The coroner swallowed hard. ‘Now, men, observe the teeth marks and scratches on his body and limbs. The throat has been ripped out, and the… and the private parts. Typical of a dog attack to go for the throat. I’m sure you’ve seen something similar yourself when a dog starts savaging sheep. Turn the corpse over, if you please.’
The bailiff moved forward and beckoned one of the men, but he backed away. Finally another came forward and together they rolled Jofre over.
‘Ah yes, as you see, men, more teeth marks and scratches. I would suggest this boy has been attacked by a dog, more likely a pack of them. Have you had any trouble from dogs worrying sheep hereabouts?’
The bailiff spoke up. ‘No dogs, coroner, but these past nights there’s been reports of a wolf howling. Watchman heard it, sir. Others heard it too.’
The coroner raised his eyebrows in a manner that reminded me of Zophiel. ‘A wolf? In these parts?’
Several men nodded emphatically.
‘Seems unlikely. But if you say so, a wolf it is then.’
He prodded Jofre’s leg with the toe of his boot as if trying to rouse him.
‘Stiff, but in this cold weather that won’t tell us much by itself, hard frost last night, but it fits with what the night watch says, that he was attacked on the road going back to his lodging sometime after the curfew bell. Well, men, I must ask you to talk it over amongst yourselves and give me your verdict, but I don’t think there’s much doubt what happened. No need to debate this overlong. I’m sure you’re as anxious as I am to close this business and get to the tavern.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘I’m sorely in need of hot mulled ale and a hearty meal, as I dare say are you.’
‘Wait!’ Rodrigo burst through the ring of men. I don’t know how long he had been standing looking at Jofre’s body, but his face was drained of colour.
The coroner turned. ‘Ah, yes, the boy’s master.’ He held out his hand. ‘My condolences, sir. Once the verdict has been returned you may remove the body for burial.’
I saw the men around us stiffen and glance at one another, but the coroner didn’t appear to notice.
Rodrigo ignored the proffered hand. ‘You say a wolf or a dog did this, but that is impossible.’
The coroner shrugged. ‘Up to the jury, of course, but you can see the bite marks.’
‘I can also see that the body is naked. He must have had clothes when he left the town. You think a wolf or a dog strips a body before it attacks it?’
The coroner looked slightly taken aback. ‘Watchman, what have you to say? Was the boy dressed when he left the town?’
The man shuffled forward, looking anywhere but at the body. ‘I think so, sir.’
The coroner began tapping his whip impatiently against his boot again. ‘Come now, man, you think so? You surely remember whether or not someone walked through your gates naked.’
The watchman glanced nervously behind him again.
‘It was dark, sir… he had a cloak… he could have been naked under the cloak.’
‘Why, in God’s name, would a man walk around naked in midwinter? You men, did anyone here remove his clothes?’
Several men shook their heads, but no one met the coroner’s eyes.
Rodrigo was on his knees bending forward. ‘These marks on his buttocks and legs, the skin is scraped off. Earth and stones stuck in the wounds.’ He looked up. ‘The body was dragged across the ground.’
A big, burly man walked up. His nose was squashed sideways as if it had once been broken in a fight. He scowled at Rodrigo. ‘Wolves drag their prey off to eat it, any fool knows that.’
‘A sheep or a child, yes, but to drag the weight of a man? And what happened to his clothes?’
The man’s face darkened. ‘I dare say he took his clothes off himself. Look, we all know what your lad was into. Maybe he’d arranged to meet someone outside the town gates. So busy giving him one, he didn’t notice the wolf till he sprang. A bare backside, all white in the moonlight, heaving up and down, the wolf must have thought it was a pig. And he wasn’t far wrong, was he? Anyhow, we’ve got our verdict, coroner. Killed by a wolf, we’re all agreed.’
The coroner nodded, rubbing his hands against the cold. ‘Excellent, excellent. Have you taken that down, boy? You must also record that since the wolf caused the death, the wolf in question is declared deodand. Bailiff, it’s your duty to see the beast is hunted down, and since the town has been negligent in allowing a dangerous animal to attack travellers within its boundaries, the price for its head must go to the Crown, not the hunter. The town will hand over the bounty for the wolf’s head at the next assizes. Make sure you record that, Master Thomas.’
The bailiff and the men looked mutinous. This was nothing but a thinly disguised fine, and they knew it. Coroners always found a way to fine you for something, however careful you were. The coroner began walking back to his horse, but Rodrigo ran after him and grabbed his arm.
‘Is that all you are going to do? Will you not question other people in the town? If he was out here with someone, then they must be found to testify.’
The coroner shook him off impatiently. ‘What is the point? We know what happened.’
I stepped forward. ‘Forgive me, sir, but we don’t know. A lone wolf would only kill for hunger. Having made a kill, it would settle down to eat, not run off. There are no signs that the flesh was gnawed or the entrails eaten. And a single wolf could not make all these bite marks both behind and in front of the person he had leapt upon. As you said yourself, sir, it looks as if the boy was attacked by a pack of dogs and the dogs could have been deliberately set upon him.’
‘Come now, who would do that?’ The coroner took the reins in his hand and mounted his horse. He leaned down wearily. ‘Watchman, did anyone follow the boy out here with dogs?’
The watchman said hastily, ‘No, sir, no one left after curfew. More than my job’s worth to let anyone in or out after curfew. That’s a thing I’d never do, sir. Value my skin too much for that.’ He flashed a scared glance in my direction.
For a moment I was tempted to reveal our visit a few nights before, but the watchman looked so terrified, I couldn’t do it to him. I had a feeling he was being threatened into lying by someone he feared much more than the law.
I looked up at the coroner. His mount was skipping sideways restlessly, impatient to be off. ‘Sir, threats were made against the boy in town because of his friendship with a young man called Ralph. At least send for this Ralph and ask him if he saw Jofre last night.’
‘I can save you the trouble of that, coroner.’ I turned to see the man with the broken nose standing directly behind me. ‘Ralph left the town early yesterday morning. Gone to stay with his future bride’s family. He’ll not be back till after they’re wed.’
‘Then he’ll be no help to us in this matter. Besides, the verdict by the jury has been recorded, can’t go changing it now.’ The coroner looked at Rodrigo. ‘Best thing you can do now is take the body up to the church for burial, then start looking around for a new apprentice. I dare say you’ll find plenty of likely lads who –’
The town gate burst open and a man came running out, shouting his message before he had even reached the group. ‘Bailiff, you’re wanted… come quick… Yeldon has fallen… to the pestilence.’
The coroner’s eyes opened wide in alarm. ‘God’s teeth, that’s only three miles west from here.’
The bailiff and most of the men were already hurrying back towards the gate. The coroner stared after them, then wheeled his horse around in the direction of the river.
‘Come, Master Thomas, don’t lag, we’ve some hard riding ahead.’
‘But I thought we were going to have supper,’ the clerk wailed.
‘In there? Don’t be a bloody fool, man. If someone brought them news of the pestilence, the chances are they brought the pestilence as well.’ He glanced over at Rodrigo. ‘As for you, Master Musician, if you’ve any sense you’ll bury your apprentice and get back on the r
oad as fast as you can, otherwise he won’t be the only one you’ll be burying.’ He dug his heels into his horse’s flank and urged her towards the bridge and away from the town.
Most of the townspeople had disappeared inside the gate, but Broken-nose and another equally big man hung back. As Rodrigo and I turned to walk back towards Jofre’s body, they moved in front of us, blocking our way.
‘Don’t even think of burying your boy in the churchyard,’ Broken-nose growled. ‘Cos you won’t get the body as far as the church gate.’
I stared at him. ‘Are you denying him a Christian burial, after all that’s happened?’
The man shrugged. ‘Just a friendly warning, save you wasting your time. Everyone in town knows he was killed by a wolf –’
‘You know as well as I do that it wasn’t a wolf that killed him.’
The man grinned. ‘Coroner’s recorded a wolf and if it’s written down in his records it must be true. Thing is, there’s not been a wolf in these parts for years, so there’s rumours going round the town that this weren’t no ordinary wolf. It was a werewolf, that’s what they’re saying. Thing is, if your young friend’s been killed by a werewolf, then he’ll not rest easy in his grave. Those killed by werewolves become vampires, that’s what priest says. Pestilence may have reached Yeldon, but it hasn’t come here and it’s not going to cos we’ve got no vampires here. And we’ll do whatever we have to do to keep it that way. Understand?’
We trudged back to the chantry in silence. Rodrigo would not allow either of us to help him carry Jofre. He bore the stiff body like a man carrying a heavy burden in penance, staggering under its weight, but shaking us off if we tried to steady him. Behind us, the sun began to set, a blood-red disc hanging over the dark buildings of the town.
Osmond, lantern in hand, came out to meet us. He began to ask what had happened, but Rodrigo walked past him without reply and gently laid the wrapped body on the sanctuary dais where only a few hours before Adela had given birth to her son. One look at our faces was enough to caution Osmond not to ask any more. Even Zophiel was silent.
We could do nothing until the rigor had worn off. At Osmond’s urging we went down to the crypt and picked at some food, but for once, none of us was hungry, except for Narigorm who ravenously consumed her own portion and more. Rodrigo said nothing and ate nothing. He only drank. Drank too much wine for an ordinary man on an empty stomach, but we didn’t try to stop him.
Adela sat near the brazier, her hair once more concealed beneath the tightly pinned veil. She was rocking the baby, who whimpered fretfully, screwing up his tiny face in a series of grimaces. Adela was able to sit up now, but her face looked more drawn than ever, as if you could see the face of an old woman lying just beneath her skin. I knew the slightest movement must be causing her great pain from where I had cut her, but she tried hard to conceal it. She watched Rodrigo anxiously as if she was desperately trying to find words to speak, but no words came.
We said nothing to the others of the news from Yeldon. The coroner was right, we had to move on quickly. If Zophiel found out, he would insist on leaving that very night, but with Jofre lying upstairs I knew Rodrigo would refuse and that would only lead to trouble. We had to risk staying another few hours for his sake as well as Adela’s. She was not strong enough to travel yet. And she would have to be told that the frosts had not, after all, stopped the pestilence, but not now, I could not bring myself to tell her now.
Eventually, when we could put it off no longer, we all went upstairs, leaving Adela alone in the crypt with Narigorm and the baby. Cygnus fetched water and I lit some rushes. There was little point in concealing our presence any more. Then tenderly, as if he could still be hurt, Rodrigo peeled back the cover from Jofre’s body. Osmond gave a strangled cry and rushed towards the barred door. He only just succeeded in opening it before retching violently, losing what little supper he had eaten. Even though I already knew what lay beneath the covers, I found myself swallowing hard to keep the bitter gall from rising into my mouth.
I glanced at Zophiel. He stood a little way off, staring down at the body, his face a blank mask. But his right hand had moved to the hilt of the knife in his belt and he was gripping it so hard the knuckles were bloodless.
Cygnus, Rodrigo and I washed Jofre. We turned him over carefully and tended to his back first. It was easier than staring into those huge open gaping wounds. The dried blood was hard to remove and when we did the teeth marks showed up blue and ragged against the cold waxy skin. Now that the dirt and blood had been washed away the wounds on his back were more numerous than even I had first thought. He had been repeatedly bitten as if animals had leapt up at him over and over again while he ran or struggled.
Finally we had to turn him over again and face what we did not want to look at. Rodrigo gently wiped his face, washing the blood out of his curls, until his hair glistened wet under the flickering rushlights. The large purple bruise on Jofre’s face looked more livid than before under the smoking yellow light.
Cygnus suddenly broke the silence. ‘This is a clean cut! No wolf did this. Look!’ He pointed at the place where Jofre’s genitals had been ripped away. ‘See the edges of the wound – this wasn’t bitten or torn. It’s been sliced.’
Rodrigo pushed him aside and stared. Then he called to Osmond, ‘The rushlight, bring it here.’
Osmond did so, holding the light lower, but letting it wobble as he looked away. Rodrigo impatiently snatched it from his hand. He moved it up towards the wound in Jofre’s throat. Here the bite marks were unmistakable, the flesh around the wound jagged and torn, but Cygnus was right, the wound in his groin was too clean at the edges. There were bite marks around it as if something had been snapping at the place, drawn by the smell of blood perhaps, but teeth had not inflicted this horrendous injury.
Rodrigo held the rushlight close to the body, examining every inch, then stopped.
‘See, bruises on both his arms. Someone has held him tightly.’
Zophiel shifted slightly in the shadows. ‘You gripped his arms yourself down in the crypt yesterday when you were questioning him about him being a thief, remember?’
‘He is no thief!’ Rodrigo sprang at him, knocking the bucket of bloody water flying. He had Zophiel by the throat, but Zophiel’s reflexes were as quick as his own and in a flash his knife was pricking Rodrigo’s ribs. Osmond ran forward and pulled Rodrigo away, but it was not without a struggle.
‘You are to blame for this,’ Rodrigo choked out. ‘If you had not falsely accused him, he would not have run off.’
‘You no more believed the boy than I did, Rodrigo, and he knew that. Your opinion mattered far more to him than mine. If either of us caused the boy to run off…’ He let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.
Rodrigo’s shoulders slumped; for a moment I thought he was going to fall, but he stood swaying, his arms now limp at his sides.
Zophiel, still breathing heavily, lowered his knife. ‘I was merely trying to point out that you yourself gripped the boy hard enough yesterday to cause bruises. No one blames you for that. I also held him when I questioned him – who knows, I might have caused a mark or two myself. Simply because he has bruises on his arms does not mean he was restrained last night.’
‘He’s right, Rodrigo,’ Osmond said soothingly. ‘The bruises mean nothing.’
‘And having his member sliced off, that means nothing too?’ Rodrigo shouted. ‘Jofre was murdered. Whoever did this mutilated him and set dogs on him or left him for the wolf. Either way it was murder. And I am going to kill whoever did this. I swear it.’
I gripped his arm. ‘Rodrigo, we know as well as you do that Jofre was murdered, but you have no hope of finding his killer. The townspeople will defend their own. No one will talk to us, we are travellers, outlanders.’
Osmond nodded. ‘Camelot’s right. You go stirring up trouble and they’ll turn on all of us. Even in this place, we could not defend ourselves against a mob. Think of Adela and the baby, Rod
rigo. You’d not do anything to hurt them.’
‘You do not understand,’ Rodrigo said softly. He walked across to Jofre’s body and knelt down in the pool of blood and water. He laid a hand on the boy’s chest and bowed his head. His fist clenched around the hilt of his knife.
‘Giuro dinanzi a le tue ferite ti vendicerò!’
I did not understand the words, but there was no mistaking the tone. I shivered.
We covered the body again and lit candles at Jofre’s head and feet. All night Rodrigo kept vigil over him. Osmond slept downstairs with Adela, the baby and Narigorm, but the rest of us slept in the chapel, staves and knives in hand, just in case the townspeople should decide to ensure the body could not rise up and walk.
I lay in the darkness, aching with tiredness from having slept so little the night before, but I couldn’t sleep. In the dim light of the candles, I could just make out the outline of Rodrigo. He was kneeling before the painting of Mary, his arms held wide as if on a cross. He stayed there swaying a little, but holding his arms up as if he had imposed a penance on himself or was preparing to undertake a sacred oath. Cygnus sat cross-legged at the foot of Jofre’s body, his head bowed. Under his shirt, his wing moved restlessly, fluttering as if trying to escape the bindings. Then from outside came the sound we had all been dreading, the howl of the wolf.
‘Put those candles out!’ Zophiel was on his feet, his knife in his hands, and this time there was no disguising his fear.
He ran from window to window peering out. The yellow candle flames flickered over the still form of Jofre’s body, so that it looked as if he stirred beneath the sheet. Cygnus lifted his head and looked round, but Rodrigo didn’t move from his position beneath the painting. Another cry. The howl seemed to have a new note in it that night, stronger, more triumphant, like the sound of a beast that has made a kill and is calling others to join it.
‘Put the candles out!’ Zophiel shrieked.