The Treason of the Ghosts

of
this town and the King’s loyal subject. I swear on everything holy,’ Corbett’s
voice rose, ‘I am here to trap the murderer of your daughter. Then I will
personally supervise his execution.’
    ‘They
said that before,’ the wheelwright murmured. ‘They said there would be no more
deaths after they hanged Sir Roger.’
    ‘Well,
they were wrong. But,’ Corbett touched the man’s arm, ‘if God gives me
strength, I shall be right and your daughter’s death will be avenged. Now, come
in!’
    He
made the wheelwright sit down next to him in one of the strange carved sedilia.
The wheelwright now became aware of his surroundings and looked nervously
about.
    ‘How
many children do you have?’
    ‘Elizabeth
and two boys; she was the eldest.’
    ‘And
the day she died?’
    Corbett
waited patiently. The wheelwright’s shoulders hunched and he began to sob
again. At last he coughed and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.
    ‘I
have a house and yard on the edge of Melford. Elizabeth was a pretty young thing. It was
market day. She wanted to go into town to buy something. It was her birthday
last Michaelmas. She had two pennies. You know the way it is with young women? A ribbon, some gewgaw or perhaps to meet a local swain?’
    ‘Did
she have one?’ Corbett asked.
    ‘No.’
The wheelwright smiled. ‘She was fifteen, but flighty in her fancy. She went to
market.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘I
made enquiries. She met the other young men and women on the edge of the square
where the maypole is set up. Her good friend, Adela, who works as a slattern in
the Golden Fleece, saw her last. She said Elizabeth was, well, rosy-cheeked with excitement. “Where are you off to ?“ Adela asked. “I must hurry home ,“ Elizabeth replied. This was between four and five o’clock. She wasn’t seen afterwards.’
    ‘And
did Adela know where Elizabeth was going?’
    ‘She
crossed the square in the direction of a lane out of Melford.’
    ‘Did
this Adela say Elizabeth was rosy-cheeked, happy, as if she had some secret assignation?’
    The
wheelwright looked puzzled.
    ‘A
lovers’ meeting, ’ Corbett explained. ‘Was she a
secretive girl?’
    The
wheelwright closed his eyes. ‘No. She had her airs and graces. She wanted to
make a good marriage. “I don’t want to be a farmer’s wife ,“ she would often say, “but marry a man with a skill or trade.“ ‘
    ‘And the days before her death? Did she
change?’
    ‘At
first, when Blidscote asked me,’ the wheelwright flicked his fingers
contemptuously at the bailiff, ‘I said no but, now, yes there was something.’
He paused. ‘I wouldn’t say sly but as if she had a secret, something she
treasured. There again, she was always falling in and out of love.’ The
wheelwright fought to keep his voice steady. ‘I never thought it would come to
this.’
    ‘Master
Blidscote,’ Corbett turned to the bailiff, ‘when the young woman’s corpse was
found, you went out?’
    ‘I
took the cart. I put the corpse in, brought it back and sent one of my men for
the wheelwright.’
    ‘And the corpse?’ Corbett insisted. He patted the wheelwright gently on
the shoulder as the man began to sob. ‘There was no sign of the killer, or the
garrotte he used?’
    Blidscote
shook his head.
    ‘And
did you see anything untoward around the corpse?’
    Corbett
hid his anger: Blidscote’s bleary glance told him he hadn’t even looked.
    ‘Where
is this spot?’ Corbett demanded testily.
    ‘At Devil’s Oak. It’s a big, ancient tree on Falmer Lane .’
    ‘But
that doesn’t lead to her father’s house?’
    ‘No,
it doesn’t.’
    ‘So, Elizabeth was
found in a place she shouldn’t have been. Out in the countryside?’
    ‘Yes,
yes, that’s right.’
    ‘In
which case,’ Corbett concluded, ‘either she went out to meet somebody or was
taken there, either before she was killed or after. Correct?’
    Blidscote
burped and nodded.
    ‘And
the corpse itself?’ the clerk continued.
    ‘The
young woman’s kirtle and smock were pushed well above her stomach,’ the bailiff
mumbled. ‘I think she was killed very near where her corpse was found.’
    ‘And the other murder?’ Corbett asked.
    ‘Down
near Brackham Mere.’
    ‘And
her killing?’
    ‘The same.’
    Blidscote
was now wiping his sweaty palms on his thick, stained hose. He felt distinctly
uncomfortable sitting in a cold crypt before this royal clerk with his remorseless
list of questions. All he found were corpses: he’d