Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

Looking about him, Baldwin was satisfied. It was good to see that the estates had not been allowed to sink into disrepair while he had been away. But it was more than that. He had to sit on his horse and study the landscape, drinking in the picture, as though by doing so he could fix it in his mind and his life for all time.

He loved this place. It was many years ago that he had been born here, and in those days he never thought he would own it for himself. His older brother would naturally inherit. That was why he had chosen to leave the country and travel to the Holy Land to try to protect it against the onslaught of the massive armies that opposed it. He arrived in Acre just in time to be injured in the last, tragic days of the city. Also hurt was Edgar, the man who later, with Baldwin, joined the Knights Templar in order to try to repay the debt both felt for having their lives saved. Both had remained in the order until the very end. When the arrests had taken place, both happened to be out of their preceptory, and evaded capture. Later, they had made their way back to England, and Baldwin learned that only a short time earlier, his brother had died in a riding accident, and so he could return as the owner of Furnshill rather than a mere supplicant begging alms from his brother.

‘Come on, fellow,’ he called quietly, and trotted over the front pasture to his house.

There was a man over at the western edge of the house when Baldwin arrived. He looked at Baldwin, blinked, and then scurried off in a hurry.

Baldwin smiled to himself and dropped from his horse, relieved to think that he would not have to set his backside on a saddle for a long journey any time soon. So many days he had spent sitting on a horse in the last year, he felt as though his arse had been remoulded to fit the leatherwork.

He was just tying the horse’s reins to a ring in the wall when he heard her running.

‘Jeanne,’ he said, and she stopped on the threshold, leaning against the door frame.

‘My love,’ she said, and began to weep for joy.

Sandford

The expression on Meg’s face removed any doubts in Simon’s mind as to her enthusiasm to see him. She pelted past Sir Richard in a most indecorous display, and threw herself bodily at her husband, arms about his neck and kissing him. ‘Simon, Simon,’ she murmured as she drew away, but then she was kissing him again.

Sir Richard looked at the sky. He pursed his lips and thought to whistle, but then he decided that it might be a little distracting for Simon, so he turned his back on the couple and stared out at the landscape.

There was no little vill about here, with strip fields where the peasants all laboured. Instead this was a working farm that depended upon pasturage, he saw. There was a field ahead of him, long grasses rippling in the wind. Over on the right there was a stand of trees — a mixture of all kinds of wood, with some coppiced nearer the house. In front of that there was a good-sized orchard, and a set of small pens, empty at the moment. It was a pleasant little farmstead, he felt.

‘Meg, this is Sir Richard de Welles, the Coroner of Lifton,’ he heard, and turned to find himself being studied with some interest by a tall woman, very fair, with browned skin and bright blue eyes. She was slim, and although she had now lost the first flush of youth, to Sir Richard she was astonishingly lovely.

‘Sir Richard, God keep you,’ she said with a broad smile, and ducked her head as she gave him a brief curtsy.

‘My dear lady, God will keep you, I know,’ he said, bowing low.

‘I am honoured. Now, husband, will you come inside and I will have food and drink fetched for your guest.’

She glanced at him, her expression as serene as Simon remembered from all those years ago when he first saw her. All those years before their first son had died, before the years of anguish during the famine, the years before the misplaced kindness of the Abbot of Tavistock forced them to become separated. Before William atte Wattere had arrived and helped to steal their house from them. And then her serenity was shattered as she laughed aloud, took his hand and brought him inside.

‘Sir Richard?’ Simon called.

The knight was still standing outside, an expression of wonder on his face. ‘Yes? Oh, yes. Of course.’

He followed Simon and Meg indoors and joined Simon in the little hall.

‘You are very welcome to remain here with us for as long as you wish, Sir Richard,’ Simon said. ‘We have wine and cider aplenty, and some ale, which, if I say so myself, is the equal of the king’s. You have travelled far in the last weeks. Will you not stay here with us a little?’

‘I would dearly like to,’ Sir Richard said. He shook his head as some servants entered and set out a large trestle table near the fireplace. ‘But I have a need to return to my duties. A coroner has work to keep him busy no matter where he lives nor what the time of the year.’

‘Yes. Well, work is something I will have to find for myself now,’ Simon muttered.

‘Bailiff, I am sorry. It is hard to believe that you could be without employment.’

‘Oh, I have employment — I have my farm, after all,’ Simon said lightly. But his face showed his continued concern.

It would be hard, he knew. The post at Lydford had been so effective for him. He was happy there, especially since it gave him the right to wander where he might over the moors he loved. Still, he told himself. This was good land, this rich red soil of Sandford. It was a good place to finish a life. And now his daughter had already left home and he had only his son to worry about. Perhaps it was better that he was here again.

‘You look thoughtful, husband,’ he heard his wife call from the doorway.

‘I was thinking about the quiet of living here in the country again. We stayed last night in Exeter.’

‘You saw Edith?’ Meg asked, the eagerness making her almost drop the trenchers she was carrying.

‘Yes. She and her husband seem very happy.’

‘I am glad,’ Meg breathed. It was hard to say God speed to a child and send her into the world. A man could be a good husband or a bad, but a daughter would always run the risk when she left her home. ‘But there was never a reason to suspect that he wouldn’t be a good man for her.’

‘No. Not even though he’s so young. God’s ballocks, so is she.’

‘And so are most when they marry, Simon,’ Meg said a little tartly.

‘Yes, I know, I am an overprotective monster. I’d prefer to have her husband dangling by his wrists for the nerve of asking for my daughter.’ Simon laughed. ‘But since he was so gracious last night, and poured us a goodly quantity of wine, I think I can forgive him just now, eh, Sir Richard?’

‘Hmm? Yes, I think so,’ Sir Richard said. He was a little confused, and he appeared embarrassed, or perhaps upset.

Simon looked over at Meg, but she had little idea what sort of a man Sir Richard was, and she merely looked back at him with confusion.

‘Meg, do you think you could bring our friend some wine?’ he asked, and even as he spoke, all three heard the rattle of hoofs on the stones in front of the house. Simon stood abruptly, staring at the window. There was no sign of the rider from here, for the window was high in the wall, but they could all hear the voice.

‘A message for Bailiff Puttock. Is your master here? I have an urgent message from Cardinal de Fargis.’

‘In Christ’s name, what now?’ Simon muttered as he spun on his heel and left the room.

‘It will be nothing, my lady,’ Sir Richard said.

Meg was standing at the table, listening intently. There was a slight puckering at her forehead that he recognised so distinctly. The frown of anxiety. He couldn’t keep his eyes on her, he found. She was so like his own, dear, dead wife, it hurt to look at her.