Read Online The Sticklepath Strangler (2001) by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online Page B

Bailiff, but I meant Sir Baldwin.’
    Simon eyed the grinning knight sourly. ‘Look here, I can’t just drop everything to come and view one of your corpses, Coroner.’
    ‘It’s already been discussed with Lord Hugh. He said, since the work here is finished, you’re free.’
    Simon saw a loophole. ‘I don’t work for Lord Hugh. I’m a Stannary Bailiff and I report to the Warden, Abbot Champeaux of Tavistock.’
    ‘Who has given his permission. Lord Hugh’s staying with him and has said all’s well. Come on, Bailiff ! Wipe that grim expression from your face and join me in a jug of wine. I
don’t have to see my wife for another week, and that’s enough excuse for a drink!’
    Simon grimaced. In truth he was usually happy investigating crimes, but he had hoped to return home and take his rest. ‘Wine? Yes, a pint or two would be good.’
    ‘After all,’ Coroner Roger said conspiratorially, leaning down and winking at him, ‘this one’s better than most. I am informed that it’s the remains of a
cannibal’s feast – and well ripened, too! Surely you wouldn’t want to miss a rarity like that, would you?’
    Simon grunted, trying to instil an element of enthusiasm in the sound. He failed.
    Approaching Sticklepath from the town of South Zeal, passing up the incline to the crossroads at the top, where he rested the horses and Aylmer, who sat and scratched with an
intent expression on his face, Baldwin reflected that the view was attractive, with the vast rounded mass of Cosdon on his left and the rolling countryside of middle Devonshire ahead and to the
right.
    ‘Is it much farther now?’
    Baldwin glanced across at his wife. She rode at his side on her white Arab, the gift he had given her on their wedding day. ‘I am sorry. If I could, I would have placed you in the wagon,
because it would be more comfortable.’
    ‘The wagon would not have made it,’ she said. ‘The tracks are too steep, slippery and badly rutted. I’m more comfortable on horseback. Look at that hill. No wagon could
climb that.’
    He had to agree. The hill west of Sticklepath was a terrible climb. It was only a few weeks ago that Baldwin had travelled this route to the tournament at Oakhampton, but then he had not been
considering the view, he had been contemplating the immediate future and the risk of being included in a joust. Now he looked at the trail, he could remember having heard that this must be one of
the steepest sections of the road to Cornwall, and he could easily believe it was true.
    The road curved away down the hill from Baldwin to become lost among trees and bushes. It reappeared on the far hill, but there it didn’t twist from side to side, but set off almost as
straight as an arrow’s path upwards, defined by the moorstone walls at either side, which stood out clearly compared with the green tree-lined slopes.
    ‘It is not far,’ he said. ‘The vill is down in the valley.’
    ‘What is the vill like?’ she asked as they began the descent.
    ‘I cannot say that I noticed much. An inn, a mill . . . the normal things. When we got here, we rode through as quickly as we could, in our hurry to get to Oakhampton Castle. Do you recall
anything, Edgar?’
    ‘Good pasture, plenty of wood for timber, and well-maintained field strips. And oh yes, it had been flooded. Apart from that, no, I didn’t see anything.’
    Baldwin grinned. Edgar was a professional observer.
    Their journey had not been as swift as he had hoped. They had set off the day before, but the clouds had opened and their journey from Crediton was hampered by thick mud on the roads. Twice
Baldwin had been tempted to turn back, but each time the rains had seemed to lessen, and Petronilla, Edgar’s wife and Richalda’s nurse, was careful to keep the baby warm and dry beneath
a thick woollen rug.
    Although they now rode in bright sunshine, it was good to see that there were several fires roaring in the vill. That much was obvious from the