The Merchant's Partner

The Merchant's Partner by Michael Jecks Page A

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Authors: Michael Jecks
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to let the murderer go free? Why? Why, Simon? Simon? ”
    â€œ Simon! God in heaven, will you wake up! Simon!”
    Lurching upright, his eyes wide in his shock, the bailiff sat up on his bench, staring wide-eyed until his heart began to slow its panicked beating. He blew out his cheeks, ran a hand through his hair, then held both hands to his face, shaking as the fear of the nightmare left him. He was still at Furnshill.
    â€œI am sorry to waken you like this, Simon, but…Are you all right?”
    The quick concern in Baldwin’s voice made Simon give a wan smile. “Yes. Yes, I was just having a dream. What is it?”
    Margaret was not there. She must have gone outside. She always woke early when she was with child. Now he could only see Baldwin standing at the foot of the bench where he had made his rough bed last night, a look of wary anxiety on the knight’s face.
    It was not a nightmare Simon suffered from often, but he had occasionally had it over the last few months. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to lose the feeling of gloom as he wiped the sleep away. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œA murder, Bailiff.”
    At the voice, Simon turned sharply and saw the constable, Tanner, standing behind him. “What? Who?”
    Stepping forward to Simon’s side, the constable glanced across to Baldwin before beginning, as if seeking approval from the Keeper of the King’s Peace. “Well, Bailiff, it seems to be an old woman who lived in Wefford, down south of here. Sam Cottey—do you remember him?—he was on his way to Sandford this morning. Found the body and sent a message to me. He reckons she was murdered, says there’s no way it was an accident. I thought I should come here first, see if Sir Baldwin would want to come with me.”
    â€œI do!” said the knight with conviction. “And so do you, don’t you, Simon?”
    Â 
    The bailiff was surprised to see how seriously the knight seemed to take the matter. As far as Simon was concerned, this was surely just a local incident: probably not a murder at all, but some old woman who had met with an accident. He was happy with just his long dagger at his belt. But when he was buckling it to his waist, he caught a glimpse of the rigid set of Baldwin’s face, and saw him taking his sword, pulling it out a short way and looking at it, before slipping it on over his tunic and fixing it in place.
    â€œAnybody would think it was him who had the nightmare,” Simon thought, but then they were walking out to their horses. Taking his leave quickly of Margaret, he kissed her and swung up into his saddle, smiling at her briefly before wheeling with the others and setting off to the village.
    There was a light smattering of snow as they rode, the prelude to a storm from the feel of the air, and the clouds were gray and heavy. The bailiff became aware of the knight darting quick, measuring glances upward every now and again, studying the sky, and when he looked himself, his expression became pensive.
    From the crowds it was clear that the hapless Cottey must be inside the inn. There could be no other explanation for so many people standing and waiting, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the cause of the excitement, or, ideally, a body. As soon as they became aware of the riders, they parted eagerly to let the three get to the door, and the babble began to increase with the people’s excitement.
    At the entrance Simon saw a short but thickset man, broad and strong with a pot-belly, glaring round from under sandy hair, trying to keep the people away by gesturing with a stout cudgel.
    â€œThank heaven you’re here! These scum have nothing better to do than see someone else’s misfortune. Tanner, get rid of them, will you?”
    The constable slowly heaved his bulk from his old horse and patted her neck, looking round at the people. Tanner had the kind of build that

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