The Malice of Unnatural Death: Read Online Free PDF

between the city and the king had been averted. The agent was still here, and Matthew
wondered whether he could be used again.
    He had a fertile brain for planning. Now he sat back in his chair and bent his mind to the question of how he might best use
the killer for the greater good, and by degrees a scheme occurred to him, one in which he could protect himself from risk
while also ensuring that others would receive the full weight of any danger.
    And he began to smile to himself – until there came a crash of metal from outside.
    ‘What the devil …?’
    A red-faced man-at-arms peered in apologetically from the screens passage. ‘Sorry, Sir Matthew – I dropped my bill.’
    ‘Be more careful!’ Matthew snapped, and then returned to his contemplation. Gradually his annoyance dissipated, to be replaced
by a certainty that his plan was not only workable, it was perfect.

Chapter Two
Exeter City
    Itwas late afternoon when John of Nottingham at last reached the city. From the wide flood plain, he could see it from far away
as a smudge in the sky. He had to stop and rest, his sore feet aching and blistered from his hastening march.
    His had been an arduous journey. Thanks to Christ that he had learned of his danger and escaped quickly, because otherwise
he’d be dead already. It was only the speed with which he had made his escape that had saved him.
    In part it was the example of his master that had given him the spur. When Lord Mortimer of Wigmore had been captured, he
had little opportunity to resist; to have defended himself would have meant instant conviction for treachery to his liege-lord,
the king. All through the war, Mortimer had been careful to avoid raising his own standard against the king’s, but instead
he’d held up the king’s standard while razing the Despenser lands so that when he explained himself later as only having the
king’s interests at heart, none would find it easy to reject his assertion.
    He had been forced to surrender when the long hoped for support from Thomas of Lancaster never arrived. That cowardly son
of a diseased sow stayed in his castle andrefused to make the leap to defend his own comrades – with the result that the king destroyed Mortimer’s armies, and then
turned on Lancaster himself. And when Lancaster was caught, he was condemned out of hand with no opportunity to defend himself
against the charges, and executed – the first of hundreds to be slaughtered by that vengeful, vicious king. The man didn’t
deserve his throne. He didn’t deserve his life.
    To remove him had been the most precious desire of so many, and yet only so few could have achieved it. And it had been so
close. But when the assassination plot had been discovered, all were taken. All but John of Nottingham.
    He eased the staff over his shoulder, his pack an almost unbearable weight. Few enough possessions: mostly it was his one
heavy book. That was all, wrapped up together with some clothes in his blanket, but they had rubbed the flesh in a broad swathe,
and now he spent much of his time trying to forget the pain. Still, better to be foot and shoulder-sore than dead, or held
and tortured.
    Exeter was a new town to him. He had never been here before, which was itself an advantage, but it had the additional merit
of being far enough away from all central sources of power in the realm for him to be perfectly secure. And there was a port,
which meant that if he needed, he could escape over the water, too. For now, though, all he sought was a warm fire, a bed,
and some hot wine to ease his chilled bones.
    The smudge in the distance began to acquire definition as he followed the old roadway and found himself skirting a high plateau. Now he could see that it was composed of many fires throwing their fumes up into the air. And then, as he continued, he found
himself face to face with a broad city wall, all red stone, with ditches raised before it as additionaldefences. There were houses lining the route now,