Free For the Love of Old Bones - and other stories (Templar Series) by Michael Jecks

voice. ‘Who else disliked him?’ There was no answer and he spoke coldly to Ham. ‘Perhaps the dead man was not so troubling to others, eh?’
    ‘They thought the same,’ Ham said sulkily. ‘Jaket? You had enough trouble with him.’
    Baldwin beckoned the man. ‘Jaket, what can you tell me about Humphrey’s death?’
    ‘Sir Baldwin, I know nothing about his death,’ Jaket said. He was a large, pudding-faced man with sparse hair and a large gut. Baldwin recalled seeing him often enough in taverns and inns, always with genially beaming features. Jaket was the first to lead singing or to call for fresh ales, a good companion for an alehouse.
    ‘Did either of you see Humphrey yesterday?’ Baldwin asked.
    Ham shook his head. ‘I was working all day, logging in the Dean’s garden.’
    Baldwin nodded. He could check with the Dean of Crediton’s Collegiate Church later. ‘What of you, Jaket?’
    ‘I think I did see him, yes.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘In the alley, near his door. He was with a tall, foppish young fellow, fair-haired, wearing a rich scarlet tunic. He must have been a knight, from his belt and spurs.’
    Baldwin was struck by the similarity between this description and Sir Gilbert. ‘Did you hear them talking?’
    ‘I didn’t go close to them.’
    Ham spoke up. ‘He never got on with the armourer. They’ve been fighting in the courts for ages, ever since Humphrey first came here.’
    Baldwin vaguely remembered hearing of their battles in court. ‘What was the dispute?’
    Jaket had reddened. ‘It was nothing much. He built his forge on my land, but when I told him he refused to stop building, said he had bought the land fairly and it was nothing to do with me. I couldn’t fight with him, so I paid a lawyer to argue my case in the Church court. Dean Clifford chose to find in favour of Humphrey.’
    ‘And that rankled,’ Baldwin observed.
    ‘No. Not much,’ Jaket protested.
    Baldwin did not believe him. Jaket had realised that admitting to an unneighbourly dispute could make him the most obvious suspect. ‘ “Not much”? Does that mean that you were happy to lose your land? How much did he take?’
    ‘Half the forge is on my land,’ Jaket said, throwing a fierce glare at Ham. ‘And he never even offered to buy it. How would you feel? Anyway, I didn’t talk to them because they were arguing. Something about money.’
    ‘Who else could wish to harm Humphrey?’ Baldwin asked.
    It was Jaket’s turn to implicate someone to deflect attention from himself, and he jerked his chin at Edith Weaver. ‘Ask her.’
    ‘Edith?’ Baldwin asked with surprise. ‘What have you to say for yourself?’
    ‘Nothing, Sir Baldwin,’ she said, casting a cold glance at the watchman, who had prodded her forward with the butt of his staff.  
    She was a comely woman, a brunette of maybe twenty years, of middle height, with an oval face that, although it was not beautiful, had the attractions of youth and energy. Slanting eyes met Baldwin’s with resolution, but also a slight anxiety. However Baldwin would not convict anyone for appearing nervous before a King’s official.
    By comparison, her husband was a pop-eyed fool of some thirty years, with the flabby flesh of the heavy drinker who scarcely bothers with solid food. He had the small eyes of a rat, but set in a pale, round face. Baldwin had never liked him, and liked him even less when he thought of Edith.
    ‘Ask anyone here,’ Jaket said. ‘She’s got a common fame for whoring. She’s notorious!’
    ‘Edith?’ Baldwin said. ‘Have you anything to say?’ He could smell lavender again, he thought. It was on the woman. A cheap perfume.
    ‘What can a wife do, when her husband has no work and spends his days in the tavern?’
    ‘Shut up, you stupid bitch!’ Adam snarled.
    ‘When did you last bring money for me and our children?’
    ‘I’m going to get work soon.’
    ‘Oh, yes? For six months you’ve given me nothing for food or drink, but have