Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

He turned and fled back to his chest. Hefting it, he felt his belly muscles start to tear, his shoulders begin to sing with the agony of strain and tension. There was only one place he could go. Ahead of him was the gate, and he hurled himself towards it, aware all the while of the sounds coming closer and closer, the hoofs, the horn blowing, the roars and bellows. With a convulsive effort, he hefted the box on to the gate, then with a heave that made him see spots before his eyes, he hoisted it up and over, to fall with a rattle and crash at the other side. The gate had a thong holding it. He lifted it, slipped inside and shut the gate. Then, with the last strength he could summon, he picked up the chest again, and covered the last twenty yards to the church door. There he shoved the door wide and made his way with faltering steps to the altar, where at last he could drop the chest and fall to the floor, gripping the altar cloth with trembling hands. He bent down over the cloth and kissed it.

‘I claim sanctuary!’

Brother Mark was in the vestry, a small shed that would have collapsed under its own weight had the church’s walls not been so close that it could lean like an old horse against a tree. The priest here was an accommodating fellow by the name of Father James, and he had made the monk most welcome, especially when he heard that he was sent by the cardinal to learn all he could about the murders at Abbeyford.

They had been chatting in a desultory fashion, as monks and priests were wont to do, neither trusting the other entirely, for the monk thought the priest a little too worldly, and the priest thought him an arrogant fool, but they had begun to notice some mutual interests, and after some little while their conversation had grown a great deal more amiable. By the time of the shouting from within the church, both had drunk a goodly portion of wine, and their friendship had been sealed.

‘What on earth is that?’ the priest demanded as the clamour began.

‘My heavens, I think I recognise that voice,’ Mark declared as he heard the coroner’s bellow. No one could have missed his shout.

The two rose hurriedly, James spilling his wine, and both hurried out into the cold air, running about the church to the door at the north and rushing in.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Father James demanded as he saw the men ranged about the altar, his altar. His rage was entirely unfeigned. He was unused to seeing people brawling in his church, and he would be answerable before God if he was going to permit it now. ‘You, sir — yes, you! Leave hold of that fellow at once!’

Sir Richard glanced up guiltily. ‘Ah, I know that this looks bad, Father, and I apologise … Oh, that you there, Brother? Could you explain about this fellow?’

Mark shook his head. ‘That disreputable-looking figure is actually the coroner for Lifton or somewhere. The man he has grabbed is one of Sir Robert de Traci’s retinue, and responsible for much of the trouble about here. He was the fellow who led all those travellers to Abbeyford and saw them slain.’

‘And what is he doing here?’ Father James asked of Osbert, ignoring Sir Richard’s expostulations at his description.

‘I claim sanctuary, Father. I demand it. If these men take me, they’ll see me dead. I must be protected.’

‘Release him,’ Father James said.

‘This man has killed, Father,’ Baldwin said. ‘He led those travellers to their doom, he oversaw the torture of a monk, brother to your friend Mark there, and killed that man, Pietro de Torrino, and also Brother Anselm from Tavistock. We found the brother’s body earlier, I’m afraid, Mark. He has killed another man today, a fellow called Hoppon, and he has robbed the king of a hundred pounds. It’s in the casket beside him. Do you mean to tell me that a known, unrepentant felon like this can demand sanctuary?’

‘Yes. He has reached the safety of the altar. You will not take him from here, not for the requisite forty days. He is as safe and inviolable as a new-born innocent babe. Let him free!’

‘Father, he is a murderer,’ Sir Richard repeated.

It was Roger who shook his head and muttered, ‘We have no rights in here, Sir Richard. Master Simon, we should leave this place. The law as you know it has no effect once you enter the doors.’

Sir Baldwin was cool as he took Sir Richard’s arm. ‘Come, Sir Richard. There is no more for us to do in here. You are a coroner, though, and you can enforce the laws as they apply.’

The coroner nodded. He reluctantly allowed his grip on Osbert to relax. ‘Do you have a weapon about you? Answer quickly!’

Osbert licked his lips. He had wanted to keep at least one knife about him, but it was correct that if he wished to remain safe, he must adhere to the law. He pulled his knife from within his robe and gave it to the coroner.

‘Right, you dishonourable and dishonest felon, you have the right to remain here for forty days and nights. After that time, I can come in to fetch you. You will either have to leave of your own free will, which means surrendering to the full weight of the law, or you will have to agree to abjure the realm. You understand? Either hang, or run to exile. There’s nothing else for you.’

Osbert nodded grimly. But in forty days, even the most observant guards could fail in their duties. It was likely that he would be able to escape in ten days or so. The coroner and his friends would not remain here all that time.

‘In the meantime,’ Baldwin said, and bent down, ‘you will not be permitted to profit by your theft.’

‘No!’ Osbert shouted, but he dared not relinquish his grip on the altar cloth, and could only look on in horror as Baldwin pulled the casket away from him.

‘All those murdered people, and all for a few pennies that you cannot even hold on to,’ he said. ‘I hope you feel it was worthwhile.’

Jacobstowe

Mark watched them go, Father James walking with them, and felt a strange bubbling resentment deep in his breast.

This man was safe now, secure and protected with the full strength of the Church behind him. No man might touch him, unless he was captured outside the church, and then, if he was molested, his attacker would be guilty of a serious offence, just as a man who tried to drag him from the church would be. A man who committed such a desecration of the church could expect to be hanged.

‘Bring me water, monk. I’m thirsty.’

Mark allowed a fleeting frown to pass over his face. ‘Perhaps you should fetch it yourself.’

‘I am your guest here,’ Osbert said.

‘No. You are the guest of Father James. He is gone to ensure that the money you stole is safe.’

The dig struck home. A cloud settled on Osbert’s features. ‘After all that effort and trouble, to lose it all here is enough to make a man turn to the Church. What do you think? Is there a church I could go to for a job? Perhaps a lay brother’s position in Tavistock, eh? That’d be good. You and me, we could sit and chat. Talk about the fun we’ve had in the last week or so, eh? You looking for me, and me hiding from you. Oh, so you’re back?’

Mark turned to find that Roger had returned inside. ‘I am here to make sure you don’t try to run.’

‘You think you could stop me?’ Osbert sneered.

Mark pressed him. ‘Why did you kill Anselm? He was never a threat to you, was he?’

‘Him? He was a fool. Jesus! You’d have thought the cretin would have realised that bringing a puppy might just make for problems in the future, wouldn’t you? How would he think to look after it?’

‘And that was why you killed him? Not so you could take his share?’

‘Look, he wanted to join me. It was Basil’s idea in the first place, to get one of the monks on our side, and Anselm was the easiest man to pick. He was bored stupid with his companions in any case. Did you know that? He was perfectly happy to sell them to us. That was before he knew he was going with the money, of course. It was easy to persuade him, letting him come and help me take the money.’