Michael Jecks - The Bishop Must Die

Many men were uncaring about a woman’s feelings. They some of them affected an insouciance in a woman’s company, while others simply preferred the companionship of other men. Those who had been raised as knights in training were, not surprisingly, unsure how to behave with women, and could be unthinkingly brutal. There were plenty who would seek to impress a lady by taking her, as though she had no feelings, no rights, no more authority than a dog. For some, it was as though they believed that a woman would respect and adore them once she had been raped, as though that was proof of sincere adoration! When boys were sent away from home and brought up in the company of men from the age of six, many of the poor lads would never again experience womanly affection and had no idea of how to treat a lady.

Not so this fellow.

‘Sir Peregrine,’ she said, ‘would it be impertinent for me to ask you, what do you think will happen?’

He did not do her the insult of pretending he did not understand, which she appreciated. There was little enough talk of anything else in the castle, other than the likely date of the French invasion.

‘The English navy is not so feeble that it could not prevent the French from landing, yet I fear that they will land. The king is not as popular as the queen. Many feel sympathy for her after the way that she has been treated by her husband.’

‘Yes,’ Isabella said. She could understand that all too easily.

‘I am sorry,’ Sir Peregrine said with a slightly anxious frown. ‘Of course, her husband has treated you abominably as well.’

‘No. I think it is not he,’ she said with perfect truth. ‘I think it was Despenser and the Bishop of Exeter. Those two alone are guilty of stealing everything I possessed. They made up a case against me, and Stapledon had my lands given to him as a direct result. The king believed the bishop when he said that my husbands and my son were all traitors. But they weren’t.’

‘Of course not,’ Sir Peregrine said.

‘And last year, I thought I might recover my lands. I had a case brought against the bishop, an assize of novel disseisin.’

‘Yes?’ Sir Peregrine gave her a blank look. ‘I have not been involved in the law.’

‘You are fortunate, sir. Well, if a man or woman is disseised, or dispossessed, they can seek the king’s special instruction to recover their property. It means that a jury must be summoned and the case heard before the king’s justices, to answer the question on seisin or disseisin. Restoration of the property or not. After all, possession is protected by the king in our country, so if something is unjustly taken, the king himself should seek to return it.’

Sir Peregrine nodded, although there was a faintly perturbed expression in his eyes. ‘I see. So, you have had your lands returned?’

‘Oh, no. The bishop managed to persuade the jury that the lands, my lands, had been granted to him by the king for life. So it was impossible for me to have them back. And then they said that they must revert to the king when Stapledon was dead. I swear, I could have killed him there and then, were he within my reach!’

‘What then?’ Sir Peregrine asked. He was intrigued, listening intently.

‘I was told that the case couldn’t continue rege inconsulto , and the papers were all sent to the king himself. God bless him, King Edward placed the matter before another jury, and they agreed that my dower lands were of the free tenement of my poor dead husband, before I married Henry, my second husband. They awarded me huge damages, too — over two hundred pounds.’

Sir Peregrine nodded, but lifted an enquiring eyebrow.

‘No,’ she smiled bitterly. ‘I don’t have them. Stapledon fought back, and even now I don’t know what will happen.’

‘What more can you do?’

‘Fight on. There is nothing else for me. My lands are all I have left. My husbands are both dead, my son is exiled — what more can a woman do?’

‘So you will continue your battle in the courts?’

‘I will not give up my sole means of livelihood without fighting every step,’ she said determinedly.

‘I can quite understand.’

She doubted that. This knight banneret was a powerful man. He had the right to call on a number of knights and command them in battle, he was a king’s official in his capacity as coroner, and she knew he had the ear of powerful men like Sir Hugh de Courtenay, the baron of Devon. And yet Sir Peregrine had never had to endure the sort of fight into which she had thrown herself so wholeheartedly. He had no means of appreciating the dangerous waters on which she floated. At any time a sudden squall could overwhelm her and sink her entirely. The bishop might grow irritable and seek to have her removed. She was under no illusions about her security in this dangerous land of England. Here she was nothing more than a poor nonentity. She had no one to fight for her. If she wanted her lands back, she must take them back. But being a woman, she could not take them by force. Guile and the law were her tools.

‘You look sad, madam,’ Sir Peregrine said.

‘I miss my husbands. And my son.’

‘I understand,’ he repeated.

This time, she rounded on him, stung by his presumption. ‘You understand ? And how do you think you can understand, when I have lost so much? You, a noble knight, full of pride and authority. I have lost two husbands and my boy … No, you can have no idea how I feel!’

‘I never managed to marry. I was in love three times, but each time …’ Sir Peregrine’s voice grew quieter, until he was whispering. ‘They died. My last love, I had hoped to marry, but she too … And she left me her children, whom I love. I miss them when I am away from home for too long. This feels like a very long absence. It is more than four weeks since I last spoke with them. So you see, I do understand. I have lost my loves, and now my children too.’

‘Why are you here, then? Why do you not return to them, to make sure that they are all right and that you have not lost their affection?’

‘I need have no concern on that. If they hold any affection for me, I am fortunate — if they do not, well, no matter. I do what I can for them in memory of their mother. It is enough.’

‘Why do you not go to them?’

‘Duty. And a feeling that my place is here, at Tiverton, for now. I am an experienced man. I know that the next months will be difficult, and the idea that I should hide myself away and try to avoid the great matters which are set to threaten our little realm, that would feel like cowardice. When all is said and done, deeds and honour mean everything. To behave with integrity, that is what counts. And a knight who runs off to spend more time with his family, no matter how beloved they may be, he would be a poor fellow. I cannot do that.’

He spoke quietly but with passion, and in the stillness she had to catch a sob at the sight of this decent, kind man gazing out over the valley with such sad longing.

Furnshill

Baldwin broke his fast, and afterwards he sat in his hall and listened to three disputes between villeins on his lands. None was serious, nor did they require the wisdom of Solomon to resolve, but they were the kind of little bickerings that could fester for a while and then rise up and cause real trouble.

So Baldwin listened carefully to the men as they recounted their tales of petty insults and mindless foolishness, before settling their arguments in the best manner he could, trying always to balance his justice with the need for the King’s Peace to be upheld.

He could not help but wonder whether such problems would rank so highly in a few weeks. Were the country to be invaded by the queen with, as had been alleged, a French force to support her, would these same stolid peasants stand in line side-by-side, or would they turn against each other, remembering a slight given months or years before? He had the strong impression that these men of his would throw aside any ill-will, but it was hard to be sure of anything in these uncertain times.