Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

‘It’s also been suggested that they could have been taken, either to ransom them or to use them as slaves.’

Beauley gave him a steady look. ‘And how likely is that? Even if the pirates wanted some of the men, a few would have died rather than be caught, wouldn’t they?’

‘I don’t know who the men were.’

‘Didn’t you hear? Odo and Vincent were aboard, and Adam. Can you imagine any of them giving in to another ship?’

Kena looked away with a frown on his face. ‘You’re sure of that?’

‘I wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise.’

‘At least there’s cause for rejoicing in those bastards’ deaths! I’ll pray for Adam to be sent into Christ’s merciful hands, the poor fellow, but for Vincent and Odo, I’ll ask for all their sins to be remembered. I hope they burn in hell!’

‘I doubt not that your prayers for Vincent and Odo will be heeded. There are enough others in the town would be happy to see them swinging on the gibbet. The point is, though, they were brave fighters. They didn’t fear pirates or any others.’

‘True enough. So what happened to the men?’

‘The bodies must have been carried away. Unless, of course, the men are alive and happy somewhere else. Hiding.’

‘Hiding? ’ Kena scoffed. ‘You think that Adam could have betrayed his master? Vincent, maybe, but never Adam.’

‘Someone could have paid Odo and Vincent. If they had surprise on their side, they could have killed Adam. Danny’s body was on the ship … If, say, Odo told Adam, and Adam went down to look at him, Odo and Vincent could have overwhelmed even him.’

‘True. And that was the sort of work they excelled in, the murderous sons of hogs!’

‘If you ask who could have paid them, that is easy. What if Hawley offered Adam a job working for him instead of Pyckard — offered him a bribe, maybe — and he refused? Hawley can be a most ruthless man.’

‘Ruthless enough to remove the whole crew and kill them all?’

‘If he rescued some, they may be living anywhere even now,’ Beauley smiled cynically. ‘Or perhaps Vincent and Odo had another score to settle.’

‘Such as?’

‘Who can tell? They were guilty of many crimes.’

Kena gritted his teeth. ‘You have no need to tell me that! If it were not for some of my own sailors and Adam himself, those sodomites would have raped my wife!’

‘Adam?’

‘He saw what was happening and went to save her. I rewarded him, and the other men there. But he would not come to join me. I offered him money, but he remained loyal to his master. Perhaps that is it? Odo and Vincent killed him to be avenged for stopping them raping my lady.’

‘And then flew from the ship? All I know is, my own men are growing worried that they’ll be killed too if they go out.’

‘Just killed?’

Beauley gave a humourless grin. ‘No. There’s also the rumour that the devil took them all. Some of the lads reckon he’ll come and take them too. The church is doing better trade than the tavern just now.’

‘At least if it was the devil,’ Kena snarled, ‘he’ll have taken the right lads. Odo and Vincent deserved to die after what they did.’

Beauley said nothing, but he was glad to hear that his informant had been right. From what he had heard, Odo had grappled with Mistress Millicent in the street, as though she was a common draggle-tail from an alehouse, before Vincent had tried to pull him and her into a little alley. Only the arrival of Kena’s own men had saved her. No wonder the man hated them.

‘Well, master,’ he said, standing up to take his leave, ‘I should be careful about telling people about that. Better if you keep it quiet. After all, if a man is known to hold a grudge against a pair of villeins who attacked his wife, and the villeins suddenly die, people don’t bother to look very far for the murderer, do they?’

It was almost twilight when Moses slammed the bar across the front door before walking back into the hall and drawing up the shutters.

‘Master? Are you all right?’ he asked worriedly.

‘Fetch me a warmed pot of wine,’ Pyckard replied from his chair, and gestured limply with a finger.

It was all Moses could do not to burst into tears. The poor master had been good to all his staff, and his disease had been so sudden, it was hard to believe that this was the same man whom Moses had known and worked for over the last fifteen years. He was so shrivelled, like a leaf in late autumn, sitting huddled in his thickest fur coat and rugs against the chill of death. And at the same time Moses had lost his only other friend. Danny, his younger brother was dead, brutally murdered.

‘Master?’

‘When I have gone, Moses, there are many who will try to suggest that I owe them money. You must not allow people to take advantage. I leave it to you to carry out my wishes. All my papers and my Will are in my little chest in the counting-room, and the key is here about my neck. You understand me?’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll do all you ask,’ Moses responded dully. He took his master’s hand and gripped it, as though he could transfer some of his own life-energy to his master’s frail body. He would do anything to keep this kindly man alive.

Pyckard held his gaze. ‘I would like you to perform an errand, old friend. Would you do that for me too?’

On the outskirts of Dartmouth, Hamund Chugge sat down on a rock and pulled at the thongs of his sandal. He rested his staff against his shoulder as he poked a finger between sole and foot until he had found the little pebble, and could hook it out.

It was tempting to stop here and close his eyes, but he couldn’t. That would mean death if he was seen, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He would survive this somehow.

The man he had killed had deserved it. He had been a brute! And when he turned up with his piece of paper and smiled at Hamund with that oily grin, Hamund had to wipe it off his face. If he could change the past, well, he would. But he couldn’t. So Flok was dead, Hamund was outlawed and must leave the realm, and … God knew what would happen to Sarra.

She had suggested going with him, but what would he be able to offer her now he must leave the country? All he had was a possibility of starting afresh in the King’s domains over the water, and there was no guarantee that he would succeed in those strange, alien parts. All he could hope for was that his drive for success would help him in his new life, and that one day, if he were able, he could send for her.

‘No,’ he muttered. There was no bitterness in his voice, just resignation. Better that they should live apart. In time she would forget him, maybe win a better man. There must be plenty of them about, who wouldn’t get drunk and murder the man-of-law of the wealthiest and most dangerous man in the country after the King just because he sought to take your living from you.

That any man could legitimately take away another’s farm, his lands, his livelihood, and not even offer compensation, that was beyond Hamund. But that was exactly what had happened. The Despenser’s man Flok had arrived some months ago, just after Sir John de Loos had died in the brutal fighting against Thomas of Lancaster, the foul traitor who sought to set himself against the King. Sir John was a decent, kindly man, who had given Hamund his freedom some years before, but as soon as he died in the battle, Hamund reckoned Despenser started looking at his lands.

Hugh Despenser was an evil, thieving devil who concealed his insatiable greed behind a mask of boyish charm, so they said. Hamund knew nothing of that. All he knew was that his lands were to be taken from him by this man.