The Boy-Bishop's Glovemaker by Michael Jecks

Author:Michael Jecks [Jecks, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781471126307
Google: TbKKogTPDiMC
Amazon: B00AHE1YRC
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2012-12-05T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Christmas Day was clear and bright with the sun shining unhindered. Occasionally, solitary clouds drifted past at speed. The wind was strong, rattling the shutters of the inn, and it was their repetitive hammering which woke Baldwin before the dawn itself.

He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. A cresset, a small wick floating in a reservoir of oil, had been left alight all night, and now it threw strange shadows upon the rafters above.

Jeanne grunted and moaned beside him, snuggling closer and throwing a leg over his, but today he felt no erotic surge beyond a mild affectionate stirring. He rested a hand on her thigh and slipped the other under her neck to cuddle her to him, kissing her hair. It still smelled of incense from the Cathedral the night before.

The two deaths, Peter’s and Ralph’s, intrigued him, yet he could see no link between them. Baldwin didn’t believe Peter’s death was suicide, nor yet that it could have been caused by food poisoning but he could not see who could wish to murder the fellow.

Baldwin had enough experience of enquiring into murders to know that men rarely, if ever, killed without a good reason: even if that reason later appeared to be ridiculous. At the time that the murder was committed, the killer had a clear, understandable motive.

There was another aspect to this killing, Baldwin reminded himself. Poison was a peculiarly coldblooded and cowardly method of murder. Someone had decided to kill with poison – and Jolinde had bought orpiment from the apothecary.

Had Peter been the target? It was quite possible that Jolinde had argued with his friend and decided to murder him – but if so, why? There was no hint that the two had suffered a break in their friendship. Someone else could have put the poison onto or inside the food while it was left unguarded in the tavern. Jolinde certainly wasn’t going to notice while he was upstairs with the delightful Claricia; could the deadly food have been intended for him? And if it wasn’t, if it was meant for Peter – who, then, had known that Jolinde was supplying him with food? That would give Baldwin a starting point.

Jeanne mumbled, half asleep, and Baldwin felt her hand stroking his chest, slowly moving down his body. He grinned and caught it, ignoring her murmurs of disappointment. There was little time if they were to get to the Cathedral for the second Mass of the day. He smiled down at her sleepy face, but then stood, wincing at the cold air on his naked body. He quickly pulled on his clothes: it was far too chill to linger. When he was dressed, he woke his wife with kisses and gentle entreaties, and only left her when her eyes opened and she gave him an ungracious snort as welcome. Jeanne was not at her best at this hour.

Downstairs he found Edgar already kneeling by the fire stirring a pot filled with spiced wine while Simon sat on a stool nearby scratching at his head.

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