The Tainted Relic (27 page)

In all there were some fourteen men in there. Simon took in their faces as he leaned against the bar. Some were vacant with ale even at this early hour, but two or three looked belligerent enough. Simon smiled at them easily. There was a mixture of folk: nearer Simon stood a pair of sailors, who brought the stench of tar and the sea into the place, their hands stained black, their faces burned the colour of old oak. Behind them was a carter, chewing slowly at a straw while he toyed with a jug of ale. Farther back was a group of three men playing at knuckles, rolling the bones enthusiastically and seeming to pay Simon little attention. In short, it was the usual mix of people who had come to Exeter to make use of the market, some to buy, some to sell.

One of the sailors curled his lip and spat, but as he did so there was a shivering ring of steel, and all eyes turned to the doorway where Baldwin stood, his sword held negligently in his fist. Suddenly everyone found merit in a study of the contents of their cheap pottery drinking horns. Jonathan nervously stepped around Baldwin to take his place at a bench, where he smoothed a sheet of vellum and readied pens and ink.

While he prepared himself, Simon faced the ale-wife. ‘There’s a man murdered up the lane from here. First Finder was called Rob Brewer, who was in here last night.’

She was a pretty girl, perhaps nineteen or twenty years old, and with bright golden hair almost concealed under a cotton cap. Green eyes with hazel flecks met his unflinchingly. She shrugged and cast a glance over the drinkers. ‘Loads in here last night.’

‘The dead man was young, two or three days of beard, some inches shorter than me, fairish hair cut short, long nose, eyes set close, pointed chin–do you know him?’

‘Was he wearing a grey fustian tunic?’ asked a man.

‘Aye, and green hose,’ Simon agreed.

The speaker was thirty or so, with a face scarred from the pox and a great shining burn scar that ran from left to right temple over his brow.

‘Did you know him?’

‘If it’s the same lad, it was Will from Chard.’

‘Did he get into a fight last night?’ Baldwin called.

‘He was here with some friends. They argued a bit. Who doesn’t?’

‘We have to find his killer,’ Simon said. ‘Who was he with? What happened?’

‘There were two men with him. One was a youngster works up near West Gate. I thought
he
was Rob Brewer. The other’s heavier, fellow by the name of Adam.’

Another spat at the floor. ‘Bastard should be called Cain.’

‘Why?’ Simon asked, glancing at Baldwin. He had noticed that name, Simon saw. Brewer had told them he didn’t know who the dead man was.

This man was dark skinned with a cast in one eye and a bruise on his right temple. He spoke with a slight lisp, as though a tooth was giving him pain. ‘He’s dishonest. He’d rob his mother for profit, then beat her if there wasn’t enough.’

‘Get on, Tad. You’re sore ’cos he knocked you down,’ commented the first.

‘Shut your noise, Ed. You don’t know the little shite.’

Simon raised a hand to silence them both. He nodded to the man with the cast in his eye. ‘Why did he hit you?’

The man looked shifty, as though he didn’t want to discuss his affairs with a law officer. ‘He was making trouble.’ Seeing Simon’s expression, he glowered, then added, ‘Look, he was in here with his friends, Rob and Will, and they were making a load of noise. I sort of asked him to shut it. That’s all.’

‘No, it’s not all,’ Simon said. He leaned against the bar. ‘Where can we find these men now?’

Tad shrugged and turned away. ‘Who gives a…’

Suddenly the knight in the doorway was in front of him and the sword was under his chin. Tad clenched a fist, but before he could think of swinging, he found himself grabbed by the shirt and thrust back against the wall. The sword’s point was pricking the soft flesh of his throat.

Baldwin grinned wolfishly. ‘I do, friend:
I
do. And I intend to find out.’

The knight looked as grim as a mercenary. Tad had no doubt that he’d skewer him in an instant, and enjoy doing so.

‘Adam, Rob and Will,’ Simon said patiently. ‘What were they doing; what caused your fight with Adam–
everything
.’

Tad was tempted to tell him to go and swive his horse, but the sword’s point was sharp. There was a trickling under his chin, and he had an unpleasant suspicion that it was blood. He daren’t move his head in case he impaled himself. Someone had once told him that an easy way to kill was with a thrust under the chin, straight up, through the tongue, the palate, and into the brain. He had a sudden vision of his body on tiptoe, the point of that evil-looking blue blade buried in his skull…

‘All right!’ he gasped. ‘But take that sword away.’

To his relief, the pressure subsided a little.

‘What do you know of this man Rob?’ Simon asked.

‘He’s a stableman. If it wasn’t for his brother, he’d never have started their game.’

‘He’s pathetic,’ Ed agreed. He belched.

‘Who is his brother?’

‘Andrew. But he didn’t come in last night,’ Tad said. ‘I didn’t see him.’

‘Wasn’t here,’ Ed agreed. ‘Probably out with his wench.’

‘Who is she?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘How should I know? Thing is, the brothers are always together. There’s a reason when they aren’t.’

Simon frowned. ‘Could Rob Brewer have killed Will of Chard, then?’

‘No.’ Tad didn’t think so. ‘He’s not a hard man. His brother Andrew could. It’s said him, Adam and Will attack people on the way here to market, knock them down and take their purses. Adam is a hard bastard. He’s got a room up near the Dominicans. Down Stycke Street. There’s a cordwainer’s shop–the man lost a lot of money and rents a room over the shop. Adam and Will live there. Well, Adam does now.’

‘What of Andrew?’

‘Rob’s brother? He shares with Rob most nights. A stable’s a good warm place to live.’

‘What was your argument about last night?’ Simon asked.

‘Look, Adam was looking for a fight. That’s how he is. The more he has to drink, the more he wants a fight. He made some comment about me, and I…That’s all.’

‘He insulted you to your face?’ Baldwin said.

‘Not to my face, no. He said it to another, and he told me.’

‘Tell us what happened.’

Tad could remember the whole evening perfectly clearly. ‘I got there before them. I got to the alehouse for a chance to relax, when those three turned up, bought their ales, and sat down in the corner of the room away from the door.’

‘Rob was with them?’ Simon sought to confirm.

‘’Course.’ In his mind’s eye he could see the three sitting with their heads close together, staring at the things in Will’s lap. Tad glanced at Simon’s face and grimaced. ‘Look, they’d robbed some poor bastard, I expect. Probably beat up someone, left him by the roadside and brought all his stuff to be shared out.’

‘What did they divide between them?’ Baldwin said.

‘Will had a little box. I saw Adam try to grab it,’ Tad recalled, ‘but Will wouldn’t let him.’

Simon glanced at Baldwin. ‘Will had something Adam wanted?’

‘Did it rattle, this box?’ Baldwin guessed. ‘Did it contain money?’

‘I saw him share out coins first, so it wasn’t that. No, there was something else in the box itself. Like a glass vial or something.’

‘What was it like, this box?’

‘Oh, just dark wood. There were some shiny bits on it. Didn’t see more than that.’

Baldwin was frowning. ‘Did anyone else in the tavern see it?’

‘A stranger. I saw him staring.’ The sword rose slightly and he spoke more hurriedly. ‘Tall, built heavy like a man-at-arms, dressed in black. Good leather boots…He was with one of the whores.’

Jonathan’s reed was over-full, and on hearing this word he made a large blot on the page. He quickly tried to rectify the mistake by setting his sleeve over the ink and soaking it up, but he was too hasty and knocked his reeds on the floor. Moaning to himself, he bent to retrieve them, and noticed two small parchments under his table. He picked them up with the reeds and set them on the table as he continued writing.

‘Christ’s bones,’ Simon breathed. ‘I’d bet my horse that he was the man told Art to fetch help.’

Baldwin’s puzzlement grew. ‘In which case, was he a companion of the wounded man, or a friend sworn to avenge him? Or does he also seek to steal this box?’

‘Did you see any sign of Rob’s brother last night or today?’ Simon asked.

There was no answer beyond a slow shaking of heads. Baldwin was about to draw Simon aside to talk when there was a loud pounding on the door. The sergeant who had been by Will’s body came in, panting. ‘Sir Baldwin, there’s another body, out towards Bishop’s Clyst. Can you come?’

Rob was so forlorn that Annie finally agreed to go for a drink. Neither wanted to go to the Blue Rache, and she suggested a tavern out near the Guildhall.

‘I’m worried,’ he said when they had a pot of ale each and were sitting outside in the sun. ‘Andrew has disappeared. I don’t know where he could be. And Will dying…I don’t want to stay with only Adam.’

‘Why not? He’s not changed.’ Her tone was cold, and she looked pale. Rob thought she was quite distracted…it was only to be expected. She had loved Andrew too. He’d been like a brother to her. ‘Will’s dead, but I expect Andrew will turn up again.’

‘No,’ he said with conviction. ‘If he was going to come back, he would have already. Yesterday we attacked two men, a clerk and a man-at-arms, and I think Andrew was killed by them.’

‘It would take much to beat Andrew,’ she said. ‘He’ll come back, you see.’

‘If he doesn’t, what’ll I do? I can’t stay with Adam. He’s mad–he’d kill me in a moment’s rage. The only time he’s happy is when he sees other people suffering.’

‘Rubbish. He just wants to make money, and stop living hand to mouth all the time.’

‘Well, we all do. But there are ways of doing it that are safer.’

‘Safer?’ she scoffed, and nodded towards St Nicholas Priory. ‘I suppose you’d prefer life in the cloisters, would you?’

He was quiet for a moment. ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want to lose you. I couldn’t join the monks.’

‘Then stop whining about him. He’s part of your life.
Our
life.’

‘If I stay with him, I’ll end on a felon’s rope.’

‘Oh, leave him, then!’

He was hurt that she was irritated by his ramblings, yet he had to explain his plan to her. ‘Perhaps I could find a new trade.’

‘What?’ she demanded. ‘You have no skills. Everything you’ve tried has turned sour. You’re good with horses, but that won’t make you rich.’

‘Well, I can’t carry on like this for ever,’ he said, glancing about them. ‘Being a felon has no future. Not if a man wants to be married. I could learn myself stonework, perhaps? There’s always a living to be earned as a mason. I could build walls. They can’t be that difficult.’

She looked at him. ‘Maybe,’ she said, relenting in the face of his misery.

Just that was enough to make him grin. She almost expected him to start capering, like one of those bears that would dance at the whistle of his master. He made her want to scream, and the feeling made her hate herself.

This man had saved her when she first arrived, and she was grateful to him for that, but he was so
pathetic
! Rob always moaned and whined, seeing risks or dangers in any plan, never agreeing to any new ideas, not like Andrew. Andrew had always worn that smile of confidence. If he wanted something, he found a way to acquire it.

‘We could leave the city and find a new place,’ he said. ‘We could marry.’

‘What, with all the gold we’ve saved?’ she demanded scathingly. ‘Shall we hire a pair of horses to ride to York or London?’

She had nearly died during the famine. Nobody could make her surrender to fate again. Here there was a house, some food and friends. She’d sworn that she would never starve again, no matter what.

‘I have something,’ he said quietly, and he stole a look over his shoulder before reaching under his tunic and bringing out a leather purse. ‘This could make our fortune. Will said it was Andrew’s share from our ambush yesterday, but he wanted to steal it. I managed to keep it last night…now I don’t know what to do with it.’

Annie eyed him doubtfully. Rob had been kind to her when she’d needed help, but that didn’t mean she was keen to
marry
him. God! The idea he’d take her away to an uncertain life elsewhere was ridiculous. Andrew maybe, but not Rob. No: she couldn’t go with him.

Interesting box, though. She opened it and saw the glass bottle. She stared, wondering what it was.

There were few things that could be worth having a box like this built around them. It was beautiful, like a…

Peering closely, she frowned. She’d seen boxes like this, though more richly decorated, in churches. Studying it, she could see fragments of gold leaf adhering to the lid, and she took the vial out and stared at the wood inside, rattling it gently. She touched the plug but didn’t pull out the stopper. Something made her stop. Her breath was a little strained, and her heart was thudding painfully as she shook her head and replaced the vial unopened in the box. If this was a holy relic, she didn’t want to touch it. It could burn her.

It was worth money, that was certain. Rob wasn’t wrong there. Someone would pay lavishly for it. And then there was the splinter inside. She had heard of relics of the lance used to stab Christ on the cross, pieces of iron from the nails which held Him, part of the trencher used in the last supper, all sorts. And then there were the pieces of the original cross on which He died…

A splinter of that would be worth a fortune. Plenty there to allow a man to marry. She licked her lips, and grinned to herself. After all, the man who was in love with her would make a good husband.

Baldwin and Simon found a mount for Jonathan and hired horses out to the scene. There was an old woodman there with a good white-and-tan rache, a broad-chested dog with slightly pendulous jowls, but intelligent eyes in a strong face. Always fond of dogs, Baldwin made a fuss of him before turning to the body.