Crossing the hall, Baldwin was struck by how deserted the place was. It was strange to see a room, normally so bustling and raucous, now empty. Most of Sir Hector’s men were still out searching, and were unlikely to return until morning. They would want to make sure that they could see no sign of their quarry before risking their master’s wrath, and it would have been impossible to send messengers after them to call them back: there were too many routes being covered.

Smoke hung lazily in the rafters, and the stench of rotten ale permeated the atmosphere. The inn stank of the men-at-arms in the mercenary band, of their unwashed bodies, of urine and sweat. A couple of dogs rooted among the rushes on the floor like hogs, searching out bones and scraps. One of the serving women tossed a crust to them, and then watched as they fought over it, laughing. To Baldwin, the dank and chill jail was more appealing than the inn at this moment.

They went through a door, which was concealed behind a tapestry at the back of the room. A room led off into a number of chambers, and Baldwin and the silent Simon were conducted to the one Sir Hector had taken for himself. The captain was alone in his chamber.

“So, Sir Baldwin. I didn’t need to ask for your help in the first place, did I?”

Sir Hector eyed the knight and the bailiff with a sardonic smile. If only he had got the hue out immediately, he thought bitterly, he could have had the thief back here and punished without the unwelcome attention of the Keeper of the King’s Peace. It still rankled that the man had appeared and taken charge, and it was aggravating in the extreme that he had been with the group that found John and Henry and their captive. Any other team would have brought Cole back to Sir Hector for immediate retribution, but this local knight, who looked like a hard-up merchant with his shabby tunic and scuffed boots, was too keen to keep a hold on his own power in this pathetic little town. Was it because he wanted to extort money from Cole in return for rigging the jury at his trial? It had happened often enough before, Sir Hector thought contemptuously.

“This is good plate, Sir Hector,” Baldwin said politely, ignoring the sneering suggestion.

“I don’t keep poor items.”

“Is it English?”

“No. I won it in Gascony.”

Baldwin nodded to himself. He knew that “won it” meant “stole it.” For a man like Sir Hector, there would have been many chances for enriching himself. Few men would go to war for amusement. Someone like Sir Hector saw it as a uniquely profitable business which could offer excellent opportunities in exchange for short-term risks with the potential, providing the captain was bold enough for untold rewards: sometimes even the overthrow of a ruler and the theft of his entire kingdom. Incidents of that nature did not occur too often, but such had happened with the Grand Catalan Company, which had turned against its employer in 1311 and set up its own duchy in Athens. Poor laborers and peasants with the army found themselves in possession of wealth they could hardly have conceived of before. Baldwin knew that the Catalans still ruled there, and were likely to do so for some time: they had the arms, the power, and the will to use both to keep what they had won. It would take a strong army to dislodge them, and there was none which was prepared to try.

“Was this all that was taken?”

Sir Hector gave a short, annoyed shake of his head. “No, of course not!” he snapped. “The bastard took almost all of the plate from my chest.”

“Yet this was all that was found on him,” Baldwin murmured, studying his distorted reflection in the plate. “I wonder where he could have disposed of the rest?”

“He’ll soon answer that, whether he wants to or not.”

Baldwin glanced at the captain. “Perhaps,” he said mildly. “I suppose there is no possibility that you made an error? The silver was definitely taken?”

“Look for yourself.” The captain waved a hand haughtily round the room.

There was, Baldwin had to admit, little likelihood that the silver could have been secreted in the room. Apart from the mattress, there were few items of furniture in the low-ceilinged room. Some heavy chests lay on the floor near the window, a chair among them, and a sideboard sat at the opposite wall. The floor was trodden dirt, and any digging would have been immediately obvious. No, the silver must have been removed.

Some of the captain’s treasure still occupied the top of the cupboard, lying on a great expanse of cloth which made the jug, pair of mugs and saltcellar look lonely when compared with the empty space around them.

The saltcellar attracted Baldwin’s attention. It was a great silver box shaped like a church without a roof, the four walls concealing the glass bowl which held the precious mineral. A tower rose at one end, while doors and windows were carefully and elaborately defined. It was the sight of this which removed the last vestige of sympathy Baldwin had held. Such a piece could only have been made for a man in Holy Orders or the patron of a religious order. No other would pay for such a costly item. Why had the thief not taken it as well as the rest?

“The whole of the top of that cabinet used to be covered in my silver. Plates, goblets, spoons – all of the first quality. And he took the lot.”

“It’s not in the cupboard?” Baldwin lifted a corner of the cloth and peeped under. The shelves were clear.

“Satisfied?”

“No, not at all. Did your silver fill one of these chests?”

“Yes. That one.”

Baldwin nodded slowly as Sir Hector pointed. The chest was a good three feet long and over two feet in height and depth. “And I suppose all the staff here at the inn knew about it?”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” Sir Hector roared. “Nobody from the inn was allowed in here, and I made damn sure that my men were always outside in the hall to stop anybody walking in.”

“I see. Tell me, when did you notice your silver had gone?”

Sir Hector was quickly becoming exasperated with the knight’s steady questions. “What does that matter?”

“Possibly not at all, but I would like to know.”

“This evening, after I had taken some food. I usually eat with my men late at night, but tonight I chose to dine earlier.”

“Ah, and did you have your cellar with you when you were eating?”

“Where else would my salt be? Of course I had it on my table. Then later, when I came back to my room tonight, I found that my silver had gone.” Bitterly he added: “And the man you want to protect from me had disappeared, too.”

“How did you find that out?”

“I asked whether anyone had disappeared, and we discovered that Cole had gone,” the captain said, adding with heavy sarcasm, “I suppose I was wrong to immediately assume that he might be guilty, but the fact that my silver was found on him makes me suspect my first thought was right.”

Baldwin ignored the taunt and laid the two plates found on Cole back on their cloth. “Was anyone else missing?”

“Yes. The two who followed him, Henry the Hurdle and John Smithson, but they are long-established members of my troop. They would not have dared do this to me.”

“I see.”

Simon looked up. He had been preoccupied, thinking about Margaret again, but something in Baldwin’s manner caught his notice. The knight was standing with his back to Sir Hector, who scowled at him from the chair. Simon could see that Baldwin was smiling to himself with a kind of world-weary amusement. Then he turned, peering at Sir Hector with a sudden sharpness. “Were you in here before your meal?”

“What is this? The lad was found with my silver on him! What’s the point of these questions, Sir Knight?” Sir Hector spat, but Baldwin gazed at him imperturbably.

“The point, as you so elegantly put it, is this: you are asking me to believe that a single man could have taken all the silver from this room on his own, without a horse or assistance from another, when I have heard it took three men to carry your chest when full. I find that hard to swallow. Either he removed it piecemeal over a period, or he had an accomplice. If he took it over a period, it would be helpful if I knew how long he had to do so.”