Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

‘No. Who is he?’

‘A repellent worm called Sir James de Cockington. Nasty little man. He came into office only a very short while ago, at the beginning of the month, and I think he’s one of Despenser’s men.’

Sir Richard did not know Sir Peregrine well. As a fellow knight, Sir Peregrine was familiar to him, but no more than that. The coroner was surprised to hear such a frank opinion. ‘You say so, sir?’

‘I do. The man would sell his mother for a farthing, and probably complain at the meanness of the sale,’ Sir Peregrine said drily. ‘In my years, I have known many sheriffs — some honourable men, some corrupt — and yet I find it hard to do justice to this fool and knave. The English language lacks sufficient emphasis for my contempt.’

Simon was grinning. ‘What form does this man’s dishonourable conduct take?’

Sir Peregrine looked over at him pensively. Simon had expected a light-hearted response, and thought that the coroner was merely thinking of a sarcastic word or two, but then Sir Peregrine looked up at the sky overhead.

‘Simon, I can only think of one recent incident. It is indicative, I think, and instructive, too. A man’s daughter was captured by a youth, who made play with her. You know my meaning, I am sure. The poor child was distraught at her treatment, and almost lost her mind. Now we three are all men of the law, but men of the world as well. We have all seen accusations of rape, and we all know, I am sure, that many are conceived as cheaper methods of ensnaring a fellow into wedlock. I do not dispute that sometimes there are less amiable motives behind such acts, but we all know these things happen. Once the girl has been ravished, she will have no other husband, whether she wishes it or no. Well, in this case, the sheriff listened to the pleas in his court, and decided that there was no case to answer. The boy’s father had paid for his decision, and it was, if there was genuine offence given, that the girl must marry the boy.’

‘It is one resolution, as you say,’ Sir Richard said, lifting a wineskin and draining it. ‘Usually has the desired effect. Child has a father, mother a husband. Good solution to the embarrassment.’

‘Less good when the girl’s family has already been told that their daughter will be given to the boy’s servants to do with as they will if she demands marriage of him. Not that there was any need. The lad was at no risk. He had done too good a job of terrifying the poor child already. She dared not ask for his hand.’

‘So what happened?’ Simon asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

‘The boy got off scot free, naturally. His father bit his thumb at the girl’s father in open court. I saw him. Her father tried to leap at him, but some fellows about him held him back, and the family watched as their persecutors walked free. And then she was open to punishment for making a false accusation. She knew that she would either be punished herself, or exposed to ridicule by the man who had already raped her. She pulled out a knife, shrieked that the man was guilty, and stabbed herself in the breast.’ He looked at Sir Richard. ‘You’ve seen such things, I am sure. She died instantly.’

‘The poor child,’ Simon said.

‘Aye,’ Sir Richard agreed, shaking his head slowly. ‘That is not a good tale.’

‘Two days later her father too was dead,’ Sir Peregrine said. ‘It was said that he lost his mind and his heart when he saw his daughter die and there was nothing he could do to help her. He saw her with the dagger in her hand and guessed what she would do, but because of the men holding his arms to keep him from his tormentor, he could not reach her until too late.’

‘He died from a broken heart, then?’ Simon said.

‘No. He was murdered in his turn. One assumes that the father or the son responsible for his daughter’s death felt sure that he would seek to bring condign judgement upon their heads. The only good aspect is that so many saw her state of mind that her priest had no hesitation in declaring that her suicide was committed while she was unbalanced. She was given all the benefits of a Christian burial.’ Sir Peregrine nodded with a sort of cold deliberation at the memory. ‘That is the state of the law in this land, Bailiff. That is the realm we live in now.’

‘Who was the man who did this?’ Sir Richard growled. ‘I would meet with him.’

‘The son was Master Basil, the father Sir Robert, both of Nymet Traci, near Bow,’ Sir Peregrine said. ‘And I think that they are killing others now, as well.’

‘You were talking of the sheriff, though,’ Simon pointed out.

‘Oh yes. You see, the sheriff is a close friend to Sir Robert and his son. He was justice in the court that found them innocent. He knew, oh, he knew what they were like. But they are all a part of the same intolerable clan — they are all associates of Despenser.’

Exeter

Pounding on the door with her fist, Edith sobbed and screamed for it to be opened, while her maid at her side tried to calm her, without success.

‘Mother! Father! Please, open the door!’ She was panting, and there was a pain thundering in her head at the memory of the scene she had witnessed, but there was little she could do — her entire being was concentrated on having the door opened to her so that she could demand the aid of her father-in-law in rescuing her husband.

It was an age before she finally heard the bolts shoot on the other side of the door, and at last she could stumble inside.

‘Dear God, child, what has happened?’

It was her mother-in-law, and even as Edith sank down, incapable of supporting herself, so great was her relief at seeing a friendly face, she was aware of a feeling of enormous gratitude that it was Jan, rather than her more stern husband, Charles, who stood there as the servant opened the door to her.

Edith gabbled in her panic. ‘Mother, Mother, they’ve arrested poor Peter. He was taken just now. A man hit him, hit him hard with a staff, and … and …’

‘Be still, my dear,’ Mistress Jan said. She was a short, dark-haired woman with a matronly figure. She knelt at Edith’s side, holding her close. ‘Child, you are freezing. You need a fire.’

‘I am fine, it’s Peter we …’ Edith protested, anxious that Jan didn’t believe her. Then, looking up, she saw the lines of fear in the older woman’s face, the glittering in the dark eyes, and the compassion.

‘I know. But if he’s been taken to the castle, there is little we may do until we have a pleader to go and learn what he has been accused of, and why. You need to calm yourself, Edith, and I insist that you come to the fire and rest a while.’ She held up a hand to stop dispute. ‘Meantime I shall send a boy to my husband to acquaint him with the facts. There is nothing more we can do until he arrives.’

Edith wanted to protest. She wanted to be doing something, anything , to help Peter, but there was a comfort in Peter’s mother’s voice. This woman was as worried as she was — perhaps more so. Edith couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to hear that her own son had been taken, nor how difficult it would be to try to remain calm enough to soothe another woman while feeling that her own world was shattered.

‘There is nothing more we can do,’ the woman repeated. She helped Edith up and through to the hall. ‘Sit here, and try to relax. After all, you’ve a duty to protect the child.’

‘You knew?’ Edith asked with frank astonishment.

‘You thought you’d kept it hidden?’ Mistress Jan chuckled tiredly.

She hurried from the room, and Edith was left before the fire, her maid beside her. Edith stared at the flames, and outwardly gave every sign of composure, but when she tried to think of her husband, her breath caught in her throat. She found herself sobbing like an old woman, with dry, hacking, choking sounds, and she discovered that all her thoughts were grim and dark as she clutched her maid’s arm for support.