track down there where it curves round to the right,â he ordered. âStop anyone coming along the path.â
Dickonâs look of gratitude was eloquent reward. Not only was he excused from going any nearer to that terrible thing under the trees but in addition Josse had saved his pride by giving him a job to do.
Leaving the lay brothers on the path, Josse approached the bloody body. There was a cloaked figure standing some distance beyond it, next to two mules tethered to a tree. The man hurried forward.
âYou are from Hawkenlye Abbey?â he called.
âAye,â Josse said. âI am Josse dâAcquin. The brethren with the hurdle are Brothers Saul and Augustus.â
The man nodded. âI am Guiot of Robertsbridge, on my way to Tonbridge with nutmegs and cloves for the market. Thatâs my lad Dickon. Heâs a tad lacking in the wits but heâs willing and he has a way with a heavily laden mule that Iâve rarely seen bettered.â Having thus identified himself â a wise notion, Josse reflected, when standing over a mutilated corpse â Guiot of Robertsbridge dropped his voice and muttered, âSomeone had it in for this poor fellow.â
Josse had crouched down over the body. âAye.â
âIâve been wondering ifââ began Guiot. But, evidently sensing that Josse would prefer silence, abruptly he shut his mouth and stepped back a pace.
Slowly and steadily Josse took in the details of the dead man, from the top of his head to his pale, bare feet. His shoulder-length hair was so dark that it looked black, lying slick and smooth on his skull. His eyes, partly open, were also dark; having noted this detail, Josse gently lowered the lids. The manâs nose was sharp and the cheekbones were set high, giving a hawkish look to the face. The skin was olive in tone. His chest was well muscled and he was broad-shouldered, with a toned belly and long legs with sturdy thighs. The penis, flaccid below the smooth black body hair, had been circumcised.
Josse looked up at Guiot. âAny sign of his clothing?â
âNo. This is exactly how he was when the lad and I stumbled across him: mother-naked, unarmed and no pack, purse or wallet.â Unable to curb his curiosity, he added, âRobbery, do you think? Some wretch jumping out on a man travelling alone in the early hours of the morning?â
Intrigued, Josse said, âHow do you know he was attacked in the early hours?â
Guiot looked smug. âBecause Dickon and I left home around dawn and Dickon had been up some time before that getting the mule packed. He pointed out that it was a good thing we didnât set out earlier because weâd have been caught in the downpour weâd just had.â The smile spreading, Guiot went on, âThe bodyâs wet, so it was lying here when the rain fell, but the ground under the body is dry, so he must have fallen just before the rain shower.â
Josse was impressed. But he could see a slight flaw in the argument: âCould there not have been another shower earlier in the night?â
âNo,â Guiot said firmly. âIâm a light sleeper and Iâd have heard rain on the roof. Dâyou reckon it was a robber killed him?â he persisted. âSeems likely, since whoever did for him took his belongings and every stitch of clothing.â
âAye,â Josse agreed. He was not really listening; he was trying to make up his mind about something.
It was difficult to say with certainty, for with the clothing and the satchel missing there was nothing to go by. The face was exposed, that was true, but then Josse had nothing with which to make a comparison. Still, the height and the general build were right, as was the swarthy skin tone.
And the man he was thinking of was, after all, missing . . .
Making up his mind, Josse stood up. He looked at Guiot and said, âWe must take him to the Abbey and