Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘Really? Ah, you’ll want some warmed ale, then.’ Hamadus smiled, and indicated his warming pot. ‘It won’t be long.’

‘I do not want to drink something rescued from a wreck,’ Baldwin said sternly.

‘It was paid for, like all my other goods,’ Hamadus said. He maintained his smile. After all, as he knew full well, he had done nothing wrong. He glanced at William, and saw that the priest’s face remained black, but that was no surprise. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘You were once a sailor?’

‘I was once a fisherman, yes. Now I’m sexton. It’s much safer when the wind starts to blow.’

Hamadus watched as Uther slowly crept forward, nose down low to the ground, and stood at Baldwin’s side. It was a sight that made him smile whenever he saw his hound approach others. It was always alarming to people to have that great ‘brute’ approach. Then he saw Baldwin’s hand drop as though unthinkingly, to touch Uther’s head, and saw how, imperceptibly, Uther’s head rose to relax into the scratching fingers, and suddenly Hamadus felt less secure even with Uther in the room with him. He shot another look at William, but the priest was still scowling. Yes, Hamadus felt suddenly very nervous.

Baldwin glanced at the dog beside him. ‘Did you take this brute with you on the night of the storm?’

‘Yes. I always have him with me.’

‘I would imagine that would make assassination difficult,’ Baldwin said lightly. Ignoring Hamadus’ swift intake of breath and angry expostulation, he continued, ‘Do you have a boat? Something small which could sail about the islands?’

‘Yes, but I don’t use it much. It’s on the shore now because it was holed by a falling branch during the storm.’

‘I should like to see that,’ Baldwin said thoughtfully.

There was little about which he was sure, but he was quite certain that Hamadus was not the murderer. There were a number of little pointers which seemed to indicate his innocence. His boat would be one proof, but more to the point was Isok’s comment about a seaman not pushing a boat like Luke’s out into the sea in the hope that it might disappear. In Baldwin’s mind, this had the ring of authenticity. Surely the murderer was a land-based man. Unless Isok himself was trying to distract him …

‘May I see your dagger?’ he said, holding out his hand.

Hamadus reached to his belt, hesitated, and then pulled his dagger free and passed it to Baldwin.

It was a good little knife, with a blade of eight inches. It was possible that it could have killed Robert, but the man’s wound was a shallow one which had not managed to puncture both breast and back. A hard blow of the sort which had killed Robert would have gone through and out the other side with a knife-blade this long.

Baldwin nodded and passed it back to the old man. He was even less able to believe in Hamadus’s criminality after feeling the muzzle of Uther. In his experience, the harsher and more brutal the man, the more unsettled and dangerous the dog. Yet Uther appeared calm and biddable, while Hamadus gave no impression of being mad or evil. If anything, he appeared perfectly sane and intelligent.

‘I thank you. Your hound is a good brute. I used to have a dog by the same name. A mastiff,’ he said, stroking Uther. ‘Why did you give him that name?’

‘These islands. You know that some say Arthur is buried here? Uther was Arthur’s father.’

‘Ah, of course. Now, that night, I do not care what you were doing out there, but did you see anyone else?’

‘I saw Luke.’ Hamadus’s paused.

‘Luke? Where did you see him?’

‘On the beach,’ Hamadus said. ‘He had been over to the castle, I think. He was with Thomas, anyway.’

‘What would Thomas have had to discuss with him?’ Baldwin frowned.

‘That is why we’re here,’ William said. ‘Ham, can you tell Sir Baldwin about Thomas’s business?’

Hamadus looked seriously at Baldwin. ‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly.

‘It will go no further,’ Baldwin promised.

‘Thomas smuggles some stuff, just for the money, but that’s not his real game. What he does is, he collects customs from all ships coming into the port here, and then takes a large amount of the money for himself.’

‘Does not his master realise?’

‘Doesn’t seem to. Thomas has been playing this game for many years now. He’s made himself rich. Now he can afford his own ship to bring over more legal cargoes, although I think he still brings some illegal stuff, just because he thinks he’s indestructible.’

‘And you saw Luke on the night Robert died, talking to the gather-reeve?’

‘Yes. Just after I saw Robert and Thomas. The Sergeant was threatening Robert.’

‘Why?’

‘The gather-reeve had learned of Thomas thieving from Ranulph, and wanted him to stop. He said he’d have to tell Ranulph if Thomas didn’t swear to give over.’

‘I assume the good Sergeant was not enamoured of this course?’

‘He told Robert to go to hell. I didn’t listen to any more.’

‘Did you see anyone else?’

‘Only that streak of piss from a poxed tarse, the one they say’ll replace Robert. He’s an evil bugger, that Walerand. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.’

As he spoke, Uther stiffened again, this time, his head turning away from the door to the small, leather-curtained window. A low rumble started deep in his throat.

Without speaking, Hamadus crossed the floor to the doorway and threw it open. Instantly Uther bolted from the room and out into the late afternoon sun. There was a muffled cry, then a scatter of gravel hit the wall like bullets from a sling. For an instant there was absolute silence, as though the men in the house could see the man drawing breath for his scream of terror, yet none could make a sound to allay his fears or withhold the panic that must soon overtake him. They were themselves held by the same expectation, knowing that there was soon to be a finale, and after a pregnant moment there came a wailing squeal — rather, Baldwin felt, like a pig when the knife has opened its throat and it has begun its last desperate race before dying, its meat drained and clean.

William crossed himself. ‘Hamadus, what have you done?’ he demanded, his face a pale disc in the dark room.

‘Nowt, Priest. My dog’s done a bit to help a man’s bowels, though.’

‘Your dog’s bloody killed him, you vicious son of a Sutton Water whore!’ William exploded.

Baldwin was more sanguine. ‘Shall we see what has happened to the fellow?’

He walked out with Hamadus, and it took them little time to find the figure, lying recumbent beneath the form of the great hound.

‘My Christ in Heaven!’ William whispered. ‘The brute’s eaten his throat! The poor devil’s dead.’

There was a whimpering gasp, followed instantly by a rasping snarl, and Baldwin found it difficult to control his delight. ‘I think not. The good Uther has simply caught a felon in the act of attempting an attack on Hamadus’s life, and has held him ready for us to capture.’

‘Of course,’ Hamadus agreed blandly. ‘I wouldn’t teach a dog to harm a man unnecessarily. He’s taught to hold a thief until I arrive.’ He whistled sharply. ‘Uther, here!’

Baldwin stepped forward to stand at the side of the petrified Walerand. ‘What do you want here? Who are you?’

‘He’s Walerand, the new tax-gatherer, if his master’s to be believed,’ William said, repugnance making his voice harsher than a steel rasp.

‘What were you doing here?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Were you spying on this fellow?’

‘No. I wasn’t,’ Walerand declared. ‘I wouldn’t spy on him !’