Simon studied him with interest. The day before he had looked nervous and scared of the bailiff and knight, but now he seemed dulled. He could have put it down to exhaustion, but Simon was sure he could see a glitter of defiance in the blue of the youth’s eyes.

“Tanner?” the knight called, and the constable walked up from the bottom of the table.

“Hello, sir.”

Motioning towards the farmer on the floor, Baldwin asked, “Where did you find him?”

Giving the boy a look of contempt, as if at his stupidity in being so predictable, the constable said, “Down south on the way to Exeter. He walked there overnight, apparently. He says he decided to leave. He wants to go to seek his fortune in Gascony.” Shaking his head, Tanner glanced down at the boy.

Baldwin nodded. “Greencliff?” he said. “You know how this must make you appear to us. You’re not stupid. Tell us about the day that the woman Kyteler died. What were you doing? Where did you go?”

But the youth merely stared back at him with eyes that suddenly filled with tears, and refused to answer.

After the search party had left, the constable cursing as he tried to form the ragged group of men into an escort for their prisoner, Simon stood for some minutes, gazing after them with a puzzled frown. When he turned, he saw Baldwin close by, glowering at the ground.

“I am surprised,” said the knight slowly. “I find it difficult to believe that Greencliff is a murderer, and yet…”

“It’s hard to see why he would keep silent if he was innocent. Especially when he must know he’s the obvious man to suspect. And the body was right by his house.”

“Yes, it was. But that’s what worries me. I would have expected him to leave the body in the house or dump it somewhere else. Not there, right by his own place – it’s almost as if he was trying to get us to suspect him!”

“How do you mean?”

“Come on, Simon. If you were to kill someone and wanted to avoid being found out, surely you would hide the body somewhere more imaginative, somewhere away from yourself, somewhere – even if the body was seen – it would not be connected to you, wouldn’t you?”

Simon nodded slowly, but doubtfully. “Perhaps, Baldwin, perhaps. But equally, what if he had put Kyteler there hoping to hide her better later? He might not have expected anyone to see her there. After all, he might have thought he could get to her before anyone rose, to hide her in the trees where nobody could find her.”

Scratching at his beard, his mouth drawn up into a cynical grin, the knight nodded. “I suppose so. But surely, if that was his plan, he would have been about his business early, before old Samuel Cottey would be up?”

“Don’t forget the body was away from the road, hidden in the hedge. Maybe he thought he was going to be up before anyone else. In any case, why would anyone else have put the body there?”

“To implicate Greencliff, of course.”

“But wasn’t it too well hidden for that?” Simon frowned. “Away from the road, and under the hedge like that. If someone wanted to make sure that Greencliff was blamed, surely they would have made the body easier to find?”

“It was well away from the road,” Baldwin admitted.

“Yes. And yet Cottey found it… I wonder how…”

“What?”

“How did he find the body over there? He would not have been able to see it from the road. I think maybe we should go and talk to old Sam and find out exactly how he did find Kyteler.”

At the door to Cottey’s old house, a ramshackle affair built half of logs, half of cob, on a small hill amid a series of small strips of pasture and crops, with a huge wood-stack before the door, they found a young woman scattering seed for the chickens that scampered at her feet.

They had ridden from Furnshill almost as soon as they had decided to see Cottey, the black and brown dog insisting on joining them. The mastiff, taking one look at the cold snow, appeared to decide that the fire inside held more delights for a lady such as herself. Now Agatha Kyteler’s dog capered along in their wake, occasionally throwing himself headlong into a thick drift when the whim took him. Arriving at the door to the house, he was a great deal more white than black or brown.

The girl stopped tossing her seeds and watched as they rode forward, and then, at the sight of the dog, she put her basket down and crouched, holding her arms widespread. The dog went into a convulsion of ecstasy, tail wagging madly, panting in apparent delight, as he danced slowly around her, allowing her to stroke and pat him.

Baldwin grinned as he swung a leg over his horse’s rump. She was a reasonably attractive woman, only just jut of her teens, with an agile, if sturdy, body. He could not help but notice that she appeared to be well-formed. When she glanced up at him, he saw that she had light-grey, almond-shaped eyes above a wide mouth with full and slightly pouting lips. Her hair was mousy, almost fair, and hung in a braid down her left shoulder. He drew in a breath, and let it out in a short sigh. She looked very attractive. “Calm down, fool! She’s only a villein. You’re just getting desperate, that’s all,” he told himself.

“Are you Sarah Cottey?” he asked, and she rose to her feet, wiping her hands on the front of her tunic. The innocent action pulled the cloth taut over her breasts, and Baldwin cleared his throat and averted his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” she answered with a smile, seeming to notice his glance and subsequent embarrassment. She wiped her hands again as if taunting him.

“Er… Is your father here?”

She motioned to the road behind them. “No, he’s over at my aunt’s farm in Sandford. But he will be back soon, will you wait here?”

Simon exchanged a glance with Baldwin and, when he nodded, dropped from his horse, lashing the reins to a post nearby. “Thank you. Yes, we will wait.”

She asked if they wanted to sit inside by the fire, but to Simon’s surprise, Baldwin seemed happy enough to stand outside in the cold, talking by the door. Unknown to him, the knight remembered the smells from the Oatways’ house.

“Do you know the dog? He seems happy enough to see you.”

“Oh, yes. It’s old Agatha’s, isn’t it? I always used to make a fuss of him when I saw him. Isn’t it sad about her, though? My poor father, he was so upset afterwards, I thought he would never calm himself.”

“Why? Was he a friend of hers?” asked Simon.

“Friend?” She looked at him with faint surprise, as if the suggestion was one she would not have expected. “No, of course not. No, he thinks she was a witch. Even just finding her, he was scared she could come back and haunt him if he treated her wrongly.”

“Haunt him? Why should she want to?”

“Well, you know how these things are. People round here are worried if someone’s a bit different. They feel anxious if someone new arrives in the village, and Agatha was different. He thinks she might come back as a ghost.”

“How? In what way was she different?”

“In what way? She came from a land far away, so she used to say, from the kingdom of Jerusalem, and had a knowledge of herbs and roots. If someone was hurt, they’d go to her, and she could often help, even if it was only by stopping their pain for a short time.”

“She was a midwife too, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” she bridled slightly, as if nervous, or perhaps shy, and her cheeks’ natural ruddiness deepened. “Yes, she was known for that. She was very clever.”

Just then they all heard the rattle and clatter of a wagon and, looking up, they soon saw the old farmer sitting on his cart. His dog leapt from the back of the wagon and walked slow and stiff towards Baldwin’s adopted friend, but they knew each other and were soon engaged in a companionable chase.

Samuel Cottey appeared unsurprised at the presence of his visitors, and he nodded at them both before springing lightly from the seat and beginning to see to the mule. While Simon and Baldwin waited, Sarah disappeared inside and soon came out again with a mug of warmed ale for her father. Taking it, he smiled at her, his face creasing into familiar wrinkles before tilting it and drinking deeply.