curling his lip at the man’s body before him.
‘I tripped and then I saw the blood.’
So much, there had been. Ailward’s head was smashed like an egg, with loose bits and pieces of skull shifting under the ruined
scalp. Perkin felt sick just to remember it.
The inquest went much as Perkin had expected, with an amercement for him, more from all the witnesses, and the value of the
weapon being guessed at. The coroner’s job was to record all the relevant details of a suspicious death, so that when the
case was investigated later in court, all the men involved could be called to give their accounts. Amercements were taken
as sureties to make certain that all the witnesses turned up at the court.
When the stranger turned up, Perkin wondered who he was. He didn’t recognise the man, and he assumed, like the other men there,
that the fellow was a passing merchant who had heard about the inquest and decided to go and watch the proceedings. You sometimes
got that, when people were staying in an inn: if they heard that there was some form of local dispute or death which could
be diverting, they’d go along.
Except this man seemed rather odd. He looked young, well groomed, and nervous, which was curious in a man who was travelling.
Usually the sort of merchant who passed by Iddesleigh and Monkleigh was already stained and worn, especially at this time
of year, and they were invariably gregarious, often trying to foist their more rubbishy wares onto unsuspecting villagers.
It was hardly surprising, bearing in mind how far they would have travelled already and how much further they must go to reach
any decent towns.
The fellow stood quietly at the rear of the witnesses,listening intently, a good-looking man in a newish green tunic with a heavy crimson cloak about him. He carried a solid staff,
and at his waist there was a dagger alongside his leather purse and horn.
It was very odd, and Perkin looked away only reluctantly, eyeing the coroner as he pronounced on the case. It was as Perkin
had expected: because the vill could not bring forward any suspects who might have killed Ailward, they were to pay the murdrum,
the tax levied for planned homicides.
Perkin knew that some believed that he could be the murderer, but for all those who believed he had motive enough there were
dozens more who thought it was likely to be Rannulf, or perhaps one of the men from Fishleigh. Fortunately Perkin had good
alibis for the afternoon and evening, and in any case he was known for his mild manner. Not enough men in the jury were prepared
to accuse him; many others had more reason to wish to kill Ailward. Plenty of others.
But such matters were not the business of the coroner. Perkin listened as the case was wound up, and watched thoughtfully
as the clerk started putting his rushes and inks away in his scrip. All Perkin could think of was the detail he had left out.
It was not in his nature to lie. He knew that an oath sworn here in the court was as binding in God’s eyes as an oath in church
with his hand resting on the gospels. Yet he had felt it might be best not to mention the reason why he had gone up there.
He was sure now that Walter and Ailward had been there together. When Perkin stumbled upon them, Walter grabbed the ball to
turn all the camp ball players away from Ailward. And the reason was obvious to Perkin now: they were concealing a body.
He had kept it to himself in the coroner’s court because he had no proof, and he daren’t accuse Walter. What, he should say
that Walter and Ailward were carrying another dead body? He’d be laughed out of the court – and then be accused of villeiny-saying,
spreading malicious lies about other men. That would cost him at least a huge fine in these litigious times. He hadn’t even
told Beorn or Guy. Yet he was sure that Walter and Ailward were hiding someone, and he had a suspicion he knew who it was,
too. Lady Lucy had been
‘I tripped and then I saw the blood.’
So much, there had been. Ailward’s head was smashed like an egg, with loose bits and pieces of skull shifting under the ruined
scalp. Perkin felt sick just to remember it.
The inquest went much as Perkin had expected, with an amercement for him, more from all the witnesses, and the value of the
weapon being guessed at. The coroner’s job was to record all the relevant details of a suspicious death, so that when the
case was investigated later in court, all the men involved could be called to give their accounts. Amercements were taken
as sureties to make certain that all the witnesses turned up at the court.
When the stranger turned up, Perkin wondered who he was. He didn’t recognise the man, and he assumed, like the other men there,
that the fellow was a passing merchant who had heard about the inquest and decided to go and watch the proceedings. You sometimes
got that, when people were staying in an inn: if they heard that there was some form of local dispute or death which could
be diverting, they’d go along.
Except this man seemed rather odd. He looked young, well groomed, and nervous, which was curious in a man who was travelling.
Usually the sort of merchant who passed by Iddesleigh and Monkleigh was already stained and worn, especially at this time
of year, and they were invariably gregarious, often trying to foist their more rubbishy wares onto unsuspecting villagers.
It was hardly surprising, bearing in mind how far they would have travelled already and how much further they must go to reach
any decent towns.
The fellow stood quietly at the rear of the witnesses,listening intently, a good-looking man in a newish green tunic with a heavy crimson cloak about him. He carried a solid staff,
and at his waist there was a dagger alongside his leather purse and horn.
It was very odd, and Perkin looked away only reluctantly, eyeing the coroner as he pronounced on the case. It was as Perkin
had expected: because the vill could not bring forward any suspects who might have killed Ailward, they were to pay the murdrum,
the tax levied for planned homicides.
Perkin knew that some believed that he could be the murderer, but for all those who believed he had motive enough there were
dozens more who thought it was likely to be Rannulf, or perhaps one of the men from Fishleigh. Fortunately Perkin had good
alibis for the afternoon and evening, and in any case he was known for his mild manner. Not enough men in the jury were prepared
to accuse him; many others had more reason to wish to kill Ailward. Plenty of others.
But such matters were not the business of the coroner. Perkin listened as the case was wound up, and watched thoughtfully
as the clerk started putting his rushes and inks away in his scrip. All Perkin could think of was the detail he had left out.
It was not in his nature to lie. He knew that an oath sworn here in the court was as binding in God’s eyes as an oath in church
with his hand resting on the gospels. Yet he had felt it might be best not to mention the reason why he had gone up there.
He was sure now that Walter and Ailward had been there together. When Perkin stumbled upon them, Walter grabbed the ball to
turn all the camp ball players away from Ailward. And the reason was obvious to Perkin now: they were concealing a body.
He had kept it to himself in the coroner’s court because he had no proof, and he daren’t accuse Walter. What, he should say
that Walter and Ailward were carrying another dead body? He’d be laughed out of the court – and then be accused of villeiny-saying,
spreading malicious lies about other men. That would cost him at least a huge fine in these litigious times. He hadn’t even
told Beorn or Guy. Yet he was sure that Walter and Ailward were hiding someone, and he had a suspicion he knew who it was,
too. Lady Lucy had been
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