Michael Jecks - The Tolls of Death

He loved Anne. It was so strong, the link between them both, that he felt almost sick with longing when he was away from her. The only time, thank God, he’d had to leave her was when the King had been involved in his spat with the Lords Marcher. Then Nick had left his comfortable existence here and travelled up to Wales, helping protect the border with a small force against the might of the men who would seek to remove the King from his throne.

Well, nothing much wrong with that, in Nicholas’s view. He’d be perfectly happy to see the King gone, and those appalling thieves the Despensers, so long as the replacement was stronger and safer. Trouble was, the next man was usually worse than the first.

The main thing was, as soon as he returned, his wife proved her adoration for him, and now, as a result, he was confident of a child, a boy who would take his name and reputation onwards.

Christ, but he was proud of his darling wife. Thank God Gervase wasn’t here with his long face and cow-like eyes, spoiling everything.

He almost made Nicholas feel guilty. And what angered him was he had no idea why he should feel that way.

When she was introduced to the two strangers, Lady Anne was struck first by Sir Baldwin’s quick, searching observation of her, and then by his smile. It lit up his whole face.

It was in the hall, early in the evening, while servants set out the table on the dais for them. This was not to be a great banquet, for the household had already taken their food at their accustomed time, a little before noon, but in the presence of such guests Anne had seen to it that there was a good selection of dishes prepared. It was only a shame that they had been so long in coming.

The hall itself was an excellent place to entertain. With the high ceiling of smoke-blackened rafters and thick thatch, it was Anne’s favourite room in the castle. Large enough to squeeze all the vill’s men inside for winter’s celebrations, yet cosy enough with a good fire for a more intimate gathering.

She had set stools and benches about the fire, which was glowing and crackling nicely, throwing light against the walls. A pair of cressets at the wall flickered warmly, and candles of good quality lit the table on the dais. There was a pair of heavy chairs for Nicholas and herself, and opposite them a bench for their guests. They could eat at the table, then relax before the fire. More than adequate, she thought.

‘My lady, I am honoured to meet you.’

‘This is Sir Baldwin de Furnshill,’ Nicholas said. ‘And his companion, Bailiff Simon Puttock.’

She saw the dark-haired knight smile. ‘Hardly my “companion”- Simon is not my servant, he is my oldest friend. We have been on pilgrimage together to Santiago de Compostela, and are on our way home. It was the merest chance that we happened to be passing here.’

‘But your presence was welcome, especially since you could confirm my suspicions about Athelina’s death.’

‘So far as we could,’ Sir Baldwin sighed.

‘And her poor children,’ said the Bailiff. Simon Puttock looked to Anne as though he had a less firm stomach than the knight. His face was decidedly pale, and she gave him an understanding smile.

‘It must have been a horrible sight. My husband told me a little about it.’

The servants entered, trays laden. This might not be the greatest castle in the land, but the men knew how to present themselves. Each carried the platters high, while all had a large towel draped over their shoulders. Anne began to usher her guests to their places at the table. As she took her own seat, she cast an eye over the dishes, but confessed herself content. Ralph, the cook, had exceeded her expectations.

Sir Baldwin sat and surveyed the dishes with a sober expression, like a man who was interested but not devoted to food; for his part the Bailiff appeared to lose his yellowness, and instead his face took on a ruddy hue. Probably the normal colour for a man who spent much of his time in the saddle, Anne thought. He was a pleasing-looking man, with his regular features, dark hair and pale-grey eyes. When he caught her glance, he grinned. ‘This makes me feel more at home! Real English food.’

‘You missed it on your travels?’

Seeing Nicholas begin to eat, Simon speared a slab of meat with his knife and almost thrust it into his mouth, only hesitating when he realised he should answer. ‘I did. Foreign food is peculiar. It isn’t so hearty as ours. Doesn’t mix well in an English stomach. Down in Galicia, I was ill for weeks. It must have been the food that did it.’

‘You must stay here as long as you like and rebuild your strength, then,’ she said warmly.

‘I am sure that there must be an inn?’ Baldwin said politely, but there was little enthusiasm in his face.

‘Yes,’ Nicholas said, ‘but it is not attractive. My wife is quite right. You must remain here with us. I am sure that there is no urgency in your journey homewards?’

‘Only the urgency of a man who misses his wife and family,’ Sir Baldwin remonstrated gently.

Lady Anne grinned broadly. ‘I wish my own husband had been so devoted, when he was on his travels!’

‘He travels much?’

‘No, but during the wars with Mortimer and the Lords Marcher, he had to go. This is the result of his homecoming,’ she smiled, patting her belly.

Sir Baldwin inclined his head graciously. ‘Any man would find it impossible to leave so beautiful a companion, let alone stay away from her.’

A compliment that was meant honestly was always a delight, but coming from a man who was so senior in rank, that made her almost light-headed with pleasure. It was kind of him, very kind.

Her husband was talking again.

‘The Coroner should be here before too long, I hope. He lives just outside Bodmin, so he could be here before noon tomorrow, if he is nearby. I only hope he hasn’t been sent away on another murder.’

Baldwin said, ‘We could wait until he arrives. It would be pleasant to speak to him, and he may have questions for us. We weren’t the First Finders, but we were early witnesses of the bodies.’

‘So long as it’s a quick inquest,’ Simon growled through a chicken bone. ‘I want to get home.’

Baldwin laughed and leaned towards Anne. ‘He is not only keen to see his wife, he has a new job.’

‘Aye, well, I’d like to get there before the end of the year,’ Simon said.

Nicholas glanced from one to the other. ‘What is that? What new job are you to take?’

‘I’ve been asked to go to Dartmouth as the Keeper of the Port for Abbot Champeaux. He has bought the farm of the port, and wants me to manage it for him,’ Simon said.

‘That is fascinating,’ Anne said. ‘You must be very pleased.’

Simon nodded, but he was keen to avoid further discussion of the matter. He kept his head down.

Anne was surprised, because from being a mere bailiff on the moors to becoming responsible for the Abbot’s Farm of the Port must represent a marvellous improvement in position. It was more than she could hope for, she thought with a pang.

Nicholas was no youngster. He was certainly valued by Sir Henry, but it was unlikely that he would ever rise beyond this little castle. He had achieved his highest position, and although he professed himself content, and Anne would never suggest that she felt otherwise, both, she knew, had a sneaking jealousy for men like this Baldwin. She would have liked to be wedded to a man who had the possibility of receiving golden spurs and a knight’s belt.

Born to rule, this Baldwin had the grace and courtesy which she associated with the best-born men in the realm. If he was ill-at-ease, he hid it. He was also clearly a man with brawn. His arms were as thick as her own husband’s, and his neck muscles were enormous: he was obviously used to wearing armour and riding a destrier.