The Treason of the Ghosts

gently
placed his heel on the back of the man’s hand.
    ‘I
am the King’s clerk!’ he proclaimed. ‘I wish no man ill but, if I wanted,
Repton could hang for treason. So I shall tell you why I am here. Five years
ago Sir Roger Chapeleys was executed for the murder of at least four women.’ He
stared round the taproom. ‘Good, I now have your attention. If Sir Roger was
guilty then he deserved to die. But there’s the riddle. Not only have the
murders begun again but two members of the jury responsible for convicting Sir
Roger have also been killed in a barbarous manner. I will have the truth either
in Melford or in the King’s own prison at Newgate!’
    Chanson
was staring open-mouthed. Ranulf, grinning from ear to ear, was busy pocketing
his earnings.
    ‘Now,
Master Repton,’ Corbett pressed the heel of his boot till the man flinched, ‘do
you not accept my apology?’
    ‘Yes,’
the man gasped.
    ‘And
will you not accept a tankard of ale?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Corbett
helped the reeve to his feet. He now looked woebegone. He didn’t know whether
to nurse his hand or his groin. Corbett lifted the stool and ushered the man to
it. Burghesh and Blidscote sat fascinated, as if they couldn’t understand what
was happening. Corbett ordered more tankards of ale. He thrust one into the
reeve’s hands.
    ‘The
pewter’s cold.’ Corbett urged, ‘Hold it against your groin, it will ease the
pain.’ He leant forward. ‘You are a fool!’ he hissed. ‘You could be hanged for
that!’
    Repton
caught back a sob.
    ‘You
are not angry, are you?’ Corbett continued. ‘You are frightened.’
    He
was aware of Ranulf and Chanson joining them, taking stools and sitting behind
the reeve.
    ‘What
do you mean?’ the reeve stuttered.
    ‘You
came into the Golden Fleece that night twice, didn’t
you? You had been drinking all day. You learnt from Taverner Matthew how Widow
Walmer was entertaining so off you staggered, along Gully Lane to Widow Walmer’s cottage?’
    ‘I
didn’t do it,’ the reeve whispered, and sipped from the ale. ‘I swear to God I
didn’t do it!’
    ‘Did
what?’ Blidscote queried.
    ‘You
reached the cottage, didn’t you?’ Corbett ignored the bailiff. ‘And the door
was open?’
    ‘Yes,
the door was open.’ The reeve spoke as if learning a lesson. ‘Widow Walmer was
lying on the floor.’ He clutched his stomach. ‘I could tell what had happened,
her dress had been pulled down at the top, those hideous marks round her
throat. Body and legs twisted. I was frightened. I thought the killer could
still be there. I panicked. What if they accused me?’
    ‘So
you came back to the Golden Fleece,’ Corbett explained, ‘where you drank some
more, turning over and over in your mind what you had seen. Once your courage
returned, you asked Burghesh to accompany you. So, both of you went along.’
    ‘That’s right,’ the reeve slurred.
    ‘You
didn’t tell us this,’ Blidscote stated.
    ‘How
could I?’ The reeve blinked. ‘But I didn’t kill her!’
    ‘And Sir Roger’s knife?’ Burghesh asked.
    ‘I
told you. I stood in the doorway. I touched nothing. Just one glance was
enough. I went outside and was sick in the bushes. Then I came back here.’
    ‘Did
you see anything of Sir Roger?’
    The
reeve shook his head. Corbett pushed away the tankard; he picked up his leather
wallet, cloak, sword belt and saddle panniers.
    ‘You
see,’ he smiled at Blidscote. ‘I am here for the truth, but now I am tired.’
    He
bade them good night, went across the taproom and up the stairs.
    ‘Your
master is a strange man,’ Burghesh declared.
    ‘Old
Master Long Face is strange enough,’ Ranulf grinned, getting to his feet. He
leant over the table, raising his voice so it carried across the taproom. ‘He’s
a strange one, is Sir Hugh. He nags and nags at the truth. He never gives up.
But,’ he raised his eyebrows, ‘tonight he was in a good temper.’
    ‘Why?’
the reeve asked. ‘Would he have killed me?’
    ‘No.’
Ranulf grasped the reeve by the shoulder. ‘Sir Hugh wouldn’t have killed you
but I would have done!’ He pushed his face closer. ‘And, if it happens again, I
will! Do tell that to the people of Melford!’



Chapter 10
     
     
    ‘An exciting day, Master.’
    Ranulf,
perched on a stool, grinned over his shoulder at Chanson, who squatted near the
door. Corbett sat on his bed beneath the small casement window. He stared around
his bedchamber, a comfortable,