Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘I thought him a very moderate man.’

‘You should see him when he is angry! And little makes him more bitter than behaviour that brings his priory into disrepute. Consider Luke: the man was notorious. He came here because of his womanising, and he probably died because of it.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘You think her husband sought to punish the man who desired her?’

‘Yes. David was furious, I have heard.’

‘David!’

‘Who did you think I meant?’ William asked in surprise.

‘Why, Isok. I had heard that this Luke had actively sought out Tedia and that his overtures had been observed by others.’

‘I don’t think so. In the past, I have seen Luke ogling all the women in the vill, but more recently he’s concentrated on Brosia, I think. Certainly over the last couple of weeks. She has been flaunting herself at him outrageously.’

‘There are two bodies here?’

‘The other was the gather-reeve.’

Baldwin had reached the body and peered under the sheet. ‘How did he die?’

‘He was stabbed in the chest.’

‘By a short-bladed knife, then. It wasn’t long enough to go all through the man’s chest. And the knife had two edges to it.’

‘Um … yes,’ William said. In a few moments of peering, this man had seen as much or more than Ranulph during his inquest. He felt faintly impressed as Baldwin went to the second body and lifted the sheet.

It was Luke, and Baldwin sighed to see the young man’s ravaged, eyeless face. ‘I truly wish this monk had learned from his errors. He is a man I used to know.’

‘Can you tell me anything more about him?’

‘Only that if he was killed by an outraged husband, it would be no more than he deserved, and certainly wouldn’t surprise me,’ Baldwin said.

‘I see you know more than you’re telling me,’ William said, but shrugged. ‘Let him answer for his own sins before the Father.’

The body was naked, and Baldwin studied it with interest. ‘This man was stabbed and died almost instantly, I should guess. I have seen stabs in the breast like this, and when the blade passes into the heart, it results in a very swift end. How long has he been dead, do you think?’

It was a fact that priests grew accustomed to death. Dealing with bodies which had been discovered after some while, and observing corpses before their altars prior to their being buried was an unpleasant, but necessary, part of their duties.

Now William set his head on one side like a hound questioning a stupid command. ‘I should think he died more than a few days ago. What would you think?’

‘I am no coroner, but I have had some experience with bodies left in the open, and I personally believe that this man has not been dead for very long. In fact, I think that he was still alive on the morning of the day after the storm. He was alive the day before yesterday, but died before last night.’

William’s eyes narrowed, and he peered at Baldwin.

The knight laughed. ‘The good Prior sent a man to see all was well on the morning after the storm. Luke was alive then. He clearly died before last night, though, since he was brought here to you then.’

‘I understood the last night bit,’ William muttered. ‘But when could he have died? And who did it?’

‘That we need to learn still,’ Baldwin said. ‘Was he undressed when he was discovered?’

‘I think he was clothed, but there were tears in the material.’

‘I would like to see his clothing.’

William fetched the robe from his chest at the back of the church. ‘I was wondering whether to keep this or not. It is too small for me, but would have helped patch my old one.’

‘There are some tears, as you say. I should have expected more in the way of rents in the cloth,’ Baldwin said. ‘It would seem that he has been attacked by some birds, but also by other creatures.’

‘I expect that would be crabs or fish,’ William said. ‘He was not found in a boat but lay on the sands. All manner of sea creatures would have feasted upon him.’

Baldwin shivered at the thought. This, he knew, was the kind of death which was nearly visited upon him. ‘You mentioned that he was not in a boat?’

‘No. He had been, though. Pieces of broken timber were all about him as though he was in a boat which was wrecked upon the shore.’

‘Who found him?’

‘It was your friend: Isok.’

Baldwin’s face fell. ‘Oh.’

Simon found the room at the back of the keep, and when he had managed to persuade the guard at the door, with a penny and a flask of wine, that he was a genuine visitor, he was allowed in to see Sir Charles — once he had deposited Baldwin’s sword with the gaoler.

Entering the cell, Simon was still trying to convince himself that Ranulph and Thomas were honourable and wouldn’t harm Sir Charles and Paul, but that memory of their fleeting glance was firmly imprinted upon his memory. Yet he had no idea why Ranulph should wish to have them kept in gaol. It made little sense. Sir Charles may have threatened him once, but there were good reasons for that.

Could Ranulph and Thomas have decided to use Sir Charles as a pawn in some way? Maybe they wanted to force Simon to condone some action, or do something for them — something that he would otherwise refuse? No, that was surely too far-fetched! In any case, what could they want him to do? Something regarding the murder of the gather-reeve? Not very likely. Unless, Simon realised, unless Thomas was the murderer and he wanted Simon to find another man guilty … Thomas had had the chance: he had been there, and he, like so many, always carried a dagger.

If he intended demanding that Simon should support the conviction of an innocent man, he could think again. Better that ten guilty men went free than that one innocent man should be wrongly punished. Anyway, this was all foolish. There was no indication that either man was intending to cause such a miscarriage of justice. Simon stepped inside the cell.

If anything, Sir Charles was still more beamingly happy to see him than before. ‘Bailiff! Come in, my friend! This is extraordinarily good. Paul! Move your fat, luggardly arse off that stool and let our friend be seated. Would you care for a little ale, Simon? It is not good, but it is better than the wine with which they have supplied us.’

‘I thank you, but no. I’ve tried the local ale and I think I’d prefer the piss-water from the stews in Exeter. It’s foul.’

Sir Charles nodded with amusement, but he was watching Simon keenly, like a man who was expecting an answer to an unspoken question.

‘I have heard nothing more about your release,’ Simon began, ‘but I think it can’t be long. The Lord of the Manor is a harsh master, though, and he dislikes dissension.’

‘And so do I.’ Sir Charles exclaimed heartily. ‘He disliked my drawing my sword on him, and I disliked his way of piracy. Theft has never appealed to me — not when it is theft of my property.’

Simon was unpleasantly aware of the guard at the door, who would be listening carefully to every word. ‘Ranulph is a good man and perfectly fair. All we have to do is explain everything and apologise.’

Sir Charles listened attentively, nodding. ‘Yes. By the way, Bailiff: I was taken downstairs to meet your friend yesterday. He called me into his room and showed me a sword. When I declared that it was not mine, he asked whose it was.’

‘Did you say?’ Simon asked. If Sir Charles had identified it, it would reflect badly on Simon, who had denied all knowledge of the thing.

‘I said I knew of one like that, which was owned by our friend, yes. But I told him that poor Baldwin was washed overboard and must be dead. Why, was that a mistake?’