The Tolls of Death: (Knights Templar 17) (18 page)

He was an odd fellow, this young priest. When he’d asked her if she’d like to cook for him, she assumed he was after her body, thinking she was a typical desperate woman who would be prepared to turn harlot to satisfy his whims. Well, at the time she wasn’t! She was a young mother, but her man was happy to support her, so he said, and the last thing she needed was a randy vicar trying to get into her skirts. No, thank
you
! But her man told her not to be daft, the priest was helping them, and she ought to go cook for him.

And so she did. But more recently, when she learned that her lover, the father of her child, had lost interest in her and their boy, she suddenly had no means of supporting herself, and then of course she was glad of her place here in the priest’s house. It didn’t matter if he’d wanted to bed her then – she’d have accepted him as she would accept any man who might protect her. He gave her food and shelter – who was she to refuse his advances if he needed something in return? No mother could turn her nose up at food and a warm bed for herself and her child.

But early on it became obvious that her lover had been right: Father Adam showed no interest in her. He knew of her lover, and was content to let her come and go as she wanted. Perfect. Yes, and her man could visit, too, out in her room, so they were all happy.

She’d never forget that first day. Adam had offered her a job in his home, but there was no unsubtle hint about his virility or her beauty such as she had anticipated. Instead, on her first night, he had directed her to the little haybarn beside his house.

‘Bring hay from there and we’ll make you a palliasse.’

As good as his word, when she brought in an armful of hay, he had already put a blanket on the floor. He spread her hay on it, then draped a second blanket on top. He himself was to sleep in his chamber, a tiny room constructed high in the roof.

Once, much later, when her lover had grown bored with her and moved to his next woman, she had watched Father Adam climb the ladder to his own bed, and then, from gratitude but also with some curiosity and in acknowledgement of her debt to him, she followed him. When she reached the top, she began to untie the thongs that held her thin dress about her, but he put a hand up and shook his head.

‘There’s no need,’ he said softly. ‘You may return to your own bed.’

And, vaguely confused, she had done so. She huddled in her cold bed with a strange sense of discomfort. No man had ever rejected her before, and the experience of first her lover and now this priest refusing her was not pleasant. She found herself touching her arms, feeling her waist, cupping her breasts, reassuring herself that there was nothing wrong with her. No, all seemed well. And if that lad yesterday was anything to go by, men could still fancy her. He, Ivo, had sat at the table and watched her as she went about her cleaning and tidying, at last offering to help when she had to fill the bucket from the well. As she filled it and he bent to pick it up, his hand touched her breast, then her thigh, and he grinned at her when she drew away, slapping at his hand. He had no shame, that much was certain. But he had a nice smile.

Her life at Father Adam’s house had been smooth and easy, and it was only now, with the death of Athelina, that there
was an undercurrent. Julia had felt it as she entered the room yesterday with those two strangers here, before she’d even heard of Athelina’s death. The tall knight, he’d been suspicious. She’d seen it in his eyes as soon as he caught sight of her. Thought she was some mare with an itch in her tail for a priest. Well, he could think all he wanted, but as far as Julia was concerned, at last she’d found some peace and she wasn’t going to give it up just because some stranger got the wrong idea. Although she wouldn’t want him to think badly of Adam. That wouldn’t be fair. No reason for the priest to suffer just because he’d been kind to her.

Poor Athelina. Adam was pained by her death, she saw. It wasn’t right to kill her poor sons – she shouldn’t have done that. Christ, the thought of killing her own little Ned … it was just unthinkable, a nightmare. No, she loved her little boy. Didn’t matter that his father was a shit and bastard, who had refused to marry her. She’d lost her reputation already, sleeping with a man who wasn’t yet her husband and then, when she began to show the pregnancy, she lost her home too. Father John, the priest at Temple where she used to live, had told her that there was no place in his flock for a fornicator, and said she should leave – go to the parish where her child’s father lived. So here she’d come, and Adam had taken her in.

Athelina had asked for no help from him. She had her house already anyway, somewhere to put her head. But she was widowed, and her lover had abandoned her. Perhaps that was why she felt so bad. She’d got used to having a man in her life, and when he left, that was that so far as Athelina knew. There was nothing now but the steady, unrelenting demands of motherhood.

Julia could all too easily understand that desperation, that loneliness. She had to – it was she, after all, who had stolen Athelina’s man from her; it was she who had enjoyed his money for that little while. Yet now, that too had dried up. It was fortunate
that Adam seemed to like having her in his house to keep it clean and warm.

Yes, Julia would have liked to comfort poor Father Adam, but she knew, after that last time, that any approach by her would be misconstrued. Best to leave well alone.

Anyway, why bother the priest when there was a happy-go-lucky ostler at a loose end? Ivo was a good name, she decided, and she wondered idly what his surname was.

Letitia found the mill operating slowly; the wheel and the stones graunching together, making a steady, rhythmic din that she could only assume emanated straight from Hell. It took the fourth bellow of
‘Serlo!’
to attract his attention, and at last he peered down at her from a trapdoor in the ceiling, his face smeared with flour, his hair prematurely grey from the fine dust that permeated the entire building.

‘What?’

She coughed from the mist that seemed to clog her nostrils and throat. ‘Come down here! I can’t bellow at you all the time. Where are the boys? I’ve come to take them back to my house. You can’t look after them here.’

He disappeared for a while, then reappeared and clambered heavily down the ladder. At her insistence, they left the mill to talk, and once outside he grunted, ‘They’re fine. I’ll see to them.’

‘Don’t be a fool! You can’t keep an eye on them here. You’ll end up with them getting hurt as well.’ At least here in the open the noise was dulled to a thumping and shaking that she was sure she could feel through the soles of her feet.

‘My wife ought to be looking after them. That bladder of pus who knocked her down, he ought to pay,’ Serlo blustered. ‘He could have
killed
her! Fucking Coroners!’

‘Yes, well, fine, but what about the boys? You can’t keep them in there with you. Where are they?’

‘I left them outside so they’d be safe. Didn’t want them falling into the machine, like the silly fool of an apprentice I used to have.’

‘
Where
outside?’

‘Over near the logs.’

Letitia stared at him. ‘You mean by the leat? What if one falls in?’ In her mind she had a vision of the great paddles on the wheel beating Aumery’s head into a froth of red bubbles at the water’s surface. She fled to the leat and could only gasp in relief to see them both playing with old snail shells and nuts at the edge of the woods.

‘See?’ he said nastily. ‘I told you they’d be fine.’

‘You have no idea, do you? I’m taking them back to my house.’

‘You can’t. They’re fine. I’ll look after them.’

She peered down her nose at him once more, but it didn’t seem to have any impact. ‘I want my nephews put somewhere safe, Serlo. Let me take them to your brother’s house.’

‘I said
no
! You always look down on me, don’t you? Well, I can take care of my own sons, Letty. Leave us alone.’

‘At least let me take them to your house, then. My maid will be there to look after Muriel. They’ll be safer there.’

‘Oh yeah? That’s where their mother was nearly killed this morning, woman! You think that’s safer than here?’

If he had wanted to make a worse entrance, Coroner Jules was not sure how he could have done so.

He’d never forget turning that corner and seeing the woman curled in a ball in the middle of the roadway. She’d tightened, like a hedgehog when a dog approaches, until she was like a small knot of muscles, and then his rounsey had tried to leap over her. Mostly, he succeeded, too. Sir Jules’s horse was not trained in war, and would automatically avoid stepping on other creatures, and he shied, leaping, but as he did so, Roger’s palfrey barged into them, and the rounsey must slip sideways, catching the poor woman a glancing blow.

At first he thought it might be worse than it actually was. He had thought that one of the children might have been hurt as well, but fortunately both were safe, as their lungs testified … astonishing how much noise a brat could make. It was their mother whom he hit, though, and the sight of all the blood probably made them anxious. The scene certainly made him anxious! It was hardly the duty of the Coroner to create more bodies to investigate.

Sir Jules had only been made Coroner a short while ago, when Sir Simon of Launceston died in an accident, falling from his horse. He couldn’t wait to get back home again. Still, at least he wouldn’t have to remain here for too long. He would go and make records of the other deaths, and then head for home again, and a chance to rest awhile.

Away, he thought, from this blasted clerk.

Roger swung down from his palfrey and glanced at Sir Jules. ‘I think that this is the house.’

Julia opened the door to find a pair of men waiting.

‘Is this the house of the priest? I am the Coroner, and this is my clerk. Where is the priest, in the church?’

‘I am here, Coroner. Please come inside. You are here for poor Athelina?’

‘If that’s her name. I was called here last night and came as swiftly as I might,’ the Coroner said. ‘I am Sir Jules of Fowey. You are …?’

‘Adam Tailyour at your service. It is a sad case, Coroner. A woman tormented by widowhood and poverty, and the despair got to her.’

‘Didn’t the vill help her?’

‘The vill did all it could, yes. The castle and others gave her alms, and kept her clothed and fed. But sometimes a woman will become frenzied in her loneliness. This Athelina did so, and she killed her two boys before killing herself. A terrible tragedy.’

‘I see. Well, we should go to the place as soon as you have gathered the jury and called the First Finder and other nearest people. Please send a message to the Constable to tell him I’m here and am eager to call the inquest as soon as possible.’

As he sat, Julia saw him lick his dry lips and glance about him nervously, and she thought to herself, Aha! You aren’t eager at all, are you? You’re nearly shitting yourself at the thought of the inquest, Coroner!

Baldwin and Simon were warned by Ivo that the Coroner had arrived, and the three made their way to the yard before the church.

‘You can stay away if you like,’ Baldwin told the youth
ungraciously. He had a dislike of ghoulish interest, and he was unpleasantly aware that there would be many watching the inquest just for a sight of the bodies.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Ivo said cheerfully. ‘Might get a chance to see the girl from the priest’s house again. Anyway, there’s nothing to do up at the castle except play at dice, and I’ve already won a fair amount from the guards there. Probably best I don’t hang around alone.’

‘You’re after the priest’s maid?’ Simon asked in disbelief. ‘I doubt whether she’d risk her position there. If he learns she’s been playing with you, he’ll have her out in an instant.’

‘Why d’you reckon that? She’s not his mare,’ Ivo said confidently. ‘He’s more interested in men.’

‘You mean he is a catamite?’ Baldwin asked with surprise, and then he realised his error of the day before. The man was no womaniser.

Simon had a less understanding attitude to homosexuality and he scowled with revulsion. ‘Are you sure? I thought the child was his.’

‘No. She told me that she was made pregnant by a lover, and the priest gave her sanctuary. She cooks for him and keeps his home warm, but that’s all.’

Baldwin looked about him as they reached the church. ‘Is she here?’

Ivo swept the area with a sharp eye. ‘Nope. Maybe I’ll see if she’s at home. I’ll find you later.’

‘Arrogant puppy,’ Baldwin muttered.

‘Look,’ Simon said, all thoughts of the priest gone. ‘There’s Lady Anne. I wonder what she’s doing here?’

‘Hardly a maternal act, coming to view a pair of boys’ corpses,’ Baldwin said with disgust. She wasn’t alone, however. The whole vill seemed to have turned out.

It was not the bodies of the two poor murdered boys which tempted Lady Anne to join her husband and go to view the inquest, it was the body of Athelina.

Anne was more shocked than she had allowed her husband to know by the death of the other woman. What’s more, she thought she knew who was responsible: a lover who had discarded his mistress for a younger one.

She shivered. The weather was improving, and there were occasional gaps between the clouds, but it was still chilly, giving the place a curious atmosphere of doom. Not, Anne reflected, an unsuitable mood for an inquest of this type.