The Butchers Funeral: A Medieval Murder (2 page)

"That's a bit extreme isn't it.  Surely he wasn't so hung up that he would do that?  He could have caught him another way."

"It stands to reason, and that's what all the gossips say as well.  Perry couldn't catch him red-handed, and he must have been getting really frustrated.  Perhaps he lost his mind a bit.  Some of the women even say a demon must have taken control of him.  Anyway, he gets frustrated, sees a chance and gets him."

"How?  Col died in his bed, with the surgeon there.  That hardly seems like a murder.  Maybe it was the surgeon who did it?"

"Don't be daft.  Everyone knows it wasn't the surgeon.  What do you think all the fuss has been about the last few days?  If it was the surgeon, he'd be on his way to the King's court by now."  He paused, looking at his hands, "They say it was poison."

Law thought it through while the priest continued his drone in the background.  Perry was still agitated and looked like he might interrupt if the eulogy continued much longer.  It made sense, perhaps it was Perry.  He was certainly wound up by Col Butcher.  Law, himself, seen Perry hanging around the Butcher's shop.  If the barber surgeon was not responsible for the death, the Carniter had both a reason to want the butcher dead and, as he knew all about dangerous food, he would have known a way to kill someone he did not like.  Maybe the women were right and he was taken over by some demon and forced into the act, but it did not seem like Perry would need the extra help.

Donald Alvin, the barber surgeon, had at first been suspected of murdering Col.  It was clear it was murder as Col was a fit, healthy man.  He had even raged about being murdered as he died.  Col had claimed he had been poisoned, how else could he have taken such a turn for the worse.  He had started out with a heavy cold, was confined to bed, and as Alvin was in town, the barber surgeon was summoned to treat him.  The gossip said that his humours were out of balance and he was prescribed hot, spicy foods and a course of bleeding to control his frustrations of being stuck in a bed.  The gossips said that he got worse, and towards the end, he even started to accuse his wife, Alvin and anyone else around, of poisoning him.

After Col had died, Alvin had been briefly detained by the town constable.  Yet, so many people spoke up for Alvin's good reputation, unusual for someone as itinerant as a barber surgeon, that a decision was taken that Alvin could not be guilty and that there was no point referring him to the King's court.  The Constable had gone as far as suggesting that Col's accusations of murder had probably been the result of his fevered mind.  This was something the town gossips could clearly not agree with and now it seemed like the rumour mill was finding Perry a likely target.

He still thought Dye must be involved somewhere in this, but why would she help Perry?  Perhaps she was having an affair with him, but that did not seem likely.  It was one thing for a woman to take a lover a lot younger than her husband, but another thing altogether if the lover was the same age as the husband.  For starters young lovers were the things of jokes and dreams, not socially acceptable, but understandable.  What did Perry have to offer? However, that relationship might explain how Col was poisoned.  Dye could have slipped some poisoned food, provided by Perry, into Col's meal.  No, he could not see it working out like this.  Dye taking a lover and, after Col's death, trying to do well out of bad circumstances was one thing.  He seriously could not see her as a murderer.  Looking at Perry right now, a man with his distaste clearly showing on his face, Law could see Perry as a murderer.  How did he do it?

"So how did he poison him?".

"Does it really matter?"  Judd was expecting this question, "He'd know what he was doing.  Perhaps he even gave Col his own meat, one of those really bad cuts.  You know, the bits that raise a stink and are a bit off colour." Law knew, he had eaten a couple of rank pieces of meat bought from Col when he had first arrived in town, before he got wise to some of Col's worst practises.  "Almost everyone agrees it was Perry." Judd pronounced his verdict with the air of one speaking with authority, as much authority as his hushed voice could give without distracting the people around them.

"So what do we do about him?  Go to the Constable?"

"Could do, but nothing will happen.  Everyone will swear he's of good character and it will go no further.  I thought we could have a little fun and maybe get something out of him."

"Blackmail?"

"No, there's always a feast day coming up and I've not had lots of fun for ages.  We could hock him, hold him to ransom.  It would be great fun."

"Are you sure?  The last hocking I was involved with was back in the village.  They got this girl, and well, things went a bit far."

"Come on, where's your sense of fun?  We could dig a pit and get him to fall in, hang him inside down from a tree, even pretend to be bandits and kidnap him."

"That's all well, but I though you only hock friends and family.  It's not like either of us really knows him."

"Doesn't matter, especially when you're outside in the countryside.  Look, he gets punished for the murder by becoming the butt of our joke, and believe me, everyone will think it hilarious.  We get a nice little ransom, and if you're worried about your soul, we can always give some of it to the Church."

"I suppose it would be funny, especially if we put him in a pit and then got people to come and see him.  Mind, how we going to get him in a pit in the city?"

"Hmmm, I suppose we could get him to fall in a latrine.  Maybe weaken his toilet so that it collapses and he falls in."

"That would be funny, but what about the noxious air, it may kill him?  I'm sure that happened to someone in London."

"No, the gases don't hurt the muck-rackers and that Richard from London drowned when he fell in.  You know the old story.  We'll have to make sure he doesn't drown if we do this to him.  Don't want him to get out too easily.  Need to keep him there for a bit so that we can get other people around to see him up to his neck in it."

They were struggling to suppress their laughter as the priest ended his speech.  Some of the people standing nearby were giving them hard stares as their evident good humour was not really befitting the occasion.  Their chuckles died down, and Law noticed that Perry was still struggling to keep his silence.

Dye was crying as they lowered the cloth wrapped corpse into the ground.  The body had been removed from the coffin as was usual, and both the mortcloth and coffin had been removed for future use.

The grave was tucked away in a corner of the overcrowded graveyard.  The stones almost sat on top of each other, the mourners trying to gather close to the grave without standing on the graves of those already departed.  A large, old, yew tree hunched in the background, the huge gnarled bark, rough to the touch.

The priest said his words and Dye threw a handful of soil into the hole.  It made a rustling noise as it hit the burial cloth.  Her tears grew more prolific as a friend helped her away.  Several other mourners moved forward to look into the grave.  It was hard to tell who were the genuine mourners and who were paid to be there, the closeness of death making all serious, and many concerned.

There were too many unpleasant things in a churchyard, too many reminders of the frailty of the human body.  It was a familiar place to everyone.  From the graves of the young to the graves of the old, everyone present was familiar with the churchyard through their own losses.  As well as the usual deaths from the many illnesses afflicting sinners, the Plague had struck down so many.  There was a general fear that somehow the miasmas in the air carried the Plague.  Of course miasmas could not always be seen, but when they were, the grey mists would hang around the graveyard the longest.

The mourners began to move away, some clustering in small knots while others left to return to their daily tasks. Perry stood among them, as if standing guard to make sure the corpse was not resurrected, or that some other miracle allowed the man he disliked to escape death and eternal judgement.  He had already shunned Dye and both Law and Judd had been disgusted by his lack of sensitivity to such a beautiful and eligible young widow.  Their plan for a little fun seemed like an even better idea.

Dye was embracing a family member, a small crowd hovering close by, unsure whether to comfort her or start heading to the alehouse that the remaining mourners, including some of the paid ones, were heading for.  Not usually ones to miss the opportunity for a drink, no-one noticed as Law and Judd wandered off in deep conversation.

              John Perry was annoyed.  He took long strides along the forest path, brushing overgrown bushes out of the way.  He was not really paying too much attention as he was late.  He had to get to the village quickly to catch them in the act.  He had missed his chance with one of the villainous butchers, but now he had a chance to catch another criminal trying to move rotten meat into the city for sale.  Minor setbacks were not going to hold him back.  Perry had come so close, more than once.  The latest problem was that careless oaf Col, had gone and died, just at the wrong time.

He swiped another branch out of his way.  Why were these roads not properly maintained?  This time Col had been caught in the act of selling wormy meat to an old widow who clearly couldn't see what she was buying.  Not only that, but it seemed that even worse meat might have been going into the pies, maybe even cats and dogs as well.

Now there was a new lead.  This one was not going to escape him like that worthless butcher.  He had been almost at the funeral, as they had lied about in the house of God.  Forget the prayers to the saints, the sins of the butcher could only be cleansed with a good pillorying with rotten meat piled at his feet for a day and a night.  That would have ruined the butcher.  No-one would have trusted that man again and the rotten meat would have given him a taste of his own medicine.

This new opportunity was only a few miles away.  Perry had overheard some muttered whispers at the funeral, not realising the extreme fortune in his senses staying awake in spite of the foul mood he had been in.  A fishmonger was selling rotten fish.  The rumour was that the fish not only stank to high heaven, but that every trick in the book was being used to pass it off as fresher than it was.  These food-sellers were all the same.  His angry thoughts translated into a stomping march.

‘I'll get my hands on this one and I'll...’ A sharp pain in his ankle.  A cracking noise as the world turned upside down.  His stomach lurched, and the leaf-strewn path appeared above his head, arms almost touching the ground.

As the sideways motion slowed, he started to gently spin.  Bending at the waist, he looked up toward his sore ankle, the leg carrying all his weight.  There was a rope.  Some idiot had tied a rope around his ankle, and he was hanging from it.  Some fool, no, the same fool, had tied it to a thick, high branch that passed over the path.  What the hell was going on?  He was upside down, hanging by his ankle.  Butchers, fishmongers, pie makers!  One of them had done this to him.  They dogged his every step.  When he got his hands on them, they would pay.  Attacking an officer of the Courts Leet going about his duties, this would end up in the Royal Courts.

The knife, he thought, that was it.  The knife in his belt, that would do the job.  Usually used for testing meat, Perry kept it razor sharp.  He reached up to his belt, drew the blade, nearly dropping it with the unfamiliar balance of the weight.  Bending at the waist, he could not reach the rope around his ankle, his untied leg interfering with every attempt.  He tried swinging from side to side and nearly lost the knife as his sense of balance played tricks on his stomach.  All his weight on one ankle, it hurt.  He could not even bend his leg enough to reach the rope.  He fell back lose, hot, and with the blood rushing to his head.  Again, he nearly lost his grip on his knife, before remembering it and making the effort to return it to the belt-sheaf.

Once his breathing returned to normal, the noise of rustling leaves caught his attention.  He turned his head looking for the source of the noise.

‘What we got here then?  Bit big for a rabbit.  Not pretty enough for a deer,’ The tone was sarcastic, ‘You know what it looks like - a freshly hung flesh-eater to me.’

‘Let's leave him a few days to ripen a bit.’ Another voice said, ‘Wouldn't want him to be too fresh.  Might spoil the dish.’

A bush rustled as two young men pushed aside the branches and stepped out into the clearing. Both were young men, one was medium height with dark hair, the other a bit taller with brown thinning hair. Neither was well dressed, they had an air of poverty about them.

‘Dangling ready for us.’ Said the dark haired one.

‘Just hanging about ain't he.’

Both looked familiar, but hanging upside down Perry could not immediately place them.

‘What do you want?’

‘Well that's it, get straight to the point why don't we.’  The dark haired one seemed to be the leader.  ‘We want a bit of fun, that’s what we want.’

Perry made a snorting noise, half disgust, half fear.  He thought about his blade.  It would more than do the job on these imps if they came close enough, but for now they were out of reach and he would have to get them to let him down.

‘I've money,’ A bribe might do the trick, after all, that was what this was all about, ’I could give it to you.’

‘All in good time my kind sir.  First of all we need to deal with the matter of you offending our friend.’

Perry's mind rushed.  He had offended plenty of people, and not just in the last few weeks.  Yet these men looked familiar.  Images from the funeral the day before came into his mind.  They had been there.  No doubt they had been part of the crowd of paid mourners that had crawled out of every crevice, all paid for by the dead butcher and his wife.

‘You've already been paid, at the funeral yesterday and I didn’t offend anyone who didn’t deserve it.’

‘Indeed, but you didn't pay your respects did you. It was you who put the butcher there in the first place, you murdering bastard.’

His mind raced.  What the hell were these fools going on about?  Certainly Col Butcher's death was suspicious.  He'd thought so himself, but that someone thought he had done it was just too much.

‘It wasn't me you stupid fool.  Why would I do anything so foolish?  Now let me down so my brain can work.  You're upsetting my humours having me tied upside down like this.’

‘We'll upset more than your humours.’

Clearly they did not believe him.  The quieter one quickly moved toward him and launched a kick at his head.  It caught his shoulder and the pain briefly stunned him.  His assailant was readying for another kick, but the dark haired one placed a hand his friend's shoulder.

‘Don't rush.  We've got all day.’

‘I know you, black hair.  You're that pig boy, Judd Foreman. Don't know your friend.  New to city?’  The recognition had jumped into his head.  ‘Look I've not killed anyone, I'm an officer of the court.’

‘Yes we know you as well.’  Law spat on the floor as Judd replied, ‘You go round hunting for traders selling dodgy meat, don’t you?  What went wrong?  Couldn't get any evidence on Col Butcher so you killed him?’

‘Didn't kill him, and had plenty of evidence to take to the constable.  He'd been selling unfit meat and I'd have got him pilloried.’

‘We know he sold dodgy meat.  Everyone knows you couldn't trust him to give you better than a dodgy stomach.  How'd you kill him?  Poison they say.’

‘I didn't kill him!’  Perry was exasperated, ‘I don’t know why you two are so stuck on the idea, I didn’t kill him and was going to take him to the constable.’

‘Look Judd, he's not going to admit is he?  Let's just get on with this.’  Law’s adrenaline was beginning to run down.  He addressed the upside down carniter, ‘We don't care whether you think you killed him or not you see.  We want a bit of justice and to our minds you are the most likely to have killed the butcher.  So what’s going to happen is you'll get a few bruises and hand over some cash which we'll share for the good of the community.’

‘You're hocking me?’  Disbelief was in Perry’s voice.

‘Could say that.  So how much have you got?’

Perry thought about the small pouch of coins hanging from his belt.  He also had some whole gold coins hidden in his shoes, but there was no way he would part with them.  The coins in his pouch were mostly slithers, quarters of precious coins and low denomination cheap metals.  ‘Look, it's not hock tide, what on earth do you think you're doing.’  The look on Laws' face reminded him that he had already been kicked once and he quickly added ‘I've not got that much on me.  I could give you it.’

‘How much?’

‘Not a lot, a few coin to cover my expenses on this trip.’

While Law had been questioning, Judd had carefully examined their upside-down victim.  He had seen the small pouch hanging from the belt and quickly stepped forward snatching it.

‘Hey!’

‘Well look how much we have here.’  Judd emptied the pouch onto the ground, ‘Should be enough to see us through a few days in the ale-house.  My friend here, may even be able to salve his conscience a little by giving some to the local Friary.’

‘You can't have all of it.’  Perry raised his voice, ‘Let me down!’

‘Let's not be too hasty now,’ Law said, ‘We need a bit more justice first.  Money is not going to be enough, a proper hocking needs a bit more fun to it and you deserve a bit more than a proper hocking.’

Law closed in and aimed a punch a Perry's stomach.  The air wheezed out of Perry's lungs and he was hard pressed between the requirements of gravity and the need to roll into a ball.  The punches and kicks poured in.  Somewhere Perry could hear a voice crying out in pain with protestations of innocence, pleading for mercy.  Somewhere among the sparks that were crowding his thoughts, he realised the voice was his.  Soon blood was flowing and Perry was beginning to lose consciousness.  Eventually the beating subsided.

‘Get him down,’ Said a tired voice, ‘I've had enough.  We've got the money and we've given him his punishment.  Murdering bastard.’

Perry wanted to again protest his innocence, but his swelling lips and swirling head stopped the words emerging as more than grunts.  Why was it that these interminable youths would not accept the truth?

He fell to the floor as the rope around his ankle was eased.  The impact was fast enough to cause yet more stars behind his eyes.  He lay gasping, trying to gather himself.  Everything hurt, his head most of all.  Nothing seemed broken, but his head pounded.  His hands moved towards his knife.  It was still in place.  He rose unsteadily, one eye seemed blurry and the dizziness was a problem.  He could see the two assailants were leaving the clearing.

‘Hey, come back!’ He drew his knife, ‘You'd assault an officer of the court would you?’

Judd and Law turned, ready to laugh at the fool who did not know his own limits.  Yet, he was already moving quickly and unsteadily towards them, clearly intent on revenge.  There was a moment of twisting movement as he flew through the air, falling far too short of his targets, having caught a foot on something.  A scream sounded as he hit the floor, the knife twisting and puncturing his stomach.

‘What the hell is it now?’  Judd took in the scene before answering himself, ‘He's gone and stabbed himself in the guts.’

‘No way he's coming back from that.’  Law was no expert, but everyone knew that few people survived a serious stomach wound. 

Blood was oozing around the handle of the knife and Perry was grasping at it, trying to pull it out.  His face was white and sweating.

‘Help me.’  His voice was weak and trembling.

‘Judd, let's go.  He's had it.  We need to get away from here before someone gets the wrong idea.  No one will believe he fell on his knife.’

Perry lost consciousness as they left.  Judd and Law continued to argue about how they had not meant things to go so far.

His eyes opened.  He felt weak.  His guts burned and he was sweating.  His hands went to the tender, damp spot above his waist.  It hurt to the touch and he could make out the darkness on his hand in the failing light.

‘Keep still,’ a voice said, ‘You've got a bad wound there.’

Perry turned his head to the side and could make out a person, but there was too much shadow to make out who it was.  ‘Who are you?  What's happened?’  His questions were almost choked off by the pain.

‘Donald Alvin's the name, barber and surgeon is the trade.  So it seems like I'm just the right person to stumble upon you.  Found you next to the path in this clearing, left for dead by the looks of it.’

Alvin rummaged around in a pouch, ‘Here, you'll need some of this for the pain.’

‘What is it?’ Perry could make out a small vial.

‘Dwale. It's made of hemlock, lettuce and pape.  Just a sip though, it'll take the edge of the pain while I work out what to do with you.’

Perry sipped the vinegary mixture while Alvin busied himself with looking over the wound.

‘Nasty wound.  Thought so when I first found you but doesn't look like you're going to die anytime soon.  May be able to get you though this, but mortification will set in if I don't tidy up the wound.’

‘Why are you helping me?

‘It's my Christian duty isn't it?  Don't you pay attention in Church?  Besides, I have the skills to really help you, so count yourself blessed.’

‘You know, I was in Church not long ago, a funeral.’  Perry was beginning to slur his words as if a little drunk.

‘Good,’ Alvin said, ‘The dwale's beginning to take effect.  As you're not going to bleed to death any time soon, I'm going to collect some firewood and then you can tell me what happened.’

Alvin walked off into the undergrowth while Perry felt a growing weight on his eyelids.