A Wicked Deed by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page A

him?’
    ‘I hardly think so!’ said Michael, raising his eyebrows in horror. ‘What if someone sees us?’
    ‘It cannot be any worse than someone seeing us now, having cut him down,’ retorted the friar. He sighed irritably, sketching the sign of the cross on the dead man’s forehead, mouth, chest and hands. ‘There, I have finished. Now we should follow Alcote’s example, and leave while we still can. I do not want to be granting absolution to anyone else today, particularly if it is one of us.’
    ‘This is all very odd,’ said Bartholomew, still kneeling in the grass next to the dead man. ‘His neck seems broken, yet his purple face suggests he died of strangulation.’
    ‘Your interest in this sort of thing is most unnatural,’ said Michael with a shudder. He reached out and plucked at Bartholomew’s tabard, urging him to stand up.
    ‘And whose fault is that?’ demanded Bartholomew, shaking him off. ‘Who is it who has dragged me into all sorts of unsavoury investigations for the University, and forced me to learn about murder and suicide?’
    ‘Murder?’ echoed Michael, gazing down at the dead man in dismay.
    ‘Suicide?’ asked William, equally shocked. ‘I sincerely hope you are wrong, Matthew! I have just granted this man absolution, which suicides are not entitled to have.’
    ‘This man has not been murdered,’ said Michael firmly, recovering quickly from his shock. ‘And he has not committed suicide, either. He has been executed perfectly lawfully for some crime.’ ‘Then why have his executioners not remained here to ensure he died?’ demanded Bartholomew. ‘Why did they not take his belongings? Why did they not tie his hands and feet, as is common practice among hangmen? And look at the clothes he is wearing. This is no common thief, but a man of some wealth.’
    ‘Men of wealth are just as liable to be punished under secular law as are common thieves,’ said Michael pompously.
    ‘It looks to me as though someone strung him up and he started to choke,’ said Bartholomew, his attention still fixed on the corpse that lay in front of him. ‘Look at how his fingernails have been broken as he struggled to tear the noose away from his throat, and how the blood has clotted around his lips. Then, I imagine, his killer tugged on his feet to snap his neck.’
    ‘I have seen people doing that,’ said William, nodding. ‘When I was with the Inquisition in France, we had occasion to dispense with a number of heretics. If the drop did not kill them instantly – and it seldom did – their friends would jump on their legs to put them out of their misery.’
    Bartholomew and Michael stared at him. ‘For a man of God, you have some nasty tales to tell, Father,’ said Bartholomew.
    William regarded him coolly. ‘Hardly worse than you enthusing over whether a man has died from a broken neck or suffocation, Doctor. Now, I suggest we leave this poor sinner where he is, and head for Grundisburgh before Alcote tells anyone what we have been doing.’
    ‘You mean, just leave him here?’ asked Cynric, appalled. ‘We are not heathens to leave our dead for the carrion birds.’
    ‘Someone will be back for him,’ said William. He started to walk toward his donkey, which saw what was coming and began to back away. ‘It will just look as though the rope has snapped naturally, and deposited him on the ground.’ He captured his mount, and they began circling each other in a curious dance-like motion, showing that William was as determined to sit on the beast’s back as the donkey was to avoid it. Meanwhile, Michael took Bartholomew’s arm and pulled him to his feet with surprising strength for a man so fat and unhealthy. He brushed dead leaves from the physician’s black tabard, and slapped the reins of his horse into his hand, glancing nervously up and down the trackway as though he expected a vengeful throng from the local Sheriff to bear down on them at any moment.
    ‘Just lead the thing,’