Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘Tell me why you are holding him!’ Simon said forcefully.

Ranulph’s hand went to his dagger. ‘Don’t push me too far, little man. I’ll crush you.’

‘I am a King’s official, remember,’ Simon said in a low, menacing tone.

‘You are many miles from the King, and the King has other matters to occupy him, you fool! Don’t you realise yet? I could have you killed here, tonight, and no one would notice. No one would be told. None of my men would think twice about removing your body and throwing it into the sea for the crabs to eat. Do you understand? Your friends will stay in my gaol because it pleases me to leave them there. And I may have them killed, if it strikes me as a means of tidying things. I need to find the killer of Robert, and your precious friend suits my bill.’

‘It wasn’t him!’

‘Perhaps not, but I wouldn’t want the islanders to think that someone could kill my gather-reeve and get away with it. I must have a culprit, otherwise the peasants might think that they could rebel with impunity. So your friend will die … unless I find another suitable murderer. Tell me, where were you on the night Robert died?’

‘I was in the sea, as you know.’

‘But I don’t, do I? No, you could have come up on the land a while earlier. So you’d make a convenient victim of island justice, too. Perhaps I should have you arrested as well.’

Simon set his teeth until he thought his jaw would crack, and he held Ranulph’s fixed, stern gaze for some moments. And then, as he was preparing to turn and walk away, as his mind dwelled on the risk of leaving his back exposed to those two daggers, Ranulph spoke again.

‘So you will join me tomorrow, Bailiff. You’ll fight with me to protect this place. And if we find another suitable victim, maybe I’ll let your friend free. Maybe. It’s up to you.’

‘I have never felt so ridiculous in all my life,’ Baldwin said.

It was not the first time he had said this, and he was aware of the fact, but repetition somehow made him feel a little better. This was a ludicrous position for a knight. Swordless, he felt unprotected, but that was nothing compared to removing his boots and hanging them about his neck, removing his hosen, lifting his tunic and tying the skirts about his waist, and then setting off to walk in the sea at twilight. ‘Are you quite sure of this?’

‘This’ was the path through the waters. Baldwin was stepping timidly through the cool water following William along a sliding pathway that was hidden by waters that came up to Baldwin’s knees. With every step he took, Baldwin could feel the sands shifting beneath him, chill fronds of seaweed tickling at his shins, tiny fishes nibbling at his toes, and the occasional terrifying rasp of … of something else. The feel of sand would give underfoot, and instead he would have the unyielding, rough scrape of moorstone, although the first few times he had sensed it, he had thought it felt like the outer shell of an enormous crab, and even now his feet cringed at each step when he felt the sand move.

‘It is the way that the islanders often use when it is dark,’ William said, happily unaware of Baldwin’s anxiety. ‘But I’d be grateful if you kept this path secret. We don’t want the castellan to learn of it.’

That, Baldwin thought, was an interesting point. ‘Surely he must know already?’

‘Not, um, necessarily,’ William admitted as he placed his foot in the water and shivered. ‘Christ alive! I thought it was warmer at this time of year! No, this pathway is an old route which has sunk for some reason. I’ve been told that this used all to be a part of one big island, and this road was the main path from La Val to Bechiek and thence St Nicholas, but that it was all washed over by the sea many years ago, and now the roadway is open only at low tide generally. At the lowest times a man could almost walk dry-shod.’

‘If that is the case,’ Baldwin scoffed, ‘the castle must be aware already.’

William sniffed. ‘No. We told them that the sands were treacherous and prone to sucking men in.’

‘You told them that they were quicksands?’

‘There are only twelve men-at-arms who could want to know, and all of them were too scared to attempt it,’ William said smugly. ‘There are enough men in the castle who know the truth, but why should they help the greedy bastards who live there? It made sense for us to keep it quiet so that we could get from one place to another, even if the castle men couldn’t. If you lived on an island like this, you’d want to keep some secrets too. Ranulph isn’t a kindly man, Sir Baldwin. No one wants him to learn of the road from Penn Trathen.’

Baldwin shook his head. His feet were gradually losing all feeling, but at least he had lost the conviction that someone a scant hundred yards away was trying to draw a bead on his back with a crossbow. ‘That name is familiar. What does it mean?’

‘Penn Trathen? It means “end of the sand bar” in Cornish. “Trathen” itself is a sand bar. That is how the place got its name, because of this old sunken road.’

Baldwin stopped suddenly. ‘My God! This is where he was when he was killed!’

‘Who?’

‘The tax-gatherer, Robert. He was found here, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, I believe he was,’ William said loftily. ‘But that means nothing.’

‘That is why Tedia mentioned the flats. I suppose ultimately this roadway takes us up to the flats at the south-eastern edge of St Nicholas?’

‘Yes.’

‘Of course! I was stupid not to have realised before. If Robert was murdered here, it was as easy for a man from St Nicholas to kill him as another from Ennor!’

‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘So it was quite possible for Isok to have come along here and killed Robert. There was no alibi for him. He could have come here, murdered Robert, then gone back to the island and stayed with Mariota. Yes! Yes! Isok is a perfect suspect for the murder. And then he went to kill Luke as well, because Luke was the man who was most active in trying to climb inside his wife’s skirts.’

‘It’s possible, yes. But think of the alternatives: the people here on Ennor all detested him as well,’ William said, slipping slightly as softer sand gave way under his feet. ‘Practically everyone wanted Robert dead!’

‘The fact he was a tax-gatherer is not sufficient excuse to see him dead, surely? If that were the case, we should expect murdered tax officials to be found daily. No, there must have been another motive behind his death.’

‘If you say so. For my part, I still believe that Thomas is the obvious culprit.’

Baldwin scarcely heard him. ‘Another man with a good reason to want to kill him … or a woman, of course.’

Mariota could have had the opportunity — and where was David at the time of Robert’s death? He said he was at his boat, but that might have been a lie; he could have been out here on the sands. Was William right, that only the people from St Nicholas and a few from Ennor knew of the route through this sand? That would make sense to Baldwin, if only because Robert had been planning to see Tedia, yet had not taken a boat. He had instead gone to Penn Trathen, the end of the bar. There he had waited, perhaps for his woman to come and take him away. Maybe he was standing there at the end of the bar, excited, convinced that he was about to be given the reward for his gentle wooing of Tedia, only to be confronted by her husband.

No. That bucket would not hold water. If Robert had been there waiting, he would surely have noticed that the figure heading towards him from the sea was not his beloved. He would have seen that it was the figure of a man. He’d have stood, protected himself. If he saw Isok, he’d have known he was in danger. Of course, if the figure was that of a woman who hated Robert enough herself to kill him, he wouldn’t see the need for defence. Or, and this was possible, Robert had no idea that there was any route over the water, and therefore waited with his breath stopped in his lungs, keenly watching over the dunes. If he had, though, surely he would have heard the splashing of a figure through the waves as the murderer appeared and rushed forwards to strike him down?