“Up at this end of the garden, near the wall here,” John said, jerking his head toward it. “There are some bushes, and these chaps were taking cover near them. It looked like they were waiting for someone, and what with the noise behind me, and these two waiting for me, I considered the other direction safer.”
“They weren’t there when you passed by on your way out?” Baldwin mused.
“Not that I saw. I don’t think so. And I was looking pretty carefully.”
“Why did you go through Godfrey’s garden? Surely you had no need to trespass?”
“There are some things I don’t like to do-and one is advertise my business, especially when I am protecting another’s honor. Anyway, I thought it should be safe enough. I knew Coffyn was supposed to be away, and what the devil he meant by coming home so early, God only knows!”
“What was your mission?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
Baldwin eyed him dubiously. The man had an easy air, as if he was truly apologetic about being able to say no more, but there was also resolution in the set of his chin. “Very well,” he conceded. “But tell us what you know about Godfrey. What sort of a man was he?”
“He was the sort of man who’d steal your wallet to see how you’d survive with nothing, and then laugh when he saw you begging.”
Simon raised his brows. “He was well considered in the town.”
“So? What does that mean to me? You asked me for my opinion of him. The people of Crediton liked him because he had money, not for his character. Oh, Godfrey had a lot of money, and he was useful to some. Coffyn himself borrowed money from him, so I’ve been told, but…”
Baldwin peered at him. “Why should Coffyn ask Godfrey for money? Coffyn surely has enough and to spare.”
“He’s had troubles for the last three years, so I understand. Well, four months ago he had sunk to the level whereby he couldn’t afford any new stock. He had to borrow, and the first man who offered to help him was his kindly neighbor, Master Godfrey of London.”
“How can you know this?” Simon demanded. “You’re inventing it.”
“I have no need to invent, Bailiff. My information comes from an unimpeachable source.”
Baldwin was aware of a fleeting sympathy for Matthew Coffyn. John was surely hinting that he knew of Coffyn’s business affairs-and Baldwin suspected that he might have learned it from his adulterous affair with the man’s wife. Others in the town would laugh at the expense of the husband if they were to hear.
“John, we have already heard rumors that you were having an affair with Martha Coffyn. You have also been accused of trying to rape Cecily. What have you to say about that?”
John stared a moment, then roared with laughter. “Me? With one of them? Dear Jesus! Well, Sir Baldwin, perhaps you should ask them what they think about such allegations!” 13
T he two men left him shortly after. Making their way to the inn to collect Edgar, Baldwin paused outside the gate to Godfrey’s house. Simon glanced at his frowning expression.
“There is enough to suggest that John of Irelaunde could be the killer,” he suggested.
“It is suspicious that he was there at the time, that he didn’t deny being seen by Putthe. He was in the garden, certainly, and admits going into the house.”
“And he could have killed Godfrey, punched Cecily, nipped out through the window, realized he’d been seen by Putthe and gone back inside to knock him out as well.”
“True enough, but I find it hard to accept that Cecily wouldn’t have recognized him.”
“Come now, Baldwin, it was dark! She said herself that she couldn’t see anything of the man.”
“Except the rich scarlet of his tunic,” Baldwin mused, turning from the place and strolling on pensively. “But if you caught a glimpse of someone you knew very well, wouldn’t you recognize him?”
“She’s a well brought-up girl,” Simon reminded him. “She probably doesn’t give any thoughts to her servants, let alone an impoverished neighbor. Why should she? She is as far above them as a lioness is above a vixen. If it was Irelaunde in the room that night, she would have been so transfixed with terror at finding someone there that she wouldn’t have been able to swear it was even a man!”
“A good point.” Baldwin nodded. “When one catches sight of something strange, it is all too easy to let the imagination run riot.”
“Yes, so if she did say she recognized someone, her evidence couldn’t be trusted.”
They were at the Coffyn house now, and Baldwin looked in. At the main door, lounging comfortably, was William, who gave the knight an affable nod.
“Now look at him,” Baldwin mused, “he’s about the right size and build. If he was smothered in a cloak, with something to conceal his face, he could look like John, couldn’t he?”
“Only because he’s short. Apart from that, there’s not much to make him look like John,” said Simon dismissively.
“Yes, even after a short acquaintance you’d find it hard to get confused between them, wouldn’t you? And yet you’re seriously suggesting that Cecily, who probably sees John almost every day, could fail to recognize him.”
“In the heat of the moment-in her fear of finding someone in her house she wasn’t expecting, she might have missed any clues as to who it was. And anyway, you know what women are like. They aren’t like men. You or I would merely have hit the man as an intruder-but women are flighty. They work on feelings, not facts.”
Baldwin winced. “Simon, you have yourself a good wife-do you honestly mean to tell me that you wouldn’t trust Margaret’s word compared to a man’s just because she is female?”
“Oh no, that’s different! She’s my wife.”
“Yes, but she is still a woman. No, Simon, your argument is illogical. If something happened to Cecily, you may be assured she would note it as well as you or I. Especially if she was raped.”
“You are thinking of what Putthe and Coffyn said?”
“Yes. Both tried to imply that John was so lascivious in his desires that he could have tried to rape her. I cannot believe that.”
“No. After talking to him, he does appear too ordinary to try to rape a wealthy girl in her father’s hall.”
“I didn’t mean that-I was thinking about her. She wasn’t raped! If she had been, she would have demanded that the culprit be captured. She had enough evidence, after all, with that blow to her face. No, she wasn’t sexually attacked.” The knight recalled the look he had caught a glimpse of in her eye. “But if she wanted to conceal something, she would be perfectly capable.”
“What do you mean?” Simon asked, but his friend remained silent and thoughtful. To draw him out a little, Simon considered a new topic. “Did you know what John was talking about when he said he was taken to be a soldier?”
“The invasion, of course.”
“Which invasion?”
Baldwin gave a faint smile. “I sometimes forget that your interests lie so firmly rooted in Devon. Let me give you a short lesson in recent history:
“The Scottish have always been quick to exploit any weakness on our part. Bannockburn gave their leaders cause to hope that they might be able to drive us from the north of our country, but it also gave them pause for thought. If they could defeat our King in open battle, why should they not take some of his other possessions for themselves? It would be costly to try to steal over to France to invade the English territories, but King Edward has other lands under him. And the Bruces were well acquainted with one.
“Edward Bruce landed in Ireland on Lady Day in 1315, at a place called Larne. He had thousands of battle-hardened men with him, veterans of Bannockburn and other fights, and the poor Irish were no match for them. Our people there had no experience of serious fighting, and had to depend on feudal levies; everywhere they met the Scots, they were rolled up. By May of 1316, Edward Bruce had conquered most of the place, and had himself crowned King.”
“But John was here before that!”
“Yes, it appears he was one of the levies, and saw the destruction of his farm and family early on. After that, it’s no surprise he left the country.”
“What happened to Edward Bruce? Isn’t he dead?” Simon frowned. He recalled hearing something of the affair in church, but it was just as he was taking over his new post as bailiff, and his interest in affairs so far away was not as important as sorting out the tinners on the moors.