Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

Then, in preference to killing Simon, Thomas realised that there was another manner of dealing with him. He smiled.

‘If,’ he said smoothly, ‘the islanders here were to think that they could get away with the murder of a gather-reeve, they might think they could attack any of us here with impunity. We must find the murderer. Or perhaps we should make an example of someone else.’

‘Like who?’ Ranulph asked, throwing his knives again.

‘If only we could put paid to the pirates of St Nicholas once and for all,’ Thomas said. ‘But we don’t have the manpower. So perhaps we should make an example of someone who has been disloyal or treacherous in some way.’

Simon watched them, and as he did so, he saw a strange look pass between the two: Ranulph seemed frowningly confused, Thomas smilingly confident. It was his exhaustion, he later considered, which had prevented his understanding that look.

Otherwise he must have realised the implications.

Baldwin awoke lying on his side, with a feeling of intense comfort. He stretched, and immediately was aware of the naked woman who had moulded herself to his back. She lay still, her warmth all along his body giving him a sense of well-being and joy. With his eyes closed, his mind still befuddled with sleep, he smiled, thinking of Jeanne, and how pleasing it was to have such a woman as a wife, and he turned to her. She had rolled away as he turned, and now he pulled her warm body to him, feeling her buttocks slip agreeably into the curve of his lap, her legs fitting about his own, and he slipped an arm under her neck, the other over her torso, his hand cradling her breast, his finger finding her nipple. He bent his head to kiss her shoulder, then her breast while his hand strayed lower, and it was only then that he realised that this was another man’s wife.

She was not withdrawing from him. Indeed she arched her back, sighed, and thrust her arse at him in a manner which left her own desires plain. Lifting her arm over his neck, she turned her head and her lips met his in a soft kiss. It was impossible to reject her. With an exquisite thrill, he felt her lips part slackly, felt the tip of her tongue. Her hand caressed his chest, avoiding his scratches, then it moved down to his groin, taking firm but gentle hold. He could feel her lips broaden into a wide smile. ‘Good morning,’ she murmured.

Baldwin felt a hot rush of guilt at the thought of his wife, waiting at his home for his return, lonely without him, never dreaming that he could betray her, and then he felt Tedia’s lips on his again, and he shivered at their touch.

He should have hurried from the bed, but her soft warmth was captivating, her odour alluring, and her enthusiasm entirely overwhelming. He closed his eyes as she pushed him onto his back and began to make love to him.

Afterwards Baldwin lay back in the bed with the euphoria thrilling his entire body, listening to Tedia as she prepared food for them and sang with more joy than he had seen in her before. He felt only a wonder and delight, but soon, as he listened, he found his thoughts growing more confused.

He adored his wife Jeanne, and what he had just done was against his oaths to her. He had betrayed her. He was a traitor.

Other men would take any available woman, he knew. His own principles were such that he considered that dishonourable, and yet he had now performed an act of adultery with this woman almost without thinking. And not only had he betrayed his wife, he had done so with a woman already married. She had betrayed her own husband, just as he had his wife.

It made him feel wretched just to hear her happiness. He rolled out of the bed which had become hateful to him, and pulled on his tunic, walking out into the open air. He crossed the track that passed before the house, and went barefoot along the beach.

There was a cleaner smell to the air here, a musky, masculine scent of sea and of salt. He approached the water with a certain trepidation. It was chill, but not cold. He hesitated a moment, and then threw off the tunic and walked into the water. With handfuls of sand, he rubbed his torso and legs until his skin tingled, and then he immersed his entire body, closing his eyes and allowing himself to sink beneath the gentle waves.

Rising again, he was caught by a slight breeze that took the remaining heat from his body, but rather than any sense that he was risking his health, he felt refreshed by it — not that the fact stopped him from pulling on his tunic at the earliest opportunity.

The morning was perfect. There were a few clouds high in the sky, but mainly all above was clear and blue, an exquisite colour that looked like washed silk. All about him the islands shone in a sea which sparkled with a million stars of sunlight: their sand was a gorgeous yellow like honey, their plants were the most verdant Baldwin could imagine, their leaves bright and glistening as though each had been waxed and oiled for his benefit. All about him, he was aware of birds singing and trilling, while the constant rhythm of the sea was soothing.

Walking to a cluster of rocks, Baldwin sat and stared out south and east. He could imagine that this view was created solely for his enjoyment. The sea looked as flat as the glass Baldwin had seen in the windows of Crediton Church, but the hue was incomparable. There was nothing in his experience which could have matched the sheer beauty of the colour when tied to the sparkling of the sun. Before him was the vista of Ennor with, south and a little west, Agnas. It was peculiar to think that there were these little hillocks of security in the vast seas, and still odder to consider that these same havens had caused the death of Simon and all the crew.

Simon. He had not thought of him for several days now, and yet it was as if the pain was ever-present, always just on the borders of his awareness. Simon was his oldest friend after his servant Edgar, and now he was gone.

Baldwin took a deep breath and was surprised to find that it caught in his throat. His eyes were filling, and he had to bow his head in grief.

It was some while before he realised that the soft sensation at the back of his neck was the warm hand of Tedia. He snorted, swallowed, and wiped his eyes. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘It’s natural enough. You’re a long way from home,’ Tedia said gently. ‘At least you’re still alive.’

Baldwin was able to smile at that. ‘Yes, and in large part that is due to you.’

‘I did nothing that others wouldn’t do.’

‘Really?’ Baldwin was interested. As she went to his side and sat on his lap, he rested a hand on her thigh, another in her hair. ‘All islanders would save a wounded and dying man?’

‘Maybe not all. Some would merely take them for their slave and force them to lie with them at all hours for sex,’ she said lightly. His hand moved to her armpit and tickled; she gave a brief scream and moved away — but not leaving his lap. ‘There are stories of a man who was found washed up and near death after a storm, and a woman of Bechiek cut off his fingers to take his rings. She didn’t realise he’d survive. Later he was able to show his dreadfully scarred hand, and she was so fearful, she died on the spot. They found his rings in her cottage.’

Baldwin gave a low whistle. ‘So I was fortunate indeed to have been won by a beautiful woman who would not only save me, but who was captivated by my good looks.’

‘They aren’t bad,’ she admitted. ‘Although you are dreadfully old.’

‘My thanks,’ he growled.

After a moment, she asked, ‘What is the matter, Baldwin? You are quiet, and your face is so sad.’

‘It’s my friend. He was on my ship too. I think he must have died.’