A Killer in Winter

The physician entered one of the hovels that lined that part of the river like a row of broken teeth. A candle burned dimly within, and, with wine-fuelled curiosity, Norbert tottered forward to peer through a gap in the woven willow-twig walls, all thoughts of stealing from his uncle temporarily forgotten. Inside, he saw Bartholomew kneeling on the ground to tend an old man whose painful, hacking cough fractured the silence of the night. The patient was Dunstan, and his equally ancient brother Athelbald hovered anxiously over them like a skeletal angel. Simultaneously fascinated and repelled by the treatment the physician was giving the sick man, Norbert edged around to the rear of the hut, where the twigs were more rotten and afforded a better view of the scene within.

He had not been watching for long when he became aware that he and Bartholomew were not the only men out at a time when most law-abiding folk were tucked up in their beds. Low voices drifted to him on the still night air, and Norbert stiffened, holding his breath and hoping the speakers would pass by without seeing him.

‘I am growing weary of your demands,’ one man hissed furiously, as he and a dark-cloaked companion drew level with the hut. ‘You push me too far.’

Norbert heard Dark Cloak sneer his contempt. ‘I have only just started.’

‘You will be sorry for this,’ warned the first man venomously, his beard wagging in the moonlight. ‘I am not a man who easily forgives, and I have a long memory.’

‘So do I,’ claimed Dark Cloak in a furious whisper. ‘You have done me a great wrong, and I do not let such matters pass unremarked. You will pay.’

Their voices faded as they moved along the towpath towards Small Bridges. Norbert rubbed his chin, trying to make sense of their conversation. He left his hiding place and set off after them; he was fortunate that all their attention was on their quarrel, or they would have heard his clumsy pursuit far sooner. They walked stiffly, as though being in such close proximity to each other was anathema, and Norbert was fairly sure the bearded one held a knife. He tried to walk closer, to hear more of their discussion. The disagreement reached a climax when the towpath met the Mill Pool, and the two men stopped dead in their tracks, facing each other like enraged fighting cocks.

‘You committed a foul crime!’ Dark Cloak was shouting, all attempt to keep his voice low forgotten. Norbert supposed it did not matter, since there were no houses nearby and no one was likely to overhear him anyway. ‘You should think about that before you make those kind of threats.’

‘I do not care what you-’ Both men turned abruptly when Norbert trod on a rotten piece of wood and its sudden crack gave away his presence.

Norbert was not afraid. His drunken mind had been mulling over what he had heard, and it occurred to him that their argument could be turned to his advantage. What he had in mind was a tempting and easy alternative to burgling his uncle’s house.

‘Crimes,’ he slurred with a dissolute leer, waving his fish at them. ‘And blackmail. I heard you both, gentlemen. Crimes and blackmail are illegal, and unless you want me to repeat this conversation to the King’s justices, you will make it worth my while to keep silent.’

The two men gazed at him in astonishment, before glancing at each other, then returning their mystified stares to the dishevelled, red-eyed spectre that swayed before them. Norbert became aware that the hostility that they had aimed at each other was now focused wholly on him. Suddenly he felt uneasy.

‘It strikes me that you are attempting to blackmail us,’ said the bearded man eventually, not bothering to hide his contempt at the ludicrous nature of Norbert’s demand. ‘You will also be fined or imprisoned if you take this tale to the Sheriff.’

This had not occurred to Norbert. He stood still for a moment, his mouth working like that of a landed fish as his alcohol-soaked mind thrashed about for an answer. But the bearded man was taking no chances. The knife was in his hand when he stepped forward. With horror, but far too late, Norbert realised that he had made a serious mistake in attempting to extort money from this pair. Gripping his fish like a talisman, he turned to flee, but he had taken no more than two or three steps before he felt something thump hard into his back. A searing pain drove all else from his mind. He felt his legs give way, and he slumped to the ground.

Dark Cloak eyed his companion uneasily. ‘That was unnecessary.’

‘What would you have me do? Pay him, as well as you? One of your kind is more than enough for me, thank you very much.’