Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

‘Let me come with you! I want to speak to him. Please!’

‘All right.’ Hamo looked at him. ‘But no silly attempts to spring him. I won’t have my old friend Will hurt just because you want to save some fool who deserves all he’s got. Word is, he’s a spy and traitor.’

‘I cannot believe that!’ Hamund said, shivering as he pulled his still-damp clothes back on.

‘Hmm. You’d best follow me,’ Hamo said. ‘It wouldn’t be good for you to be found wandering about the town, you being abjured and all.’

He walked away from the river, through his works, and to his small chamber behind. His simple palliasse lay on the floor, and Hamund stumbled over the blanket laid overtop. Hamo gave him a cold stare, but took him out through the door to the tiny yard behind. From here he led Hamund through a small gate to an alleyway which opened on to Upper Street.

They hurried up here and turned to the marketplace and the gaol.

‘Will? Will — are you there?’

Hamund felt a thrill of fear as they took in the broken door and mess inside. The trapdoor was wide open, and Hamo set his jaw. ‘This isn’t right,’ he said.

It was Hamund who heard the rattling breath at the wall. ‘What …?’

‘Will, you poor old bugger,’ Hamo said chokingly as he rushed to the grandfather’s side. ‘Who did this?’

‘It was the bastards from that shiny new cog, Hamund,’ Will managed. There was a burning pain in his belly, and although he tried to keep his hands over the mess to hold his guts in, the fire was spreading. ‘They’ve killed me.’

‘Confess to me,’ Hamo said quickly. ‘Let me hear your confession, old friend.’

It took little time. Will knew of few crimes he had committed that merited serious confession. When he was done, and had breathed his last, Hamo stood and ran to the door. Hanging on a hook behind it was Will’s own horn, and now Hamo took it and blew three mighty blasts. ‘You, Hamund, wait here and tell people what’s happened. I’m going to fetch the Bailiff. This is simple murder, damn them. I won’t have them slay a friend of mine unavenged!’

The first man arrived in moments, a scruffy fellow with a leather jerkin pulled hurriedly over a linen shirt, and boots without hosen. ‘What’s all this?’

Hamo explained briefly about the murder. ‘Don’t let anyone hurt my friend there,’ he added in an undertone. ‘He’s with me — right?’

Hamund felt deserted as Hamo punched his shoulder, before turning to fly up the roadway. ‘No! Let me come with you. This man can stay here and guard Will.’

Hamo nodded, but did not speak, and Hamund caught a glimpse of the thick trails of tears on the cooper’s sunburned cheeks.

‘He knocked the poor bastard out, then ran,’ Simon summed up to the others. The sailors had followed him, and Baldwin and Richard stood near the body while the sailors stood muttering to themselves in the corridor.

Jan sneered, ‘You’ll have to answer to Lord Despenser for this. You’ve let one of the country’s worst traitors escape. I doubt whether the lord will be pleased with you for that!’

‘Right now I don’t give a shit what he likes or dislikes,’ Simon snapped. ‘The main thing is, finding him again!’

‘I for one am not convinced that this man was not struck down by your confederates,’ Sir Richard rasped. ‘You may be entering dangerous territory, Jan, if you had anything to do with this. Breaking and entering at night to assault a guard doing his duty, and capturing a man who was already under the protection of the Keeper is a serious matter.’

‘I was out in the hall with you!’

‘If you were found to have instigated or incited this crime,’ Coroner Richard continued, shaking his head menacingly, ‘you would be as guilty as the man who committed the offence in law.’

Baldwin was at the rear door. There were marks on the floor, and he lit a candle to study them. Shielding it from the wind, he stood at the doorway for some while, his eyes on the outer wall of the house. He then stopped and picked up a straw, Simon saw. Then he hurried outside as fast as the candle would permit, and traced the Frenchman’s steps all the way down the path, over some recently turned soil, past a puddle, and finally to the garden’s wall. It was there that his candle flickered and died, and he moved back to the doorway and the light.

‘He clearly left by the wall there. I can see where his feet went. See, Simon?’ he walked back with Simon and pointed. Simon and Sir Richard went to join him, and Jan and the other sailors trailed after them, glowering suspiciously at the dirt on the ground, as though Simon and Baldwin might conceal something from them. Turning back and seeing them, Baldwin rolled his eyes bitterly. ‘I congratulate you all! You have now effectively hidden any further signs he may have left! You poor examples of marine life! Do you have no understanding of hunting a man on the soil? His tracks were all over here, but you’ve hidden them all.’

Simon was surprised at his vehemence, but left him to it. While Baldwin berated them, he peered over the wall. From his own garden, the wall backed onto the small lane with another garden and house at the other side. The back lane here was narrow, and he remembered the locked gate at the southernmost end, the northern entrance which was open.

‘He must have gone that way, running out of the town,’ he said, pointing southwards.

The sailors needed no more urging. Their leader bit his thumb at Baldwin. ‘You say we’re foolish? We’ll catch this man now, without your help, Sir Knight. And we’ll do it faster because we understand real people. Signs in the mud? Pah!’

Bellowing and roaring at his comrades as though vying with a powerful gale, he led them, their horny feet slapping on the hard ground, up through the garden and out along the screens. Soon the place was quiet again.

Baldwin and Simon exchanged a glance, and then Baldwin looked up at the house. ‘You can come down now,’ he called softly.

To Simon’s surprise, there came a rustling from his roof, and soon a dishevelled Pierre was at their side. He looked at Baldwin ruefully. ‘You have remarkable powers, Sir Knight. How did you know I was up there?’

‘You stepped in a puddle there, but there was no moisture on the wall, only back there near the house. Clearly you ran to the wall, thought better of it, and darted to the house and up. Besides, if you want to clamber up a roof and remain hidden, you’d be best served not to pull handfuls of straw out and leave them scattered for all to see. Not that you need fear if you leave it for a man like that sailor. He couldn’t find his arse with both hands.’

‘They’ve gone towards South Town,’ Simon said. ‘But they’ll realise soon enough that they can’t get you down there.’

‘You told them I had gone there,’ Pierre said.

‘Yes,’ Simon said, irritated by his own actions at trying to aid this man. He felt no need to explain that he had guessed Pierre wouldn’t be able to escape that way and must have headed in the opposite direction.

Hamund and Hamo reached the watchman’s house and banged heavily on the door, shouting for Ivo.

‘What is it?’ he said, appearing at the door. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Ivo, you have to come quickly! The sailors from the Gudyer in the haven have murdered Will. He’s dead in the gaol now!’

‘You don’t … Shit! ’

Ivo disappeared and they heard shouting, a woman’s voice petulantly arguing, and then the rattle of a sword in a cheap scabbard and the thump of boots on stairs. Soon he was back, gripping a staff in his hand with the look of a man who wanted to use it.