The Leper's Return by Michael Jecks

Author:Michael Jecks
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction - Mystery, Crime & mystery, Fiction, Crime & Thriller, Puttock, Lepers, Furnshill, 1307-1327, Great Britain - History - Edward II, Historical fiction, Mystery fiction, Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Detective and mystery stories, Leprosy - Patients - England - Social conditions, Historical, English, Murder - Investigation - England - West Country, Mystery & Detective - Historical, Detective, England, West Country (England) - History, Mystery & Detective, West County (England), Simon (Fictitious character), General, Suspense, Social conditions, Sir (Fictitious character), Baldwin
ISBN: 9780747259510
Publisher: Headline Book Publishing
Published: 1999-04-07T03:00:00+00:00

“What do you mean?”

Baldwin watched him as he took a step closer. The smith’s eyes were focused somewhere around the knight’s left ear. “I hear you have alleged that a girl who spends her time trying to ease the pain of people afflicted with leprosy is herself no more than a harlot.”

“Whoever said that was a liar. Who says it? Eh? Who accuses me?”

This was addressed to Baldwin’s right ear. Apparently emotion caused his attention to wander. The knight moved to meet the man’s eye, but it moved with him, and Baldwin gave up the attempt.

“You were overheard by priests. They have told me what you said. What I would like to know is, what evidence do you have for your allegation?”

“I don’t need any proof.”

“You do, because without it, your comments are vile slanders. And you could be forced into court for that. Do you have any proof?”

The smith’s interest had moved on to the cobbles at his feet. He stood perusing them for several minutes, before giving a short shake of his head.

“What was it you said about her? That she was a wanton?”

“You know so much, why ask me?” His tone was sulky, and now a boot scraped its way over a patch of dust, sweeping it away, then moving it all back again. From his behavior, Baldwin would have assumed him to be a young apprentice, not a smith of some twenty-eight summers.

“Jack, why did you say such things about her?”

“She’s only young. It’s not right for her to be up there, not with that lot.” He spat accurately out through the doors. The forge was cooling without attention, and he cast it a lackluster glance before going to the doors and pulling them to.

“You must say nothing more about them, Jack. If you do, I can have you amerced for slander. You understand me? I can have you fined for telling people villainous things; things which you know are untrue.”

“I don’t know they’re untrue. What if it’s right?”

“If there is any truth in it, you show me the proof, all right? For Christ’s sake, man, think what you are doing!” Baldwin let the sea of his frustration break through the dam of his self-control. “There she is, trying to help mitigate the worst pain those poor devils are suffering, and while she’s there doing God only knows what to help soothe the agony of their disease, here you are inciting people against her! It must stop.”

The smith walked to his barrel and refilled his mug. Adopting an air of unconcern, he met the stare of Baldwin’s right shoulder. “Is that all?”

“No! What were you doing up at Godfrey’s house on the night he was murdered?”

“What? I was only there for a while…”

“When did you get there?”

“I was there late afternoon. There was a mare had lost a shoe, and I had to—”

Simon cut him off. “How long did it take?”

“All I had to do was nail it back on, it was hardly anything…”

“Did you come straight back here?” Baldwin shot.

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