Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

No matter how often Edith had insulted Simon, she was still Simon’s daughter, and Baldwin would do all in his power to protect her.

‘I will go and see this man. In the meantime, Edith, you must rest here. Jeanne, we should send Edgar to Simon’s house to let him know what is happening and have him come to join me travelling to Exeter to see the sheriff.’

‘Will you both be safe?’ Jeanne asked quietly. She was afraid that her husband and Simon could both be arrested in their turn.

‘Simon and I will visit Bishop Walter first,’ Baldwin said. ‘We shall be safe enough.’

‘Perhaps Edith would prefer to be with her own mother when you ride to the city,’ Jeanne considered.

‘Quite right. What do you think, Edith? Do you want to remain here, or ride to your father’s?’

‘I must ride to Exeter,’ Edith said without hesitation. ‘My husband is there — he needs me.’

‘You cannot go before us,’ Baldwin said firmly. ‘When we leave, you can join us, of course, but until then you will have to wait here. It would be too dangerous for you to travel alone.’

‘I reached you here,’ she pointed out.

‘That is true, but the roads are too dangerous. The fact that you managed this far is no reason to compound your danger by riding back,’ Baldwin said with a smile. ‘Better by far that you wait here and rest. If not, you may of course come with me and Edgar when we go to speak with Simon.’

‘I should be at my husband’s side,’ Edith said fretfully.

‘And you will be, Edith,’ Jeanne said. ‘As soon as we can get you back there safely. But you know it’s not safe for a pretty young woman to travel the roads here all alone.’

‘And you cannot go back to Exeter now, in any case,’ Baldwin said. ‘You are plainly exhausted. You must rest. I am sure that would be for the best. Meanwhile, I’ll have Edgar go to Simon’s.’

‘Could you not send me back to Exeter with one of your men? Wat is a big fellow,’ Edith said. ‘If you are worried about my safety, he would be a deterrent to all but the most determined of attackers.’

Baldwin had to smile at the thought. ‘Wat may have the build of an ox, but he has a mind to equal it. If he was attacked, he’d have not the faintest idea what to do about it,’ he chuckled. ‘No, if you are to be safe-’

‘Sir Baldwin, I know you mean well, but what you are asking me to do is to wait here until you have sent a man to my father’s house, wait for him to return, and then go to Exeter. That means at least a whole day. And in that time, my husband lies in gaol. I will not do it, Sir Baldwin,’ Edith said, and in her face Baldwin saw the resolution of her mother. Margaret, usually so gentle and calm, would every so often display the stubbornness of a mule. Edith was demonstrating a similar temperament.

‘I do not think that we have any choice, child. The roads between here and Exeter are too dangerous.’

‘Then let me go with Edgar to my father’s house. At least then I will be doing something . We can all ride straight to Exeter afterwards and meet you there.’

Baldwin considered. She was clearly desperate to be kept busy, rather than sitting about. She was young and resilient, as he knew. But when he glanced at his wife, Jeanne shook her head slightly.

Jeanne touched Edith’s arm. ‘You need to rest. And Edgar can ride faster on his own. Do you let Edgar fetch your father, and then you can go with them to Exeter when you are rested.’

Edith’s chin became more prominent. ‘I will not rest. If nothing else, I shall ride to my father’s house. It is my husband who is captured, and I would tell my parents myself.’

Jeanne was about to argue, but Baldwin shook his head. ‘Very well, Edith. You shall ride with Edgar and me when we go to fetch your father in the morning. However, we are not going to go anywhere today, because you are already exhausted.’ As Edith began to argue again, he held up his hands. ‘Enough! I believe this is best for you, and I will not have dissent. This is only because we wish to ensure your safety. Rest, and tomorrow I shall ride with you to Simon’s.’

She looked away, and then gave a curt nod. Clearly she was not persuaded by all his reason, but Baldwin believed that she would at least obey.

He would have cause to regret his simple faith.

Tavistock Abbey

It was all over quickly, thanks to God. Stephen wanted nothing more to do with all these people. The knight and his men at Bow scared him, and he was anxious that he knew the contents of the message. The idea that he should be forced into collusion with Despenser and Sir Robert of Traci, through no fault of his own, was a dagger in his head. It felt as if a sharp blade was pressing upon his very brain.

He delivered the message while studiously avoiding the monk’s eye. The man took it, read it, and nodded quietly to himself. ‘Thank you. I shall tell you if there is to be a reply,’ he said.

Stephen waited without showing his irritation, a silent figure standing in the doorway to the monk’s chamber. It was odd to think that the man was here, in this little cell, when in theory he was to be the next abbot.

Tavistock might not be the greatest institution in the realm, but it wasn’t far from the best-endowed monastery in the West Country. From it the lands extended in all directions, and it possessed estates far away. The daughter house on the Isle of Ennor was a source of fair revenues, and the fishing on the rivers and the many other ventures here in Devon ensured that in normal times the abbey would profit. However, these were not normal times. The famine had affected the abbey’s stocks and herds of sheep, the rains and the river’s spate had washed away several mills and damaged other investments, and finally the death of Abbot Champeaux had been a sore loss. His mild manner and calm, sensible attitude, as well as his infallible eye for a proposition that would aid the abbey, had changed the whole nature of the place. Initially, when he had been elected, the abbey had been in debt. He had changed that, so that by the time he died he could be considered in the same light as one of the abbey’s founders and benefactors. Not that this happy condition could continue, from all Stephen had heard.

It was not only the massive payments the abbey was forced to pay to the king while it was in a state of voidance, nor even the sums that must be paid to the pope for the right to have the abbey’s case heard and adjudicated; it was more due to the natural inclination of the monks to enjoy themselves while they might. As the abbey was technically without an abbot, there was no one to enforce strict rules about conduct, and the monks were eating and drinking far more than before.

That was itself plain even to Stephen as he walked about the grounds. Carts were arriving all the time with barrels of wine and fish, freshwater and sea, and Stephen could hear the baying of hounds. Later, as he hurried down the stairs from the monk’s chamber, he knew only a relief that he would soon be away from here and back in the saddle once more.

It was a cause for enormous satisfaction that there was no message to be delivered to Bow. He would avoid that midden if he could. The casual murder of the farmer had scared him more than he would like to admit. And then Sir Robert de Traci had beaten his own servant, as though the steward’s dereliction could be cause for execution — the man was only late with some wine, in God’s name! So far as he was concerned, the messages had been delivered, and that was an end to it. He wanted nothing more to do with Bow, Sir Robert, nor even his son. The idea of passing through their town again was repellent.