The Devil's Domain

came over, cradling his helmet in his hand. He had a plough boy’s face, open and honest, his cheeks chapped and red. He took one fresh look at the corpse and hurried back to be sick in the small latrine pot beneath the window.
    Athelstan crouched down. He pressed his hand against Maneil’s cheek. It was not yet cold. Aspinall came in. He took one look at the corpse, groaned and knelt beside it, pulling down the jerkin. Athelstan could see the great red angry hole around the crossbow bolt. He looked back at the door. The dead man had been flung at least two or three feet back into the room by the force of the quarrel.
    ’He would have died instantly,’ Athelstan said. ’The crossbow must have been held only inches from his neck.’
    Athelstan went through the dead man’s wallet but he could find nothing except a few coins and a scrap of parchment. He w’alked over to the bed and looked down at the dirty, dishevelled blanket, picked it up and sniffed the sour, acrid smell of stale sweat. He threw it back and turned as Gresnay and Vamier were led into the room. Sir John dismissed the guard but told Gismond to stay. The two Frenchmen took one look at their colleague’s dead face and went and sat on the bed, the most woebegone expression on their faces.
    ’We are going to die,’ Gresnay announced. ’We are going to die in this awful benighted manor. Killed by some tail-bearing Englishman. Do you understand me?’ He got to his feet, his face mottled in fury.
    He turned to Sir John but Gismond stepped in between them.
    ’I think you’d best sit down,’ he said softly. ’The coroner is not responsible for your friend’s murder.’
    ’Well, who is?’ Vamier expostulated. He flapped his hands around. ’Where’s the arbalest? Where’s the crossbow? Gresnay and I haven’t got a pin between us!’
    ’Master Gismond,’ Sir John barked. ’Take Maltravers here. I want this place searched for anything suspicious: knives, daggers, crossbows, anything!’
    Ordering Vamier to take the corpse by the feet, he shifted the body on to the bed. Athelstan knelt down, whispered the words of absolution and made the sign of the cross. He had barely finished when Sir Walter staggered into the room, clutching his stomach. He took one look at the corpse and crouched down just inside the door. His face was pale, flecks of vomit stained the comer of his mouth.
    ’Another one dead!’ he grated. ’I’ve lost everything.’ He began to sob quietly, head down, shoulders shaking.
    Even the prisoners looked pityingly at their keeper.
    ’I swear to God I had no hand in the deaths of any of them. While my daughter’s death is a punishment from God for my hateful heart!’
    Sir John walked over and crouched beside him.
    ’Come on, man,’ he urged. ’Take a drop of wine. It will settle your stomach, not too much.’
    Sir Walter obeyed.
    ’Now, get to your feet.’ Sir John pulled him up by the elbows. ’You are an English knight, you are distraught and, like us, you are in the Devil’s Domain. A killer walks the galleries of Hawkmere. Now, it could be one of those.’ He pointed across to the two Frenchmen. ’Or, indeed, anyone here.’
    ’It can’t be the Frenchmen,’ Sir Walter muttered, glancing shamefacedly at them. ’Not even my own men carry crossbows. They are locked away in the armoury and that’s padlocked twice over. Gismond keeps one key, I keep the other.’ He spread his hands beseechingly. ’Sir John, what am I to do?’
    ’I have a suggestion.’ The friar spoke up. ’And it may save more lives. Our two French prisoners should be separated and locked in their chambers. A guard inside and one without. They are to be served food direct from the kitchen. They are not allowed to meet anyone except the soldier who is in the room with them.’
    Vamier went to protest but Athelstan held his hand up.
    ’No, no, it’s the safest way.’
    ’He speaks the truth,’ Gresnay said. ’It should have been done before. I am sorry, Pierre .’ He glanced at Vamier. ’But, until our ransoms are paid, even if the assassin strikes again, such measures might trap him.’
    ’But why be kept separate?’ Vamier protested. ’Whoever killed poor Maneil there carried a crossbow and quarrel. Whoever killed him must have been a member of the garrison here or a visitor. And,’ he added finally, ’Monsieur de Fontanel left long before poor Eudes was slain.’
    Sir Maurice came back into the room.
    ’The armoury is still