Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

‘No! I killed a man who sought to defraud my master’s widow.’

‘Oh, a murderer, eh? I may be able to help you, then.’

Baldwin met Simon as the jury moved from one body to go and hold inquest on the second, poor Danny’s. It had taken a short while to find a good stables and see that his horse was properly rubbed down and fed, before he felt he could leave it and seek his friend. The group of men a short distance from Simon’s front door was evidence that there had been something of interest happening, and when Baldwin heard the stentorian tones of the Coroner rising clearly over the normal hubbub of the town, he felt a brief anxiety that he might be too late to serve the bishop.

‘Old friend! How are you?’ Baldwin asked when he saw Simon. His sympathy was genuine. There were few times he had seen his companion so flushed and feeble-looking. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Death is attractive just now,’ Simon said thickly. ‘Don’t ask. That Coroner has a belly of steel, I swear. He arrived yesterday to view two bodies, and I feel as though someone has kicked me in the head and … you aren’t listening, are you?’

‘What bodies, Simon?’ Baldwin asked.

Simon glanced back at the place where the body had lain. The two young fellows were about to place it on a board to carry it to the churchyard for burial. ‘Hey, you two, wait!’

Baldwin and he strode to the board and stared down at the naked corpse lying there.

‘What do you think, Baldwin?’

‘It matches a description I was given, I fear,’ Baldwin said with a frown. He glanced at the two boys listening nearby. ‘We need to talk, old friend. Somewhere quiet.’

‘And in the meantime, I suppose we ought to speak to the Coroner,’ Simon said without enthusiasm. Filled with self-pity, he added, ‘He’s looking at another corpse. It’s a miracle he hasn’t a third to look at.’

‘A third?’

Simon was in no mood to explain. His belly was a roiling torment, and all he wanted just now was his bed. He led the way to Lower Street in silence, too absorbed in self-pity to consider Baldwin’s words further.

Pierre was standing in the shadows when the voice hissed urgently from the open doorway.

‘Master? Master Pierre?’

He had drawn his sword before sleeping, and now he moved as quietly as possible across the hayloft, then crouched at the edge, peering down at the entrance. Seeing it was Moses, he waited a short while, carefully staring at the patch of bright sunlight to see if any shadows might betray the presence of other men, before sheathing his sword and climbing down the ladder.

‘Moses. You have news of a ship?’

This foreigner was as selfish as any, Moses reckoned inwardly. He was incapable of thinking of anyone but himself, even when the man who had saved his life lay dying in the house nearby. ‘Not yet, no. But I am sure that there will be news before long. First, here’s some food. My master asked me to bring you food every day until you can make your way back over the water.’

‘He is a good man.’

‘Yes.’ Moses felt no need to add to the flat statement.

‘Have there been men asking for me?’

Moses had no idea what this man might have done. There were enough fellows who had done little or nothing to deserve being chased like foxes for him to feel too worried by that. Still, it rankled with him that this Frenchman did not enquire after the health of Master Pyckard.

‘There has been nothing,’ he answered carelessly. ‘I doubt there’s anyone here looking for you .’

‘There is,’ Pierre said with certainty. ‘They do not give up, these men. Now, I should see your master and thank him.’

At last, Moses said to himself. Aloud, though, he said, ‘He isn’t well enough to see anyone, and if you are right and men are hunting for you, it’d be a foolish thing to come out in the open and let them see you.’

‘You think so? Better to meet them face to face, is what I consider. I prefer to go about as a man, not hide all my life. No, I will come back with you and visit the old man who protects me. If the men are there, I will see them and know whether I am still in danger. If they are not there, then there is no need to hide any more!’

‘And what if the men you say are following you, see you entering his house? Perhaps they’ll go to Master Pyckard and torture him to learn all he knows about you. Have you thought of that, of the danger you will put him in? No. You should stay well away from my master’s house.’

‘Then I can enter secretly? By the garden, perhaps?’

‘ No! I will not have you in the house. My master is dying! I won’t have you upsetting him any further.’ Moses’s voice broke.

Pierre looked away, staring out through the open doorway. The Frenchman was a good half-head taller than Moses, and he could look down his nose at him with ease, but only a fool would antagonise the servant. He scarcely merited the effort, and even if he did, he was Pierre’s lifeline just now. Without him, he would have no food. And he was probably quite right. The best thing to do was to keep hidden, to wait until one of Master Pyckard’s ships came free, and then to quietly take his place on board and leave for France.

‘Very well. I will do as you suggest. But do you know how long it is likely to be before there is a ship I can join? I cannot stay here forever!’

‘There will be one soon. She is being loaded now, and I would hope that in two, maybe three days, she should be ready to sail.’

‘That long?’

There was disappointment on his face at having to wait for so long, but Moses didn’t greatly care. He deposited the sack of bread, half a fowl and a pot of honey on the floor, and passed Pierre the heavy earthenware jug. ‘There are three quarts of ale there. I’ll try to bring more when I come here tonight. For now, keep quiet in here. We’ll have you back in France as soon as we can.’

Moses glanced about him, then turned and left the place. He would go quickly back to the house and make sure Master Pyckard was comfortable before continuing with any other chores. At the gate which shut off the yard, he hesitated and looked back. In the doorway, so he thought, he could see Pierre standing with the jug still in his hands, watching him. As though he didn’t trust even Moses.

The ingratitude of the man! He had turned up late at night, and seemed to expect Master Pyckard to aid him, even though Moses had never seen him nor even heard his name mentioned before. But as soon as the groom from the stable arrived and told Master Pyckard that there was a Frenchie in town hoping to see him, a man by name of Pierre, his master had drawn himself up on his cushions and told Moses to fetch his cloak and gloves. Before long, he had left, and Moses waited for him to return, banished from his master’s side.

It would be the last time his master could tell him to leave him alone. Since that evening, Pyckard had sunk quickly. Soon he would be gone, and Moses would be all alone, but for his brother’s children.

Moses only hoped that this unkempt stranger wasn’t taking advantage of his master, because if he were, Moses himself would see to it that Master Pyckard won justice, whether he was alive or dead.

The inquest on the second body was much faster. Sir Richard de Welles already had poor Danny stripped and displayed before Simon and Baldwin had reached the quay near Hawley’s house. A woman shrieked and wailed with grief nearby, comforted by the man Simon recognised as Pyckard’s servant. An assortment of children moaned and wept at her feet. It was enough to make Simon feel a mortifying shame at his reluctance to view this man’s body. No matter what Simon felt, he had left a family behind, and men and women who loved him. He deserved to be investigated properly.