Bernard Knight - Figure of Hate

Nesta's big eyes widened at this. 'And who is that?'

'Reginald de Charterai, the knight who defeated Hugo fairly at the tournament on Bull Mead last week.

I told you all about that, remember?'

'Yes, but you didn't say the Frenchman threatened to slay him.'

'Well, he did, after that drunken confrontation in the Guildhall, though at the time I thought it was empty words spoken in anger. But what's even more interesting, he's been staying in Tiverton these past few days, within a few miles of Sampford Peverel.' The other three stared at him in surprise — this was the first they had heard of this twist.

'What the hell's he doing there?' demanded Gwyn.

'It seems he's paying court to Avelina, the handsome widow — the elder of the two handsome Peverel widows now,' he added whimsically. 'The brothers almost had apoplexy when she told them that she had invited Reginald to visit her at the manor today.'

'I don't see that she could ever be a suspect in this,' said Nesta. 'Whatever happens to her stepsons, she can never retrieve her dead husband's estate for herself.'

'But if she suspected Hugo had a hand in her husband's demise,' squeaked Thomas, 'and her new lover de Charterai had reasons for hating him sufficient to threaten "to kill him, then either one or the other — or both — might have encompassed his death for revenge.'

De Wolfe gave one of his throaty rumbles, like an old lion. It could mean anything but often was a signal that he doubted some assertion.

'I can't see an honourable knight like de Charterai repeatedly stabbing a former jousting opponent in the back — though even chivalrous men will do terrible things when goaded by a fair lady!' He gave Nesta a pinch on her bottom that made her jump.

'So what's to be done next, Crowner?' asked the practical Gwyn.

'Back to Sampford early tomorrow to hold this inquest and see Hugo laid in the ground. I doubt we'll learn anything new, unless some of the villagers decide to voice their grievances.'

'Little chance of that — they still have to live under their new lord after we've left,' grunted his officer.

'Who's it going to be? I wonder.'

John rasped his fingers over his stubble. 'It sounded to me as if Odo was going to reopen his fight to inherit, though Ralph seemed confident that the justices would find for him against Odo, just as they did for Hugo.'

Will that take a long time to settle?' asked Nesta.

'They were quick enough last time. I think they took the case straight to Winchester and got some members of the curia to deal with the matter. It doesn't do for a large manor like Sampford to be left in limbo for long.'

'God knows when the justices will come to Exeter next,' said Gwyn. 'If the Peverels want another quick decision, they had better go chasing the Chief Justiciar or the Chancellor again.'

John stretched his long legs out under the table, feeling the warmth of Brutus's brown fur against his calves.

'That's their problem, I'm glad to say. Though if I find that it was one of the brothers who dispatched Hugo to get his inheritance, then there'll be yet another dispute over who gets that unhappy manor.'

The next morning was unexpectedly fine and the high road leading north-east out of the city was in as good a state as it ever would be, the mud dried yet not powdered into dust. Thomas and the coroner left by the East Gate as soon it was opened at dawn and met Gwyn at St Sidwells, the nearby village where he lived.

A couple of hours later they were trotting down the road into Sampford, this time from the Tiverton direction, and soon passed Agnes's mean cottage, which marked the start of the village. Apart from a few women and children around the dwellings and some old men tending their tofts and animals; there seemed few people about, though in the distance an ox team was ploughing one of the strip fields.

'I trust that bailiff has assembled a jury as I ordered,' muttered John. 'But these damned brothers seem to delight in being obstructive.'

'You said you'll hold the inquest in that barn they use for a manor court?' asked Gwyn.

'It seemed the best place, especially if there was to be rain. Knowing them, they'll not yet have brought the corpse from the church, so let's ride there first to see what's going on.'

They trotted along the track, which followed the ridge past the manor house and the green to the church at the far end. Outside the gate, they dismounted and Thomas held the horses while Gwyn and his master went into the churchyard. Halfway down the path to the porch Gwyn stopped and pointed to a spot a few yards to one side.

'That wasn't there on Monday. Have they had another death already?'

De Wolfe looked across and saw a mound of fresh red earth. His face darkened as suspicion flowed into his mind like a spring tide.

'The bastards wouldn't dare!' he hissed and, lengthening his stride, he hurried into the little church. Inside the door he stopped and looked down towards the altar. There was nothing there — no bier, no body.

'Perhaps they've taken it to the barn ready for the inquest,' growled Gwyn, peering over John's shoulder.

'I very much hope so, or there'll be big trouble!' rasped the coroner, but his hopes were short lived. The rotund figure of the priest emerged from the tiny sacristy, an anxious expression on his podgy features.

'Where's the corpse?' roared John, careless of the hallowed surroundings.

Father Patrick shuffled forward in his faded cassock, his hands held out in supplication.

'I told them it shouldn't be done, after what you ordered, Crowner,' he babbled in his thick Irish brogue. 'But they insisted and I have no power to resist my lords, sir. My very living is within their gift.' De Wolfe advanced until he was towering over the unfortunate priest.

'You mean he's already buried? That grave outside?' he bellowed.

The vicar nodded, cowering back from this irate knight, who looked as if he might unsheathe his sword, church or no church.

'Yesterday, Crowner. You see, his corpse was beginning to turn colour and my masters, especially Sir Ralph and Sir Joel, said it wasn't seemly.'

'Seemly! The law is the law, whether it's seemly or not!' thundered John.

Father Patrick nodded vigorously. 'Of course, Crowner! But then our neighbour, Sir Richard de Revelle, came across and recommended that we have a quick burial. As he was the sheriff until recently, we all assumed he knew that the law allowed it under those circumstances.'

De Wolfe looked at Gwyn and exhaled noisily.

'Bloody de Revelle! I might have known it.' Ignoring the disconsolate priest, he turned on his heel, strode out of the church and, with an angry glance at the pile of fresh soil, went to his horse and cantered back towards the manor house, Gwyn and Thomas following behind. On striding into the hall, he found the three brothers sitting around a table with Richard de Revelle, all drinking ale and picking from a platter of savoury pastries. Standing near by were the steward, the bailiff and the reeve, looking decidedly anxious as they saw the King's coroner bursting in like an avenging angel — or perhaps devil was nearer the mark. He marched up to the table and stood aggressively with his legs apart and his fists bunched at his waist.

'Right, which of you ordered the corpse to be buried?' he snapped, without any niceties of greeting.

'Good morning, brother-in-law!' said de Revelle, with sarcastic false civility.

'You keep out of this, de Revelle. I'll come back to you in a moment.' He glared at the three Peverels until one of them stood up. It was Ralph, and it seemed that on this occasion Odo was content to let his brother assume seniority.

'It was a family decision, Sir John. We were of the opinion that your demand to leave our relative unburied for so long was utterly unreasonable.'