while the rest of the menfolk watched, held back by a ring of steel.
When a woman screamed, it was enough. There was a general movement by all the men in that church to break free of their captors, and Ulric watched as they leaped upon the weapons hemming them
in. He saw the young men nearer Sir Charles gripping his sword with their bare hands, trying to yank it free of the knight’s grip even as their blood flowed down the fuller. Others ran
forward, only to be spitted on their enemies’ blades; a few were shot with arrows, some beaten about the head with a steel war-hammer, and when the madness was done, there was still only one
trio remaining: the older man and his two opponents.
At a nod from Sir Charles, the man with the war-hammer went to them, and with one blow from his spike, ended the man’s battles forever.
Afterwards, while the bodies of their menfolk cooled all about them, the women were forced to lie in their husbands’ blood while they were raped.
Ulric could not close his eyes all night, for fear that those tortured faces would return to haunt his dreams. And now, in the daylight, as he watched Sir Charles walk about the lane here,
gazing at the trees with the eyes of an expert tactician viewing a new ambush site, all Ulric could think of was somehow warning people about the band. Surely he could get news of the men to
someone before more died?
But he could not think how to do this. Escape was impossible, and without flying from the men, he had no hope. Already he could feel their eyes upon him. He had not helped when they killed the
villagers, but had stood back at the wall, clutching at the stones to stop himself falling. Now many of them viewed him as an enemy in their midst. They were watching him all the time in case he
tried to run.
The only man who viewed him with any fondness was Sir Charles. The knight appeared to consider him like a slightly wayward boy, to be treated with an amiable tolerance. He would not forget that
Ulric had saved his life.
But it did not help Ulric. He was sure that soon he would die. Whether at the hands of the men here, or those of a posse, it made no difference. He had no hope.
No hope at all.
Near alley at Combe Street
Baldwin and Sir Richard waited until the body was released for burial.
Glancing down, Baldwin noticed that Wolf had been distracted. The huge dog sat at the wall of the Paffard house, panting happily, while a young boy cuddled him.
It was a sight to make a man smile. In the midst of this pain and suffering, it was good to see that there were still boys who behaved as boys. Baldwin could recall when he had been young. In
those days he had spent more time with his dogs than with his family. They had been happy days.
Happier than these, certainly, he thought.
A boy was sent to the Cathedral to instruct the Fosser to dig a new grave, and to bring a cart of some sort to transport the body. The Holy Trinity was the local parish church, but the Cathedral
had an absolute monopoly on funerals, and Alice would have to be taken up to the Close.
The Coroner was relieved to be done, chatting to his clerk, but for his part, Baldwin was dissatisfied. He left Sir Richard where he was for a moment, walking over to Emma and Helewisia where
they knelt beside the girl’s body, wrapping her in a winding sheet.
‘Mistress, I should like to ask you a question.’
Emma looked up at him with suspicious eyes. ‘Why? The inquest is over, isn’t it?’
Baldwin drew her away from Helewisia. ‘Yes. I didn’t wish to embarrass you before the jury. This young woman died a vile death. The matter is less about her, than about the man who
was prepared to do this to her.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Emma bridled, immediately on her guard. This man had dark eyes that fixed on her with a curious intensity; it was alarming, as though he could see
through her foolish defences to all the secrets she held in her breast.
‘You are a clever woman. You
When a woman screamed, it was enough. There was a general movement by all the men in that church to break free of their captors, and Ulric watched as they leaped upon the weapons hemming them
in. He saw the young men nearer Sir Charles gripping his sword with their bare hands, trying to yank it free of the knight’s grip even as their blood flowed down the fuller. Others ran
forward, only to be spitted on their enemies’ blades; a few were shot with arrows, some beaten about the head with a steel war-hammer, and when the madness was done, there was still only one
trio remaining: the older man and his two opponents.
At a nod from Sir Charles, the man with the war-hammer went to them, and with one blow from his spike, ended the man’s battles forever.
Afterwards, while the bodies of their menfolk cooled all about them, the women were forced to lie in their husbands’ blood while they were raped.
Ulric could not close his eyes all night, for fear that those tortured faces would return to haunt his dreams. And now, in the daylight, as he watched Sir Charles walk about the lane here,
gazing at the trees with the eyes of an expert tactician viewing a new ambush site, all Ulric could think of was somehow warning people about the band. Surely he could get news of the men to
someone before more died?
But he could not think how to do this. Escape was impossible, and without flying from the men, he had no hope. Already he could feel their eyes upon him. He had not helped when they killed the
villagers, but had stood back at the wall, clutching at the stones to stop himself falling. Now many of them viewed him as an enemy in their midst. They were watching him all the time in case he
tried to run.
The only man who viewed him with any fondness was Sir Charles. The knight appeared to consider him like a slightly wayward boy, to be treated with an amiable tolerance. He would not forget that
Ulric had saved his life.
But it did not help Ulric. He was sure that soon he would die. Whether at the hands of the men here, or those of a posse, it made no difference. He had no hope.
No hope at all.
Near alley at Combe Street
Baldwin and Sir Richard waited until the body was released for burial.
Glancing down, Baldwin noticed that Wolf had been distracted. The huge dog sat at the wall of the Paffard house, panting happily, while a young boy cuddled him.
It was a sight to make a man smile. In the midst of this pain and suffering, it was good to see that there were still boys who behaved as boys. Baldwin could recall when he had been young. In
those days he had spent more time with his dogs than with his family. They had been happy days.
Happier than these, certainly, he thought.
A boy was sent to the Cathedral to instruct the Fosser to dig a new grave, and to bring a cart of some sort to transport the body. The Holy Trinity was the local parish church, but the Cathedral
had an absolute monopoly on funerals, and Alice would have to be taken up to the Close.
The Coroner was relieved to be done, chatting to his clerk, but for his part, Baldwin was dissatisfied. He left Sir Richard where he was for a moment, walking over to Emma and Helewisia where
they knelt beside the girl’s body, wrapping her in a winding sheet.
‘Mistress, I should like to ask you a question.’
Emma looked up at him with suspicious eyes. ‘Why? The inquest is over, isn’t it?’
Baldwin drew her away from Helewisia. ‘Yes. I didn’t wish to embarrass you before the jury. This young woman died a vile death. The matter is less about her, than about the man who
was prepared to do this to her.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Emma bridled, immediately on her guard. This man had dark eyes that fixed on her with a curious intensity; it was alarming, as though he could see
through her foolish defences to all the secrets she held in her breast.
‘You are a clever woman. You
Similar Books
