Michael Jecks - The Death Ship of Dartmouth

‘You sure about who did this?’ he growled.

‘He was still alive when we found him, and he told us it was the fair-haired knight from that ship.’

Ivo stopped. ‘I thought you said it was a sailor, not a bleeding knight!’

‘What difference does it make?’ Hamo demanded. ‘He killed our Will.’

‘Aye, and he may kill us next, you fool,’ Ivo pointed out. ‘How many men do you think he has on that ship of his?’

‘Could be forty or fifty, I suppose.’

‘And he’s got the Lord Despenser’s papers. All he does, he does in Despenser’s name.’

Hamund frowned disbelievingly. ‘You mean you’ll do nothing about it? The man’s got papers, and that means he can murder who he wants?’

‘No, of course not. Not unless he’s got good reason.’

‘You reckon Will would have given him good reason?’ Hamo choked. ‘Gentle old Widecombe Will?’

Ivo gestured peevishly as he struggled to think what to do. ‘I can’t just jump on a ship and arrest a knight. He’d have us all taken off and hanged.’

‘He might be dead before he could do that,’ Hamo said.

‘You think so?’ Ivo said icily. ‘Look — the bloke’s a friend of Despenser. Haven’t you heard anything about him? He’ll just sign a paper releasing his friend, and then we’ll be hanged. The Sheriff won’t dare to do anything to help us. Who’re we to him?’

‘Right. If you won’t come, I’ll get help elsewhere.’

‘Tell me where, and I’ll come too,’ Ivo said.

‘The Keeper of the King’s Peace — he’s staying with the Port’s Keeper.’

‘Another knight …’ Ivo mused.

Hamund was keen to see the Keeper for his own reasons. ‘Shall we go and see him, then?’

Ivo chewed at his lip uncertainly, then without speaking led the way up the road to Simon’s house, where the three found the door standing wide. ‘Bailiff?’ Ivo called. ‘Bailiff?’

There were voices in the hall, and he entered slowly, fearing what he might find. No man left his door gaping in the middle of the night unless there had been some disaster. He peered round the doorway into the hall. ‘Sir?’

‘Get in here, man,’ Simon snapped. ‘What do you want at this time of night?’

Hamund followed him inside and saw his friend. ‘Pierre! Thank God, you’re all right!’ he cried in delight.

‘I am so at present,’ Pierre smiled, glad to see Hamund again.

‘What is all this about?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘The gaoler, a good man called Will, is murdered,’ Hamo said, bowing his head respectfully to the knight. ‘There were sailors held there, but their master, the knight Sir Andrew, freed them and killed Will because he took too long to open the door. That’s what he thought, anyway. He died a little while after telling me this.’

Baldwin and Simon exchanged a look, but it was Sir Richard who snorted, shifted his sword, and hooked his thumbs on his belt.

‘Keeper,’ he said, ‘I know that this is a dangerous affair, and we don’t know where it might end, but this man Will has to be avenged. It is our duty to catch the murderer.’

Simon said nothing, but took up his sword and buckled it about his waist. ‘Take us to the gaol first,’ he said to Ivo.

Hawley had spent some time going through his chest with his second clerk, who spent much of his time when he thought his master wasn’t looking, staring at the bound and gagged figure on the floor rather than keeping tabs on the money.

A small sack of coins had been found in Strete’s tunic, hidden at his breast, and at last, when Hawley had the tally, he sat back on his heels and nodded to himself. He put the sack back in his chest and locked the lid. The key he weighed in his hand a moment, then he reopened the lid, took out three pennies, and locked it again.

‘These are for him. Stick them in his purse,’ he said to the clerk.

It was tempting to hang the bastard or, more sensibly, to stab him and leave him in the woods over the town where he wouldn’t be found until his bones had been picked clean. Or take him to sea and dump him there. The man had been as treacherous as any could be, and he deserved to die for that. Any sailor found stealing at sea could be summarily dealt with, and a man who stole from his master here on land deserved the same fate. That was Hawley’s view, and he held to it rigidly.

However, he was on land — and killing men willy-nilly in Dartmouth would be sure to be frowned upon. God damn it.

‘Get Cynric and bring him to me,’ he said to the clerk. ‘You can go back to your bed.’

The man scuttled away, relieved to be free of his stern-faced master. Before long Cynric appeared in the doorway, saying laconically, ‘He told me what’s happened. You want me to string him up?’

‘No. I’ve a better idea. Take him to the Porpoise and leave him in there by the gaming room.’

‘They’ll not like him being unable to repay his debts,’ Cynric smiled, seeing how Strete was shaking his head in shock and horror, moaning through the gag.

‘He has three pennies — perhaps they’ll help him a little.’

‘Yes. It’ll make them keep him to entertain themselves that bit longer,’ Cynric chuckled, and grabbed Strete by his ropes. He swung the body up and over his shoulder with arms that had muscles standing out like cables. Then he turned and left the house.

The gaoler remained on the floor, the blood slick on the ground all about him. Baldwin felt his anger rise as he took in the sight. ‘This is a disgrace,’ he muttered coldly. ‘He was only doing his job.’

‘They released all the men, and then Sir Andrew just pushed the knife into him and ripped it up to kill him,’ Hamo said.

‘I will not let a damned butcher like this escape,’ Coroner Richard grated.

Baldwin glanced at Pierre. The squire and he had both seen such killings before.

‘It’s a slow way to kill an enemy,’ Pierre said. His face was twisted with disgust. ‘The slowest, perhaps.’

‘And the most cruel. This was the act of a man without honour or compassion. He must be caught.’

Simon, who always had qualms about viewing the more unpleasant corpses, stood at the door with his arm at his nostrils to keep the smell of opened bowels and blood at bay. The thought of a knife slicing through the belly and intestines of this old chap Will was appalling, and he felt himself filled with a righteous fury.

‘RIGHT!’ Sir Richard said, speaking slowly and precisely. ‘Sergeant, I want you to gather some men and go to the inn. If Sir Andrew is there, arrest him. If he attempts to escape or refuses to go with you, you have my authority to use all force necessary. Is that clear? ’

‘Yes, sir.’

Baldwin added, ‘If he is not there, come straight back here at once. You — Hamo, isn’t it? You must go to the houses of Master Hawley, Master Kena and Master Beauley. Tell them that the Gudyer ’s crew has attacked and murdered this man, and that we need a force to protect the town against them.’

‘I will, sir.’

‘What of us?’ Hamund said.

Baldwin glanced at him, then at Pierre. ‘It is for you to decide what you wish to do. I would ask you to help us, but if you feel you cannot, I will understand.’

Pierre nodded. ‘I thank you for that. I would like to help you against this man.’

They had only a short wait before Ivo came hurrying along the street with a couple of extra men at his side.

‘He’s not there, Sir Baldwin. They reckon he must be on his ship.’

‘Then we shall arrest him there,’ Baldwin said.

The man at Hawley’s door was a scrawny sailor Hamo had seen about the town often enough, usually drunk. Hamo pushed past him and marched into the hall.