Unhallowed Ground (21 page)

I was not optimistic that I could find the felons who had done this murder. Had they taken goods from the chapman’s cart I might seek in villages nearby for men who had wares to sell, or whose wives wore new buttons upon their cotehardies or bragged of ivory combs. But if the villains did take goods from the cart, they left much behind. Why so? Unless some men boasted of this attack, I would have no clue which might lead to the assailant.

Even the horse and cart might be carried away to some town and sold. The beast would fetch ten shillings, perhaps twelve, and the cart another eight or ten shillings, for it was well made and sturdy. Whoever murdered the chapman had left here in the woods goods to the value of as much as two pounds. Did the chapman cry out loudly as he was attacked, so as to frighten the felons away? Kellet had heard no such screams, but I could think of no other reason thieves might leave such loot here in the forest.

“Whose goods are these now?” Kellet asked.

“Unless we can discover some heir to the dead man, they become Lord Gilbert’s possession, being found upon his land.”

“Oh, aye. There is much wealth here. I had thought some might be sold to help the poor through the winter to come.”

“Lord Gilbert is not a greedy man … well, no more so than most of his station. Some of the buttons and buckles of the meaner sort he will give to his grooms and valets, but there may be some he will allow to be sold. I will speak to him about it.”

I replaced the waxed cloth atop the cart, then led the horse through the wood to the road. Here I halted to again study the dust of the road to see if it might tell me more of what had happened here. Many men had walked this way since the last rain, and horses also. It was impossible to tell which of the tracks might have been made by men who had slain the chapman.

We walked to St Andrew’s Chapel, where Kellet left me to set about his duty to bury the chapman in the hallowed ground of the churchyard. I led the horse and cart through the town and under the Bampton Castle portcullis to the marshalsea, where I told a page to unharness and care for the beast, but to leave the cart where it stood. I then sought John Chamberlain and requested of him an audience with Lord Gilbert. I awaited John’s return in the hall, but was not long abandoned. John returned with announcement that Lord Gilbert was at leisure and would see me in the solar.

That chamber, smaller and more easily warmed than the hall, was Lord Gilbert’s choice when the weather turned cool and damp. There had been no rain for a fortnight, and the day was mild, but a fire blazed upon the hearth when I was ushered into the solar. A great lord cares little for use of firewood, as he will always have supply. And, in truth, the warmth was pleasing. If I had such resources to hand I would this day have a blaze in all of the hearths in Galen House. Mild it was, but even a mild day in October may be improved with a fire upon the hearth.

“Hugh, what news?” Lord Gilbert said, looking up from a ledger. Lord Gilbert is a bearded, square-faced man, ruddy of cheek and accustomed to squinting into the sun from atop a horse. Unlike most lords he desires to keep abreast of financial dealings within his lands. Each year I prepare an account for his steward, Geoffrey Thirwall, who resides at Pembroke. Thirwall visits Bampton once each year, for hallmote, when he examines my report. Most nobles allow their stewards final say in matters of business, as, in truth, does Lord Gilbert. But, unlike most, Lord Gilbert wishes to keep himself informed of profit and loss first hand, rather than rely only upon the accounts of bailiff and steward. Many great lords have lately been reduced to penury, and must sell lands to pay debts. The plague has taken many tenants, and dead men pay no rents. Lord Gilbert is not in such straitened circumstance. Perhaps his inspection of my accounts and those of his other bailiffs is reason why.

“A dead man was found this morning upon your lands,” I said. “Well, he was not dead when found, but died soon after.”

“A tenant, or villein?”

“Neither, m’lord. A chapman, I think. We found a place in the wood where the man was attacked, and a horse and cart were there.”

“We?”

“Aye. John Kellet found the man moaning and near dead under the porch roof of St Andrew’s Chapel. I have brought horse and cart to the castle. Neither I nor Kellet recognize the dead man, nor did Hubert Shillside or any man of his coroner’s jury. If no heirs can be discovered the goods in his cart are yours, m’lord.”

“Oh, aye… just so. What is there?”

“Two chests of combs, buckles, buttons, pins, and such like, and another of woolen cloth of the middling sort.”

“The dead man is a traveling merchant, then,” said Lord Gilbert.

“Aye. ’Tis why he is unknown in Bampton. Hubert Shillside sells much the same stuff. The man has probably passed this way before, perhaps traveling from Cote to Alvescot or some such place, and this may be why he sought St Andrew’s Chapel when men set upon him.”

“If thieves,” Lord Gilbert wondered aloud, “why did they not make off with his goods?”

“Before he died he looked at me and said, ‘They didn’t get my coin.’ Poor men might find it impossible to hide possession of ivory combs for their wives. Even selling such things would raise eyebrows. But coins… even a poor cotter will have some wealth. Perhaps whoso attacked the chapman thought disposing of his goods might point to them as thieves, so wished only for his purse.”

“Did you find it?”

“Nay. He had no purse fixed to his belt, nor was there one in the cart or the forest, unless it is well hid.”

“Then why, I wonder, did he say the fellows had not got his coin?”

“This puzzles me as well. Perhaps the purse was in his cart, and he was too knocked about to know that the thieves made off with it.”

“Aye,” Lord Gilbert agreed. “Let us have a look at the cart, and see what is there.”

“John Kellet has asked, if the chapman cannot be named, and no heir found, some of the goods found in the cart might be sold and the profit dispensed to the poor, to help them through the winter to come.”

Lord Gilbert is not an unjust man, but the thought of surviving a winter, or possibly not, does not enter his mind, nor do any nobles give the season much thought other than to make ready a Christmas feast. That many folk might see winter as a threat to their lives and the survival of their children was an unfamiliar thought to my employer.

“Oh, well, let us see what is there and I will consider the matter.”

Most great lords need an extra horse or two, even if the beast be of the meaner sort. Lord Gilbert ordered the chapman’s horse placed in an empty stall, and after inspecting the contents of the cart, commanded two grooms to take the goods to John Chamberlain’s office, where he might hold them secure while I sought for some heir to the unidentified chapman. The empty cart was placed aside the castle curtain wall, behind the marshalsea, there to await disposition.

My stomach told me ’twas past time for my dinner, and as I departed the castle gatehouse the noon Angelus Bell rang from St Beornwald’s Church tower to confirm the time. Kate had prepared a roast of mutton, which I devoured manfully, though such flesh is not my favorite. I have never told this to Kate, as I dislike disappointing her. So I consumed my mutton and awaited another day and a dinner more to my pleasure.

After dinner, of which a sizeable portion remained for my supper, I decided to revisit the clearing in the forest where John Kellet and I found the cart, then travel east to Aston and Cote. Perhaps the chapman did business in the villages and some there would know of him, or perhaps his murderers lived there and might be found out.

The path to the forest took me past St Andrew’s Chapel, and as I approached the lych gate I saw the curate and another man leave the porch, the dead chapman between them upon the pallet. In a far corner of the churchyard was a mound of earth where a grave lay open to receive its unidentified tenant. I turned from the road, passed through the rotting lych gate, and became a mourner at the burial.

Kellet lifted his eyes from his task when I approached and this caused him to stumble as a toe caught some uneven turf. He tried to regain his balance while maintaining a grip on his end of the pallet, but was unable to do either. Kellet’s gaunt frame seems hardly robust enough to keep himself upright, much less carry a burden, and the chapman was a well-fed man.

Kellet had provided no shroud for the corpse. The priest gives away so much of his living that he probably had no coin with which to purchase a length of black linen. So when he dropped his end of the pallet the chapman rolled uncovered to the sod, face down.

I hastened to help Kellet to his feet, and together with his assistant we lifted the corpse back upon the pallet. But when the chapman’s face was raised from the grass I saw there a thing which arrested my attention and caused his dying words to return to my mind. A small coin lay upon the turf where a moment before the corpse had lain face down.

When the dead man was again upon his pallet I searched in the grass and retrieved the coin. It was worn and corroded, and looked like no coin I had before seen. It was of tarnished silver, smaller than a penny, very near the size of a farthing.

Kellet and his assistant watched as I inspected the coin. The priest finally spoke. “How did that come to be here in the churchyard?”

“It fell from the dead man’s lips when he was turned onto the grass,” I replied.

“Is that what he meant when he said the felons had not got his coin? He had hid it in his mouth?”

“Perhaps.”

“’Tis an odd thing,” Kellet said.

“Aye. Words are inscribed upon it, and the profile of a king, but they are so worn I cannot make them out.”

“Why would men do murder for a small silver coin?” the priest asked.

I shrugged and said, “That is the service Lord Gilbert requires of me: to find who would do such a thing on his lands, and why.”