The Tinner's Corpse by Bernard Knight

Author:Bernard Knight [Bernard Knight]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2014-03-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

In which Crowner John meets a new widow

With Matilda out, the temptation to take Mary’s advice and go down to the Bush became too strong for John. He whistled to Brutus and stepped out into the street with him, thinking that if he happened to meet Matilda, he would tell her he was exercising the hound. A moment later, he cursed himself for a damned fool. Why should a grown man of forty, hardened in a dozen wars, care a clipped penny about an excuse to visit his favourite inn after a hard day’s work? To hell with his wife! She knew well enough that he blessed several women with his favours – she never let him forget it. Matilda knew at least two by name and sight, but he hoped she knew nothing about a certain lady on the coast at Salcombe, though he had not seen her for some time.

The wind had dropped and the rain had held off, but it was cold under a clearing sky as he strode through the darkened Close, cursing as he stumbled over the debris and piles of earth left under the looming mass of the great cathedral. Although the huge house of God was a marvel of the mason’s art, the surroundings were a disgrace. The Close was a cross between a cemetery and a communal refuse dump, where vagrants begged, hooligans romped and urchins played ball-games all day. Along with most of the citizens of Exeter, de Wolfe failed to understand why the cathedral proctors did not impose better control over the area.

At the other side, there were a couple of guttering flares near Bear Gate, which led out of the episcopal precinct into Southgate Street. Though house fires were damped down at dusk, some torches were allowed in safe places, such as these set in iron rings against a stone wall.

There was some faint light in the main street running down to the South Gate, for the curfew was only haphazardly observed within the city, as long as all the gates were barred at nightfall. In the serge-market section of the street, a few cloth stalls were still trading by the light of dim horn lanterns. Higher up at the Shambles, butchers’ boys were still throwing buckets of water on the ground, sluicing the blood from the cobbled area where animals had been slaughtered during the day.

De Wolfe crossed the road and passed the top end of Priest Street, where presumably Matthew, his wife and Peter Jordan were grieving over Knapman’s violent death. Then he strode down the hill to Idle Lane and the Bush, the starlight enough to guide him on this most familiar of routes. Calling Brutus to heel from his erratic sniffing adventures, the coroner reached the door of the tavern and stopped for a moment in the gloom.

What reception would he have tonight, he wondered. How should he behave, if Nesta again gave him the cold shoulder? Should he be soft and loving to

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