anyone else in Blackway will, either.”
Preparing to leave, Simon and Baldwin stood and waited on the doorstep while Black took his wife back indoors to give her his farewell.
“Are you really sure that this man Brewer was murdered?” said Simon at last.
Baldwin shot a glance at him, then smiled sardonically as if mocking himself. “Oh, I don’t know. Not really know. But I am sure he was dead before the fire started. And I’m equally sure that the blaze was not caused by his cooking fire.”
“Why? How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because of what I said. The fire was too low. It couldn’t have thrown up enough sparks to light the roof.”
Simon scratched his neck and squinted at the tall, dark figure beside him with a sceptical grimace. “Baldwin, you may be right, but just what the bugger do you think we can do even if you are? We can’t show that the body was injured - it was too badly burned for that. We can’t prove that anyone went there to kill him - what do you want?”
“Of course we can prove it,” said his friend, looking at him with an expression of patience mixed with frustration. “All we need to do is find the man who did it and get him to confess.”
“Ah,” said Simon sarcastically. “So that’s all, is it? I may as well go home now then, if you have it all tied up so neatly already!”
Chapter Five
When Black came back out again, he was amused to see that the two had obviously quarrelled. It was plain from their silence, from the fixity of their stares - which were aimed anywhere but at each other - and from the grin on Edgar’s face as he stood a little behind the two of them, out of their sight.
When Black looked at the servant enquiringly, Edgar merely shrugged, the indication of disinterest being totally refuted by his simultaneously expanding smile. The hunter was not aware, but Edgar was, only too painfully, of how close Baldwin had been to death in the previous year. Since then, since his suffering from the brain fever, he had been regularly morose and taciturn, rarely allowing a smile to crack his features, almost never showing petulance or selfishness of any sort, but continuing quietly and with a gentle calm, eternally grateful for the kindly ministrations of his servant. It was a delight as well as a relief for Edgar to see his master in an argumentative mood once more.
The four men slowly made their way back up the street, Black pointing out the houses and indicating the people who lived in each. They were all very much the same, built of the same materials and to the same size. Some had the small front door for the human occupants, each had a larger door, or pair of doors, at the side for the larger inhabitants - the oxen, pigs and goats that represented that family’s wealth. The small, unglazed windows peered at them with apparently bovine calm, as though intrigued by these curious creatures, but not in any way scared or threatened, From the thatch, the smoke drifted aimlessly in the still air, small wisps and tendrils breaking free to climb up the pitch of the roofs before dispersing at the top, like morning mist under the sunshine.
They had almost passed the inn when Baldwin halted, spun round and rushed in through the door. Simon and the others stood and waited, and soon he came out again, the landlord drifting along behind him.
He was a huge man, the innkeeper. He was only a couple of years older than Simon, or so the bailiff thought, but he gave the impression of vast knowledge. The appearance of accumulated learning was helped by his head, which was bald. But that was due to his shaving his pate every morning. His eyes were cheerful and twinkling, deep-set under a heavy, sloping brow, and, looking oddly out of place, his jaw and upper lip were covered in a thick and bushy growth of dark hair, making him appear inside out somehow, as if there had been an accident at his birth leaving his whole body inverted. His tunic was filthy, but then that hardly
Preparing to leave, Simon and Baldwin stood and waited on the doorstep while Black took his wife back indoors to give her his farewell.
“Are you really sure that this man Brewer was murdered?” said Simon at last.
Baldwin shot a glance at him, then smiled sardonically as if mocking himself. “Oh, I don’t know. Not really know. But I am sure he was dead before the fire started. And I’m equally sure that the blaze was not caused by his cooking fire.”
“Why? How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because of what I said. The fire was too low. It couldn’t have thrown up enough sparks to light the roof.”
Simon scratched his neck and squinted at the tall, dark figure beside him with a sceptical grimace. “Baldwin, you may be right, but just what the bugger do you think we can do even if you are? We can’t show that the body was injured - it was too badly burned for that. We can’t prove that anyone went there to kill him - what do you want?”
“Of course we can prove it,” said his friend, looking at him with an expression of patience mixed with frustration. “All we need to do is find the man who did it and get him to confess.”
“Ah,” said Simon sarcastically. “So that’s all, is it? I may as well go home now then, if you have it all tied up so neatly already!”
Chapter Five
When Black came back out again, he was amused to see that the two had obviously quarrelled. It was plain from their silence, from the fixity of their stares - which were aimed anywhere but at each other - and from the grin on Edgar’s face as he stood a little behind the two of them, out of their sight.
When Black looked at the servant enquiringly, Edgar merely shrugged, the indication of disinterest being totally refuted by his simultaneously expanding smile. The hunter was not aware, but Edgar was, only too painfully, of how close Baldwin had been to death in the previous year. Since then, since his suffering from the brain fever, he had been regularly morose and taciturn, rarely allowing a smile to crack his features, almost never showing petulance or selfishness of any sort, but continuing quietly and with a gentle calm, eternally grateful for the kindly ministrations of his servant. It was a delight as well as a relief for Edgar to see his master in an argumentative mood once more.
The four men slowly made their way back up the street, Black pointing out the houses and indicating the people who lived in each. They were all very much the same, built of the same materials and to the same size. Some had the small front door for the human occupants, each had a larger door, or pair of doors, at the side for the larger inhabitants - the oxen, pigs and goats that represented that family’s wealth. The small, unglazed windows peered at them with apparently bovine calm, as though intrigued by these curious creatures, but not in any way scared or threatened, From the thatch, the smoke drifted aimlessly in the still air, small wisps and tendrils breaking free to climb up the pitch of the roofs before dispersing at the top, like morning mist under the sunshine.
They had almost passed the inn when Baldwin halted, spun round and rushed in through the door. Simon and the others stood and waited, and soon he came out again, the landlord drifting along behind him.
He was a huge man, the innkeeper. He was only a couple of years older than Simon, or so the bailiff thought, but he gave the impression of vast knowledge. The appearance of accumulated learning was helped by his head, which was bald. But that was due to his shaving his pate every morning. His eyes were cheerful and twinkling, deep-set under a heavy, sloping brow, and, looking oddly out of place, his jaw and upper lip were covered in a thick and bushy growth of dark hair, making him appear inside out somehow, as if there had been an accident at his birth leaving his whole body inverted. His tunic was filthy, but then that hardly
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