The Pardoner's Crime (13 page)

S
ir Richard was woken by the noise of the town slowly coming to life. First of all he heard the servants rising from their pallets, the sound of water being sluiced about, then the rattle of shutters and doors. From somewhere close, he presumed from the Parish Church of All Saints, the dawn bell rang out, and then from about the town came the noise of pigs, cows and assorted fowls being taken from
under-cofts
and stables to the pastures outside town. Shops and businesses began to open noisily and the trundle of carts and the clopping of horses filled the air.

There was a tap on his door and Susan, the comely
maidservant
, came in upon his command, smiling sweetly.

‘Father Daniel sent me to invite you to accompany him to mass at the church before breaking your fast, Sir Richard.'

Ten minutes later Richard had his first sight of the interior of the church of All Saints. On the way there Father Daniel told Richard of its history from Saxon times. It was a fairly simple building as churches went, the tall tower of which was surrounded by scaffolding for repair work after its partial collapse in 1315, the year of the Great Famine. Understandably, the local townsfolk had taken the collapse, coinciding as it did with the suffering caused by the famine, to be a sign of God's displeasure. Accordingly, work to
reconstruct
the tower at the public expense had been going on ever
since and slowly the walls of the aisles and the tower itself were beginning to take shape.

As Richard took his place on a front pew while Father Daniel disappeared to robe up and prepare for the service, he nodded his head approvingly at the size of the congregation, for he believed that a God-fearing community was likely to be a
law-abiding
community. That could make his task easier, he felt.

There were two aisles on the north and south of the nave, with the chancel beyond the ornate rood screen, and the altar and sanctuary visible beyond them.

And as he looked through he was aware of a couple of men, clearly felons, skulking in the sanctuary. He had no idea, of course, what crimes they had committed that had driven them to seek the forty days of sanctuary allowed by the church, but he expected that in due course of time he would find out. Inevitably, however, his thoughts went from the two sanctuary claimants to the Pardoner, Albin of Rouncivale. In a sense he had claimed sanctuary from the law when he claimed benefit of clergy. It seemed ironic that he might have been safer if he had sought sanctuary.

As Father Daniel's voice reached him, as he sang out to begin the service Richard felt a surge of guilt. Perhaps if he had been more rigorous in his initial handling of the court he might not have delivered him into the hands of his killer. And with the first surge of guilt it seemed to mount up inexorably. Like most men, he was not free of guilt himself. It made him feel determined. If he could not bring the Pardoner back to life, at least he could discover his murderer.

After breaking his fast with gruel and a mug of ale Richard bid Father Daniel farewell until the court session at nine bells. He then went directly to the Roll's Office in the Moot Hall where John of Flanshaw was already preparing the documents from the last session for Richard to peruse. Richard leafed through them, then leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and pondered.

John of Flanshaw, supposing that Richard was falling asleep stopped writing and lay down his quill, for he feared that the scratching noise would disturb the Sergeant-at-Law. Yet he need not have worried. Although Richard looked to be on the verge of slumber, yet his mind was anything but
inactive
. He was going over all of the events that had taken place since he and Hubert had travelled through the Outwood to Wakefield. And the more he thought about it, the more he began to worry. He needed to talk to Hubert, to find out what, if anything, he had found out.

At about eight o'clock Hubert arrived. Richard snapped open his eyes, dispelling any suspicion that he had been asleep, and immediately dismissed the bailiff to make the court ready.

‘How now, Hubert?' Richard asked. ‘You have a peevish look about you this morning.'

Hubert scowled, and then grinned sheepishly. ‘I was peeved as it happens, Sir Richard. You see, I had an
opportunity
, last night.'

Richard's mouth formed a silent Oh. Then he smiled and asked, ‘Mistress Quigley?' When Hubert nodded assent, he went on, ‘I thought that I had noticed an exchange of regard between the two of you.'

Hubert slumped onto a stool. ‘We had a sort of assignation, but I am willing to wager that I am no longer in her favour.' Then his eyes twinkled and he added, ‘And you may not be in another lady's favour either, my lord!'

Sir Richard stared at him, then nodded his head to encourage him to tell all. ‘Well, go on! What mean you?'

‘The Lady Wilhelmina seemed both anxious and a little vexed that you did not return to the castle last night.'

He did not add that the minstrel Alan-a-Dale had greeted him at breakfast with another of his suggestive little
compositions
on the lute. Like the previous morning he had followed it up by doing a disappearing act when Hubert turned away.

‘And what of Sir Thomas's men? What had occurred yesterday morning?'

Hubert was immediately non-plussed, since he had expected Sir Richard to have been more concerned about Lady Wilhelmina's reaction. He forced his mind back on the subject.

‘Ay, yes, it was the Hood and his men. Sir Thomas's men had been sent out to prepare an ambush on either side of the Wakefield trail through Barnsdale Forest, only they were lured into a trap. A group of mendicant friars came up the road, led by a big fat one, that they called Friar Tuck. They challenged them, then immediately found themselves caught by two groups of bowmen who had outflanked them.'

Richard chuckled. ‘A pincer move! He has brains, this Robert Hood.'

‘They stripped them of their mail and weapons – which the Hood claimed as their toll for using the forest trail – and sent them back to the castle on foot.'

Richard ran a finger over his beard. ‘And what was Sir Thomas's reaction to all of this?'

‘Rage! He flailed about with that whip of his. Gave a couple of the men, including the sergeant-at-arms, a few bruises. The brute! Then he vowed that he would take the outlaw.'

Sir Richard looked worried. ‘And so tell me about the castle and how many men are loyal to the King. What did Adam Crigg say?'

‘Well, my lord, you may recall that Adam did not hold a high opinion of Sir Thomas's men. He is still of that opinion, yet he cannot say whether they would be loyal or not. But there are thirty original men of the guard and he feels that they would know exactly what to do if the castle was attacked. The castle can certainly be secured and it would take an army with proper siege weapons to take it.'

Richard looked relieved. ‘So it is unlikely that a simple company of bowmen could cause a problem. Yet this Robert Hood shows that he has a tactical brain, so he cannot be taken for granted. Yet the thing that worries me is that there may be many dissatisfied former Lancaster supporters who have
been declared wolfshead. If they joined together and were organized…!'

Hubert's eyes widened. ‘I see what you mean, my lord.' Then he shook his head doubtfully. ‘But surely no such thing could happen?'

Richard shrugged. ‘Who knows? If there actually is an organized outlaw band, it could just take something to set it off. Wakefield is some three miles from the castle and is
relatively
poorly defended. And remember what the Hood said to us in the Outwood: if justice was not done, perhaps he and his men would take it into their own hands.'

They looked at one another for a moment.

‘Perhaps he already has,' Sir Richard suggested.

John of Flanshaw tapped on the door and entered as the nine bells were ringing out.

‘All is ready, Sir Richard,' he said. ‘And Sir Thomas and Lady Wilhelmina have just taken their seats at the bench.'

Richard and Hubert followed the bailiff through into the crowded hall. Hubert took a stance at the end of the bench and Richard sat down beside Sir Thomas, having first bowed to Lady Wilhelmina, who gave him an enigmatic half-smile.

Hubert caught sight of Beatrice, Matilda and Lillian in the middle of the crowd and was rewarded by a look of disdain from Beatrice. Then she studiously ignored him and he groaned inwardly.

Immediately, Richard rapped his gavel on the bench.

‘This special session of the Manor Court has been convened to investigate three dire criminal cases. First, the murder of William Scathelocke. Second, the alleged rape of Lillian Fenton by one Albin of Rouncivale, who, as the court heard yesterday, was granted benefit of clergy.'

There were murmurings of disapproval, although no one made any outright show, presumably recalling Richard's warning of the day before. Richard ran his eyes over the crowd, noting the presence of Simon the Fletcher, and of
Wilfred Oldthorpe the Apothecary, his wife Emma and their servant Gilbert, the dribbling hunchback.

He rapped his gavel again. ‘And also the murder of Albin of Rouncivale, a Pardoner, which happened yester evening by the hand of a person as yet unknown!'

This announcement was greeted by an eruption of surprise and what almost sounded like several exclamations of pleasure. A couple of men gave short laughs.

Richard rapped his gavel firmly. ‘There will be no
disrespect
shown in this court! A man's murder is no cause for hilarity and any inappropriate displays will be dealt with severely.'

The crowd was silenced immediately and Hubert was aware that the faces of many of the audience registered anger, alarm and obvious resentment directed at Sir Richard.

‘Bailiff, we shall begin by swearing in the jury members again. The same men as yesterday step forward.'

The twelve men were duly sworn in and took their stools.

‘Yesterday,' Richard continued, ‘this court saw the body of William Scathelocke. We also heard testimony from Simon the Fletcher, regarding the murder weapon. An arrow.' He turned to John of Flanshaw. ‘You have this arrow?'

‘It is on the bench, my lord.'

Sir Richard glanced at the cloth that covered the gory arrow on the bench in front of Lady Wilhelmina, and noticed the look of revulsion as she stared at it. She in turn saw his glance and raised her chin defiantly.

‘The case against the Pardoner, Albin of Rouncivale was, as I just informed you, not investigated because he had been granted benefit of clergy. His murder changes this. Please record that in the rolls, Bailiff.'

He watched John of Flanshaw scratch away on the
parchment
.

‘So now we shall hear the facts about the murder. Call Constable Ned Burkin.'

At his name the Warrengate constable came forward and
took the witness pen. Then to Richard's interrogation he described the journey towards Kirklees Priory.

Following this, the men of the watch were also questioned, and then Father Daniel gave his version.

‘I thank you, Father Daniel,' Richard said, as the priest took his place at the front of the audience again. ‘Men of the jury, note that all of the witnesses say that the murderer cried out, directly addressing the Pardoner, and that as he turned, he was shot in the throat with an arrow.'

He waited a few moments, watching the reactions of the crowd before continuing. ‘We shall now view the body of the victim. Bailiff, arrange for the body to be brought before us.'

The reaction of the crowd to the entrance of the body of the Pardoner was clearly different to the way they had greeted the entry of William Scathelocke's body the day before. The crowd parted willingly, showing no remorse, faces showing derision, as if the sight of the wrapped bundle carried between two men of the watch indicated that justice had already been served.

The corpse was laid before the court bench.

‘Raping bastard!' someone called from somewhere.

Richard immediately rapped his gavel. ‘I said before that no display of disrespect will be tolerated!'

At this, Sir Thomas Deyville slapped his hand on the bench. ‘By the blood of the Martyr! This man committed a heinous crime. He raped a girl!'

‘A crime that he had not been tried for, far less found guilty!' Sir Richard retorted with frosty coolness. ‘This is an English law court and I swear that Albin of Rouncivale, though he is dead, shall have a fair hearing. We shall look at his alleged crime in due course. But first we shall look at his own, all too clear murder. Now please, Sir Thomas – no more interruptions! I am conducting this court.'

The two knights glared at each other. Sir Thomas finally flounced back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘So be it,' he said sullenly.

Richard inclined his head politely.

‘Call Wilfred Oldthorpe, the apothecary.'

Moments later, when the apothecary had detached himself from the crowd Richard addressed him. ‘Master Oldthorpe, examine the body please, and then give us your opinion on the cause of death.'

As the apothecary knelt and pulled back the horsehair blanket from the corpse Richard's eyes met those of Emma Oldthorpe. No words or even expressions were exchanged, yet in their eye contact Richard took slight comfort in having at least one pair of friendly eyes upon him, apart from those of his man, Hubert.

There were many utterances of horror at the sight of the murdered Pardoner's naked body, for his clothing had been cut by Richard and peeled back with the blanket. The arrow through the throat had not been touched, just as Sir Richard had directed.

Wilfred Oldthorpe grimaced and looked up. ‘The cause of death most certainly was caused by this arrow wound, my lord.'