Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

‘You lie appallingly, woman,’ he said, and took her hand. To kiss in public would have been shameful, especially in a street so busy as this. ‘I was on my way to my father’s counting house. Would you walk with me some of the way?’

She would never, never be able to deny him anything, she told herself. His smile was so natural, so easy and delightful, he could ask anything of her and she would give it willingly. Even her life. It was all his.

Their time had been nothing short of perfect, she thought. Quite perfect. No one could ever have been so happy, so entirely devoted and blissful as they had been in these few months of marriage. There was surely nothing that could spoil the marvellous relationship they had discovered.

She took her leave of him at the top of the road that slipped down a little east of the cathedral close, towards the wall and his father’s new home, and was making her way back homewards when she heard a strange commotion. Turning back, she saw her husband encircled by a small group of men, and she felt a quick fear that he was being set upon by a gang of cutpurses, but then she saw the breast of one of them and realised that these were no outlaws, they were merely a number of the sheriff’s men.

‘Husband? Are you all right?’ she called.

He turned to her, and in his face she saw a clutching dread. Before he could say anything, she screamed.

She saw the iron-shod staff rise and crack down on his head, saw his knees fold, and his body slump to the road, and even as she tried to force her legs forward to go to his aid, she was aware of the hand of her servant clutching at her arm, and then the cobbles seemed to fade and rush towards her at the same time as she fainted.

Road outside Bow

‘ What are you all staring at? ’

What the coroner lacked in subtlety, he more than made up for in volume. As he reined in his beast, the men scattered and there was a moment’s pregnant silence as they shuffled before the great horse and the rider glowering down at them all.

‘Well? Who’s in charge here?’

A nervous young man of maybe three-and-twenty sidled forward, his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. He mumbled something, and Sir Richard scowled. ‘Can’t hear a word you’re saying, man! Speak up, in God’s name. He gave you a tongue so you could live to tell your tale today. What’s going on here? Eh? You’re all blocking the road.’

‘It’s a body, sire,’ the man muttered.

‘That’s more like it!’ the coroner said with satisfaction. ‘Where’s the stiff, then, eh? One of you lot kill him, did you?’

‘No! It was no one here, Sir Knight. Must have been an unfortunate accident.’

Sir Richard threw a look at Simon, and then dropped heavily to the ground. ‘Show me.’

‘Here, sir. It’s an old farmer called Jack from Begbeer. Jack was no coward, and if a cutpurse tried his luck, or any other outlaw, he would have tried to send them to the devil on his own.’

‘Didn’t do so well, did he?’ Coroner Richard said without emotion. He had crouched at the side of the body and was studying the corpse where it lay. ‘Who’s been moving him about? Eh? Don’t know? Who was the first finder?’

‘Me, sir. I found him,’ a lad of maybe thirteen squeaked. ‘I did all I could to raise the hue and cry, but no one heard me up here, and I had to go into town to tell people there.’

Sir Richard nodded and listened as the men about started to speak of the farmer, how he had always been truculent since his house had been robbed some time ago, and how he was probably on his way to the market, or on his way back, when he had been waylaid. ‘Well, this is all well and good, but I don’t see I can help. Have you sent for the coroner?’

‘Yes.’

It was the young fellow who had first spoken. ‘What’s your name, master?’ Sir Richard asked, not unkindly.

‘I am Gilbert, sire. From that cott over there,’ he added helpfully, pointing at a small limewashed building nearby in a copse. ‘I was made reeve.’

Sir Richard looked him over again. He was young and inexperienced, and if Sir Richard was any judge of character, which he knew he was, the twerp would have all manner of rings run around him daily by the sour-faced men of the vill. ‘Very well, Master Reeve. When is the coroner expected to be here?’

Gilbert shrugged emphatically. ‘He is based in Exeter. If he’s there, it’ll take a day or so for him to get here, I suppose. It’ll take our man the same to get to him, so perhaps three days? Unless he’s already away seeing another body, of course.’

Simon shot a look at the coroner. ‘This is not Lifton, Coroner.’

Gilbert looked from one to the other. ‘You’re a coroner too? But then couldn’t you …’

‘I don’t work here. I am king’s coroner to Lifton, not this place.’

Simon could see that Sir Richard was torn; he stood some little while, chewing at his lip. ‘I’ll tell you, though, the coroner in Exeter will be glad of a little help, I expect. Perhaps if you could … Yes! Gilbert, send your fleetest rider after the fellow who’s gone to Exeter, all the way to Exeter if need be, and tell the coroner that he’ll have a copy of my inquest as soon as it’s done. No point sending another man here when I’m already on the spot, eh, Simon?’

‘No. I suppose not,’ Simon said. He was fighting to hold back the frustration. Sir Richard knew how desperate Simon was to be gone to Tavistock to meet with the Cardinal de Fargis so that he could as soon as possible get home again, and here the man was, seeking to delay them both with an inquest.

‘Very well. Do it now, Master Gilbert, and when you have done it, in God’s good name fetch a skin or two of wine. Our throats are parched. And some meat would be good — or perhaps a couple of pies?’

Simon watched the appalled reeve listen to the demand for so much food and drink before he scampered off, calling to others to fetch the remainder of the jury, to run and ask the vill’s priest to join them, and to help the coroner in any way he might require, and sending a man after the last messenger as Sir Richard suggested.

‘Did you have to volunteer for this?’ Simon hissed a little later as they tied their mounts to a nearby tree that had a convenient branch.

Sir Richard looked at him, and there was a serious expression in his eyes. ‘Simon, look about you at this place. What sort of man would kill a farmer with a single stab to the throat? No one would think he had much money on him. But he was slain and left for dead in the ditch like a dog. I think he deserves a little time, don’t you?’

Simon felt his face redden at the reproach in the coroner’s voice, and he was about to apologise when the coroner leaned closer and said quietly, ‘And look at the people here, Simon. They are terrified, if I’m any judge. I’d be willing to gamble that there’s more to this than the simple waylaying of a single farmer.’

Castle at Bow

Sir Robert was up late, as was usual for him, and dressed himself. He didn’t like to have servants wandering about his private rooms. Only Osbert was trusted in his chambers, and no one else. There were too many knights and minor lords who had lost all — including their lives — through being too trusting about their servants. Some for being too trusting of their own sons.

There had been a time when a lord could rely on his men to be loyal. No longer. Now he was fortunate if he could find men who would serve him for money, let alone for mere loyalty. Sir Robert had no desire to be one of the fools who was killed in his bed at night just because he failed to see to his own protection. So Osbert and a couple of servants were allowed in the downstairs chamber with Basil, Sir Robert’s son, while he himself slept alone upstairs.