Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

Before looking at the body, one thing struck him: the man was without his boots. He was dressed in an old-fashioned manner, probably because he relied on a local tailor with old habits, and his hosen were bound to his under-girdle with laces. Simon could see that, because his hosen were off too, as though he was preparing to wash his legs. It was curious enough for Simon to note it. Where, he wondered, were the boots?

The corpse was that of a youngish man, in his mid to late twenties. As the body was rolled over and undressed, Simon saw that he had been a good-looking fellow. Now, all trace of attraction was gone. The eyes were filled with sand, the hair matted and repulsive, the mouth a gritty mess of reddened mucus. As the men lifted his hosen tunic, some of the jurors hooted with mirth to see that his bowels had voided during or after death. It was a small but significant indignity; Simon was disgusted that this should be cause for amusement and delight among the men and it made him unaccountably sad. What, he wondered, would they make of Baldwin’s body, if that too turned up on this shore? But then he reminded himself that this man had been the gather-reeve — such men were always hated. The one thing Simon saw was that the blade hadn’t penetrated the man’s back. It was a short blade, then.

After a cursory viewing, they had finished. Under Ranulph’s stern gaze, the body was turned over and over by Walerand and the other man.

Ranulph looked up at the watching peasants. ‘I find that this man was murdered, that he was stabbed in the breast with a short blade by an assassin. And when I find that assassin, I shall see him executed as a felon, in the way we know here on our islands.’

Baldwin watched Isok leave with a lightening of his spirit.

All the while Isok was with them, it felt as though he might at any time launch himself upon Baldwin. The thought of that brawny character leaping, fists swinging, was unpleasant. Still, Baldwin knew that a knight was impervious to threats and attacks. As soon as he found his sword, he would be a great deal more confident.

‘Your husband appears out of sorts. I hope it is nothing that I may have said or done,’ he said to Tedia as they traipsed over the dunes. He kept his eyes fixed on the sand. From listening to her voice, he would be able to learn all he needed.

‘He is not pleased with me. Ever since I decided to divorce him,’ Tedia said, and then she gave a short sniff. ‘I wish I didn’t have to.’

‘Why must you?’ Baldwin enquired. ‘What are the grounds?’

It took her little time to explain. There was no need for her to go into much detail, thankfully. ‘I am no mean-spirited wench who would shame my husband,’ she said defensively. ‘But what can I do?’

Baldwin was silent for a moment. He had heard of men who were not tempted by their wives, but this was extreme. ‘Perhaps, um, you could-’

‘I have tried everything,’ she cut him off flatly. ‘He couldn’t get the beast to rise. Nothing works.’

‘It must be terrible,’ Baldwin said, thinking of the mental anguish which Isok must be suffering. For a man to be unable to raise his tarse and sleep with his own wife was a curiously appalling idea. It was no surprise that Isok looked so dour and miserable. The poor devil must be suffering the whole time, wondering what his neighbours were thinking of him, wondering who was laughing behind his back … wondering whether his wife would be faithful. Could any wife be faithful in those circumstances? Baldwin was relieved that he had never had a problem with that. His wife could never complain of a lack of attention — the opposite, perhaps …

‘I have to do something. I am failing in my duty to God,’ Tedia said, and there was a mournful tone to her voice. ‘I used to love my man, but now?’ She disconsolately kicked at a pebble. ‘I don’t know. I think I could be tempted by any fellow with meat between his legs. It’s been so long …’

Baldwin heard little, fortunately. His emotions were confused enough as it was. Instead he was studying the ground. This, he felt sure, must have been the place where he had been washed up. There were so many prints in the sand. And then his mind caught on to Tedia’s comment and he felt a surge of trepidation. He looked up and surveyed the area. There was no one in sight.

She continued sadly, ‘I could be sorely tempted by almost any man, and that’s no way to live, is it? I want to cleave to my husband, yet I dream of other men all the time.’

‘Is this where I was found?’ Baldwin asked hurriedly.

She turned to him as though she had forgotten he was there. ‘Hmm? Oh, yes. You were just here — see? There’s no sign of a sword.’

Baldwin had to agree with her. Nothing marred the pristine sand apart from some few baulks of timber and the occasional piece of seaweed. Everything else was flotsam.

It was a terrible fact to face, that his sword was gone for ever, and he felt the full weight of the loss, as though this was a final breaking with his past. He hoped that the ship had survived. Other ships lasted out the bad weather, and it was quite possible that Simon was still alive, and yet Simon was not here, and Baldwin was appallingly alone. He felt deserted, and to have lost that most important symbol of his power and position, his sword, redoubled his loneliness. It was as though he had not only lost his friend, but at the same time had lost his right to call himself knight. Had lost his own past. Without that sword, he felt as though his own Order had disowned him. Childish, yes; foolish, certainly — yet the feeling was there, a conviction that he could not shake.

‘Are you all right?’ Tedia asked.

‘Yes, but I …’ He felt emotional, close to tears.

‘What?’

‘I cannot believe that my sword fell from me. It could have fallen from the scabbard, but not the whole belt. I wondered, suppose someone found me, and left me there, thinking I was near enough to death already, and simply sought to steal my sword?’

‘That couldn’t happen,’ she said with certainty. ‘No one about here would leave a drowning man to die. We live by the sea: none of us could allow a shipwrecked person to die without help.’

Her conviction was reassuring, but Baldwin knew men could behave astonishingly badly when given the spur of temptation. However, the argument would only upset the woman. ‘I am a little thirsty. Could we find a place with ale or wine?’ he asked quietly.

‘What, here?’ Tedia asked. Then she gave a twisted grin. ‘There may be such a place, but only if you don’t tell.’

Fortunately his purse was still fixed to his belt and when he had returned to the castle, Simon managed to bribe himself into the gaol without too much difficulty. Once there, he demanded to speak to Sir Charles and Paul, and they were brought to him, both in chains.

‘This is a fine welcome home to Britain,’ Charles said with a bright smile. ‘I would have preferred some other response to my arrival.’

The room in which they were allowed to meet was a small cell near the castle’s foundations. There was a black trickle at one corner that stank of urine, and all the walls were bare stone. It was lighted by a malodorous candle which sat in a pool of wax in the middle of the heavily boarded table, and the three men had to stand about it for lack of a stool or bench. Simon was comfortable enough in the cool room, but every time that Sir Charles moved, the links of his chains rattled annoyingly.

If Simon had been in any doubt as to the treatment which Sir Charles and Paul had received, the bruises on Sir Charles’s face, and the dried crust of blood over his temple, as well as Paul’s swollen jaw where he too had been knocked down, would have quelled it. Their clothing was filthy. Days at sea in a tarry, oily cog, sea-sickness and pirates, followed by the storm and then gaol, had all taken their toll on Sir Charles’s usually neat appearance. He had a rough growth of beard, which for some reason made him appear younger than usual, but the gaunt look of his face with its deep eye hollows, and the stains and tears in his tunic, made him seem like a beggar of particularly ill-repute.