Michael Jecks - A Friar's bloodfeud

‘Iddesleigh?’

‘The coroner suggested that the house fire was an accident. I think it was a murder. Men went there and murdered a woman and child.’

‘I heard of that. Yes, a man and his wife and child died, so I heard.’

‘Certainly the woman and child are dead.’

Baldwin was aware of Simon throwing him a look, but Baldwin refused to return it. He was watching the knight in front of him very carefully to see whether his words had affected him.

Sir Geoffrey eyed him doubtfully, but Baldwin did not see any guilt, only a little surprise. ‘Well, if you have questions for the coroner, you will be able to ask him before long.’

Baldwin looked back at the body on the rude stretcher. ‘I think I may do that.’

‘Do,’ Sir Geoffrey said.

Glancing up at him, Baldwin thought he had a little of the stillness of a snake preparing to strike. Rather than provoke him further, he would have left the room, but Sir Geoffrey was blocking his path.

‘There is one thing you should consider, Sir Baldwin,’ he said quietly. ‘Bear this in mind. If I was going to murder, I would not be foolish enough to hide the body on my lands just when I was going to expose that very area to the gaze of all my villeins. If I killed, I would leave the woman’s body somewhere else. Perhaps on a neighbour’s lands, if I sought to do him a foul turn.’

‘You have many enemies?’

Sir Geoffrey showed his teeth. It could have been a smile, but it could equally have been a snarl. ‘What do you think?’

‘What are you talking about?’ Simon demanded as soon as they had remounted and ridden away from the hall. ‘You said in there that Constance and young Hugh were both dead, but you implied …’

Baldwin brought his horse nearer Simon’s. ‘Simon, Edgar and I have seen men burned at the stake. You’ve seen bodies brought out from burned-out cottages, too. A man doesn’t simply burn away.’

Edgar nodded. ‘A man takes cartloads of wood to be completely immolated, Simon.’

‘But what else could have.?’

‘If Hugh was hurt, he would find a place to hide until he was well, wouldn’t he?’ Baldwin said. ‘And then he would return to exact vengeance.’

‘He could have escaped that place only to die alone somewhere else,’ Simon said with a gasp. His grief was rising again. It felt like panic. The idea that his man could have been injured, and had run off like a stabbed hog to die in a lonely, miserable, cold place far from anyone he loved, was more than Simon could bear. He closed his eyes and didn’t quite catch Baldwin’s next comment. ‘What?’

‘Wake up, Simon!’ Baldwin snapped. ‘This is the first chance we’ve had to discuss this. We’ve had people with us up until now. I wasn’t going to talk to you about it at Hugh’s ruins, but I am sure that Hugh did not die there. The question is, did he die at all, or was he free to escape?’

Edgar shrugged. ‘Obviously he was free.’

‘What are you saying?’ Simon protested. ‘How could you think that he would choose life when his woman was dead? He couldn’t have lived.’

‘Clearly he did,’ Edgar said flatly. ‘He sent a messenger to me.’

Simon’s jaw dropped. ‘He … how do you know this?’

‘The messenger was from a friar who met him somewhere round here. He told me that the friar was agitated, but that he had been told to pass on the message. If Hugh is in the hands of a friar, I should think he would be well enough.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I did not even think of that. I simply assumed that the messenger came from the vill.’

‘My first thought was, who there could have known where I was,’ Edgar said. ‘There were some who could have known where Simon was, but not me, I thought. That was why I asked.’

‘And it was a good thing you did,’ Baldwin said. ‘So let us assume that he is alive and recuperating. That means we have an urgent task.’

‘Why assume that?’ Simon said, reluctant to accept this leap of faith. ‘He may have died.’

‘If he had, I think the friar would have told someone,’ Baldwin said. ‘A friar need not fear the local politics. No, I think the fact that they are still silent and apparently hidden means that they are both alive. So we have the job of finding the killer before Hugh tries to.’

‘I would have no difficulty with Hugh finding the murderer and killing him,’ Simon said, and spat into the road. ‘He deserves whatever Hugh does to him.’

‘I agree,’ Baldwin said, but now there was an unusual note in his voice, a tone Simon had only rarely heard before. Baldwin swung his arm and winced at the pain in his shoulder. ‘But we have to remember that Hugh has been known to get things wrong before, Simon. I don’t want to have to protect him after he’s killed the wrong man.’

Humphrey was happy that he’d done all he could now, and he was about to pack his meagre belongings when the heavy pounding at the chapel door made him stiffen and wait, considering what he could do.

The only thought in his mind had been of escape, and he was almost ready to leave. He’d done it before, and he was more than ready to slip off again. It wasn’t the best weather for it, of course, but at least he could depart at night and find a new post somewhere, anywhere, and begin again. There was no point in hanging around here any longer. He was convinced of that. If he did, he might be hanged.

‘Who is it?’

‘Father, it is the Keeper of the King’s Peace, Sir Baldwin Furnshill. I understand you saw the body of a young woman on Sir Geoffrey’s land today. May we speak to you?’

Humphrey closed his eyes and swore to himself. God was playing games with him now. So near to escape, yet he was in danger again. He stared at the altar and the plain cross accusingly, his lips pursed in anger. ‘Oh, very well,’ he said, and slipped the bolt open, stepping into the chill daylight.

The men before him were alarming. The Keeper, of course, was worrying enough. Any man whose job involved tracking down and arresting felons was not the sort of person Humphrey wanted to be involved with, not with his past. Still, he managed to smile coolly and eye the three with what he hoped looked like calm disinterest. ‘You wanted to speak to me about the young woman?’

‘Yes. What can you tell us about her?’

‘I did not know her, if that is what you mean. She was the widow of a knight at Meeth, I understand. That was what Perkin told me, anyway.’

‘Perkin?’

‘One of the peasants. He was the man who found Ailward after the football.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘You mean the sergeant who died?’

‘Yes. He was killed up on the moor near Iddesleigh. I reckoned it was because of the camp ball. Perkin was running up to the goal when he saw Ailward. It was because Ailward appeared there in his way that a man from Fishleigh was able to knock Perkin down and take the ball, and it was because of that tackle that Monkleigh lost the game. Not many forgave Perkin that loss. And I doubt he forgave Ailward for distracting him.’

Simon listened with rising anger. This was all nonsense. The man was talking about some game of camp ball, while he wanted to learn about his man. He pushed his way forward. ‘What of the …’

‘Simon, please wait,’ Baldwin said. He glanced at his friend and gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘We have to try to get to the bottom of all these stories before we can hope to learn what became of Hugh. There must be a connection between them all.’

‘Hugh?’ Humphrey repeated, looking from one to another. ‘Who’s he?’

‘He was the servant of my friend here,’ Baldwin said. ‘And his wife and child were killed up beyond Iddesleigh a few days ago.’