Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘So any of the villeins or tenants here would be happy to see him dead?’

‘Of course. Even mild-mannered Hamadus hated him, because Robert was terrified of his hound and threatened to have it killed if Hamadus didn’t keep it away from him. No one liked him.’

‘Always the same with a gather-reeve,’ Simon noted gloomily.

William set his rod down on the ground. ‘There’s not that many people live here on the island, but Robert had managed to upset most of them. He was about to upset all the folks of St Nicholas, too, by asking for money from them for customs. It didn’t go down very well, because the Prior already claims their tithes and rents, but Robert thought they should be paying him as well.’

‘What of Hamadus: do you honestly think he could have decided to murder a man because of the threat to his hound?’ Simon asked, but he already knew the answer. The man was devoted to his brute.

William merely looked at him with a faint smile. ‘And don’t forget Oderic. He hated Robert because the man went on to his land recently, and rode through the middle of his fields. He scared some sheep which were in lamb, and caused three to miscarry. Oderic was enraged. He swore he’d cut Robert’s ballocks off with a blunt knife, sawing slowly to make the pain last.’

Simon didn’t blame him. To his mind, riding through a field in which sheep were grazing was bad enough; to do so when they were lambing was criminal. It could have caused great loss to the farmer.

‘I have heard that a man was seen here — David, the reeve of the vill on St Nicholas. Do you know whether he had a cause to kill Robert?’

‘Quite possibly. David has been caught by the customs, I expect, just as all the other sailors have. The castle demands a high cut of anything the folk of St Nicholas want to bring to sell, or to buy. And everything has to be brought here and sold at the market. Yes, I daresay David would hold a grudge against the man who made him pay … as would almost everyone else on these islands.’

‘No one liked the man,’ Simon said, adding to himself, ‘apart from this woman.’

‘No, that Robert was a nasty piece of festering vomit, if you ask me,’ William said, cheerfully. ‘He was an evil bastard who deserved a more unpleasant death than the one he got. I’d imagine he’s gone straight to Hell, and he’s already being tormented by demons with long prods, so that they can force him into the never-quenching fires without hurting themselves. That’s what has happened to him — and the same will be most fervently desired for his successor. Whoever takes on his job will be damned. Damned to Hell, and to eternal torment. Best thing you can do is run around a bit, make lots of noise about finding his murderer, and discover nothing. Just let the affair die down and get forgotten. He will be soon enough!’

His tone was lighter, and when Simon glanced behind him, he saw that Walerand had edged nearer and was listening unashamedly; seeing that both had noticed him, he curled his lip and wandered away a few yards.

‘He’d be a splendid choice to replace Robert, don’t you think?’ William continued more seriously. ‘Someone like him would make Robert look like the soul of gentleness and conciliation.’

‘You think so?’

William shot him a look. ‘You reckon he could have desired to hasten Robert’s end just to get his post?’

‘Yes,’ Simon said, and he was thinking of Hamadus’s words. The killer must be an assassin by nature, or a coward. That described Walerand perfectly. ‘What of you? Did you want him to die so badly that you could have killed him?’

William said simply, a hardness in his eyes, ‘Yes. I could have done.’

Simon nodded, muttering with some distraction, ‘Is there anyone apart from poor Tedia who didn’t desire the death of this Robert?’

William gave an exasperated gesture. ‘Bailiff, I doubt it. Nobody liked him. Certainly not me! I’ll be happy to pray for the soul of the man who did this.’

David walked past the knight and the younger woman to stand at his wife’s side, taking Brosia in his arms and hugging her. He felt a smouldering rage that these two had come to bother his wife while he was not there. He faced them with the anger still apparent on his face, but although he could feel her hand wandering down to his belt and under his shirt, her fingers gently coursing down between his buttocks, he was concentrating on Baldwin. That was where the danger lay, David thought, and he must not lose his temper and harm him. If he did, it could be the end of his vill.

‘I am surprised you came to talk to my wife when I was not here,’ he said directly to Baldwin.

‘Why? There is nothing that you should be concerned about, is there?’ Baldwin said.

‘There is nothing for me to fear, no. Yet a man who comes and questions a woman may be putting her under too much pressure. My wife does not deserve to be questioned when I am not present.’

‘I am sure that she is intelligent enough to know when she should not answer, and should tell me to speak to you.’

‘That is not the point,’ David said. ‘What are you trying to learn?’

‘We were asking her what she knew of the man who has been killed, this Robert.’

David could not help shooting a look at Tedia. ‘What do you want to know of him?’

‘Only whether someone has been gossiping about him and Tedia,’ Baldwin said sharply, catching sight of David’s look. ‘You told us that you had not told Isok. Do you still say that?’

‘There are always rumours and gossip. What do you expect? Women chatter, and they tell their husbands. There is no surprise there.’

‘What rumours?’

‘You know: that Tedia has been spreading her legs for him.’

‘Why do you fear me asking your wife about him: do you have something to hide?’ Baldwin snapped, angry to see the effect that David’s words were having on Tedia. Her eyes were brimming, and her face was flushed with shame.

‘I have nothing to hide. I am a reeve, Sir Knight, not some peasant to be browbeaten,’ David said with a quiet dignity.

‘Wrong! This is a matter of murder, not mere local gossip,’ Baldwin said sharply ‘Do you know of any man who might have told Isok about Robert and Tedia?’

‘Not in particular, no. But if someone had told Isok, I would not be surprised. Isok is a quiet man, but well-respected. He is also pitied by many of the men in the vill, because he suffers from this inability of his. If a man chose to tell him that his woman was being unfaithful, would it be any surprise? I don’t think so.’

‘Did you tell him?’ Tedia blurted out.

‘Me, woman? I said before: no ! Not through any loyalty to you, or kindness to him. It was purely because I do not want to see my vill damaged by your treachery!’ David said firmly. ‘You should wait until you have your divorce, before trying to snare another man. You are guilty of petty treason to your master!’

‘It was the advice of Brother Luke that I should find another.’

‘He said that? Why, he’s no better than catshit on a boot! He’s as much help as a turd in a bed, the-’

‘He may have had honourable motives,’ Baldwin interjected.

‘Let me hear them, then!’ David snarled. ‘A foreigner who comes here to molest the women in my vill — I’ll have him ballocked with my own knife!’

‘You seem very angry about this man,’ Baldwin observed. ‘More angry than you were about the gather-reeve. Or were you more angry about him before he died?’

‘What do you mean by that?’ David snapped.

‘Perhaps you felt as furious about Robert getting his tarse into one of the vill’s women as you do now about Luke. Is that true? Did you want to punish him for polluting one of the vill’s women?’