Bernard Knight - Figure of Hate

'Sir, I look to you as the lord of this manor. In view of the accusations of Crues, who has already confessed, I must take this man Longus back to Exeter.'

'Why, for Christ's sake?' exploded Ralph. 'The babblings of that fool Alexander are no grounds for this! I even doubt his confession is worth a dog's turd. Did you beat it out of him?'

John avoided an answer to this, but again directed himself to Odo.

'The death of your brother, a well-known manor-lord, is no ordinary murder. There will be questions asked by the highest in the land, especially the King's Curia and his Justiciar. To have someone accused of such a crime makes it vital that he be properly questioned — and that is the business of the sheriff, the ultimate keeper of the peace in this county.'

He said the last words with a pointed look at his brother-in-law, the former sheriff, who had made little effort in that direction.

'I've done nothing, this is a nonsense!' shouted Robert Longus. 'I know nothing about any silversmith. Both Lord Hugo and you, Sir Ralph, vouched for me at the time.'

Ralph advanced on the coroner, until his angry face was within inches of John's long nose.

'You're not having him, understand!' he snarled. 'There's no evidence against him, apart from the blatherings of a dull oaf, from whom you probably tortured this false confession. And I need my armourer here, to make ready for the next tournament in Bristol, to say nothing of the grand melee due soon at Wilton.' His voice rose to a crescendo. 'You're just not having him, understand!'

'To hell with your tourneying, man!' blazed de Wolfe. 'A matter of three murders cannot be compared in importance with your prancing about a jousting field.'

'You exceed your powers, John,' brayed Richard de Revelle. 'You are just the coroner, appointed by some whim of Hubert WaIter to dabble in the recording of cases. Arresting felons is the sheriff's business, not yours.'

'Then it was a pity that you were so reluctant to do your duty when you were sheriff, Richard,' retorted John. 'I have been deputed by Henry de Furnellis to act for him whenever it seems necessary.'

'I do not think that is sufficient warrant for you to come into this manor and remove my servants in this way, Sir John,' said Odo gravely. He did not use the hectoring tones of either Ralph or de Revelle, but he had a certain heavy authority that was impressive.

'I warn you against obstructing my investigations into three deaths, one of which was your own brother's,' snapped de Wolfe.

'Get out of here, Coroner!' spat Ralph Pevere!. 'You are a vindictive and spiteful nuisance, using your alleged powers to misuse this family, against whom you seem to have taken a dislike. Just clear off, we'll not allow you to take either Crues or Longus.'

Ralph, Odo and de Revelle crowded around de Wolfe in a way that was openly threatening, and even the languid Joel left his lady-love and came across. The steward and the bailiff stood back uncertainly, but the armourer, heartened by the show of defiance being put up by his masters, pressed closely behind them.

Thomas and Eustace retreated rapidly to the door and the clerk beckoned urgently to Gwyn, who was holding the reins of the horse to whose saddle Crues's wrists were tied. When the coroner's officer hurried into the hall, he was just in time to see the climax of the confrontation between de Wolfe and Ralph Pevere!'

'You will all suffer greatly when this comes to the ears of the Justiciar and then the King himself!' warned John, white lipped with anger.

Ralph, emboldened by the solidarity shown by his brothers and de Revelle, gave John a hard shove on the shoulder with the heel of his hand.

'You are unwelcome here, Crowner!' he yelled. 'Just get on your horse and go home. You broken-down old Crusaders should stay by your firesides, dreaming of times past, not be given useless sinecures as a reward for long service!'

This insult was bad enough, but now the impetuous Ralph went too far.

'Get out and stay out!' he shouted, with another push at John's chest. 'I'll wager that all you ever did in your much-vaunted campaigning was to line your own purse with loot and keep safely out of the heat of battle!'

This was too much for both Gwyn and John de Wolfe. The Cornishman roared and strode across towards the group, intending to grab Ralph by the throat and throw him across the room, but his master was too quick for him. First he punched Ralph hard on the nose, causing blood to spurt from his nostrils. Then he turned and snatched a riding glove from his foppish brother-in-law's hand. With it, he slapped Ralph violently across the face.

'I hear this is the new French method of challenge!' he snapped, throwing Richard's glove on to the floor at Ralph's feet. 'Now I'm off to Exeter to fetch the sheriff and his men-at-arms. When I return by noon tomorrow, I expect to meet you in the bailey with sword and mace. Then we'll see how I fare in the heat of battle!'

There was consternation in the Bush that evening, when Nesta. discovered what had happened in Sampford. Tearfully, she pleaded with John to give up this mad idea of a duel with Ralph Peverel, but the obstinate coroner would not listen, even to his mistress's heartfelt supplications.

'It's a matter of honour, cariad . He called me a coward — me, who's been at the siege of Acre, the battle of Arsulf and many others, to say nothing of years in Ireland and France! That bastard's not been farther than a few skirmishes in the Vexin!'

Nesta was uncaring about their military histories. 'He'll kill you, John! He's years younger than you, faster and fitter — call off this nonsense, no one will think the worse of you.'

But nothing would shift the obdurate coroner. He had been insulted and he was going to have satisfaction for it, even if cost him life or limb.

Gwyn tried to reassure Nesta that her lover would be the victor, though privately he was equally concerned that his master, now forty-one years old, might not be a match for a man not only fifteen years his junior but who regularly trained for the jousting field.

Later, as they walked back towards Martin's Lane, he tried to tactfully talk de Wolfe out of the contest, but without success. Once John had made up his mind, especially over a slur on his bravery, there was no way he would ever back down.

Earlier that evening, on their return from Sampford, John had gone to see Henry de Furnellis to tell him all that had taken place there. They had left Alexander Crues behind after the confrontation, John reckoning that if they were coming back in force for Robert Longus, they might as well collect his assistant at the same time. The only danger was that both would vanish overnight, but the arrogant confidence of the Peverels suggested that they would brazen out the situation.

The sheriff readily agreed to return with John the next day and take a posse of soldiers with him, but when he heard of the challenge, he too was concerned for his friend's safety. Like the others, his tactful pleas fell on deaf ears, but as an old campaigner himself Henry accepted that Ralph's insult could not be over-looked by any honourable man.

Thomas de Peyne was beside himself with worry, as he revered the coroner as the man who had taken him in and saved him when his life seemed at an end. He spent half the night on his knees before the altar of St Radegund in the cathedral, praying that the life of John de Wolfe would be spared on the morrow.

In his almost empty house, John sat late by his fire, drinking ale and wondering whether this might be his last night on earth. He was not too concerned — he had experienced too many similar eves of battle to unnerve himself with worry. He remembered the last time he had challenged a man, almost a year earlier — but that had been on horseback with lance and shield. John had ended up with a dead stallion and a broken leg, but at least he had survived, which was more than his opponent had.