Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

‘Perhaps he is freed already,’ Agnes said. She was at a loss for words as to how to soothe this woman.

‘I only pray that he is,’ Edith said. She snivelled a little. ‘I am sorry — I fear the loss of my man, but you are already widowed.’

‘At least I already know the worst,’ Agnes said flatly. She looked at the child in her arms. ‘But I keep waking in the middle watches of the night and wondering where he has gone. There is nothing worse than that loneliness, when you realise that he’s gone for ever.’

‘You may find another man,’ Edith said tentatively.

‘The vill may decide to impose one on me,’ Agnes said without self-pity. ‘At least it would mean food in our bellies, I suppose.’

Edith said nothing. They both knew the reality of widowhood. It was hard for a woman to survive when her man died. All too often the community would suggest alternatives, no matter how unsuitable the woman might think them. ‘It is hard when you are unfree,’ she said.

‘It is harder when you were born free,’ Agnes said. ‘But my son, he was the son of a serf, so he is a serf too. And I was married to one, so I relinquished my freedom willingly for him.’

Edith nodded. Then a vision of her husband’s face came before her eyes again, and she dissolved in tears. Agnes went to her, and the two women sobbed together for their men, one in misery at her loss, the other terrified that she would soon experience the same; both in fear for their futures.

Hoppon’s house

He could hear them long before they arrived. That was one of the benefits of a little area like this. Sound travelled.

The noise of squeaking harnesses and jingling chains came to him clearly over the creaking of the trees and the soughing of the wind in the dried leaves. ‘Easy, Tab,’ he said, snapping his fingers as the dog rose on his haunches and started a low rumbling deep in his throat.

Hoppon walked from his door to the open space before it, and rested his backside on a log that lay handy. He had used this as a chopping board for so many other logs that it was scarred and notched with a thousand axe blows, but it was also in just the right position for him when he was tired from gardening or when he had returned from his daily walk down to the river to fetch water. The aches and pains of old age were inevitable, as he knew, but the gradual deterioration was depressing. There had been a time when he wouldn’t have needed so many little resting places. Before the damned fire, he would have been able to stride about his place without problem. But now every step was that little bit painful. Not outright, harsh, ferocious agony, but debilitating, slow, steady, nearly not hurting, just a constant ache that flared whenever the weather was about to change.

‘God, why didn’t you just let me die in the fire?’ he muttered. Not that he had to ask. He knew that answer already: God wanted to test him, just as the priest once told him.

‘Hoppon, God give you a good day,’ the first rider said as he sat on his horse, gazing about the place with his dark eyes.

‘God speed you, sire.’

‘You remember me?’ Simon asked, taking his horse forward until he was level with Baldwin. ‘This is the Keeper of the King’s Peace, Hoppon. We want to ask you some questions.’

‘Oh?’

‘About the night the travellers were slain,’ Baldwin said.

Hoppon grunted and rose to his feet. ‘You want to know what about the night? It was dark.’

‘We think that there was a man with the travellers who was a spy and was there only to destroy all those innocents,’ Baldwin said. ‘He was with Sir Robert’s men. A one-eyed fellow called Osbert.’

‘Wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘You knew him?’

‘Few about here didn’t. He wouldn’t hurt me, mind. Always respectful to me, he was. But that didn’t mean he’d be the same with others. And he was always keen for profit.’

‘Do you know more about him and the robbery?’ Simon asked.

‘No.’

‘You see,’ Baldwin said, ‘we were trying to think whether this man Osbert could have had an ally near here. He would need someone who would be easy to call to his aid. A man who would be within a certain distance. Someone of strength, and determination.’

‘So you thought of me, naturally,’ Hoppon said. He jerked his chin to the south-west. ‘But I wouldn’t have seen a thing. The trees between here and there are too thick.’

‘In the dark, fires light the sky,’ Baldwin mused. ‘And in still air a scream will travel further than an arrow.’

‘I was asleep when it happened, then, for I saw no fires or lights, nor heard any cries for help.’

‘So you want us to believe that all those fellows passed by you, and you did nothing to see where they went?’

‘They were too quiet at first. The second lot made more noise, but they were later.’

‘How much later?’

‘Well, a goodly while. Perhaps as long as an hour of the night? *It was long enough for some twigs an inch and a half thick to burn right through.’

Simon was frowning. ‘So this first group, this was Sir Robert’s men on the way there, and then the second was his men riding away again? Or do you mean that there was another group of men?’

Suddenly Hoppon was keen to be away. ‘I don’t know. I was indoors. That’s what I told the reeve when he came asking, and it’s what I told you too. I was inside. I can’t rightly tell who was here, who passed and when. It was none of my business then, and it still isn’t now.’

‘You are wrong, Hoppon,’ Baldwin said. ‘It is your business, because it is all of ours now. We think that a few men stole the money before Sir Robert even reached the camp. Probably the man Osbert helped a monk to take it somewhere to be hidden. Perhaps they were helped by a man who was apparently crippled many years ago, but who is still enormously strong.’

‘You think I could carry a chest full of money?’ Hoppon smiled. ‘All the way from there to here? Or do you think I carried it further? Up to his house? Do you think this leg is a fiction just to test the gullible?’

Baldwin set his head to one side. ‘I think you may be able to walk farther than you say, friend. I think you may well be able to stroll to the woods over there and back, even with a chest on your back. Especially if you have a man like Osbert to help you.’

‘You think I’d help him and his sort?’ Hoppon spat.

‘You say that no one would help him,’ Simon said. ‘Why? Were Sir Robert and his men well known about here? Nobody seemed to know of his men particularly when I was asking. Was that simply because all feared him?’

‘Not Sir Robert, no. I dare say he was a moderate lord in his own way,’ Hoppon conceded. ‘But Osbert is a different animal. No one liked him.’

‘He was well known here?’ Simon asked.

Sir Richard grunted. ‘The man is keen to place the blame on any other fellow, eh?’

‘I tend to agree,’ Baldwin said. ‘Hoppon, you were near the assault; you could easily have walked there and back. I say you may have joined Osbert in the attack and that you have the coin here. What do you say?’

‘I say, ballocks to you! You think I’ve hidden money about the place, you go and fetch it. Now! I’ve never robbed any man in my life, and if I was going to, I wouldn’t rob the bleeding king! You think I’m mad?’

Simon stepped in front of the bristling man. ‘Hoppon. I don’t think you had anything to do with it. But you say Osbert was known around here. Why should he be known? Nymet Traci is a fair distance away.’

‘But he came from just over the hill,’ Hoppon pointed out.