The Malice of Unnatural Death: by Michael Jecks

kill the king and his favourites, as well as Robert and John of Nottingham. And John had
stared at him, and then smiled, as though he knew full well that the betrayal came from him, and Robert feared that more than
anything: the knowledge that his master knew his guilt.
    Because Robert knew –
Christ Jesus, he knew!
– that John of Nottingham was a truly evil man.

Exeter City
    ‘What do you think of this, Coroner?’ Baldwin said quietly as they made their way from the bishop’s palace, out through the
palace gate, and thence down to the southern gate of the city.
    ‘Me? I’d reckon he’s either lost a large part of his senses, or he has reason to know that there’s a dangerous document in
the messenger’s purse.’ Normally a man who would have a hundred filthy jokes to hand, the coroner was unusually quiet today. The seriousness of the matter had eradicated his sense of humour.
    ‘Is it likely that the messenger could have been killed for any other reason than the theft of his purse?’ Baldwin wondered. King’s messengers were almost never attacked or harmed. They were known by their small pouches with the king’s own arms on
them as much as by their uniforms.
    ‘A man might have seen him and desired to know what was held in his purse, I suppose. An off-the-cuff decision. A chance encounter. Man saw him, thought: “Nice little purse, wonderhow much money’s in it,” ’ Coroner Richard proposed. He looked at Baldwin. ‘No. You’re right. He was murdered for this document,
whatever it was.’
    ‘Which puts us in a very difficult position, old friend.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because whoever killed that messenger must have known what was in his pouch, and desired it for his own reasons. And that
man therefore must be known to the bishop. He is probably in the bishop’s own household, because how else could a man have
come to know what was in the pouch?’
    ‘There was the messenger himself.’
    Baldwin shook his head. ‘The messenger would be the last to know what was held in his pouch. He would only know the destination
of the message, not the content. No, it must have been someone in the bishop’s household who heard what was in it, and sought
to take it.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘We cannot tell that until we have it in our hands. Perhaps blackmail, perhaps information that could be easily sold to someone?’ Such as the French king, he told himself. If Bishop Stapledon had written something defamatory of the queen, the information
could be enormously useful to the king of England’s leading enemy.
    ‘Well, let’s go and check, then,’ the coroner said easily. They were already at the gate, and he motioned to their left, to
where the body lay, a beadle standing alert nearby.
    Baldwin nodded, and crouched at the corpse’s side. The pouch was a small leather purse with the king’s arms painted carefully
on the side. It was well constructed, with a waxen coating to protect the contents against wind and rain, and the fastening
was tight, so Baldwin found he had some difficultyin opening it at first. Inside were some small message rolls, each some four inches long, and two in diameter. He glanced
over at the coroner, who stood now leaning against a wall, picking at his teeth with a small stick he had sharpened. He eyed Baldwin with a contented, untroubled look.
    Sighing to himself, Baldwin carefully studied each seal before removing the pouch from the dead man’s belt and reinstalling
all the messages in it.
    ‘Well?’ Coroner Richard demanded. ‘Was it there?’
    ‘No,’ said Baldwin, and he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder towards the bishop’s palace. This would not be a surprise
to the bishop, he felt sure, but no matter whether it was or not, the fact was that Baldwin was being asked now to seek out
a roll even though he knew nothing about the contents.
    Looking away from the palace, he found himself wondering how many people within the city walls could be carrying a roll just
like the