The Malice of Unnatural Death: (46 page)

‘Maid?’
Suddenly the twinkle in the eyes had gone, to be replaced by a serious contemplation. ‘Maid, have you been hurt? Is that blood?’

She stared at him without speaking for a moment, then shot a look at her arm. From the hand up as far as her elbow was blackened
with blood, and she frowned with mild confusion. There was a reason for it, she knew, but just now she couldn’t remember where
it had come from.

‘Have you been harmed, child? Eh?’ His tone was even more solicitous now. ‘Was it a man from round hereabouts did that? Eh? Have you been raped?’

Suddenly she could have smiled and laughed aloud. ‘Raped … yes, I’ve been raped.’

‘You come down here, lass. You’ll be safe with me. I’m a watchman, I am. They call me Will, Will Skinner. Any man tries that
with you, I’ll have his ballocks in my purse! Come, now. Do you know who it was? Was it last night? Well, we’ll have to get
you straight to the sheriff, and that’s final. It’s a job for him to sort out this sort of thing. We’ll catch the bastard,
maid, don’t you worry. You give me your hand, now. That’s right. Christ alive, but you’re frozen, child. Let’s get you inside
first and warm you up as we may, eh? This way, child. This way.’

Sheriff Matthew was up at his usual hour and, as was his wont, made a circuit of the castle’s walls before returning to his
hall for his breakfast. There he found his wife already waiting, and while the first messes of men at arms entered and took
their places he sat, hands on the table, watching them.

There was a strangely muted atmosphere about the hall. Usually this meal was one of the loudest, with men bellowing at each
other and demanding more bread or ale. It was the beginning of their working day, and the servants tended to eat and drink
their fill, putting off the moment when they must get on with their duties – but not today. Today there was a quiet, reflective
feeling about the place.

It was her. The mad one. Or perhaps the friend she’d killed: Sarra. They were all feeling it. Such a shame to lose a pair
of girls like them – but it couldn’t be helped. Jen was plainly lunatic and Sarra had been killed by her in a frenzied attack. Not his fault, that much was certain.

‘Bread, my dear?’ he asked, offering Lady Alice a slice before taking his own from the panter.

She looked at him, startled, and he thought to himself that she reminded him of a hart in the forest when it first heard
the huntsman’s horn. Wide eyes, elfin features … God, she was lovely.

He smiled at her, but the reciprocating easing of her face was slow and only a pale reflection of his own. ‘Are you well,
my dear?’

‘Husband, I have to ask you – did you ever take that girl to your bed?’

He gasped at the injustice that was done to him, his knife falling from his hand to clatter on the pewter dish. ‘You ask me
that?’

‘She was so twisted with her rage, there must be some cause for it. And she claims that you promised her … that you would
divorce me.’

‘If I had done that, the girl would scarcely need to kill you as she tried yesterday, would she?’ he asked reasonably. ‘And
in any case, if she were to murder you, I doubt there would be a vicar in the whole of the country who would consider joining
us in marriage! Can’t you see that everything she suggests is mad? She is clearly out of her senses. There is no logic to
anything she says. Alice, my love, you must ignore everything she has said.’

‘I cannot but remember her face. It returned to me in my dreams! Oh, Matthew, I feel so scared. While she is free, she could
appear in front of me at any time in the street.’

‘You will be safe, my love. Do not fear her. We will catch her. And until we do, you will have the best guards from all my
men here.’

‘I am scared.’

‘Well, you will have to remain here in the castle. That is all.’ He sipped from his mazer – a good red wine – and then casually
asked the question that had been uppermost in his
own mind. ‘By the way – what were you and your maid doing down that street yesterday?’

Alice licked her lips. ‘I wished to speak to the man in the house there.’

‘The necromancer?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought I told you to avoid him, Alice.’

‘I wanted to ask about our future. I was worried, Matthew.’

‘He is dangerous,’ the sheriff stated in a low voice, leaning towards her. ‘In ways you cannot appreciate. Please, as you
love me, do not visit him again. Or any other magicians.’

‘He is harmless, though.’

‘He may be so personally, but his craft makes him dangerous. Believe me, he and his type will only get us into trouble.’

And that, he reflected with some sadness as he toyed with his drink, was the understatement of the century. Suddenly his appetite
was gone and he pushed his plate away, petulantly refusing any more and glaring at his silent household. He wanted to shout
at them to be calm and enjoy their meal more, but he daren’t.

Ivo had no idea what he was about. The man stood a long while, considering the place, especially, apparently, the door itself. It was a firm enough barrier, made of good elm boards that had been nailed to two cross-pieces, the nail heads all on display. Suddenly he spun and faced him.

‘Master watchman, there is a man inside that house who is plotting the murder of the king and his advisers. You have a duty
to arrest him.’

‘What?
Me? No, you have to tell the sheriff if there’s someone dangerous in there. He’s the man would have to look at writs and stuff. It’s not my place to knock the doors down,’ Ivo said. He wished he was back at home in his bed in the eaves. His job was watching
over his mother while she haggled over the cost of some trinket from a thief, not risking his life in an attack on a sorcerer.

‘Do you say so? Perhaps that would be adequate in normal times, but today we must hurry. There is no time to wait.’

‘Let’s get some help from the sheriff first. What’s the hurry?’

‘There is no time. The king’s life is in danger.’

He would have argued more, but at that moment he felt the little knife under his left shoulder blade. ‘Hey – you’ll have a
cut in my jack.’

‘I’ll cut more than your jack if you don’t hurry and knock on the fuckin’ door.’

Ivo hesitated, but then, as the knife dug deeper and he could feel his flesh opening, he walked forward and banged on the
door.

There was the sound of feet hurrying, and then a shutter slid down in its runners. ‘Who are you, and what do you want?’

‘Open this door in the name of the king!’

Ivo heard the roar behind him, and turned to glance at the man. He seemed to have grown, and now his face displayed his anger
for all to see. Suddenly he shoved Ivo from him, snatching at his heavy staff as he did so and gripped the latch. The door
remained barred. He lifted the staff and used it to smash at the door, over by the hinges. He swung the staff again and again,
the staff crashing hard into the timbers
and sending clouds of dust rising. There was a creak and a crack, and the door began to move. Then, after yet another thunderous
assault, the topmost board gave way. It remained in the door, pushed back a good two inches, but a final blow broke it away,
and the next plank was taken. Once that too had fallen, the man reached in and pulled the bolts open, then hurtled inside.

Michael was at the far end of the screens passage gripping a sword and a knife, and now he bellowed his defiance and flew
at them.

Ivo would have fled, but the man with him knew nothing about running. He waited, then used the staff in a quarter-staff grip,
knocking the sword away, and coming back to thrust with it at Michael’s face. It connected, striking the man’s nose, mashing
the bone and slipping down to hit his mouth, striking all the front teeth from his jaw and carving a great gash in his upper
lip and chin.

Screaming incoherently with pain, Michael clapped his hands over his mouth and fell to his knees.

‘Where is he? Here in the house? Where, man?’

He grabbed Michael’s shoulder and pulled him up, holding the knife to his chin and letting the older man see his eyes. ‘You
may make the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t want to kill you – but look in my eyes, master. You’ll see that would be a foolish
mistake. If you don’t tell me, I’ll kill you as easily as I would squash a beetle. Now:
where is he?
’

Michael drew his hands away from his mouth and spat on the floor. There was a step behind him, and Ivo saw a woman appear
from a doorway. She saw her master and shrieked, high and terrified. Michael seemed to take strength from her, and held his
chin up defiantly.

‘Don’t kill him,’ Ivo said quickly. ‘He’s not …’

But
the man had no intention of killing him. Not yet. He took Michael’s hand and put it flat on the wall, and then set the little
knife over his index finger. Michael made to snatch his hand away, but before he could, the knife pressed down, hard, and
there was a little crunching sound. Held by a tendon, the finger flapped and jerked as Michael pulled his hand free, a muffled
scream bursting from him because he was too shocked to even open his mouth properly.

‘You want to lose another? My friend James lost two, didn’t he? But I expect you think you’re stronger, eh?’

Michael was shaking his head, and now he spoke, ‘No, no, please, no more …’

‘You showed no pity to my friend, did you?’

As Michael tried to fight, his hand was taken again. A snatch and a tug, and the finger flew off. Ivo could not help but watch
it as it bounced on a wall, to come to rest on the ground near the servant’s feet. She rolled her eyes skywards and slowly
collapsed. When Ivo looked back, Michael was pulling his hand away. There was a short punch from a fist, and Michael’s head
snapped back. He began to fall, but his hand was held up again, rested on the wall again, and the little knife pressed down
once more. There was a ‘click’ this time as the blade passed through the finger and struck the stone.

Michael’s body tensed with the pain and horror. He watched as his finger, still twitching, was lifted before him. The man
tapped it against his mouth as though tempting him to eat it, and then at last Michael spewed, retching violently.

‘Where is he, Michael?’

‘In the back. The barn. He’s there.’

Wasting no more time on more words, the man took the staff and ran along the passage, then out to the garden
beyond. Ivo gathered his thoughts and followed him.

The garden was a small affair, with four little vegetable patches set apart with decorative woven hurdles to raise them. Farther
beyond was an orchard. Nearer, though, stood a small thatched barn. The man ran to it, grabbing the door and throwing it wide. With his staff held high, he entered, and then Ivo heard him curse viciously and long.

‘He’s not fucking
here
! We missed him!’

Jen walked with her hood over her head all the way up the little lanes and streets to the castle’s main gate. She was wearing
a thick, rather smelly old cloak of Will’s, and with her head under the hood she was unrecognisable, she felt sure. Will spoke
a little as they walked, all inconsequential stuff.

‘I had a little girl. She’d have been quite like you by now, I suppose. About your age, too. Her name was Joan. Lovely thing,
she was.’

Jen said nothing, but her silence seemed not to offend him. Rather, he appeared to like it. She did not realise that his friend
at the bishop’s palace gate had asked him to look in the loft for her. There was no need to mention her ordeal of last night
he reasoned.

‘She was always into things. That was why I looked in the hayloft just now, you see. Joan once climbed into a loft like that
one, and the door slipped when she was inside, and if my neighbour hadn’t heard her shouting, she might have been left up
there until the next need for hay. So, when I saw that the door on that loft was shut when usually it’s left open, I just
thought, maybe some little girl has fallen inside. But there was no need to worry about that, was there?’

They were passing the ruins of an old house, and Jen
heard him sigh and sniff a little. ‘There. That was where she died. Her and her brother and sister. We had a fire one night. Everyone said it was an accident … You never stop loving them, you know. Your own children. Never stop loving and missing
them, when they die. Doesn’t seem natural, your children dying before you. No. Not at all.’

She had nothing to say, but as they carried on up the alleyway, she squeezed his upper arm. He patted her hand. ‘There, it
was a long time ago now. Who knows but that they would have died in the famine, anyway? So many other little ones did. Do
you remember that? Of course you do. You’d have been eight or nine by then.’

He started talking again, about unimportant, irrelevant little things that he obviously felt wouldn’t upset her too much,
as they made their way along quieter lanes towards the castle, and once there she heard her helper explain coyly to the guard
why he was bringing the young maid to see the sheriff, and where could they wait for him?

She thrilled within to hear the guard answer immediately, telling them to wait outside the hall, and he’d have the steward
come to find them when the sheriff was ready. Already excited to be back inside the castle’s court, she found herself growing
faint with expectation as they entered the hall’s little screens passage.

‘Maid, you’re coming over all weak, aren’t you? Look. There’s a bench here. Be you seated, and the sheriff will be here shortly. You’ll be all right, maid. Don’t you worry. Are you sure you don’t want a physician to see you? No? Well, you be seated there,
and we’ll have the sheriff and the coroner come look at you. You’ll soon have satisfaction.’

It was a long wait, though, with men coming and going, some casting interested glances at the woman who remained
still, covered only with a blanket that her protector had given her, and the hood of her cowl. She shivered periodically,
although if asked she could not have said whether it was because of the cold, her trepidation, or simple excitement.