A Conspiracy of Wolves

Her beringed hand rose to her throat. ‘They said my brother was attacked by a wolf.’

‘I do not give credence to the rumor of a wolf.’

‘I pray you are right. For certain I cannot see how such a creature might find a way into the city– Was Father bitten?’

‘We will know when we examine him.’ He asked whether anyone in the house had expected trouble, whether there had been any sense of danger, a stranger watching the house, anything that caused concern.

‘I know of nothing. My father and my brother were such kind men. They had no enemies, surely.’

‘As a coroner, your father might very well have made some enemies. But your brother would have no part in your father’s responsibilities as coroner, would he? Did he help your father in any way?’

‘No. Hoban had no interest in that. I had not thought about the danger of Father’s position. But he held it so long, without any trouble–’

The hall door opened to the servants bearing their master’s corpse. George Hempe and the priest followed close behind. In the light from the wall sconces, Bartolf’s injuries were all too horrific.

Olyf gave a little cry.

Owen bowed to her and followed the procession into the buttery off the kitchen, a place become too familiar. The servants placed Bartolf on the same stone counter where Hoban had so recently lain. Oil lamps and a lantern provided light for a pair of maidservants who stood ready to clean the body. Owen told them to begin with Bartolf’s face, so that he might see the extent of his wounds.

‘Bless you. Best to do this before Dame Muriel sees him,’ one of the women whispered to Owen.

It was a futile courtesy. There was no way to make pretty Bartolf’s ruined face, the crushed skull. One of the servants gently turned Bartolf’s head to the right, to hide the worst of the devastation.

‘God in heaven,’ Olyf whispered at Owen’s elbow.

He had not noticed her following him. ‘You might wish to forgo this,’ he said.

She crossed herself and hurried from the room.

Owen joined Hempe in a close examination of Bartolf’s wounds. The knife had been thrust with such force it had broken a rib. Blood clogged the old man’s mouth. A dog had clawed him high on his left thigh. Again, not Bartolf’s lawed dogs.

‘I would say a bodkin, narrow blade,’ said Hempe. ‘Do you agree?’

‘I do. But whether that killed him, or whether the shattered rib tore through his lung–’ Owen turned Bartolf’s face so that Hempe could see the blood in his mouth. ‘Or he might have choked on his own blood.’

‘He was such an old man. Who so brutally attacks an old man?’ Hempe asked. He rubbed his face. ‘I am so tired my eyes want to close on me. I will send men round to warn the wardens at the gates, and the night watch. Perhaps someone will have something for me in the morning.’

Out in the hall, there was no sign of Dame Olyf. Owen said goodnight to Hempe and went in search of the servants, asking whether anyone had accompanied Dame Olyf outside when she had discovered the body. All looked toward an elderly man who seemed reluctant to admit his part. Owen drew him out into the yard.

‘Dame Olyf said she heard something without. Told me to get a lantern and come out with her,’ said the servant. ‘The yard was empty, but there was a man out on the street with – I don’t know what it was – a wolf?’ He crossed himself. ‘He just stood there, looking back at us, then hurried off when I walked toward him with the lantern. When I turned, she’d walked to the gate. We saw two people hurrying off through the neighbors’ garden, young, must have been Mistress Alisoun and your son, and then Dame Olyf moaned to see Master Swann–’ The man’s voice broke. He dropped his eyes and crossed himself.

‘Is there anything else?’

‘She whispered, “Dogs again.” And something else, but I couldn’t understand it. But the dog, if it was a dog, had been out on the street.’ The man shook his head. ‘Then she hurried inside. Ordered us to arm and guard the house. And sent for the priest. I’d seen the man and beast before, I think, in the neighbors’ garden. Early one morning. Walking away, toward the York Tavern yard.’

‘Would you recognize his face?’

‘Never saw it, Captain. I’m sorry for that. But the dog, he looked like a wolf, I swear he did.’

‘You’ve seen wolves before?’

‘Have I–?’ The man screwed up his face. ‘Long ago. In the forest. Saw two run down one of the king’s deer.’

‘You said like a wolf.’

A nod. ‘Very like. But – I can’t say. Seemed wrong somehow.’

‘You’ve been most helpful.’

‘Master Swann was a good man, Captain. And Master Hoban. I pray you find who did this.’

‘The bailiffs and I will do our best.’

Curious that Olyf Tirwhit had not mentioned seeing the man and beast out on the street.

It grew late, and Owen had much to think about. He collected Jasper, who was pacing near the hall door. ‘Geoffrey deserted you?’

Jasper gestured toward the fire where Geoffrey lay stretched out on a bench, asleep. Hempe strolled over and gave him a boot in the leg, chuckling as the man snorted and sputtered in confusion.