The Sticklepath Strangler (2001) (18 page)

‘Quite so,’ the Coroner said. ‘But you attempted to keep the murder and the cannibalism from the King’s Coroner. That will mean a significant fine, Reeve. A very
significant fine.’

Alexander hung his head as the Coroner spoke at length about the importance of all sudden deaths being reported. ‘However,’ he finished, ‘I can understand that you might be
reluctant to bruit news of this kind abroad. For that reason I won’t impose a fine right now. I shall have to think about it and consider the level to be paid.’

‘Thank you, my Lord Coroner,’ Alexander said. ‘I didn’t do it to defraud the King, only to prevent further misery to a good, hard-working man.’

‘It wasn’t your choice to make!’ the Coroner snapped. ‘Still, that’s all I shall say for now. You can leave us.’

‘Just one more thing before you go,’ Baldwin said. ‘When did Aline disappear?’

‘I believe it was close to the feast day of Saint Bartholomew.’

‘Oh, late in the year, then. After harvest.’

Alexander nodded, but as Baldwin leaned forward and tilted his head to one side like an expectant hound, he had a premonition that the knight had learned more than Alexander wanted him to.

‘The length of time between the deaths of Aline and Denise shows that they couldn’t have been killed by some traveller. You say this Denise died during the famine? That was the
eighth year of the King’s reign, while this poor child died four years ago – that is, the eleventh year of his reign. Two and a half years apart, Reeve. This was not done by a
traveller. The murderer lives
here
. And he may still be alive!’

Alexander de Belston reached his house in a towering rage. It was ridiculous that he should have been made to feel guilty. It was the Coroner pandering to his own vanity,
craven arse that he was! And to make himself feel important he was going to fine Alexander.

He kicked the door shut and strode through to his hall. At his table, he saw his maid Cecilia bending over a visitor, and stopped dead when he saw that it was Drogo le Criur.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

The leader of the Foresters leaned back in Alexander’s own chair and put his boot on Alexander’s table, all the while holding the Reeve’s gaze. ‘I just wanted to know if
you were all right, Alex. We wouldn’t want to learn you’d confessed to something silly and implicated other people.’

‘Oh, wouldn’t we?’ Alexander sneered, but as he spoke he was aware of someone behind him. He made to turn his head, but before he could, he felt the prick of a knife at his
neck.

‘It’s all right, Peter,’ Drogo said. ‘There’s no need to hurt him. Not yet.’

Alexander’s heart was thudding painfully like a drum being beaten too hard. ‘What do you want?’ He walked a little unsteadily to a bench against a wall, content in the
knowledge that nobody could stand behind him. ‘I’ve done nothing to make you distrust me.’

‘Nope,’ Drogo said. ‘And nor shall you, Alex, old friend, because if I’m accused, I’ll make sure that you get strung up with me.’

Cecilia stood nervously at Drogo’s side with a tray of bread and wine. The Forester appeared to notice her for the first time, and reached out to take a pot and a hunk of bread, which he
dipped into the wine, sucking it. ‘This is good wine, Alex. You do yourself very well, don’t you? No, we only wanted to talk to you and make sure that you weren’t considering
chopping any of us in to save your own neck.’

‘I hadn’t even thought of it,’ Alexander said, motioning his servant over. He took a pot from her and waved her from the room. ‘I have other problems. This Coroner will
want someone to be the guilty party. He’ll not leave until he thinks he’s got the murderer.’

‘Like who?’

‘I don’t want to see any man from here hanged. It would only mean a feud between one family and another. You’ve seen that as often as I have. A juror accuses a man, and that
fellow’s family try to avenge him as soon as his body’s stopped dancing on the rope. I don’t want that. A blood feud would only cause more trouble.’

‘Aye. True enough.’ Drogo spat onto the rushes. ‘We need to find someone we can blame. The Coroner won’t be satisfied without a felon.’

‘No, he’ll want someone.’

‘Well, don’t think of offering him me or my men, because if you do—’

‘Before you start threatening me, remember we stand together, Drogo.’

‘And don’t
you
forget,’ said Drogo, ‘that if I’m caught, I’ll know who’s responsible, and I’ll see you die before me, Reeve!’

He was leaning forward now, and in his eyes Alexander saw a terrible determination. Drogo was close to the end of his tether. He looked like a man who was staring over a precipice into Hell.

Simon left the inn to go and relieve himself behind a tree. As he peed, he considered all he had seen that morning, and had to confess to himself that he had shown a complete
lack of spirit. At the first sight of a corpse, he had scuttled to Jeanne’s side.

Not that he was ashamed of his queasiness in the presence of sudden death – especially when the body had been left to putrefy. The sight of a worm- and maggot-infested corpse was enough to
turn anyone’s stomach.

With that merry thought, he returned to the inn. The room was gradually emptying as people left, some gazing curiously at the men in the corner, but most looking away. Adam Thorne and Vincent
were talking earnestly to William the Taverner, who ducked his head and left them as soon as he saw Simon.

The Coroner’s foul temper had returned as soon as Alexander had left, and now he was trying to assess how much to fine the Reeve and the vill for their gross irresponsibility in evading
their legal duties.

Jeanne was still in her seat. ‘Like you I have no interest in seeking answers to questions which were posed so many years ago,’ she said when Simon drew near. ‘I feel great
sympathy for the girl, but that is all. May her soul rest peacefully.’

Simon would have prefered to remain drinking wine with her, but when Baldwin and the Coroner walked from the room, he trailed behind them.

‘It’s ridiculous, man like him, playing with the law,’ the Coroner fumed. ‘I have children too, but that doesn’t mean I ’d flout my responsibilities.
God’s blood, but I ’d like to have him gaoled for his stupidity!’

‘Do you wish to arrest him now?’ Baldwin enquired mildly, patting Aylmer’s head.

‘You know I don’t! It’s just that the man was intolerably smug and that grates on my nerves. Cretinous idiot! As though he could have got away with it.’

‘He almost did,’ Simon pointed out. ‘If that fellow Houndestail hadn’t given the game away, we’d have been none the wiser. Obviously Alexander didn’t mean
anyone to hear that this was a case of cannibalism.’

Baldwin said, ‘That I find quite curious. Almost as odd as the two girls’ deaths.’

‘Yes,’ the Coroner said. ‘But it’s plain that there’s one man who has committed two murders and we have to find him if we can.’

‘Only a madman could eat a child,’ Simon stated with conviction.

‘Certainly someone driven to extreme measures,’ Baldwin said.

They were in the roadway, and in all directions the peasants could be seen heading back towards their fields. Felicia and Gunilda were at the top of the road near the mill; Joan was running
past, chased by a giggling Emma. A steady ringing told that the farriers were back at work, and the low grumbling spoke of the mill’s wheel turning. The place was returning to normal.

One group were apparently not returning to work. Ahead, leaning against the wall of a house, were Adam and Vincent. As the two girls rushed past him, Vincent caught hold of Emma, making her
scream with delight as he tickled her, making her torn apron fly up in the air as he threw her up once, twice, thrice, and then set her down again and watched her pelt off after Joan once more.

When he saw the men approach, Vin’s face turned suddenly grim. At his side, leaning against the Reeve’s house and evidently unbothered by their appearance, was Adam, who greeted
them, ‘Inquest all done, then?’

‘Your name is Adam?’ Baldwin responded.

‘Adam Thorne, master. Yes. This is my friend Vin.’

‘Were you both Foresters when the children were killed?’

‘Yes I was. Although Vin was only a lad then. I can remember Peter’s girl being found, and then I can remember Swet’s concern when his own girl disappeared. It was a terrible
time.’

‘Peter atte Moor was the father of the girl named Denise?’

‘Yes. Swet’s maid was third to disappear.’

Simon said sharply, ‘Third? We have only been told of two.’

‘Ah! You should speak to the Reeve again, master. Perhaps he forgot little Mary. Her parents died a while ago, so it wouldn’t be surprising, I suppose.’

Baldwin noted that. Another dead child. ‘How old was she?’

‘Same as the others, about ten or so, I think.’

‘Were there any travellers who were in the vill prior to each of these girls going missing?’ the Coroner demanded.

Adam shook his head. ‘No, there were few travellers then. Not enough food to go round.’

Vin nodded to each of Adam’s responses. He hated the interrogation, but he daren’t leave while they were talking, in case Adam gave something away. It was bad enough that Adam
disliked Vin and might make some sly remark behind his back, about Vin always hating girls or something, but worse was the fact that Adam treated him as though he was soft in the head, the
bastard.

‘Do you have any idea who could have wanted to kill these children?’ Coroner Roger asked.

Adam threw a sideways look at Vin, and there was a slight smile on his face as he opened his mouth.

Vin gabbled his words: ‘You already know!’

Baldwin blinked with surprise. ‘We do?’

‘It was a vampire, that’s what it was! A
sanguisuga
!’

Simon blenched, and the Coroner made a quick movement of his hand to ward off evil, but while Adam laughed, Baldwin merely looked intrigued.

‘Vampire? How did you know we spoke of such things?’

‘They’ve been talking to William Taverner,’ Simon said. ‘He must have overheard us last night.’

‘Yes. And Vin likes to imagine things like that,’ Adam said dismissively. ‘Spends half his time daydreaming. There’s no vampires here in Sticklepath.’

‘But there are rapists,’ Baldwin said. ‘What of this Samson?’

‘Rumours, nothing more,’ Adam said comfortably. ‘If I had any proof, I ’d kill him myself. He’s a wife-beater, for sure, but a murderer? No. I expect the murderer
was someone who hated the vill.’

As he spoke, Baldwin, who was watching him closely, saw a brief concentration in his expression. It was as though he had realised someone might have had a motive after all. ‘Such as
whom?’ he asked.

‘I was only thinking that Ivo Bel has always hated this place, mainly because he can’t stand Thomas Garde, and he was here, I think, when Denise and Aline died. But again,
there’s no proof.’

‘Where were you when the girls were killed?’ Baldwin said pointedly.

‘Me?’ Adam shrugged. ‘When Denise died, I was with Peter, her father. We were in South Zeal at the tavern, drinking with Drogo.’

‘What of you?’ Baldwin said, turning to Vincent.

‘I was on the moor. I lived up near Ivy Tor Water, with my father. My mother died when I was young and my father was a miner, a friend of Drogo’s, and when Denise died I was there
with my father.’

‘And he can confirm that?’

‘No. He died years ago. Anyway, when Aline disappeared I was a fully-fledged Forester. I was with Drogo that night. I remember it clearly.’

‘You have a good memory,’ Baldwin said drily. ‘What of this third girl? What happened to her?’

‘Mary was an orphan. No one knew when she disappeared. I expect I was on the moors.’

‘So you have no alibi for the deaths, apart from Aline’s?’

‘I . . .’ Vin’s face reflected his confusion.

‘Don’t be hard on the boy,’ said Adam.

‘It’s a long time ago,’ Vin said, trying to remember, but his mind kept returning to that other night, when the Purveyor had been killed.

‘Very well,’ said Coroner Roger. ‘In the meantime, do you have any other suspicions as to who might have killed the children?’

There was a long silence, then Adam spoke.

‘That’s for you to find out, Coroner, isn’t it?’ he said with a cold smile.

The three left Adam and Vin a short time later, walking slowly on up the main roadway.

‘Vampires, my arse!’ Coroner Roger said.

‘The wall between the hall and the tavernkeeper’s room is thin,’ Baldwin said, ‘and I’ve never known an innkeeper yet who could keep his mouth shut.’

‘Yes,’ Simon said, ‘that must be it.’

‘Hey! That’s Miles Houndestail, isn’t it?’ Coroner Roger said, peering ahead intently.

‘Looks like him,’ Simon said.

‘I want to talk to him.’

‘Do you think he can tell you any more?’ Baldwin asked doubtfully.

‘As you suggested, I want to send someone to find out whether there was ever news of this Purveyor. That’s another ruddy missing person on our hands!’

Simon decided to leave them to their investigation. For his part, the murders were too long past to interest him; he couldn’t believe that they would discover the murderer, and after the
excitement of the tournament he wanted rest. What’s more, he found the mention of vampires repellent. He knew such creatures existed, for men were daily warned of demons by priests, but to
hear that a
sanguisuga
might actually be responsible for the deaths here was unnerving.

He strolled over to the spring at the foot of the sticklepath. Here, a narrow way led along the valley towards Belstone, and he idly walked down it, whistling tunelessly.

The sun was already high overhead and Simon could feel the heat seeping into him. In the bright sunshine it was hard to imagine the tale which Alexander had told of torrential rains and famine,
yet Simon clearly recalled those terrible years. Down here, he thought, if the river were to flood, it would wash all along this valley, and then thunder into the vill and fields beyond.

He had reached the end of the flat section, where the ground became boggy and marshy. After this he remembered the path curled upwards, following the track of a spring, climbing away from the
river, and then heading as straight as a ruler for Belstone. Rather than take that route, he sat on a convenient boulder and selected a smooth, flat stone, sending it spinning on the water. The
river here was very fast and narrow, and his stone bounced once, then clattered onto the rock wall on the opposite bank.