'Didn't you want to cut your wife's body down?'

Fourbour looked away.

'I couldn't,' he stuttered. 'I just went cold. One of the apprentices ran to Mortlake Manor. Sir Simon, the physician and that strange man, Monck, came. Monck carried a torch. He and the physician went forward. Monck searched the ground beneath the scaffold then remounted his horse to cut Amelia free. Afterwards he said there was no sign of any other hoof marks or boot prints.'

Fourbour paused. He seemed to be thinking. 'The next morning,' he said at last, 'the headless body of his servant was found on the beach. At first, I thought the deaths were connected.'

'Did you?' Corbett asked. 'Why?'

'Oh, because they happened at the same time.'

Corbett touched the man gently on the back of his hand. It felt like a sliver of ice.

'They were murdered, Master Fourbour. Cerdic Lickspittle and your wife were murdered. Do you know why?'

The man shook his head.

'Can you tell me anything which would explain your wife's death?'

Again the shake of the head.

'Or who rode your wife's horse back to the outskirts of the village?'

'I don't know,' Fourbour whispered. 'The villagers who saw it thought it was Amelia, but the night was dark and the rider wore a cloak.'

Corbett chewed his lip. He heard Robert the reeve outside the door, complaining loudly about being kept waiting. Corbett ignored him.

'You saw your wife's body?' he said gently.

Fourbour nodded.

'And there was no other mark of violence on her?' 'No,' the baker whispered.

'And did you discover anything amongst her possessions – a letter, a note – that might explain her death?'