Sword of Shame (28 page)

He could not bear to have that thing pointing at him any longer. Standing, he walked around the table, looking down at it with loathing. The thing shone like a new tool, as though it was innocent of any offence. Yet he knew its nature: evil, like a weapon of the devil. It should be destroyed.

It could be destroyed. It would be destroyed! He took it up, revulsion on his face, and carried it to the door. ‘Call the smith to me!'

 

Baldwin and Simon rode into the court after questioning the miller to find the place quiet.

‘Now what has happened?' Baldwin said.

‘It's a bit grim and brooding, isn't it?' Simon said glowering about him.

This late in the day the place should have been a mess of men hurrying about finishing the last tasks before nightfall. Grooms and cooks should have been
running to their jobs, but tonight all was still, as though the place was deserted.

‘Hoi! Groom!' Simon bellowed.

There was no immediate response, but then a tousled head appeared in a doorway near the stables.

‘Come on, boy! Get over here,' Simon roared, growing irritable.

The lad was clearly upset at being called, but he trotted over to them and took their reins from them as they dropped to the floor.

‘Where is everyone?' Baldwin demanded.

‘The steward sent many to the body to protect it.'

‘Master Roger?' Baldwin snapped.

‘Yes, sir. He was dead. Murdered.'

‘How?'

‘Run through with a sword, they say, and left in the woods to rot.'

‘Which woods? Quickly, boy, where?'

He was shocked by the intensity in Baldwin's voice. ‘Up near the town, sir, north and east of Bow, so they say. A groom's been sent to the coroner already.'

Baldwin sighed. ‘So I was right, then. Where is your master?'

‘Sir William's in the smithy, sir. He's having the forge lit.'

‘Nonsense!' Baldwin muttered to himself. ‘Come, Simon. Let's stop this foolishness.'

Simon opened his mouth, and then closed it again. With a muted curse against all keepers, and especially mad ones from the wilder parts of Devon, he trailed after Baldwin into the smithy.

It was a small chamber, and not yet hot. The coals had been allowed to cool after the day's work was done, and now a small fire had been lit in the middle: tinder was glowing beneath kindling, while the smith blew carefully on it. A boy stood nearby with a bellows in
his hand, ready to begin fanning the flames and adding coals.

‘You are in time to see this foul thing destroyed!' Sir William spat.

He stood in the far corner of the smithy, in the dark. All Simon could see of him after the light outside was a gleam every so often from the sword's blade.

Baldwin eyed the fire. ‘What are you doing?'

‘My master wants the blade destroyed,' the smith said nervously, eyeing his master.

‘He will change his mind. You can both leave us,' Baldwin said flatly.

The smith looked at him, then at his master. He motioned to the boy, who scampered off, and then with a second glance at Sir William, the smith nodded and left.

Baldwin went to the forge and scattered the kindling. ‘It would achieve nothing, Sir William.'

‘My brother is dead.'

‘I am sorry about that. I feared as much.'

‘He was spitted like a boar on a spear, and left to rot in among the trees,' Sir William said softly.

‘It is not the fault of the sword, though,' Baldwin said. ‘The sword had nothing to do with it.'

‘You think so?'

Sir William strode forward and stood before Baldwin, the sword in his fist. He lifted it, and Simon automatically reached for his own hilt, only hesitating when he saw that Baldwin had not flinched.

‘See this, Sir Baldwin? It looks so fine, so pretty! But it's the sword that killed St Thomas. They say Sir William hacked at the saint's head as he lay on the ground and opened his skull, spilling his brains on the ground. I expect that's how the point got so scratched and marked, because it clashed on the stone flags of the floor.'

‘A sword is not evil. Only the man who wields it,' Baldwin said mildly.

‘Or woman, yes,' Sir William grunted, his voice almost a sob. ‘Yes, you are right. It's me.
Me
who is evil, not this! I have tainted all I have touched. I am cursed!'

‘You are guilty of murder. You have broken two of God's commandments.'

‘I know!' Sir William put his hands to his face, the sword's point almost catching in a beam overhead. ‘I could not help it, though.'

‘You may destroy this thing if you wish, but it will stop nothing. It will serve no purpose. The guilty person is the one who should pay. Not some lump of metal.'

‘I can't!'

‘There are three deaths already, including your brother.'

‘It's all because she won't go to the convent. She has seduced someone to do her bidding, and he has killed for her,' Sir William said brokenly. ‘To kill for her ambition and pride.'

‘Her?' Simon asked.

‘My wife never wished for an arranged marriage between herself and Godfrey de Curterne. So she told me that she had fallen desperately in love with me. I was a willing tool in her hands, a boy whom she had grown to know as she was introduced to Godfrey's friends. Knowing me, it was easy for her to twist my affections and make me love her.

‘And that would have been enough. But then this sword arrived back. And with it, the memory of the murder of St Thomas. My God, but it is an evil tale!'

‘Yes,' Baldwin agreed. ‘But it's not
your
tale, and it's not the sword's. You knew of the story before the sword appeared, did you not?'

‘Yes.'

‘And you were intending to go to the monastery?'

Sir William let his hands fall. ‘The guilt of killing Godfrey has been eating at me for years. I was his best, his closest, friend and I killed him with a rock. I knocked him into the water, and then held him under while he struggled, so that I may keep his woman for my own. Oh, my God!'

‘When the sword reappeared, what then?'

‘She saw her chance. She said she didn't want it in the castle, said it reminded her of the murder of St Thomas. I could never forget the thing. Nor the murders. My ancestor's and mine. And then I felt I could not remain while the sword existed. I had a duty to keep it safe. That was what she told me: it was my duty. She showed me how it would be the deepest cowardice to leave the sword behind. I should have destroyed it long ago!'

‘All this has nothing to do with the sword,' Baldwin said more harshly. ‘It's people who have killed. A man killed Godfrey, a man killed Coule, and a man killed your brother.'

‘She has her talons in another man now.'

‘Who?'

‘Until the news today…I know she had already won the heart of Roger…I had thought he would kill me. I welcomed it. The end of the guilt; the end of the memories of poor Godfrey's face…'

‘Where is she?'

‘I don't know. Perhaps in the hall.'

‘Let us seek her out, Sir William. It is time this whole matter was done.'

‘Yes. Yes, it is time.'

 

Later Baldwin recalled guessing the truth in those moments on the way to the hall, but all Simon was aware of was an emptiness in his heart. Sir William was
a broken man, his soul ravaged because of the terrible crime he had committed for this woman; killing his closest friend. His brother had been tempted by her, and now was dead because he sought to win her love. Now, apparently, a third had been polluted by her.

Deceit, treachery, and death. They had trailed her footsteps like shadows, and all who crossed her would suffer.

‘Husband! I was worried about you,' she said. She was sitting in the hall, a jug of wine at her hand, and she stood and smiled sweetly at the men.

Baldwin was in front, but he paused before crossing the room. This was to be a difficult interrogation, the more so because her husband was the man with the real jurisdiction here in his own hall.

Sir William, too, slowed as he entered. His pale features were drawn and anguished. ‘Madam, you have seen to the murder of your last man.'

‘Which man is that?' she asked, her face pale. ‘Please, husband, I know you feel unwell. I've seen it in your eyes. It is that fearful sword. Cast it down, and come and rest with me. Let me pour you some…'

‘Poison? Is that what you have there?' Sir William grated. ‘You have no wish for my companionship any longer, do you?'

She stood quietly, a brittle smile on her lips, and then poured a large measure into the mazer beside her, and drank it off in one draught. ‘No poison, husband. I have no need of such things.'

‘Everything about you is poisonous!'

She shook her head, the picture of humility and hurt pride. ‘Husband, dear, all I have ever sought is your advantage. You are mistaken if you think that I am trying to harm you. I love you.'

‘Even when you flaunted yourself before Roger? When you ordered Hob to bring the sword back here
after you gave it to him? When you asked me to murder my own best friend so I could gain you for myself?'

‘Why should I do that?' she asked sadly.

Simon leaned against the table. ‘Madam, you wanted to marry into Sir William's family because you were offended to be allied to a man without your approval. Sir Godfrey died for that familiarity. Coule had to die because you knew that once that sword was gone, your husband would take himself to the monastery and insist that you went to a nunnery too. And Roger has died because…why? He rejected your advances?'

Her face was white. ‘I have killed no one. I have no reason to want Roger dead–what reason could I have for wanting him harmed? It would be ridiculous! I made no advances to him. He kept making advances to me!'

‘Perhaps that was why Roger died, then. Because you were seen with him, and your lover could not bear to see you in his arms?'

‘That is…'

‘Enough lies, woman!' Sir William snapped. ‘You made Roger kill Coule because you wanted me gone, and now you've brought this thing back since Roger's dead. You think I didn't know? I saw it in his room, but how you had it “discovered” by Hob, I don't know!'

Baldwin suddenly felt his mouth fall wide. ‘Stand back, Sir William!' he commanded.

‘She must die!'

‘One problem with Roger's death is there are so many roads from Down St Mary. How could someone know his route?'

‘Who cares?' Sir William blustered.

‘His brother might, if his brother had travelled that way with Roger. As you did while you were both young. You alone knew his way.'

‘She did too!'

‘You think so? She was with Sir John's brother in those days, not you. And when Godfrey died and you stole his wife, you lost all contact with Sir John. You didn't go that way, did you? She never knew your brother's favourite paths to Down St Mary.'

‘Enough of this!'

‘You found the sword in Roger's room,' Baldwin repeated. ‘You killed your brother, because he had killed Coule and thwarted your plan of retirement. It was you, Sir William, not your wife!'

Sir William's face grew ferocious with rage, and he turned to his wife again. The tapestry rippled behind Baldwin, and he shot a look over his shoulder in time to see the blade appear, stepping back to give himself fighting room, drawing his own sword in one fluid movement as Denis ran at Sir William.

Sir William was bearing down on her, the sword still in his hand, lifting it to strike. As Simon watched dumbstruck, Denis swung his sword inexpertly. It was not sharp, and slammed into Sir William's upper neck, slashing a thick wedge of muscle from his skull down to his shoulder, then Denis raised the sword again and brought it down on Sir William's head, breaking open his skull.

There was a fine explosion of blood, and Baldwin heard Madam Alice scream as a spray jetted across her face.

Then Baldwin was on him, and his peacock-blue blade flashed as he lifted it and slammed the pommel hard onto Denis's head a little above his left ear. Denis gasped, and his body stiffened, just for a moment, before collapsing like a poleaxed ox, falling vertically to his knees, his haunches dropping to rest on his ankles, and then toppling slowly to his right to fall over Sir William's still-twitching legs.

 

‘I want a rider to fetch Sir Richard de Welles immediately,' Baldwin said. ‘You! Get wine and a bowl of warmed water. Hurry!'

He had resheathed his sword, and now he took charge in the room, striding across the floor to where Madam Alice sat in her chair, her face marked with a streak of crimson.

‘Madam, I am sorry for all that has happened,' Baldwin said. ‘But I was determined that your husband would confess. I had no idea that Denis was there.'

No, he had had no idea that he was there, but he should have anticipated it, though, as he told himself angrily. ‘You will wish to leave this room until the coroner's inquest. There is no need to remain in here with the corpse.'

‘I shall…shall go to my chamber,' Alice said weakly, and stood, only to slump back in her seat as though drained of all energy.

‘Where is this lady's maid?' Baldwin bellowed, and soon a pair of women were helping Alice through the door. She paused once in the doorway, her eyes going to the body on the floor, the messy puddle of blood about his broken skull, and then she coughed, or it may be she sobbed, and was led from the hall.

 

‘
CAN YOU ALL HEAR ME
?'

Baldwin winced at the dull bellow. In a confined space Sir Richard de Welles was deafening. ‘They can hear you, Sir Richard.'

‘Very well, I call you all to witness this…'

After so many years as Keeper of the King's Peace, Baldwin was perfectly used to the routine of an inquest, and his mind wandered until he was called upon to state what he had seen that afternoon when Sir William died.