Bernard Knight - Figure of Hate

After two days of hectic preparation, he accompanied Matilda to Topsham, she riding side-saddle on a palfrey and Lucille walking behind. A sumpter horse was piled with her luggage for at least a month's stay with her distant cousins near St-Lô, which was convenient for Reginald de Charterai, as it was on the route from Barfleur to Fougéres. What her relatives would say when she turned up on their doorstep, John preferred not to think about. And for the return journey, she would have to find some escort to the port herself, as Reginald was returning to England within a few weeks, to fight again at Salisbury.

With a sigh of contentment, John sat in the boat with his arm around Nesta and thanked God most sincerely that all these machinations were now behind him. The fact that Matilda might eventually find out that he had been with his mistress while she was away was a possibility — but that was well into the future, as they would be back in Exeter long before his wife returned home.

On the smoother waters of the Wye, Gabriel's nausea abated and he gazed about him with interest. After a mile or two the banks began rising steeply, and as the ferry rounded a bend the little town came into view, clinging to the slope above the river where a rocky gorge began to appear. Above the town, which had a wooden stockade around it, was the castle, one of the first stone fortresses built after the Conquest. A massive oblong tower stood on the top of the ridge, a deep ditch between it and the town. On the other side, an almost sheer cliff dropped into the river, making the stone and timber walls of a bailey necessary only on the south and west sides.

'William the Marshal fell in for a nice little place when he married,' commented Gwyn, staring up at the castle as they headed for a landing stage below the town. The elder brother of the Bishop of Exeter had been given Isabel de Clare as wife by Richard the Lionheart, soon after he came to the throne in 1189. Isabel was the heir to vast estates, so at a stroke the marshal became Lord of Striguil and Pembroke.

Sentries placed at lookout points along the river had reported their imminent arrival at the castle, and by the time they reached the quay-side several soldiers and a groom had brought horses down to meet them.

After they landed, Nesta and John had to part, as the coroner thought it unwise to arrive at the castle with his mistress in tow,

'You know what you have to do, Gwyn?' he demanded.

The blue eyes of the amiable Cornishman twinkled in amusement.

'Don't you fret, Crowner!' he said reassuringly. 'I'll look after her like she was my own baby. I'll deliver her to her mother's door inside a couple of hours and be back here with you before you know it.'

Nesta came from near Trelech, a small village a few miles north of Chepstow on the hilly ground towards Monmouth. It was well within the Marcher lordship of Striguil, but, as in other parts of South Wales, the less fertile areas were left by the Norman rulers to the Welsh, as long as they paid some taxes and caused no trouble. John had long ago learned that her father was dead, but her mother, two brothers and a sister lived there as free tenants virtually outside the Norman feudal system. They survived mainly by herding sheep, though a couple of acres of ground around their dwelling provided enough to live on in the way of vegetables, milk, pigs and pouItry.

Nesta climbed up behind Gwyn on the back of his borrowed mare and rather tearfully said goodbye to John, who promised to come to Trelech to collect her. 'Our embassy to the west should not take more than about eight days, so as soon as I am freed from my duty, I'll come with Gwyn to collect you and meet your family.'

John watched her ride off sedately with his officer, taking the road westward around the town until they struck off into the wooded countryside. He had little fear for their safety, as both spoke Welsh and Nesta was now almost on her home ground — to say nothing of Gwyn's brawny arms, his broadsword and ball-mace. When they were out of sight, he turned back to where Gabriel was patiently waiting.

'Right, Sergeant! Let's climb this damned hill to the castle and see what's in store for us.'

Being back in Exeter again was something of an anticlimax for de Wolfe, but there was so much pending business that he had little time for soul-searching — an activity he rarely indulged in at any time.

With Matilda still away the house was peaceful, and he hoped it would be at least a few more weeks before she landed again at Topsham. Soon he would ride down there and ask his shipowner friends when they expected their various vessels to return from the Contentin part of Normandy, which was the most likely region of embarkation from St-Lô. It even crossed his mind to go down to Dawlish to see Thorgils the Boatman, who ferried to Normandy most of the wool exports from his partnership with Hugh de Relaga.

He soon thought better of that, however, as his conscience was telling him that it was only an excuse to see Thorgil's wife Hilda, who intermittently had been John's mistress for many years. Now that his love for Nesta had deepened so much, even the temptation to visit the lovely blonde had to be ruthlessly suppressed.

Meanwhile, he basked in the quiet of the house, with only Mary and Brutus for company. On the first morning, his coroner colleague from the north of the county called by, as he had personal business in the city — like John, he was a retired knight who had ploughed his campaign winnings into a commercial venture, though he dealt in leather rather than wool. He reported a few cases that he had dealt with for de Wolfe and his clerk sent Thomas a copy of his rolls with details for presentation to the King's justices when they eventually arrived for an eyre.

After he left, John called upon Henry de Furnellis and had the inevitable cup of wine with him, while he related his doings in Wales.

'It was something of an anti-climax,' he confessed. 'William the Marshal was a pleasant enough riding companion and the archdeacon was as garrulous and amusing as ever. But the journey was nothing but hard riding for a few days, with not a vestige of trouble to liven it up.'

'I thought there were plenty of wild Welshmen in those parts, eager to ambush any Norman within bowshot!' said the sheriff.

'The Lord Rhys had sent one of his many sons with a dozen men to escort us, once we left our settled lands in the south. Gwyn was sorely disappointed at not having any excuse for a fight.'

'What success did the mission have?' Henry liked to keep abreast of what was going on in the complex politics· of Winchester, London and Rouen. The coroner took a mouthful of wine before answering.

'I honestly don't know. William Marshal kept everything very close to his chest, but Gerald de Barri looked very glum after a whole day closeted with Rhys ap Gruffydd.'

'The King and the Justiciar will have to get up very early in the morning to outwit the Lord Rhys, Henry observed sagely. 'He was a thorn in old King Henry's side, until. they came to an agreement. As soon as Henry died, he went rampaging through South Wales and the Lionheart did very little to stop him.'

John nodded, and privately he doubted whether William the Marshal's expedition would achieve much in the way of curbing the territorial ambitions of the old Welsh prince. More likely, his unruly sons would eventually be his downfall, not English troops.

'What about this mess at Sampford Peverel?' demanded the sheriff, his big nose getting more ruddy as he poured a third cup of wine for them both.

John shrugged. 'I've not had time yet to see if there's anything new from there, but at least there are no reports in the guardroom of any more mayhem from that manor.'