Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

While he considered the matter further, he sent Cynric to see whether anything was known of the reason for the attack on the cog.

‘They came from the new ship up there, the Gudyer ,’ his man said when he’d asked on Hawley’s behalf.

‘Really? What would they be doing, trying to steal a ship like this in harbour?’

‘They said they were seeking this Frenchman who had raped a kinswoman of the Queen. He wasn’t there, though. They’ve been pulled off the ship with their tails between their legs.’

Hawley nodded absently, but his eyes were thoughtful. ‘Could they have taken the Saint John , do you think?’

‘There’s enough of them, that’s certain. But who’d know?’

‘Yeah,’ Hawley murmured. It was an interesting idea, though. ‘So they say that they’re here for the Frenchie. If he’d raped someone, though … they sent a ship that size just for one man?’

Cynric pulled a face and shrugged. ‘Hardly likely.’

‘No, not at all. Unless he’d raped the Queen herself.’ His face darkened and he stood silent for a long moment.

‘You don’t think he’d dare do that, master?’

Hawley made an attempt to shake his head, but could not quite manage it convincingly. ‘Anything is possible, but surely the Queen would have enough men-at-arms about her at all times to protect her from that.’

‘If she wanted to be.’

‘You can’t believe that the Queen would succumb to lusts like some draggle-tail from Sutton harbour,’ Hawley scoffed, but the thought did linger. A man who had dared to bed the Queen, willingly or no, was someone to be respected. ‘No, that’s hardly likely. It must be something else.’

‘If he was from her household,’ Cynric said slowly, ‘he could have tried to take one of her ladies-in-waiting?’

‘Shit! Yes, that’s more like it! And when his offence became known, this knight Andrew was sent to cut his balls off. That makes more sense.’ He shook his head. ‘Or it’s nothing to do with rape and we’re completely wrong. Maybe he’s a spy? Who cares? There is probably money on his head. Right! You make sure that all the fellows under our control are aware: if they see this fellow, or any other man who looks like a Frenchie, I want to know. If they can, they should take him and bring him to me. Clear?’

‘Sir.’

As Cynric trotted off to do his bidding, John Hawley made his way back to his hall. The Frenchman, the great ship in the haven and the curious matter of Strete’s money exercised his mind all the way up the hill to his front door, and when he reached it, he stood a moment, his hand on the latch, head to one side, considering.

‘What could he have sold about me?’ he wondered again. Or was it information about someone else that his clerk had been selling?

‘He gamed at the tavern,’ he whispered. ‘The sailors all drink there.’

And he had a sudden intuition. He knew what information Pyckard would pay for, and suddenly he felt sick to think of what his man must have done.

It was quiet in the storeroom, and Pierre stood in the darkness, from where he could keep an eye on the doorway. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘Just to know that you shouldn’t be in gaol and we sprang you to safety would be good,’ Bill said. ‘Ach, I’m not used to this shite. Where’s Alred when you need him, eh, Law?’

‘Law? It is a curious name.’

‘It’s just short for Lawrence.’

Pierre inclined his head. ‘You English — you have to give a nickname to all, do you not? What is wrong with your full name, my friend? Surely it would be easier for all if you stuck to that?’

‘I like it shorter.’

Hamund was frowning. ‘Look, we have to get off to the ship, right? If they sail without us, we’re dead.’

‘If you had been on Pyckard’s boat today you’d be dead. Come to that, if you were on his last ship, you would be too,’ Bill said. ‘Looks like you’re a very lucky fellow.’

Pierre set his jaw, but his reserves were beginning to fail him. ‘I was not here to catch the earlier ship,’ he said. ‘I only arrived in this town after the ship had sailed.’

‘Still makes you pretty fortunate, though,’ Bill said.

‘Yeah, I’d say he was lucky,’ Law said. ‘Look at him! Rich clothes, fine sword … and he’s still alive and breathing.’

‘You think this is lucky? Being held here by two fools who think they can guess my style of life just by looking at my clothing?’

‘You reckon you’re so high above us, that it?’ Law spat.

‘Who broke your nose?’ Pierre asked. ‘Perhaps I should treat with him instead of you, heh?’

‘You prefer we should call the Watch to talk to you?’ Bill threatened.

‘You look at me,’ Pierre said, his frustration overwhelming his limited patience. ‘You see a knight, yes? A noble knight, with power and men at his command? But all I am is a man like you, boy. Just like you. Except I have no household to serve, as my mistress cannot allow me to return to her. My friends have deserted me, except for one down here in this town, and he is dead. I had a passage on a ship, that one out there, but you are delaying me so I may miss her. If I do not miss her, I may be captured here by an enemy who wished to harm my lady, and he will torture me to get any information he can! You call me lucky? I am without friends, without hope, in a foreign land where all seek to kill me. This is lucky? I wish you much luck of the same sort!’

Bill sucked at his tooth. There was a hole in it that hurt like the devil every so often, and especially when cold air got to it. He eyed the Frenchman speculatively. ‘How do we know you’re not lying to us?’

‘All this talk about me raping a woman — it is a lie! I have not molested a woman in my life. And as for a noblewoman — I could not. I fell in love with a lady, it is true, and I now travel to France to return to my home because I could not touch her. That is all.’

‘What if you did rape some woman?’ Law said with suspicion unabated. He wasn’t at all sure about this foreigner.

‘Oh, if you believe I did, then call the Watch and have done with me. But let my companion here go to the ship. He is paying for his crime already.’ He slumped down by the wall. After losing woman, master and ship, there was nothing else for him. There was an English expression — ‘fed up’. Well, he was fed up with this land, its people, and with life on the run.

‘Law, trust me on this,’ Bill said at last. ‘All right, friend. I reckon you deserve a little better fortune. How about we help you down to the shore and take you to the ship. What then?’

‘You’d let him go?’

Pierre ignored the lad’s strangled cry. ‘You mean this? If you take me to the ship, I swear I will-’

‘No — on second thoughts, no promises,’ Bill winced. ‘Let’s just say I’ll feel better in myself if I don’t judge another man’s guilt or innocence. It’d make me feel I’ve done something useful with my life. All right?’

In the church the body of the dead man from the roadway was still lying next to the coffin of Paul Pyckard. Danny had been buried as soon as the inquest was done with him.

In stark contrast to the fresh-planed boards of the coffin for the merchant, the unknown man’s corpse was loosely wrapped in a linen winding sheet, through which noisome fluids leaked. The priest was already setting fresh herbs about it to conceal the worst of the odours before it was installed in its own coffin.

‘Oh, good, Coroner. I was planning to get this body put away this afternoon. We heard it wasn’t the man Sir Baldwin thought, so my fossor’s been over the cemetery, and he should have a grave ready. It’s a shame, I know, to set a man down in an unmarked grave, but there are times when you can do no more, eh?’