Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

He knew what it was to have lost, just as had Hamund. And as he thought again of his lady, he understood what Hamund must feel. Except Hamund had lost his woman, his livelihood, his property and his King. He was outlawed and alone in the world.

‘My friend,’ he said quietly, ‘you are alive. Much may still happen. Do not lose heart. There is always the hope that you and I will again meet our loves, if not here, then perhaps in heaven.’

Hamund blinked and wiped at his eyes, then nodded.

Pierre patted his shoulder. ‘When we arrive in France, my friend, you will come with me. You will be safe with my protection.’

Hamund could say nothing. These were the first words of genuine compassion he had heard since leaving his lady and fleeing to the church’s sanctuary. All he knew was, as Pierre stood and stalked away on his long legs, that Hamund could follow him to the ends of the earth and back for those words.

There was a shout from the stern and Gil appeared clad in his best tunic and cote-hardie, his head decorously covered with a cowl. He stood near Hamund and gave a command. Three of the sailors joined him then climbed over the side down to a small rowboat that wallowed in the lee of the cog. It had rowed out to them a short while earlier, and the rower, a cleanshaven, older man, sat in it waiting.

‘What’s this? Where do you go?’ Pierre asked Gil as he cocked his leg to follow them over the side.

‘My master’s body has to be taken to the church. His servants will carry him to the funeral.’

The house of the dead sailor was out at the fringe of Hardness, on the road up to Tunstal.

Simon thought that it was a typical cottage of a reasonably well-paid sailor. All the timbers were limewashed to preserve them from the worst the sea could throw at them, the walls were patched, but not haphazardly. All the daubed areas were themselves coated by limewash, and the thatch was renewed where necessary. It was a house whose owner had lavished attention upon it.

The front was given up entirely to a neat, well-laid out garden, with leeks and cabbages growing well in the sunshine. There was a profusion of leaves of all kinds: alexanders, parsley, and salads, while the first crop of peas hung from the rafters of the little log-shed at the cottage’s side. They would dry there on the vine and be threshed from the pods in the winter. Onions and garlic grew in ordered ranks, and Simon was reminded of the little vegetable patch he had at his home at Lydford. The sight of the plants here, so mundane, brought home to him how far he was from his wife, and he felt a momentary pang at the separation.

But his separation was nothing compared to that which afflicted this house. There was a turf bench built into the garden on their left as they entered. From there the seated woman would have a fine view of the river and the hills opposite. Near her was a small herber, surrounded by fragrant flowers, in which a small child rolled and gurgled in the sun while she sewed.

In her middle twenties, the woman was sun-burned to the colour of a nut, but her brown eyes still stood out clearly in comparison. They were startlingly distinct, as though they belonged to another face, and when they lighted on the men walking up her path, they showed no recognition, only stolid resignation. ‘What did he owe you?’ she said.

‘Nothing, madam, I assure you,’ Baldwin said.

‘You may call me Alice. You’ll be the first, then. Everyone else has come demanding money for tools or drinks.’ She set aside her work listlessly. ‘May I serve you some ale? With my man dead, there isn’t much else I can give you.’

‘That sounds very …’ Sir Richard began.

Baldwin glared at him. ‘We wouldn’t dream of taking what little you have.’

‘What do you want, then?’

‘We wondered about the cause of your husband’s death. Of course it is likely that he died during a fight for the ship, but-’

‘Yes? But ?’ she asked coolly.

‘There is no apparent reason why he should have been left aboard the ship. All the other men were removed.’

‘They were slaughtered, you mean,’ she said, and there was a break in her voice. ‘Oh, God in heaven, why have You done this? All those men … good men. And me with three children! What will I do now?’

‘You knew many of the men on the ship?’ Baldwin asked.

‘One was my brother, Adam. I have lost husband and brother in the same night!’ Her tone was growing wilder. ‘What can a woman do without a husband? If he is gone, there’s nothing!’

‘He had been with Master Pyckard for some years, I heard?’ Simon said.

‘Yes. Danny learned all about the sea on Master Pyckard’s ships.’

‘So he began with Master Pyckard early on?’

‘When he was orphaned, the master took him in. Danny started as a cabin-boy, and gradually worked up to being a trusted sailor. He was lucky, too, and the men liked to have him sail with them.’

‘Why lucky?’ Baldwin asked.

‘He was in dreadful storms once or twice. He used to say that he was like a cat: he had many lives.’

‘Was he shipwrecked on Pyckard’s ships?’ Baldwin frowned.

‘Yes, the once. And he was in terrible squalls a few times. The storm that killed Master Pyckard’s wife, he was there then.’

‘What happened?’ Simon said.

‘There was a sudden storm, and the ship was blown onto rocks. It was mere luck that they didn’t all die. He never spoke of it afterwards, and I think the memory was terrible. He was floating about for days holding on to a lump of timber. The others never thought he’d survive. Sailors are often like that, they don’t want to talk about the worst weathers.’

‘How long ago was that?’

She went blank for a moment. ‘A long time — maybe fifteen years.’

‘What can you tell us about this last sailing?’ Simon asked.

‘Nothing! I know nothing about it.’

‘When did he leave you here?’

She looked at him, a depth of despair in her eyes. ‘I didn’t even know he was going. He always used to tell me when he was about to sail, but this time there was nothing. I hadn’t even known he’d been asked to join the ship!’

Baldwin’s head snapped up. ‘Are you quite sure? You say you had no idea he was going anywhere … Did he usually take anything special with him when he went on ship?’

She shrugged. ‘Just odds and sods. You know what sailors are like. He always had his lucky charm about his neck — it was a lead badge of St Christopher — and a spoon. He was so proud of that spoon. He bought it ages ago in France from a metalsmith. Nothing else much, just a spare shirt and …’

‘Is his spoon here? Have you noticed whether it has gone?’ Baldwin asked urgently.

‘I haven’t had time to worry about that!’

‘Look for it, mistress, please. It could be important.’

She stared at him, huffed a deep sigh, and rose. ‘Wait there.’

Disappearing inside, she left Simon with the impression that she thought Baldwin had lost his mind. He glanced at Baldwin. ‘What in God’s name?’

‘Well considered, Sir Baldwin,’ Sir Richard muttered in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. ‘I hadn’t thought that through.’

She was back a few moments later with a confused expression on her face. ‘You are right,’ she said, and opened her fist. In it lay a long, thin-handled spoon with a broad bowl, and a lead badge like the pilgrims wore, set on a thin chain. ‘Why did he leave these behind?’

‘Madam, I am sorry that you have lost him, but I think we may be able to explain more later. Do you know whether your brother was expecting to sail?’

‘Oh, yes. I know he was. I had thought Danny might have been asked to join the ship because they were short-handed, but he always told me when he was sailing! And he would never have sailed without these. Oh, God, what does this mean?’