Michael Jecks - A Friar's bloodfeud

As he lay back, the questions circled in his mind, but he could get no nearer an answer. All he was growing convinced of was that Sir Geoffrey would be enormously difficult to bring to justice.

Baldwin wondered how Simon would cope with that. It was a dreadful conclusion to reach, but if the culprit was Sir Geoffrey, the man was practically unassailable. Lord Despenser would protect his own.

It was a deeply unsatisfying conclusion, but he could see no alternative. He only prayed that Simon would not be irrational. He would speak to Edgar in the morning. If it looked as though Simon was going to burst out into righteous indignation and assault Sir Geoffrey, Edgar and he would have to prevent him by force.

There was no point having Simon getting himself killed as well.

Humphrey eyed the glowing tip of the blackened stick in Hugh’s hand. It approached him with the relentlessness of a viper slowly stalking a mouse, and Humphrey felt like a mouse as he sat absolutely still, the warmth from the glowing point beginning to make him sweat.

‘I have no patience with liars,’ Hugh said quietly. ‘Speak.’

‘I know nothing! Nothing. But I saw Matthew the priest at Iddesleigh, and he told me that your wife was once a nun, that she had taken her vows when she was too young, and had fled here.’

‘So?’ Hugh demanded.

‘I am the same. I was a monk, from the little priory of Otterton.’

‘I know it,’ John said, nodding to himself as he stirred the pot. ‘A pleasant little place, but draughty rooms for guests.’

‘I was sent there when I was a lad. My father thought I was wayward and too clever for his household. My older brothers were to have the estate and the glory, and all I had was the Church. So I went to the priory and began my novitiate. I soon realised that it was a harsh, cruel life. I couldn’t live under the rules there. It was too much. But when I spoke to the prior, who was generally a decent old soul, he told me that I’d taken the vows and that was an end to it. So I ran away.’

‘And that was all?’ John asked.

‘It’s all I will say.’

Hugh took the stick away, studied the point, and then began to blow on it. ‘What of my wife? You warned me to look after her.’

‘All I meant was that the priest knew of her, knew of her secret. Good God, man, don’t you understand? I am a runaway too. If they drag me back, I’ll die ! I couldn’t do that, not return. They’d humiliate me, make me lie on the threshold of the door to the church before each service, keep me locked in the gaol all the rest of the time, and only feed me on rank water and hard bread …’ He was weeping now. ‘Sweet Jesu, I saw one man they brought back. He looked as though he was near to death, and we were made to step on his poor body each time we entered and left the church. He lost his mind, man! Became no better than an animal!’

Hugh had blown the stick to a dull orange glow again. He nodded as though to himself, and approached Humphrey once more. ‘And that same night my woman was killed. You expect me to believe you?’

‘I know nothing more!’

‘What were you doing at Isaac’s chapel, then?’ John called cheerfully. ‘Was it a mere matter of good fortune that you happened upon his chapel?’

‘Yes. I met him in Hatherleigh at the market, and thought that to persuade a deaf and blind old man that I was a coadjutor sent to help him in his cure of the souls of the vill would be no difficult task. I was right. I could help him, and I did. There was so much to do, and I think I helped some of the people of the parish to find their way to God …’

John’s voice was light with amusement. ‘So you thought that you’d help him? And now you’ve run away.’

‘I’ve stolen nothing!’

‘True. So why bolt?’

Humphrey closed his eyes and shook his head. His hands were as cold as stone now, with the tight thongs binding them, and his head felt heavy. ‘I realised that the woman’s body was going to make my life difficult.’

‘Lady Lucy?’ John asked quietly. ‘The lady found in the mire?’

‘Yes. I went there to give her the viaticum , say some prayers for her, but then, when I saw her, I knew that there was no life for me here. As soon as the coroner found her dead, he’d be bound to start to make inquiries, and I would be uncovered.’

‘Isaac would protect you,’ John said with a frown.

‘Isaac is dead. I went out and when I went back he was still. Calm, tidy, but dead. He just stopped.’

‘So! You had no sponsor, no patron, and you thought you would be best occupied in escaping again?’

‘What else could I do? I know Matthew suspects me. I shouldn’t be surprised if he’s already sent to the bishop and demanded to know where I was sent from. He never trusted me.’

‘And yet you didn’t steal from the church. That speaks well of you,’ John said.

‘I’m no thief. I only ran because I had to.’

‘Why should the lady’s appearance lead to suspicion against you?’ John wondered.

‘Someone might remember me running from the convent.’

‘Yes,’ John agreed. ‘So you said.’

Hugh had thrust the stick in the fire and now it glowed white when he blew out the flames.

‘It’s the truth,’ Humphrey said more desperately, staring at it.

Hugh said nothing, but eyed his stick as he began to thrust it nearer Humphrey’s face.

It was enough. He couldn’t bear to look at it. Closing his eyes and averting his head, he screamed, ‘All right! I confess!’

John snapped, ‘What?’

‘On the Gospels, this is true! I killed a man at the convent. A brother monk. I didn’t mean to, but he was evil to me, he was foul and cruel, and I only meant to strike him … when he was on the ground I realised what I’d done. I had to run. If the coroner was to see me and understand that I had run away, news would soon get back to the bishop or the convent and I would be gaoled for my life. I couldn’t bear that, so I took myself off before the coroner arrived. I swear it! It’s the truth!’

Nothing happened. Neither of the other men said a word. Opening an eye Humphrey found himself looking up into Hugh’s scowling face.

Hugh contemplated him for a long moment, then touched the orange-glowing ember to a rushlight hanging over Humphrey’s head. It hissed and sparked as it took light, and every sound made Humphrey’s flesh creep.

‘Thought so,’ Hugh said.

The food was late, and when it arrived, the walk from the kitchen to the house had allowed much of it to grow stone cold. Sir Geoffrey picked up his trencher and studied the congealing mass without speaking for a moment before hurling it at the servant’s head.

‘Christ Jesus! Get me hot food!’

‘This place appears to be falling apart. I don’t think our lord would be impressed to hear what’s been happening,’ Sir Edward said languidly. He was sitting at Sir Geoffrey’s left hand, and he wore a smile of such smugness that Sir Geoffrey longed to wipe it away with a mailed fist. He’d lost some of the initiative.

‘It wasn’t Odo,’ he said. ‘That self-satisfied old cretin couldn’t see further than the end of his nose. He’s been in too many mêlées since his youth, and the constant banging of weapons against his helm has addled his brains. But that new Keeper, he was a pest and a problem. Do you know of him?’

‘I’ve heard tell, I think, but only the usual gossip. He’s clever enough, and could make a good representative to the next parliament. If the good king sees the necessity of receiving more advice, of course,’ the coroner said with amusement.

‘You should always assume the worst.’