Michael Jecks - A Friar's bloodfeud

Sir Odo reluctantly agreed to wait until he heard from Baldwin before he launched any counter-blow to the forces currently occupying what he still called ‘his’ lands, but he was determined to prepare his men. Baldwin offered to speak to Sir Geoffrey, and Sir Odo agreed to send Walter off to Iddesleigh.

‘That is a bargain. There are eight men at the church. If I send Walter there to hold the place against any attack, I can bring two back. There’s no need for eight men there. Seven should be plenty, and the other two can come here and help … I wonder if seven are needed. There’s hardly likely to be an attempt on the place while all this is going on …’ and he had stalked off, muttering to himself about men and numbers.

‘There will be a lot of blood shed if we can’t stop this nonsense,’ Simon said. He sighed and put a hand to his brow.

Baldwin looked at him sympathetically. ‘And it hardly helps us to learn what happened to Hugh, does it? Still, perhaps there may be a clue in among all this tangle.’

‘Sir Geoffrey, you think?’

Baldwin was quiet a moment. ‘I wish I thought so. No. I think that he is as unwitting as Sir Odo. Both seem to have been content to live their lives quietly enough until this trouble came to them. All appears to have started with the death of Lady Lucy, or at least her abduction. There was no dispute between the two manors until then …’

‘You have a thought, Sir Baldwin?’ Edgar enquired.

‘Only this: is all this dispute over the increase of the manors? Lady Lucy was taken and killed for her lands. In the meantime, if Lord Despenser had heard that the property he had taken from Ailward was less than it should have been, he would have been sure to tell Sir Geoffrey to acquire the rest. Ailward would have had a good motive to kill Lady Lucy and leave the evidence with Sir Geoffrey to make it appear that he was guilty.’

Edgar interrupted, saying, ‘Aha, but so would Sir Geoffrey. If Despenser had learned of his arrangement with Sir Odo over Ailward’s lands, he would have removed Geoffrey for incompetence and installed another in his place.’

‘That is true,’ Baldwin reflected. ‘If a dog bites you, you will be more cautious in future, and if a man shows he cannot even read the evidence of the land’s records, would you trust his judgement a second time?’

‘Not unless he had some excellent excuse to offer.’

‘What do you say, Simon?’

‘Me? I should say that the pair of them deserve everything that is coming to them. Sir Geoffrey for his theft from his lord, and for, I think, his attacks on the innocent. And Sir Odo for concealing what he had been doing from Lord Hugh de Courtenay.’

‘Why?’

‘It is clear enough what the two of them were doing: stealing a patch of land. Sir Geoffrey took the larger piece for Despenser, and left the smaller part in the hands of Sir Odo. But I will bet that Sir Odo never told Sir John Sully or Lord de Courtenay. No, I would think that he held that as a secret for himself, and from the moment that the two men took the land, they have been sharing its profits, never mind Sir Odo’s story about passing his share to Ailward.’

‘So why fall out now?’ Baldwin wondered.

‘Perhaps one grew greedy. Thieves often fall out,’ Simon said dismissively.

‘Lady Lucy,’ Edgar said.

Baldwin shot a look at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘If one of the knights decided that this arrangement was too profitable not to duplicate, might not one of the two decide to capture her, steal her lands and set himself up as a minor lord in his own right?’

‘It is possible,’ Baldwin admitted with a frown. ‘But how to do that? Offer a kindly opportunity, and provide her with his hand in marriage?’

‘And when that was rejected, resort to the first plan: torture until she agreed to give up her territories, and then death,’ Edgar said.

Simon scowled. ‘Why now? That is what I cannot understand. Hugh is dead, and I think it must be because the men who killed Ailward thought he might have seen them. I can understand that. But why do all this just now?’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘Just as every fire needs a spark to start it, so too there must have been something that initiated this chain of events. Once we know what that was, perhaps we’ll be closer to learning the full details.’

Hugh and John made their way along the roadway and then climbed the hill up to Iddesleigh. All the while they had a view of the steeple in front of them, and Hugh was aware of a growing feeling of nervousness as he approached it.

He did not fear killing a man, or being killed. That was of no concern to him. Someone had murdered his wife, and deserved punishment. Even if he died in the attempt, he wouldn’t care. The man who ended Constance’s life had gone a long way to ending Hugh’s own. Hugh would find him and kill him.

But he was scared. He was scared of not finding the man; of failing to kill before he was himself killed; even of finding the wrong man and executing an innocent who’d had nothing to do with his wife’s murder. All were dreadful thoughts, the last possibly the worst of all, and he found himself struck with a strange feeling, for him, of irresolution and doubt.

His bruises and wounds were giving him more pain now as he climbed the hill to the church, but his gradual slowing was not caused by them; it was the feelings of misgiving and uncertainty that seemed to sap at his strength as he went. By the time he had reached the top of the hill, he had little confidence.

‘Hugh?’ John murmured. ‘Is there something wrong?’

‘I don’t know what I can do. What if I’m wrong?’ Hugh explained what he had remembered about Constance’s seeing Matthew outside his house all those days ago.

‘You don’t have to kill the priest, Hugh. Just make sure you understand what he was doing there. And who was with him,’ John added thoughtfully.

‘You won’t stop me if I find the murderer and kill him?’ Hugh asked suddenly.

John looked at him, then glanced westwards towards his sister’s manor of Meeth. ‘I swear I won’t. If you fail, I shall strike for you, Hugh.’

They had made their way along the road back into Iddesleigh, and now took the southern road to Monkleigh. Baldwin had been reluctant to take the direct route straight to the sergeant’s house in case their horses led Sir Geoffrey’s men to expect an attack. Easier and safer to avoid the place entirely and make their way to Sir Geoffrey’s seat of power.

The hall’s grounds were very quiet. Servants walked about nervously, throwing anxious looks at the three bulky men on their horses as they rode up the pathway to the hall.

‘We’re here to see Sir Geoffrey,’ Baldwin said as a servant came through the door.

‘He’s not here, master. He’s …’

‘Over at Robert Crokers’s house. Very well. We’ll go and speak to him there.’

Baldwin was about to wheel away when he saw the other face in the doorway. ‘Ah, Sir Coroner! You weren’t with him to see him execute his justice, then?’

‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ Sir Edward said silkily. ‘He has gone to one of his outlying farms to handle some little local argument, I believe.’

‘He has killed one man already, Sir Coroner, and I shall have great pleasure in reporting your part in that murder.’

‘You speak too loudly, Sir Baldwin. This is none of your affair!’

‘Murder and felony are both my affair, sir!’ Baldwin said forcefully. ‘Do not presume to tell me where my duty or responsibility lies!’

‘Although you feel justified in telling me off? What have I done?’

‘I am not sure yet. But you come from Barnstaple, do you not?’