Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

But no. He wanted dear, sweet, mousy Tedia. Bless! He was no better than a mouse himself. Scared off by Brosia, no doubt. Or perhaps he was just scared of her man. David was capable of violence, and it was possible that someone warned Robert. Mind, Isok would have thrashed any fellow who cuckolded him. Suddenly Brosia realised what she was thinking: that Isok had murdered Robert. Well, it wasn’t impossible, that was certain.

Baldwin was speaking, and she had to concentrate. ‘What?’

‘I said, “I expect no woman to hide things from her man”, but spreading gossip is a different matter, woman!’

‘In a small vill like this, everyone knows everyone else’s business,’ Brosia said huffly, ‘and David is an important man, so he probably learned about Robert and his women before most others.’

‘He didn’t have any “women”,’ Tedia asserted sharply. ‘What, do you say that he was a lubricious man with an eye for any leg or well-shaped breast?’

‘If he was after a well-shaped breast, he fared poorly, didn’t he?’ Brosia said.

‘He didn’t want flapping great bladders about him, it’s true!’

‘Flapping great …! Better comfortable breasts than a pair of flat pancakes!’

‘Yes, I suppose you think all men want something inelegant and floppy rather than pert and sensitive.’

‘Sens-? I would have thought,’ Brosia said with poisonous sweetness, ‘that most men would prefer a woman whom they could cover with comfort, rather than a bony body that felt like a sack of bones with an occasional lump.’

‘Perhaps he preferred one lump to a mass of them!’ Tedia shrieked, and would have jumped at her again, if Baldwin hadn’t gripped her hard about the wrists.

‘Enough! I shall hear no more of this! You, Brosia, can rest content that you might well have helped precipitate a murder! If you learn nothing more in your life, learn how to keep your mouth shut!’

Baldwin was relieved to see that both women suddenly stopped. Brosia’s reaction had intrigued him, though. If he didn’t know better, he would say that she was jealous of Tedia, as though she herself had tried to entrap Robert, only to be bested by her rival. Jealousy was a terrible emotion, Baldwin knew. It could lead to all kinds of upset — especially if it had driven her to tell others, hoping that they would then inform Tedia’s husband. A jealous woman was capable of anything. In fairness, a jealous man was equally capable of causing untold problems — even murder. Isok, for example: he could have heard the rumours about his wife with Robert and chosen to execute her lover.

‘ Me? ’ Brosia said, affronted. ‘If I had held my tongue, what then? Do you think that this slattern’s affair would have remained a secret? Are you saying that my David went straight to Isok and said, “Look, old friend, your wife is lifting her skirts for any man from La Val — aren’t you going to do something about it?” Do you think my husband is such a fool? Someone else went to her precious husband. Anyway, my David hardly saw Isok before that murder. Isok was supposed to be going out in his boat, although he didn’t. My man didn’t talk to him, though. Why should he? Isok’s only a pathetic fisherman. David is the reeve, much more important. He doesn’t bother himself with the likes of Isok.’

‘Still your tongue, woman,’ Baldwin said. ‘You sound like a viper!’

He was feeling his anger rise. There was no need for this woman to be so vicious, but she seemed to take an unholy delight in Tedia’s pain. He pulled Tedia away, thrusting her behind him, while holding Brosia’s gaze. Her face had taken on a sullen expression, and Baldwin saw that she was a little ashamed.

‘So, Sir Knight. You find my wife to be a little upsetting? What has she been saying?’ David asked. He walked forward from behind Baldwin, white-faced with rage. ‘I leave you, a visitor to our island, saved by my people from death, and come here to find you hectoring my wife. I don’t reckon I like your attitude, Sir Knight.’

Simon walked slowly back towards the area of La Val, keeping close into the sea, Walerand strolling along behind him.

As usual, Simon was reluctant to view the body, but he knew that he must have a closer look at Robert if he was to make any sense of the man’s murder. If it was murder, of course. Until he personally examined the corpse, he couldn’t tell. The unfortunate fellow may have got hit on the head by a lump of wood when he was out, and a scratch had torn the flesh of his breast, making people think that he had been murdered in complete denial of the true facts.

It was the sort of matter which Baldwin would have revelled in, he thought sadly. Every few moments he would forget that Baldwin was dead, and know a short period of ease, but then he would recall that he had lost his friend and his eyes would fog once more.

Now and again, he would think he heard a familiar step behind him. Or there was a bird in the sky, and he wondered if Baldwin would know what it was. A sudden slanting of light from a cloud would remind him of a time when he and Baldwin were in Dartmoor, and he would all but turn his head to ask his friend whether he recalled that instant … So many memories, so many moments. And then the full force of the loss would strike him once more and he would know anew the misery of bereavement.

The presence of the abysmal Walerand was no comfort. The fellow walked along in Simon’s wake like a reminder of doom to come: scowling and kicking at stones in their path. When they came across other people he was invariably rude, unless he ignored them completely.

With relief Simon saw William at the top of a moorstone outcrop that projected well into the sea. The chaplain carried a long rod and string, and was evidently on his way to catch as many fish as he could. Hurrying forward, Simon left the morose Walerand behind as he joined William.

‘Out investigating one death while your friends languish, Bailiff?’

Simon smiled gently. There was still a certain blackness over his soul with the most recent reminder of Baldwin’s death. ‘Yes. But my friends will be free soon, and it appeared the best thing to do, seeing if this man was murdered.’

‘Robert? You won’t lack for men who wanted him dead.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Simon asked.

‘He was not a very pleasant fellow, Bailiff. When a farmer was in trouble, it was Robert’s habit still to go along and take what he could for taxes. Such men aren’t popular even when they are polite and generous — and Robert was neither. No one will mourn his passing here on Ennor. Not even me.’

‘I think that they are shortsighted, then.’

‘Why so, Bailiff?’

Simon glanced back at Walerand. ‘Because I get the impression that the replacement could be much worse.’

‘Christ in Heaven! You don’t mean …’ William gazed at Walerand with dismay. ‘That ignorant dollop of shit? True, he’s got the same enthusiasm for bullying any man who is weaker than him. How could Ranulph de Blancminster think of a man like him for the post? Ah well, I suppose that’s obvious. The nastier, the better; that’s what you want in a tax-man. And there are few nastier than him.’

Simon nodded, shooting a look over his shoulder. As he did so, up on the beach of St Nicholas, he saw a group of figures. One looked familiar — the set of the head, an impression of his features … but no, it was too far away, and anyway, he was only torturing himself by hoping that his comrade had survived. Baldwin was dead.

‘The man who died,’ he said huskily. ‘How unpleasant was he?’

‘He was one of those who gave you the feeling that he was in the job against his wishes and better judgement, but that since he had the job, he’d do it to the best of his ability. Mean though his abilities were, he exercised them strenuously. He gave every man who owed money two opportunities to pay, but if they didn’t on the second visit, he had the castle’s men-at-arms visit and remove an animal or some stores. No one escaped without paying. He remembered all the debts.’