The Treason of the Ghosts

garrotte — that was never found. But
you are right, Ranulf, the evidence is impressive and the trial takes its
course. Justice Tressilyian tries to have the matter referred to King’s Bench
at Westminster but this is refused. Chapeleys is found guilty. There’s only one sentence the
justice can pass, though, once again, letters are sent to Westminster , this time pleading for a pardon.
The King, advised by his own Chief Justice, refuses to grant a pardon and Sir
Roger is hanged.’ Corbett paused. ‘My feet are killing me,’ he groaned. He eased
his boots off and threw them into a corner. ‘Melford goes back to its peaceful
existence. But,’ Corbett paused, ‘that doesn’t mean the murders cease. I am not
too sure how many other women, the kin of wandering folk, this assassin has
killed.’
    ‘And
don’t forget Furrell the poacher.’
    ‘No,
we mustn’t forget him. All the evidence indicates Furrell saw something, knew
more than he should have done. He would have to be silenced. I believe Sorrel.
Furrell’s cold in his grave, God only knows where that is. Sorrel knows this
countryside like the palm of her hand but, there again, her husband’s corpse may lie at the bottom of the Swaile, weights and stones
attached to its legs. Anyway, back to Melford. In appearances, all is quiet.
The murders have been avenged, the King’s justice
carried out, then the murders begin again.’
    ‘Why?’
Chanson asked. ‘That, Master, doesn’t make sense.’ He smiled. ‘It’s not
logical.’ He quoted Corbett’s oft-repeated phrase.
    ‘What
do you know about logic?’ Ranulf asked crossly.
    ‘About
as much as you know about horses!’
    ‘Hush
now! Chanson has made a good point. There were certainly no killings amongst
the townswomen for five years. There must be reasons for that. First, it had to
be seen that Chapeleys was responsible. Secondly, we must understand the soul
of the killer. Here is a man who knows he does wrong but, like a dog returning
to its vomit, cannot restrain himself. Over the years his frustration grows. He
walks the lanes and streets of Melford and sees this pretty face, a soft neck,
well-turned ankles. He lusts in secret. Eventually the demons return. And,
finally...’ Corbett stared across the chamber.
    ‘Yes,
Master?’
    ‘We
have hunted killers, Ranulf, those who plot murder, the taking of lives. One
trait of these children of Cain always fascinates me: their overweening
arrogance. They are like pompous scholars in the Halls of Oxford. They think
they are different from anyone else, more intelligent, more cunning. They enjoy
the game, they truly believe they cannot be caught. In
a sense, the killer is mocking Melford, ridiculing the townspeople. “Look ,“ he is saying, “I killed before and I escaped. Now I’ll
kill again and what can you do ?“ ‘
    ‘Of
course, we could be wrong,’ Ranulf said. ‘There is the possibility that Sir
Roger was guilty and someone is now copying these murders.’
    ‘True,’
Corbett smiled. ‘But logic indicates the same killer, using the same method.
Young Elizabeth, the wheelwright’s daughter, a lovely, young woman, is teased
and enticed by the Mummer’s Man. Maybe he’s already tested her and she’s taken the bait. Now she goes out to her
secret place somewhere near Devil’s Oak. The first time she collected a piece
of silver but the second time her killer is waiting: it was money well spent
for the enjoyment he gets.’
    ‘And the other murders? Molkyn and
Thorkle?’ Ranulf asked.
    ‘Ah
yes, that precious pair. Let’s discuss them as well as Blidscote and Deverell
the carpenter. Let us say, for sake of argument, that all four were corrupted.
How could that be done?’
    ‘Money!’ Chanson spoke so loudly Ranulf jumped.
    ‘I’d
like to agree,’ Corbett replied. ‘But we are no longer talking about young
women. These are wealthy, responsible burgesses of Melford. They would have to
be bribed heavily to participate in corruption which would lead to an innocent
man’s execution. They would also know that if they were ever discovered, the
most gruesome death awaited them.’
    ‘Blackmail?’ Ranulf queried.
    ‘That
would seem the most logical explanation. But, there again, who would know so
much to put the fear of God in all four? We must also remember they were
halfway down the Judas path: they
disliked Sir Roger and so were receptive to any approach.’
    ‘That
means they must have known the killer?’ Ranulf rubbed his