The Chapel of Bones: (Knights Templar 18) (29 page)

They went after the bottler into a large shop. There were many examples of the joiner’s trade here, from small cupboards and chairs to a large table. Simon could hear voices coming from behind a wide-open door at the far end of the room.

‘Tell them to go to the devil. I’m busy!’

Baldwin exchanged a look with Simon, then they both followed the sound of the voices. They passed along a short passageway, and then came into a large hall, spacious and bright. Sitting at his table on the dais, they saw Joel with a drinking horn gripped in his fist, a jug of ale on the table before him.

Simon’s attention was taken by their surroundings. The hall was very tall, with the inner face of the thatch showing thickly overhead, and some of the timbers were very old and coloured by the smoke which perpetually hung in among the rafters. Yet many of them had new pieces of wood mitred in among them. These had rich carvings upon them, grimacing gargoyles alongside smiling saints. There was a dog cocking a leg at an ox, a cat sitting with paw outstretched to catch a bird that was a short distance out of reach, and two knights sleeping. The total effect was of a series of jokes by a master carver.

‘You like it?’

Baldwin had been watching the man at the table while Simon stared upwards. The man motioned the servant away dismissively, ‘You the Keeper?’ he demanded. ‘What’s all this about?’

Simon wrenched his mind back to the matter at hand as Baldwin spoke.

‘Yes, I am a Keeper of the King’s Peace, and I am here because of the murder of your friend Henry Saddler.’

‘Oh, him. Yes, it was very sad. I shall miss him.’ Joel poured himself a top-up of ale. ‘Poor Henry. He was my oldest friend.’

‘Surprising how friends can fall out,’ Simon noted.

‘Who said I fell out with him?’

‘We have heard that you supplied him with a poorly made saddle frame.’

‘That means nothing. Sometimes things fail. One of my frames did, it’s true, but that’s no reason to fall out. Christ’s Finger, we’ve been comrades for forty years.’

‘So we have heard,’ Baldwin said. He walked closer to the table. ‘We would like to know all that you can tell us about the night the Chaunter died.’

‘What makes you think I can help with that? It was many long years ago,’ Joel said, and leaned back in his seat.

As he did, Baldwin saw the livid bruise at the side of his jaw. ‘You have been attacked?’

Joel grunted and winced at a fresh pain in his chest. He wondered if it came from a broken rib. If it still hurt this much in the morning, perhaps he should go and see a physician. That man de Malmesbury seemed to have a good reputation. Not that he wanted to waste good money in seeking a man who would tell him he had been bruised – something he knew only too well already.

‘It is nothing,’ he lied. ‘Now, how do you expect me to help you? All that took place back in the days when King Edward I was on the throne and I was a lad.’

‘You were among those who attacked the Chaunter.’

‘There were rumoured to be many involved,’ Joel said evasively.

‘You deny being a part of the gang which sought to assassinate the Chaunter?’ Simon asked.

‘Of course I do!’

‘Mabilla told us that you were a close companion of Henry when he was a lad.’

‘Hardly that. We grew up at the same time, and boys will often join forces when they have done so.’

‘True enough,’ Baldwin said. ‘What do you know of Henry’s other friend then – William?’

Joel looked away. He glanced at his horn, and refilled it. ‘He’s a corrodian at Saint Nicholas’s Priory,’ he said flatly.

‘He was a companion of yours?’

‘He wouldn’t have many dealings with my sort, I fear. I was merely a skilled worker. He was a warrior!’ Joel spat. ‘After the assassination attempt, when the King came here to listen to the evidence, William told how the Southern Gate had been left open all night long so that the murderers could make good their escape. That was why the old Mayor was hanged, and the gatekeeper too. It brought William his fortune, though. For his evidence, the King rewarded him with a place in his household. I suppose the regard in which he was held is demonstrated by the fact that the present King has bought him a nice corrody at the Priory.’

‘Was he involved in the murder of the Chaunter too?’

‘How should I know?’

‘We know that Henry Saddler was there. He was a close companion of yours, as was this William. There was another, too, wasn’t there? Tom. Where is he?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Tom? Good God in heaven, there’s a name I haven’t heard for many a long year. Yes, he was a mate of ours, but again, he left the city soon after the King arrived, two years after the murder. I haven’t seen him since.’

‘You can tell us nothing then, about the attack on the Chaunter?’ Baldwin pressed.

Joel had a clear picture in his mind’s eye of Will wielding his great staff and slamming it into his face. ‘No.’

‘Perhaps we need to think of something you
can
tell us
about then,’ Simon said sarcastically. ‘What of Henry’s business? Was he doing well?’

‘Henry Potell was one of the foremost craftsmen in the city. Everyone who could would buy a saddle from him. They were marvellous pieces of work.’

‘Yet one of them broke recently. One that
you
had made.’

‘Like I said, it can happen.’

Baldwin lifted his eyebrows. ‘I have never had a good quality saddle break under me. Do your frames often fail?’

‘I wouldn’t still be in business if they did, would I?’ Joel growled. ‘No, I think that my apprentice made an error. There was some greenwood out in the yard, and I reckon he picked that by mistake. Nothing more than that.’

‘How much would Henry have sued you for?’ Simon asked.

‘He said it’d depend on how much Udo expected to get from
him
.’

‘We hadn’t heard of that,’ Simon said. ‘Mabilla didn’t mention him.’

‘Maybe he’s dropped the matter then. I don’t know.’

‘Perhaps he has,’ Simon said. He didn’t like the fact that the two women had mentioned nothing about Udo suing Henry, but then he knew that many men wouldn’t discuss their business with their wives. It was possible Henry hadn’t told Mabilla about being taken to court so that she wouldn’t worry.

‘Do you know what Henry would have been doing up at the Cathedral?’ Baldwin asked. ‘It was in the Charnel Chapel that he was found, and it appears a peculiar place for him to visit.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Joel said.

‘Is there anybody else in business in Exeter who could have felt a rage against him? A rage bitter enough to kill him, or to have him killed?’ Baldwin said.

Joel looked up at him and in his eyes was a frank honesty. ‘I
don’t think this has anything to do with business. Henry tended to pay on time, and he had a good reputation as a craftsman – why should anyone want to hurt him?’

‘Why indeed?’ Baldwin repeated thoughtfully, observing Joel with his head on one side.

He was about to speak again when there was some shouting from the shop, and the sound of urgent footsteps. Vince hurried in, a young novice from the Cathedral behind him.

‘Master? The Dean has sent for the Keeper to go back to see him,’ he panted. ‘It’s urgent, he said.’

Baldwin looked at the novice. ‘Well?’

‘Sir Baldwin, it’s another body. Someone’s murdered a friar.’

‘Christ Jesus, not poor Nick?’ Joel muttered, and Baldwin shot him a look as the novice nodded.

‘What was the man doing here?’ Baldwin wondered. If his voice was harsher than usual, that was because he felt scaffolding was precarious at the best of times. This lot in particular seemed to wobble alarmingly, and Baldwin was reminded of the story he’d heard that a rock had recently plummeted from the wall, through the scaffolding and crushed a man. He wondered now whether the labourers had put it back together again quite so solidly as they ought.

The others appeared unconcerned. They were staring at the body on the rough planking. It had lain in a rock enclosure, built as stones were piled at the base of the wall, and to remove it, the Master Mason had pulled it up until it could be lain down on the scaffolding, rather than manhandling it over all the rubble.

In life, Baldwin reckoned the dead man would have been a humbling sight. His back was badly hunched, his face disfigured by a dreadful scar that had penetrated one eye-socket and ruined the eyeball itself, and his right hand was badly withered. His looks were not improved by the terrible, bloody burnmark that encircled his throat. Baldwin looked more closely. There was a lot of blood, he thought. Usually a man who was hanged would have bruising, perhaps a little blood where the rope had torn the flesh away, but not so much as all this. The fluid had soaked the rope itself,
dripping down the man’s neck and running into his old tunic.

‘He could have been walking past the site, and when the rope was released to allow a stone to be taken down from the top, maybe he walked into it? The rope encircled his neck, and he couldn’t do anything to get it off, maybe?’

This was the Annuellar speaking, but he was ignored by the other men. The Master Mason shook his head. ‘This was no accident, I can tell you that much. He was strangled on purpose.’

‘How can you be sure of – ah – that?’ the Dean enquired.

‘When I knocked off work last night, I came here as usual to take a last turn about the place. I always do, to make sure that there’s no thieving bast— saving your grace, sir, no felons about the place seeing what they can take. It’s been known before now. I once had a pair of anvils stolen from under my nose and … anyway, the fellow wasn’t there then. He was killed later, I’d wager.’

The friar’s flesh was thin, Baldwin noted. It was possible that a blood vessel had been ripped open when the rope tightened. He leaned down and felt at the greying skin, and then saw the nick under the ropemark. He nodded pensively. ‘This rope. Would it have been up there yesterday?’

‘Yes. It’s one we use to bring mortar and tools up from the bottom. The heavy stuff is lifted on a windlass from a separate pulley up there.’

‘His body was concealed down there, you say?’

‘Yes, he was hidden in among those stones,’ Robert said helpfully, taking Baldwin’s shoulder and pulling him to the edge of a plank, pointing down. Baldwin closed his eyes and tried to quash the desire to knock the Master Mason’s hand from him. It was very tempting to push the man away, even if it
would mean his falling to his death many feet below. Swallowing hard, Baldwin peered down.

‘There was no one working there last afternoon,’ Robert said, frowning down into the abyss. ‘He could have been throttled and just left down there.’

Baldwin could see what he meant. There below them was a large gap between slabs of rock. He would have been effectively concealed for as long as no one searched for him, but … Baldwin frowned. Surely the killer would know that the body must soon be spotted in daylight, as soon as someone climbed this scaffold? Had he hidden the body in a hurry, before some passer-by could see what he had done? ‘So he wasn’t hanging when you found him?’

‘No. When I got here this morning, I found the rope hanging there for no reason, so I gave it a pull to see what was down there. Got the shock of my life!’

‘I can imagine it,’ Baldwin said, stepping back from the brink, he hoped not too hurriedly.

‘So what now?’ the Treasurer asked. He watched as Baldwin walked to the ladder and descended.

Baldwin didn’t answer immediately. He reached the bottom with relief, and paused a moment before walking under the scaffolding to the pile of rocks.

Each of the rocks was a cube, the faces at least a foot square. There was a large pile of them in a rough horseshoe shape, the open edge facing the old wall. Baldwin squeezed around between the rocks and the wall. It was a tight fit, very tight, and when he was inside, he peered back at the gap thoughtfully for a moment.

The space in the horseshoe was only some six feet in diameter. Glancing up, he felt a vague sense of disquiet as he realised how high up he had been, standing on those warped
planks. A noise behind him told him that Simon had joined him.

‘What do you think, Baldwin?’

‘I’m not sure. I don’t like the fact that his neck seemed to bleed so much. When I looked, I think there was a cut.’

‘Someone had opened his throat?’

‘I think so. Just enough to bleed him.’

‘Why put the rope about him, then?’

Baldwin walked to the Cathedral wall again. ‘Could you have dragged a man in through that gap?’

Simon’s face cleared. ‘Of course. He had to lift the fellow in, so he threw a rope about him and raised him aloft, over the walls of this enclosure.’

‘Which means this killer knew something about the works,’ Baldwin said. ‘He had to know that this space existed, and he had to know how to lift a body up and into this space.’

‘It was a good hiding place,’ Simon commented. ‘The walls are high enough.’

‘Yes, but men are working up there all the time,’ Baldwin said, pointing up at the scaffolding. ‘Why put him here, when the body must soon be seen? And then leave the rope about his neck? Is this killer so stupid that he wanted people to know someone was murdered?’