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Authors: The Medieval Murderers
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happened here?’ he asked a man-at-arms.
‘We all heard a cry, and when we came here, we found this little force. They were probably just here to cut a couple of throats, steal a purse and make their escape. We were lucky: someone
behind us heard them and gave the alarm.’
‘Hardly behind you,’ Janyn said. It was a stupid comment to make. Unless the French had infiltrated the English camps and killed someone in their midst. And yet that first cry, he
could have sworn it had not come from this direction. ‘Must be the way the hill curls around us. The quarry. Rock can make noises seem to come from an odd direction.’
‘If you think so, Vintener,’ the man said without conviction.
‘Right,’ Janyn said, watching as the men pulled the bodies about, one with a war-hammer giving each skull a good blow for good measure. There was no time to take prisoners up
here.
Looking at the dead, he felt sad. It was such a pathetic little group: farmers and peasants who were determined to strike their blow for the defence of their realm. When they were confronted and
joined battle, they were soon forced to flee, leaving many of their companions dead or squirming in their own blood, their hatchets, bills and sickles left on the ground. If the French Army of the
King was no match for the English force of arms, how could these fools have thought that they were capable of doing them damage?
When it was clear that all was safe and not further attacks could be expected that night, Janyn returned to the camp with his men, but when he looked around, he realised that the woman was not
where she had hidden.
Pelagia was gone, and so was Bill.
Even now he shuddered at the memory of the shock that coursed through his body at the sight. Bill’s bed roll was left open just as so many others were all about; each man, hurrying to his
feet, had thrown aside his blankets and grabbed his weapons in a hurry to get to the fight. But Janyn could not remember seeing Bill at the road or up at the front line. ‘Walter, where is
your brother?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know, Vintener,’ he said, but in his eyes there was a terrible anguish as he looked to where Pelagia had been lying.
‘Your brother took her, didn’t he? Christ’s bones, the shriek that woke us, that wasn’t the French, that was Bill. He’s killed her, hasn’t he?’
Walter hesitated. It was enough for Janyn. He had seen the look in Bill’s eyes over the last few days. The longing and desperation that had gradually turned to greedy hunger. He wanted the
woman, Janyn was sure. And now he felt sure Bill had taken her.
‘Walter, if you find your brother first, you’d better make sure she’s all right, because if I learn Bill’s hurt her, I’ll see him hang!’ he said.
‘What do you mean? Bill wouldn’t hurt her any more than I would,’ Walter said haltingly. He was almost pleading.
‘You’d better hope that’s true if you don’t want to watch Bill hanged from a tree.’
‘What do you want to do, Jan?’ Barda asked. All banter had ceased at Janyn’s tone of voice. Now the men stood watchfully.
Where they were, the quarry wall encircled their little camp, but there was no way to tell where the two could have gone. Had they fled together, he would have left things as they were. The loss
of one lovesick man was one thing, but if he had snatched Pelagia to rape her, Janyn would see to it that Bill paid.
‘Jan?’ Barda said again. ‘Do you want us to find them?’
‘How’ll we do that at this time of night?’ Janyn said. It was the middle watch of the night, when the darkness was at its blackest, and even the best hunter and tracker would
find it difficult to follow a trail. Janyn knew he was no master huntsman. Besides, he and his men had been installed here to help protect the road, and that they must do.
‘You want to leave it till morning?’
‘Yes. For now we all need to rest,’ Janyn said, striding to his blankets. He wrapped
‘We all heard a cry, and when we came here, we found this little force. They were probably just here to cut a couple of throats, steal a purse and make their escape. We were lucky: someone
behind us heard them and gave the alarm.’
‘Hardly behind you,’ Janyn said. It was a stupid comment to make. Unless the French had infiltrated the English camps and killed someone in their midst. And yet that first cry, he
could have sworn it had not come from this direction. ‘Must be the way the hill curls around us. The quarry. Rock can make noises seem to come from an odd direction.’
‘If you think so, Vintener,’ the man said without conviction.
‘Right,’ Janyn said, watching as the men pulled the bodies about, one with a war-hammer giving each skull a good blow for good measure. There was no time to take prisoners up
here.
Looking at the dead, he felt sad. It was such a pathetic little group: farmers and peasants who were determined to strike their blow for the defence of their realm. When they were confronted and
joined battle, they were soon forced to flee, leaving many of their companions dead or squirming in their own blood, their hatchets, bills and sickles left on the ground. If the French Army of the
King was no match for the English force of arms, how could these fools have thought that they were capable of doing them damage?
When it was clear that all was safe and not further attacks could be expected that night, Janyn returned to the camp with his men, but when he looked around, he realised that the woman was not
where she had hidden.
Pelagia was gone, and so was Bill.
Even now he shuddered at the memory of the shock that coursed through his body at the sight. Bill’s bed roll was left open just as so many others were all about; each man, hurrying to his
feet, had thrown aside his blankets and grabbed his weapons in a hurry to get to the fight. But Janyn could not remember seeing Bill at the road or up at the front line. ‘Walter, where is
your brother?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know, Vintener,’ he said, but in his eyes there was a terrible anguish as he looked to where Pelagia had been lying.
‘Your brother took her, didn’t he? Christ’s bones, the shriek that woke us, that wasn’t the French, that was Bill. He’s killed her, hasn’t he?’
Walter hesitated. It was enough for Janyn. He had seen the look in Bill’s eyes over the last few days. The longing and desperation that had gradually turned to greedy hunger. He wanted the
woman, Janyn was sure. And now he felt sure Bill had taken her.
‘Walter, if you find your brother first, you’d better make sure she’s all right, because if I learn Bill’s hurt her, I’ll see him hang!’ he said.
‘What do you mean? Bill wouldn’t hurt her any more than I would,’ Walter said haltingly. He was almost pleading.
‘You’d better hope that’s true if you don’t want to watch Bill hanged from a tree.’
‘What do you want to do, Jan?’ Barda asked. All banter had ceased at Janyn’s tone of voice. Now the men stood watchfully.
Where they were, the quarry wall encircled their little camp, but there was no way to tell where the two could have gone. Had they fled together, he would have left things as they were. The loss
of one lovesick man was one thing, but if he had snatched Pelagia to rape her, Janyn would see to it that Bill paid.
‘Jan?’ Barda said again. ‘Do you want us to find them?’
‘How’ll we do that at this time of night?’ Janyn said. It was the middle watch of the night, when the darkness was at its blackest, and even the best hunter and tracker would
find it difficult to follow a trail. Janyn knew he was no master huntsman. Besides, he and his men had been installed here to help protect the road, and that they must do.
‘You want to leave it till morning?’
‘Yes. For now we all need to rest,’ Janyn said, striding to his blankets. He wrapped
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