go into town to buy something. It was her birthday last Michaelmas. She had two pennies. You know the way it is with young women? A ribbon, some gewgaw or perhaps to meet a local swain?’
‘Did she have one?’ Corbett asked.
‘No.’ The wheelwright smiled. ‘She was fifteen, but flighty in her fancy. She went to market.’
‘And?’
‘I made enquiries. She met the other young men and women on the edge of the square where the maypole is set up. Her good friend, Adela, who works as a slattern in the Golden Fleece, saw her last. She said Elizabeth was, well, rosy-cheeked with excitement. “Where are you off to?” Adela asked. “I must hurry home,” Elizabeth replied. This was between four and five o’clock. She wasn’t seen afterwards.’
‘And did Adela know where Elizabeth was going?’
‘She crossed the square in the direction of a lane out of Melford.’
‘Did this Adela say Elizabeth was rosy-cheeked, happy, as if she had some secret assignation?’
The wheelwright looked puzzled.
‘A lovers’ meeting,’ Corbett explained. ‘Was she a secretive girl?’
The wheelwright closed his eyes. ‘No. She had her airs and graces. She wanted to make a good marriage. “I don’t want to be a farmer’s wife,” she would often say, “but marry a man with a skill or trade.”
‘And the days before her death? Did she change?’
‘At first, when Blidscote asked me,’ the wheelwright flicked his fingers contemptuously at the bailiff, ‘I said no but, now, yes there was something.’ He paused. ‘I wouldn’t say sly but as if she had a secret, something she treasured. There again, she was always falling in and out of love.’ The wheelwright fought to keep his voice steady. ‘I never thought it would come to this.’
‘Master Blidscote,’ Corbett turned to the bailiff, ‘when the young woman’s corpse was found, you went out?’
‘I took the cart. I put the corpse in, brought it back and sent one of my men for the wheelwright.’
‘And the corpse?’ Corbett insisted. He patted the wheelwright gently on the shoulder as the man began to sob. ‘There was no sign of the killer, or the garrotte he used?’
Blidscote shook his head.
‘And did you see anything untoward around the corpse?’
Corbett hid his anger: Blidscote’s bleary glance told him he hadn’t even looked.
‘Where is this spot?’ Corbett demanded testily.
‘At Devil’s Oak. It’s a big, ancient tree on Falmer Lane.’
‘But that doesn’t lead to her father’s house?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘So, Elizabeth was found in a place she shouldn’t have been. Out in the countryside?’
‘Yes, yes, that’s right.’
‘In which case,’ Corbett concluded, ‘either she went out to meet somebody or was taken there, either before she was killed or after. Correct?’
Blidscote burped and nodded.
‘And the corpse itself?’ the clerk continued.
‘The young woman’s kirtle and smock were pushed well above her stomach,’ the bailiff mumbled. ‘I think she was killed very near where her corpse was found.’
‘And the other murder?’ Corbett asked.
‘Down near Brackham Mere.’
‘And her killing?’
‘The same.’
Blidscote was now wiping his sweaty palms on his thick, stained hose. He felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting in a cold crypt before this royal clerk with his remorseless list of questions. All he found were corpses: he’d brought them back but now he realised he had made mistakes: he should have been more careful.
‘And that victim?’ Ranulf asked.
‘Her name was Johanna,’ Blidscote declared. ‘She was the same age as Elizabeth. They were friends. She was on an errand for her mother to buy something in the market. People saw her, talked to her, then she disappeared until her corpse was found near Brackham Mere.’
Corbett patted the wheelwright on the shoulder and slipped another coin into his hand.
‘Go back into the church,’ he urged. ‘Light a candle for yourself and
‘Did she have one?’ Corbett asked.
‘No.’ The wheelwright smiled. ‘She was fifteen, but flighty in her fancy. She went to market.’
‘And?’
‘I made enquiries. She met the other young men and women on the edge of the square where the maypole is set up. Her good friend, Adela, who works as a slattern in the Golden Fleece, saw her last. She said Elizabeth was, well, rosy-cheeked with excitement. “Where are you off to?” Adela asked. “I must hurry home,” Elizabeth replied. This was between four and five o’clock. She wasn’t seen afterwards.’
‘And did Adela know where Elizabeth was going?’
‘She crossed the square in the direction of a lane out of Melford.’
‘Did this Adela say Elizabeth was rosy-cheeked, happy, as if she had some secret assignation?’
The wheelwright looked puzzled.
‘A lovers’ meeting,’ Corbett explained. ‘Was she a secretive girl?’
The wheelwright closed his eyes. ‘No. She had her airs and graces. She wanted to make a good marriage. “I don’t want to be a farmer’s wife,” she would often say, “but marry a man with a skill or trade.”
‘And the days before her death? Did she change?’
‘At first, when Blidscote asked me,’ the wheelwright flicked his fingers contemptuously at the bailiff, ‘I said no but, now, yes there was something.’ He paused. ‘I wouldn’t say sly but as if she had a secret, something she treasured. There again, she was always falling in and out of love.’ The wheelwright fought to keep his voice steady. ‘I never thought it would come to this.’
‘Master Blidscote,’ Corbett turned to the bailiff, ‘when the young woman’s corpse was found, you went out?’
‘I took the cart. I put the corpse in, brought it back and sent one of my men for the wheelwright.’
‘And the corpse?’ Corbett insisted. He patted the wheelwright gently on the shoulder as the man began to sob. ‘There was no sign of the killer, or the garrotte he used?’
Blidscote shook his head.
‘And did you see anything untoward around the corpse?’
Corbett hid his anger: Blidscote’s bleary glance told him he hadn’t even looked.
‘Where is this spot?’ Corbett demanded testily.
‘At Devil’s Oak. It’s a big, ancient tree on Falmer Lane.’
‘But that doesn’t lead to her father’s house?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘So, Elizabeth was found in a place she shouldn’t have been. Out in the countryside?’
‘Yes, yes, that’s right.’
‘In which case,’ Corbett concluded, ‘either she went out to meet somebody or was taken there, either before she was killed or after. Correct?’
Blidscote burped and nodded.
‘And the corpse itself?’ the clerk continued.
‘The young woman’s kirtle and smock were pushed well above her stomach,’ the bailiff mumbled. ‘I think she was killed very near where her corpse was found.’
‘And the other murder?’ Corbett asked.
‘Down near Brackham Mere.’
‘And her killing?’
‘The same.’
Blidscote was now wiping his sweaty palms on his thick, stained hose. He felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting in a cold crypt before this royal clerk with his remorseless list of questions. All he found were corpses: he’d brought them back but now he realised he had made mistakes: he should have been more careful.
‘And that victim?’ Ranulf asked.
‘Her name was Johanna,’ Blidscote declared. ‘She was the same age as Elizabeth. They were friends. She was on an errand for her mother to buy something in the market. People saw her, talked to her, then she disappeared until her corpse was found near Brackham Mere.’
Corbett patted the wheelwright on the shoulder and slipped another coin into his hand.
‘Go back into the church,’ he urged. ‘Light a candle for yourself and
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