Free Sword of Shame by The Medieval Murderers Page B

and heads turned and nodded. It seemed that the squabble in St Sidwell had become common knowledge in the city.
    â€˜That was a petty matter!’ snapped de Wolfe, irritably. ‘I mean do you know of any reason why someone should want to murder your brother?’
    â€˜Well, that big ginger fellow said he’d cut off Walter’s head!’ retorted Serlo, stubbornly.
    As the coroner impatiently waved the man back into the crowd, he caught sight of Richard de Revelle standing at the back of the yard, near the gate. He had a supercilious leer on his face, but rather to John’s surprise, made no effort to intervene in the proceedings. No one else had anything to contribute to the sparse evidence, so John addressed the jury-men, three of whom were lads barely fourteen years old.
    â€˜The law demands that you now inspect the body and come to a verdict. I can tell you that in this case there is still much to be done to discover who might be the perpetrator, so the inquest cannot yet be completed.’
    He glared around, as if daring anyone to contradict him. ‘However, the corpse needs to be returned to the family for decent burial as soon as possible.’
    He beckoned to Thomas, and reluctantly, the little clerk left his parchments and came across to do Gwyn’s job. Turning his head aside, he pulled back the sheetfrom the dead body, so that the jury could file past while the coroner gave a running commentary.
    â€˜You will see the deceased has suffered a massive wound in the neck, which has cut through his skin and flesh down to the bones.’
    Some of the jury were old soldiers or had worked on farms where blood and mangled flesh was no novelty, but others became deathly pale and several covered up their eyes, looking through slits between their fingers, as if this would reduce the horror. Curiously, the widow Christina stared stoically across the yard at her husband’s corpse, ignoring Serlo’s comforting arm around her shoulders.
    â€˜The skin shows jagged edges, where the blade of some weapon has been dragged across the neck,’ went on de Wolfe remorselessly.
    The oldest juror, who John recognized as a former man-at-arms from Rougemont, asked him a question after they had all filed past. ‘What weapon did that, Crowner? It must have been sharp and heavy.’
    De Wolfe nodded. ‘A long knife or a cleaver–or maybe a hedging hook.’ He deliberately avoided mentioning a sword, but the old soldier foiled him.
    â€˜Could have been a sword, I reckon. Gone deep into the neck.’
    â€˜It could have been,’ agreed the coroner, but he added evasively, ‘But who carries a sword within the city walls?’
    There seemed little else to discuss and after going into a huddle for a moment, the jury reached their verdict. The old soldier spoke up for them.
    â€˜We agree that he was slain, but we can’t tell who did it,’ he announced, rather truculently. De Wolfe nodded and put his informal decision more officially.
    â€˜Then I proclaim that Walter Tyrell was found dead in Waterbeer Street on the eighth day of April in theyear of Our Lord 1195 and that he was murdered against the King’s Peace by a person or persons unknown.’
    The proceedings over, the jury thankfully melted away and the corpse was transferred to a handcart to take it back to the house. As he watched the widow escorted away by the dead man’s brother, John wondered if Serlo would take over more of Walter’s duties than just running the fulling mill. Still, it was none of his business and he turned to Thomas, who was gathering up his writing materials.
    â€˜That didn’t get us very far,’ he grumbled. ‘I doubt we’ll ever find who killed the fellow.’
    â€˜Try a little nearer home, John!’ came a voice behind him and turning sharply, he saw it was the sheriff, who must have walked around the edge of the yard to come upon him