Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘Another man? Who?’ William asked, so surprised that he forgot to ask about Robert. He had an unpleasant suspicion that, were he to ask whether Isok had killed the man, he would either hear something he would prefer not to, or he would be told a lie. Either was a considerable responsibility, and he needed more time to think of how to frame his question.

‘Some knight. He was washed up on the evening of the storm and Tedia found him. Rot his ballocks! Why couldn’t he have been found by someone else’s wife? Brosia would have been happy to have picked him up. You should see her: hitching her tits up for all to see when she thinks he’s got his eyes on her, and David looking daggers at anyone who doesn’t pretend not to notice! I wish he’d just drowned.’

‘Yes,’ William said absently, but then his brows lifted in surprise. ‘That is an evil desire, Isok. You dare to wish a man damned, just because you don’t trust your wife any more?’

‘I don’t normally, you know that,’ Isok said with harsh self-pity. ‘I wouldn’t wish a death like this on any man,’ he added, prodding Luke’s body gently with a foot. ‘But why should I be forced to suffer more? Haven’t I got enough troubles of my own?’

‘Perhaps you have. And perhaps God in His mercy will look down on you and offer you some consolation, Isok. But He won’t if you continue to damn other mariners.’

‘I’ll hold my tongue in future.’

‘Good. Where did this knight come from?’

‘From a ship that foundered during the storm. It sounds like he doesn’t know what happened to him. He was fortunate that he was washed up on our shore.’

There was no need to add to the comment. Any man who fell overboard was lucky if he lived, just as men who survived wrecks were lucky. It was said that, for every man who died naturally on the islands, nine more bodies would be delivered by the seas. That was how many wrecks there were each year. God alone knew how many died at sea and never reached land again, their bones picked clean by the monsters of the deep.

Remembering Simon’s words about a friend who had been washed from the Anne , William mused, ‘I wonder whether …’

‘What?’

‘There was a wreck, and a man was washed away. Perhaps your fellow is this man. I should like to speak to him. Can you arrange for him to come here?’

‘I’ll try.’ Isok was a little happier to think that the stranger would soon be removed from his home.

‘Good. Well, Godspeed, Isok. I shall see you in the morning.’

When Isok was gone, William sat down beside Luke and put a hand on his cold shoulder. ‘You were a fucking idiot, weren’t you, you overblown piece of pigshit! And now, thanks to you, that poor bastard there’s going through hell.’

In the castle, Thomas pushed away his plate with a grunt, then belched softly. At the opposite end of the trestle table he could just see Simon, and he wondered how the good, decent Bailiff was feeling, sitting in this den of criminals. Hah! he thought sardonically.

Thomas himself was feeling more than moderately belligerent. After deliberating over David’s probable crime, and swigging down the better part of two pints of wine, he was not prepared to take any nonsense from some bedraggled Bailiff from the mainland. Puttock had no idea what it was like, trying to keep an island like this on an even keel. The damned peasants were so fractious; self-reliant and argumentative, aggressive, and acquisitive. They were thieving devils who’d have the laces from a man’s boots if he stood still long enough.

He was worried. There were rumours of a second ship which had appeared after the storm, but of which nothing had been seen since, and he was convinced that the Faucon Dieu had sunk without trace, or had been carefully taken to a quiet cove and unloaded into the ships of the men of St Nicholas. It was their usual behaviour. They were pirates. Thomas had no proof, nor witnesses, but he could see how well the men lived on that island, and it was surely not on the incomes which they won legally, because Thomas knew what they each should have. It was a profitable business, piracy, slaying everyone on board, then stealing all the goods before holing the ship and letting it sink or be broken on the rocks west of the islands. The best part was, they wouldn’t ever be seen, not unless Ranulph formed his own navy to guard against such attacks, but the cost of that and the cost of the men hired to sail the ships, would be prohibitive.

What if it was his own ship?

As Ranulph stood and made to leave the room, Thomas coughed loudly. Ranulph shot him a look. When Thomas pointed at Simon, Ranulph gave a sneering smile, then nodded.

Thomas beckoned to a servant and gave him instructions before rising and making his way to the little solar. He felt some trepidation. His master might refuse to believe him: after all, the vill on St Nicholas was owned by the priory. The villeins there were the property of the Prior, and that made attacking them a dangerous course of action. The Abbot of Tavistock was a litigious fellow, quite prepared to take any man to court in defence of his rights and liberties, and an attack on his island would result in costly legal actions even if it was possible to prove that David was leading a new band of pirates.

He had no doubts on that. The people there were known to take part in piracy, but for the most part they had concentrated their efforts on Breton and other vessels, not British ones. Ranulph, too, was convinced of their piracy, but he’d always declared that while they were attacking other men’s ships, he would leave them alone. For one thing, it meant that they had more money to swell his coffers, and for another, that they were busy elsewhere and not causing trouble for him.

It was tricky. Thomas couldn’t come out and accuse them of attacking his ship … he wasn’t supposed to have his own ship. He was only a Sergeant, and if Ranulph learned that he had a ship of his own, he would not unsurprisingly wish to know how he had accumulated such wealth. No, Thomas would have to be more subtle.

Robert’s murder was the perfect pretext. If the people of the vill had dared to attack and kill the castle’s own gather-reeve, that was a different matter. Ranulph would be so furious, he’d be bound to demand the head of the man responsible. And David was not at the vill on the night Robert died, the Bailiff said.

Reassuring himself with these reflections, Thomas made for Ranulph’s solar.

The solar was a small chamber one floor above the main hall, and as Thomas entered, Ranulph was already sitting on his chair. ‘Come on,’ Ranulph said, waving a beech mazer with silver inlay. ‘You have a face like a mastiff with a paw in a mantrap. You’re going to tell me bad news, aren’t you? Well — get on with it.’

‘The gather-reeve was stabbed,’ Thomas said. ‘I think that the killer was one of those mad felons out on St Nicholas.’

‘Why one of them? Why not one of our home-grown bastards?’ Ranulph demanded.

‘Oh, few of our Ennor islanders would dare to do such a thing. No, it’s more likely that it was a St Nicholas pirate. Perhaps Robert saw someone with a boat after dark, or was lured to the beach by a man.’ Thomas went on to explain that he suspected David of killing Robert.

‘From what I’ve heard, it was no man lured Robert out there,’ Ranulph said.

‘Ah — so you have heard of that?’

‘He told half the men in the castle that he was hoping to get laid!’ Ranulph said dismissively and finished his mazer. Handing it to a steward, he barked, ‘Come in!’ as knuckles rapped on the door.

Thomas was surprised that Ranulph was already aware of Robert’s womanising. Not that it should surprise him. The man sometimes learned things with surprising rapidity when Thomas least expected it. Still, it would make the coming conversation easier. Then, when Simon entered, Thomas was still more delighted to see how relaxed the Bailiff had become after a good meal with plenty of wine.