The Templar

‘Who was that woman to whom you spoke — the beggar?’ Munio had asked Baldwin.

‘She called herself Maria of Venialbo,’ Baldwin said. ‘Do you know of her?’

Munio shrugged and grunted. ‘I’ve a good wife to look after me — I don’t need her sort. Anyway, a woman who turns to begging or whoring will always change her name so that she doesn’t bring shame upon her family — if she has any remaining.’

He sighed and looked thoroughly out of sorts. Baldwin knew how he felt. In his own investigations, there had been times when he had realised there was little likelihood of finding a culprit, and he too had known despair and annoyance at the thought that a guilty man might go free.

Simon had been getting jumpier and jumpier as the questioning went on, and his trepidation had been obvious to Munio. ‘So, you are sure you can tell me no more?’ the Pesquisidor asked searchingly.

‘We’ve told you all we know,’ Simon stated resolutely.

‘Then you can go.’

Simon had paused with his mouth slightly open, and then shot a look at Baldwin.

Catching sight of his expression, Baldwin smiled. ‘What — do you want to stay here?’

‘I thought …’

Munio knew what was passing through his mind. ‘You thought you’d be grabbed and arrested, maybe dragged off to a cell and tortured, didn’t you? You English! You think that every other land is without compassion and meaningful law. The only way is the English way; the only law is English law. Listen, my good fellow. We don’t torture people here unless there is good reason. If someone is found red-handed and denies guilt, he might be tortured to get at the truth — but not when there is no reason to suspect a man.’

Simon felt his nervousness fade as he watched the investigator moodily crumbling a crust between his fingers. He had heavy hands with thick fingers, the hands of a man who was used to working. ‘What will you do now?’ the Bailiff asked.

‘Ask if anyone else knows this person, Maria. Joana’s mistress, for a start.’ Munio had permitted Dona Stefania to leave on compassionate grounds, on the proviso that he could speak to her properly the following morning. She had walked away disconsolate, shuffling like a woman suddenly aged.

The only help the Prioress had been able to give them was to tell them that Joana had been with her for many years. She and a cousin of hers lived not far from the Prioress’s estates at Vigo. Another cousin called Caterina lived hereabouts in the city, but that was the limit of her knowledge of her maid’s family. As far as she knew, Joana had no enemies; she was honest, dependable, and had her mistress’s absolute trust. The two of them had just been to Orthez on business, and were on their way home to Vigo. And now … now the Prioress would have to return alone, and break the news of their Sister’s death to the other nuns in the convent. It was a terrible day, truly awful. She didn’t know how she would be able to make the journey alone.

Baldwin ended with the impression that if Joana was still alive, her mistress would be berating her for her selfishness in being killed.

‘None of the guards at the gates saw this woman, you said?’ Baldwin mused.

‘That is right. I described her and her distinctive blue tunic, but none noticed her. It came as no surprise. Many hundreds of people walk in and out every day by all the gates. This is an important city.’

‘Yes. And yet I should have thought that a bored guard would have noticed a pretty young woman in her prime, with wealth stamped all over her. From the look of her, she would have been a woman with style.’

The Pesquisidor grunted. ‘Perhaps. But all too often the gatekeepers sit in their little chambers and gossip; they don’t watch the people outside. Why should they? All they are supposed to do is see that people coming to sell goods pay their tolls, but if they’re doing that, it’s hard for them to keep an eye on people leaving the city as well.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘This Ruy whom Maria spoke of — perhaps we could find him. If he stayed with her, he could be the guilty man. There may be blood on his sleeve …’ Then Baldwin had another thought. ‘We should ask at the stables. We know that two horses at least were present at the murder scene. Joana’s mount must have been stabled somewhere in the city, and she herself rode out on it. You may be able to discover where her horse was kept, and that way learn whether the groom saw anyone suspicious — like this Ruy.’

‘It is a good idea,’ Munio said drily. ‘Which is why I sent two messengers to enquire at the stables as soon as we returned to the city.’

Baldwin smiled. ‘You are a sensible man, Senor. You know how to investigate as well as any.’

‘As well as an Englishman, I suppose you mean. I dare say that is a compliment,’ Munio growled, but there was a faint smile on his face as he stood and beckoned the cleric to follow him. ‘I thank you for your help. If you can advise me — if you have any new ideas, I would be most grateful.’

‘Any help we can give, we offer freely,’ Baldwin said, rising and bowing.