Beyond was the trapdoor in the floor. It was held in place by a large iron clasp, and locked by a wooden peg. Tanner wandered over to it and kicked the peg free before bending and lifting the trap. He slid the ladder over and lowered it into the depths.

Roger winced at the stench coming up from the cell below. It was not only the cold, dank air, it was the scent of unwashed and fearful bodies. The town jail usually held people who were waiting for punishment, and all too often there was only the one punishment available. It smelled as if the fear of hundreds of prisoners over the centuries had impregnated the walls of the jail with their expectation and dread.

Philip Cole was different. In the past, when Simon had waited here and watched as a prisoner clambered up the ladder, he had felt sympathy wash over him. Philip Cole needed none. He hopped from the ladder with a degree of agility that surprised Simon, then stood silent and still beside it, staring at his interrogators.

Baldwin had learned over time to be wary of first impressions: in his experience people were rarely either as simple or as complex as they appeared, and yet…

This man was suspected of murder and robbery, two of the most heinous crimes possible, and if he was guilty, he should be betraying some of the symptoms of his conscience: nervousness, an inability to meet an official’s eye, twitching and biting his lips. Baldwin had known some criminals who were practiced in their craft and who could keep their anxiety hidden, but they were rare and usually a great deal older than this man.

Philip Cole stood defiantly, his arms behind him, and met their stares with what looked like near-anger. He displayed none of the signs of contrition which were to be expected of a man who had murdered a young woman like Sarra. If he was a knave who had killed to hide a robbery, Baldwin mused, he was a very good actor. His forehead was unlined, giving him an air of probity, his eyes had a guilelessness which fitted well with his simple clothing, marking him out as a farmer, and the way he stared back at his three jailers held more contempt than remorse.

The knight had to remind himself that this man, even if not a murderer, was at best a willing mercenary; he had joined a band of men who were little better than outlaws who held legitimacy purely by the force of their arms.

“Well? Have you come here to release me?”

Simon moved over to join Roger by a wall. Tanner leaned against the doorframe in case the lad attempted to escape. The bailiff of Lydford had no authority here; this was Baldwin’s area, and he must conduct the enquiry.

“You know why you are here?” Baldwin asked.

“Two men have accused me of stealing. It’s stupid! Where is all this silver I’m supposed to have taken? Search my bags; look through all my things. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“The thief was well-prepared, even had an accomplice. Such a man would find it easy to conceal what he had taken.”

“Oh? And where, then, am I supposed to have put all this silver?” Philip exploded. “I don’t even know anyone here.”

Studying his face, Baldwin still could not discern a trace of nervousness. He paused a moment. “Yesterday you were at the inn all day?”

“Yes.” He sounded irritable, as if such questions were foolish.

“Yet last night you were found some miles from the town, on a road heading south. What were you doing there?”

“Nothing. I was attacked here, in the town.”

“What?”

“I was attacked. Knocked on the head.”

“Where?”

“At the inn, in the yard behind it. I was sitting near the rear door when I heard something out at the stables. The horses were making a racket, and I went out to see what was upsetting them. That’s all I know.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged, and for the first time looked a little ill-at-ease. “I remember crossing the yard. No one else was about, and I didn’t hurry, there seemed no point. There’s the one big door and separate boxes set out on the left, and I think I just got inside the door when something caught me. I fell, and I can remember being dazzled; it was dark in the stable, and I’d been trying to get used to it when I was struck. When I fell, I rolled, and the sun was in my eyes.”

“Did you see who had struck you?”

Cole reached up and touched the hair above his left ear. “No,” he admitted wryly. “I wish I had.”

“Let me see.” Baldwin walked over to him and peered at the man’s head. He was not lying about being hit, that much was evident. Just over his ear was a tangled mess where the greasy hair had become matted. Baldwin probed, making Cole wince and hiss. There was a crust, Baldwin saw, and a little broke off in tiny clumps which he studied closely. In the dark of the jail it was hard to be certain, but it looked and felt like dried blood. He glanced back at the man’s face. “Was there anyone else there who might have seen this happen?”

“I don’t know.” His impatience was reasserting itself. “I was unconscious. Someone must have seen me go in, I imagine.”

Simon broke in. “When did all this happen?”

“Sometime in the late afternoon.”

“We found you late at night. Do you expect us to believe you could have been out cold for that long?”

“All I know is, I went to see what was happening to the horses, and when I came to loads of men were staring at me like I was something that’d just crawled out of the sewer.”

The bailiff subsided, looking at Baldwin, who recognized the other’s expression: baffled confusion. The knight ventured, “If what you say is true, do you have any idea why someone could have tried to make you look like the guilty one?”

Cole glowered at the ground. “Yes.”

“Could you tell us, then?” Baldwin prompted smoothly.

Cole hesitated. “I want to get him myself. It’s me he’s hurt – I want to have my own revenge.”

“Do you realize the position you are in?” asked Baldwin in disbelief. “Your captain has had all his silver stolen – some of it was found on you – and a murder has been committed, probably during the robbery. Why should we listen to you when…”

“Murder?” His face had paled, his shock so palpable, Baldwin was convinced he had no idea that Sarra had been killed, though whether that was because he thought she had merely been injured and would recover, or because he knew nothing of the attack on her, was another matter. “What murder? Who’s dead? This is a trick – you’re trying to get me to confess to the robbery by threatening me with…”

“Shut up!” Tanner snapped curtly, but Baldwin held up a restraining hand. He surveyed the prisoner.

“This is no trick; we’re not trying to trap you. All we want to do is clear up a particularly nasty murder, and right now you are the main – well, the only – suspect.”

“But I know nothing of this. Who’s dead? Is it one of the soldiers?” His face was ashen, and he reminded Roger of a sack which has suddenly lost its contents. The cheeks seemed to draw in, the eyes to stare with the dreadful realization of his danger.

“Tell us who might have put this on to you. You were only there with Sir Hector for a day or so – did you anger someone? Or was it somebody from your home?”

Cole took a deep breath and met the knight’s gaze steadily. “It was someone in the band. I’ve no idea who, but it must have been one of them.” Baldwin nodded encouragingly, and the youth carried on haltingly, his voice betraying his emotion.

“Sir Hector’s men came through this way some five years ago. Back then I was only fourteen, but my brother Thomas was nearly twenty, and a strong, hard man. He was a good brother, and he looked after the family, four brothers and a sister, after our father died when he was eleven, working for any farmer who needed help. When my sister decided to marry, he slaved to earn enough to make her a dowry. But then our mother died, and my youngest brother with her, and Thomas had had enough. He wanted to marry, but the girl he loved was already betrothed, and the day she wed he told me he was going to go away.”