Simon finished giving instructions to Hugh and looked round the camp. The miners were returning to their work and the Beauscyr men had almost disappeared over the brow of the hill, transporting their dead and wounded with them. Nearby was a small pile of bodies, five tinners who had died, and Simon eyed them sourly. For a bailiff to fail in preventing a single murder was bad enough, he knew… but a full-scale battle in the King’s forest was a major event. He would be called to account for this! Sighing, he suddenly felt exhausted. The events of the morning had taken their toll, from fighting the fire to stopping a battle, and all he wanted now was a chance to sit meditatively and drink a long refreshing draft of ale. Seeing Baldwin, he stretched, and grimaced as a bone clicked. Then he strolled over to him.

“So, Baldwin. At least that’s over for now,” he murmured, and Baldwin’s head snapped round. “Baldwin? What is it?”

The knight explained about his new insight about the two dead men and the attention-distracting fire. Simon listened, but could not help glancing at the small and pathetic bundles of the dead. “I know,” said Baldwin, following his gaze, “but that’s the way of warfare. I feel the fate of Samuel and Ronald is worse, somehow. Their deaths were premeditated, and they were killed before they could defend themselves – just like Peter Bruther. He was grabbed from behind and garotted, while Samuel was stabbed in the back and Ronald was slaughtered while he lay helpless in his bed.”

“If what you say is right,” Simon mused, “the killer must have begun the fire, then slipped into the room to murder Hankyn and Taverner.”

“Yes, but I still cannot understand why he should have enticed Samuel into the storeroom. At that time of day, surely he would have found both asleep – in which case, all he needed to do was stab Samuel first where he lay.”

“Oh, that’s easy. Whoever this killer was, I think he started the fire, then entered the storeroom from the courtyard itself. He waited there until the alarm was raised, and when it was, he kicked over the barrels to make a noise. It woke the good Samuel, who walked in to see what the row was, and he was grabbed round the mouth to stop him screaming as he was stabbed. After that, all the murderer needed to do was walk back into the room beyond and finish off poor Ronald where he lay.”

“Yes, but why, Simon? That’s what I don’t understand. Why kill them?”

“That’s something we can only find out by asking the killer, but I expect whoever did it thought the two men had seen him on the moors when Bruther died. It would explain the matter rather well, wouldn’t it? He thought they had seen him, so he made sure they could not tell anyone.”

“If that is correct,” Baldwin said, his voice low, “then it must have been somebody in the fort. The fire began before the gates were opened. Adam Coyt, Thomas Smyth and his men… everyone who was outside the fort must be innocent. Whoever killed Bruther and then the other two must have been inside last night.”

“Oh yes, Baldwin. I’ve got no doubt about that,” said Simon grimly, and he led the way to where Hugh and Edgar held their horses.

Quickly swinging himself up, the bailiff glanced round the camp. Almost all the signs of the fighting were gone now. The bodies, the evidence of the battle, had been covered and would soon, no doubt, be taken to the little church at Widecombe. Two men were shovelling earth into the traps and stamping on top to level the ground, while others were walking over the terrain collecting arrows. These would be put back in the armory in case of another attack. Apart from that, the camp had regained a little of its calm atmosphere, slumbering in the warm summer sunlight.

Kicking his horse up the slope, Simon said, “It’s as if nothing has happened here, it’s so quiet.”

The knight nodded in agreement. “Indeed. You could hardly imagine what carnage was here only a few hours ago. The grass is flatter, but that is all. The moors seem good at hiding their secrets.”

“Yes. Whether it’s a single man like Bruther, or a group like the ones here, all soon disappear.”

They were at the farthest fringe of buildings now, and Hugh looked back pensively. “I wonder where Bruther did die.”

“What do you mean?” asked Baldwin, staring at Simon’s servant.

“Well, we don’t know where he died, do we? He might’ve been killed where he was found, only it seems a bit odd for him to be up at Wistman’s Wood, so far out of his way. All we know is, he died somewhere between Thomas Smyth’s hall and his own place.”

“Well done, Hugh. So all we have to do is hunt over all the moors between those two places and we’ll find where he was killed. That should be easy enough.” Simon’s tone was witheringly sarcastic.

But Baldwin was thoughtful as he stared at the servant. “It shouldn’t be too hard, really. After all, we know that Bruther was careful and wary. If he was walking over the moors and heard someone behind him, he’d turn to see who it was. And if somebody was lying in wait, Bruther must surely spot him. These moors are so flat, even a beetle is visible a mile away.”

They were almost at the top of the hill above the plain now, and Baldwin turned to survey the landscape. “If a man was going to ambush someone, he would want to do it far out in the moors, surely? Even if he had men with him, he would prefer a quiet place with no chance of a witness overhearing, wouldn’t he? Now where could a man do that on the moors?”

“At a tor, I suppose. Or a group of other rocks.”

“That is right! There are rocks behind which a man could hide, but would John have been able to get to them to ambush Bruther, unseen by his victim?”

Simon considered a moment. “It would depend on which route he took from the tinner’s house. The killer must have been in place when Bruther passed, then gone on to Wistman’s Wood with the body, had time to hang it, and then escaped. I wonder how long that would have taken him?”

“A good while,” Baldwin judged. “And that is what I do not understand. Everyone seems to be able to explain where they were, apart from Sir Robert and his brother. Of course, John might not have had time if he rode immediately to Chagford to rob this farmer.”

“Which means it was Sir Robert.”

“Yes.” But Baldwin’s expression was doubtful.

Simon sighed. “We still don’t know where or exactly when Bruther was killed. It must have been some time before dark.” He stopped. When he spoke again he was deep in thought. “I never thought of that before. He was dead some time before the two Beauscyr men passed by, so he would surely have been killed in daylight.”

“Let us assume he was killed in daylight, then,” Baldwin said. “His body must have been carried over to the woods, because if he was going straight home, his route went nowhere near Wistman’s Wood. The wood is over a mile distant from any point on the path, so he must have been taken there on horseback. He would have been too bulky to carry.”

“Yes,” Simon nodded, thinking hard.

“If John had too little time, could it have been his brother?” Baldwin mused.

“Didn’t Alicia say she met Sir Robert when it was getting dark? He would have had time to kill Bruther between leaving Alicia and seeing her again later.”

“True, but I find it hard to believe it was him.”

Hearing this, Edgar whirled in his saddle to stare at his master. “Could it not have been Adam Coyt, then? He had a packhorse there.”

For once Baldwin was sharp with his servant. “Don’t be ridiculous! Coyt admitted being there, otherwise we would not have known. Why should he confess to being there if he was the killer and had no need to admit to being even remotely close? And another thing: Coyt dislikes miners generally, it is true, but he had no real dislike of Bruther except insofar as Bruther damaged the moors, to his mind, and for that he expected… um… Crockern to protect the land. Anyway, Coyt was not in the Manor last night. He could not have killed the other two.”