would a woman come to be living here in a monastery?'

‘I believe that she was here for safekeeping…some form of wardship, no doubt.'

‘Hard to believe that someone could send a young impressionable ward to a place like this,' Baldwin commented.

‘What happens to those who see the ghost?' Simon asked.

‘They die, so the rumour says.'

‘Well, neither of these two were taken away, and I do not believe that the devil would be overly concerned about the sudden arrival of a witness. Nor do I think he'd have set out young Pilgrim in so considerate a manner,' Baldwin said caustically. ‘Personally I would be easier in my mind believing that there has been an entirely human agent at work here.'

‘We all have our own beliefs, Sir Baldwin. Perhaps yours are more secular than mine.'

‘Perhaps,' Baldwin conceded. ‘Tell me, brother, where should we seek the woman who found the first body?'

‘That was Elena. She will be out there on the shore. She seeks what she can from the Thames at low tide. There is often something discarded in the waters which she can make use of or sell.'

 

Elena cursed as she missed it, dragging the thin rope back through the waters and coiling it in a rough bundle beside her.

The plank looked hardly rotted at all. From the way it floated it was probably nicely dried, hardly green, and would have been worth having. Still, on it went with the river. Her rope with the weight had been too weak to haul it in to the beach. The cord had snapped, the weight falling into the water while the beam floated on serenely. She looked down at the remaining rope with disgust, half-tempted to fling that into the water as well.

‘Mistress?'

‘Who are you?' she demanded querulously. The sun was hidden behind clouds, but it was still bright enough for her to want to shield her eyes with a hand as she studied the two men walking towards her. ‘You were in the crowds at the inquest, weren't you?'

‘We were, madam,' Baldwin said. ‘We wanted to talk to you for a moment about what you saw that day when you found them.'

‘I saw their bodies, that was all.'

‘Was there anyone else out here on that day?'

‘It was wet. There was no one out who had any sense.'

‘You were.'

‘I had to get to the market.'

‘Were the bodies wet through? If it had been raining, did you notice whether they had been there for long or not?'

‘I am no constable. I walk about here to try to earn what I can from what I find. There were two bodies there, but I didn't know about looking for how wet they were. No, I just found young Juliet, and seeing her there, that was sad.'

‘You knew her?'

‘A little. A pretty little thing she was, and so happy when she was out here.'

‘What was she doing out here?' Simon asked, gazing about him with frank distaste. At least on Dartmoor there were some areas of dry pasture. Here all seemed waterlogged.

‘Waiting to see her man. I had often seen her. Sometimes she was alone, with only her maid, but often she was with her man. Mostly it's been just the younger William in the last weeks,' Elena said helpfully.

‘Perhaps she wanted company because of the stories of a ghost, eh, Simon?'

Elena scowled. ‘Don't jest about the ghost. Us who live here know to fear that figure.'

‘You know someone who's seen it?' Simon asked.

‘I have seen it myself. It's a sign of bad omen.'

‘What happened to you after you saw the figure?' Baldwin asked lightly. ‘A corn on your foot? Or you
found that you were growing wet while walking across this marsh?'

She looked at him with a chilly certainty. ‘The first time I saw the figure, my husband Thomas died. Last time, next morning I found poor Juliet's body.'

 

Brother Lawrence watched them go to seek Elena with a sense of growing unease and anxiety.

It had seemed such a sensible idea at the time. When he and the prior had concocted their scheme, the idea of driving others away from the river had been essential. They didn't want Roger Mortimer escaping from the Tower only to be arrested as soon as he set foot on the Surrey side.

Lawrence had first mooted the idea of the ghost. All knew of the ghost. Those in the priory mentioned it in undertones and used the story to scare the novices when they could, but the locals had heard of it, too, and people like Elena believed in it. What better way could there be to keep unwanted eyes from the shore than by having a fearsome ghost wandering the place?

It had gone so well, too. Terrible, of course, that Elena's old man had seen them. Lawrence saw him, saw his gaping, stupid face, and raised his arms to loom over the fellow, and he had turned to flee, bolting over the flats like a rabbit from a hound. Next morning the fool was dead. A great shame, but Lawrence did not feel over-guilty. There were other considerations, and rescuing Mortimer was crucial. The country had to have him safe so that the muttered plans to remove this intolerable king could be put into action.

He saw John and began to make his way to the lad.

All would have been well, too, had not that woman seen him. Juliet. He hadn't realized at the time, but she had witnessed him and the men from the boat. Clearly, seeing the men pile from the boat while the ‘ghost' held
it steady for them made her understand that his costume was only a ruse. And equally, seeing where the boat landed, so close to the priory's kiddles, the salmon traps set out along the line of the river banks, made her understand that a man from the priory was probably responsible. So the officers came and took the representative of all power in the priory – the prior himself.

Lawrence could blame himself, of course, but that wouldn't have Prior Walter released. He was incarcerated in the same Tower from which they had rescued Mortimer. This new fool John de Cusance, Prior John, was installed, and there was little Lawrence could do about it.

Vengeance against those who had reported his and the prior's actions? That was not a pretty act. But he knew many would consider it justified. Reasonable, even.

So now an escape was needed. He had to find a way out – perhaps a boat?