Wat nodded. “And right now, with the French trying to weaken the King and take over ever more of his lands, how could a French knight be found to confirm that he had dubbed Hector? He’s safe enough.”

“But that’s outrageous!” Simon exploded. “A man can’t just call himself a knight.”

“Of course he can. Men often do,” Baldwin said mildly.

“Especially in companies like mine,” Wat agreed.

Simon looked from one to the other, disbelief clouding his features, but their calm and factual tones disconcerted him. “All right, but even so, how on earth could someone kill a woman after she had borne him a son?”

Wat’s eyes were lidded as he surveyed the bailiff. “It’s been done before. Sometimes by kings, sometimes by ordinary men.”

“I see.” Baldwin gloomily rested his chin on his palm. “So you think he killed both of them, though you have no idea why.”

Wat moved uncomfortably on his seat. “I think Sarra was trying to win him back. You see she was wearing that tunic… And I know he’d bought it for someone else.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, just someone in the town.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It was after he’d spent that first night with Sarra, the Monday morning. He left her and went into town. When he came back, he was really happy, laughing and joking. Next day, he bought the tunic. He told me to go and fetch it from the shop, as it was being finished off. He went out again, didn’t get back till afternoon. I think he found Sarra in his room with the new tunic on, and he killed her for wearing it.”

“Just for wearing it?” Simon asked dubiously. “He could kill just for that?”

Wat ignored the interruption. “I reckon he had met a woman while he was out. It was someone he liked, and he bought the tunic for her, ready for seeing her again later.”

“Later?” Baldwin frowned.

“He was out most of the night after his meal. I think he was with her.”

“Who? Judith?” Simon was beginning to flounder.

The look he received was withering. “No. Whoever the third woman was.”

“And who was the third woman?” asked Baldwin, sipping at his water and wincing as he suppressed a fresh belch.

“I don’t know, but I think it was someone he had met when we came through this town last. After he’d thrown Judith out that time, he met another one, and wouldn’t tell us who she was, either.”

“Was he normally so reticent?”

“No.”

“So why do you think he kept her name secret?”

“I’ve got no idea. Maybe she was important, or had powerful friends.”

Baldwin scratched at his head. “And you believe he killed Judith too? Why should he murder her?”

“Oh, I think she must have asked him for money. My captain is not happy to give, as you may have noticed.”

So news of Sir Hector’s attack on Judith had spread, Baldwin noted. He sat back and folded his arms. “Why do you tell us all this now, I wonder. You have known these things for some time. Why come forward now?”

But Wat stood, smiling patiently. “I had no idea he was so dangerous. How can we, his men, rely on someone who can go abroad of a night and murder a woman just because she asked him for charity? Or another because she put on a new tunic he didn’t intend for her? The man is erratic, and we can’t trust to his judgment.”

“So you feel able to accuse him?”

“Oh no, I can’t accuse him, for I did not see him do it, but I felt sure you would want to hear about him.” He smiled at them, then bowed and left.

Outside, he stopped. They had appeared to listen carefully to what he had said, and he only hoped it was enough. He could have cursed Will for his stupid attempt at assassination. There was no need to kill the man! Hector was already finished. This pair of murders was more than enough to seal his fate, whereas if he was murdered, the whole troop could be held up while the Keeper tried to figure out who was responsible. It was stupid to have tried to break in like that. It had taken all Wat’s self-restraint to prevent him punching the wounded man who lay on his blanket whining about the pain from his side, and he had relished the lad’s agony as the old bolt was jerked from his wound, the bright crimson blood flowing in a steady tide down his flank.

Wat grinned to himself and set off back to the inn. His plans were almost complete. He would be surprised if he was not captain within a week.

Simon frowned after him as the mercenary left the room. When they heard the door slam he faced his friend, his perplexity making him sound peevish. “What’s he on about? Does he really think Sir Hector did it, do you reckon?”

“Yes, I believe he is fairly sure that his master did kill the women, but that has very little to do with why he came here.”

“What was he doing here, then?”

“He was forcing us to arrest his master.”

“Baldwin, it may be my head, but I cannot see what you are…”

“Sorry, Simon, I was thinking out loud.” Baldwin smiled at his friend. “I have known such bands of wandering soldiers in the past, when I was in Rome and France, and they have one principle which seems the same for all of the companies: there is an election of a leader. The man in charge is always the strongest, the one most likely to win the money and women for the rest.”

“So Sir Hector is the strongest among them?”

“Was. That, I think, is soon to become his problem. He was the strongest and most ruthless, and because of that his men feared and respected him. Now, though, it would seem that he has sunk in Wat’s estimation. He is prepared to come here and give several hints that his master could be capable of the two killings, and give us motives for them both. Sir Hector should tread carefully when he goes down any quiet streets. He may find someone waiting with a drawn dagger.”

Simon puffed out his cheeks. “What on earth makes a man seek power like that?”

There was a chuckle from behind them. “Are you referring to me?”

“Bishop, of course not! I… My apologies if you thought…” Simon stammered.

“It is my fault for listening without permission. I confess to my sin,” Stapledon chuckled, peering at him shortsightedly. He motioned to Roger to fetch wine, and sat with them, “But you look troubled, my friends. Can I help? Is it something to do with the two men in Exeter?”

“If,” Baldwin said heavily, “I was right, and that’s where they’ve gone. You are partly right, my lord. It is to do with them and their kind.”

“The murders?”

“Yes.” Baldwin sighed. “There seem to be so many men in that little band who could kill, and several who might have been involved, and still worse, now it seems there is some rivalry going on within it, so we have a man come here to denounce his leader.”

“Ah, I see. You are looking for a murderer, and rather than the normal situation where there is a body and a dearth of possible killers, you have been presented with a pair of dead women and an embarrassment of potential murderers. Not to mention,” he mused, “a poor lad who is now without a protector.”

Simon rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep the night before. “And a robbery.”

“Yes.” Baldwin glanced at Simon. “And now we think that the two mercenaries were the thieves, I suppose we should free young Cole, though we might as well wait until we have had a chance to speak to the other two.”

“Yes. I’d leave Cole there for a little longer. Apart from anything else, he’s safer there from Sir Hector’s men. One or two of them still might try to curry favor by hurting him.”

“If my men do bring Smithson and the other one back from the city, what then?” asked Stapledon. “Will you arrest them for the murder as well as the robbery?”

“I suppose so,” Baldwin said doubtfully

“Could they have killed Judith as well?”

“I can see no reason why they should. What connection could there be between her and them?”