Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘It’s me,’ Simon whispered at the door. There was no response, but he was not surprised at that. He set to with the bar, attacking the mortar between the stones used to construct the chamber, and began prising the stones apart. Before long he had managed to create a hole where three rocks had come out, and was starting on the next stone when a hand reached out, grabbed his, and gently took the crowbar. There was a muttered, ‘Damn these things,’ and ‘Extraordinary how hard they make life for a fellow,’ and then the loud report of a snapping bolt. Soon Sir Charles began attacking the stones from the inside.

After a few more minutes, there was a quiet laugh, and then Sir Charles’s head appeared through the hole, grinning widely. ‘Your plan has worked excellently!’

‘So far,’ Simon grunted. Now all he had to do was see to Sir Charles’s and Paul’s escape. Creeping through the shadows and keeping close to the walls. He led the way to the gates and opened the small postern. Outside, he could point the way.

‘Go north from here and soon you’ll find yourself staring at the sea,’ he instructed them. ‘The big island north and west of here is St Nicholas. All you have to do is find a boat and steal it to row up there. When you’re on the island I think you’ll be safe enough. No one will dare to try to come and arrest you from the sanctuary of the priory.’

‘This is most extraordinary,’ Sir Charles said gleefully, rubbing his hands together. ‘An opportunity to escape — and yet I’m not sure I wish to flee. I could almost wish that I could remain here, just to speak with Ranulph and remonstrate with him.’

‘You have no sword,’ Simon said, and saw the way Sir Charles’s eyes lit upon his own. He put a hand to it protectively, but then grunted and pulled out the two daggers he had stolen from the armoury the day before, and finally removed Robert’s sword from under his tunic. ‘You can have these — they’re the best I could do. Now go and make yourselves safe on St Nicholas. Once you’re there, you can plan your revenge. Better that than a sudden, ill-conceived notion.’

‘I suppose so,’ Sir Charles said regretfully.

Simon grinned at the knight’s reluctance but then concern took its place. If Ranulph were to attack and win over the vill, Simon was perfectly aware that his own position would be very difficult. He was an Officer of the Abbot of Tavistock, the man to whom all those on St Nicholas Island owed their allegiance. Simon wanted the pirates captured and punished as much as anyone — but that was only possible if the Prior agreed and evidence was produced. Simon would not — he could not — condone Ranulph’s attack. It must be deflected. And thank God, Sir Charles could warn the Prior and the vill to make sure that there was no bloodshed.

‘Don’t forget to inform the good Prior that there is to be an invasion today,’ Simon said. ‘Otherwise I dread to think what could happen.’

‘It shall be my pleasure to warn him,’ Sir Charles said with evident truthfulness, and then, as the sun was beginning to light the eastern sky, he set off with Paul, who said nothing but merely gripped Simon’s hand in gratitude before scurrying after his master.

Simon watched until the two were out of sight, then he went back to the postern and closed it behind him. He didn’t see the slight figure of Walerand which rose from beside the roadway and stood watching his every move.

Cryspyn winced in the bright sunlight as he left his lodgings and went into the courtyard. It was a perfect morning, one of those which made a man happy to be here on this little island in the middle of nowhere. Not that he had any right to enjoyment. He was here in order to atone for the murder of Sara’s lover, not to find pleasure. His duty was to make recompense for the insult he had given to God.

The Prior’s expression was grim as he made his way to the little block near his chapel and entered. The old lock was loud in the stillness, and as he let the door swing shut, the slamming was alarming in the quiet. Sitting up in the corner were William and Baldwin, both eating heartily.

‘Well, now, my friends, how are you this fine morning?’ he asked.

As they gave him their thanks for the use of the room the previous night, the Prior allowed their words to wash over him, smiling when he thought it seemed suitable, but mostly simply nodding.

‘You look as though you yourself have had a less than satisfactory night,’ Baldwin commented.

Cryspyn gave a sad shrug. ‘Certainly it was not pleasing. I have to see to Isok’s humiliation today. The poor man doesn’t deserve it, but Tedia did insist upon this enquiry, and I have been ordered to obey. I cannot merely lie and suggest that the person whom I consulted told me not to permit the matter to go any farther. No, I have to see to the man’s destruction here in his own vill.’

‘Have you had to do this before?’ Baldwin enquired.

‘It is not a common complaint,’ Cryspyn said flatly. ‘No, I haven’t any experience of such affairs. And I would prefer that situation to have remained unaltered. It is terrible! I do not know how I shall be able to help Isok recover from his ordeal.’

‘From what I have seen of him,’ Baldwin said, ‘he appears a resilient sort of fellow. Perhaps it will grow to be a blessing.’

‘I agree,’ said William. ‘After all, if he is unable to put his wife in pup, perhaps the wedding itself was not meant to be. This could be God’s way of releasing them both from an existence which is painful to them both?’

‘It is possible,’ the Prior said doubtfully, ‘but Sir Baldwin, what a manner of saving them! Poor Isok shamed before the vill, and his wife left to wander. In a small community like this, there are many men who will assume that a woman who has divorced her husband must inevitably have a desire for a man of greater sexual prowess, and that invariably means himself, whoever he may be. Men always assume that they are unbearably attractive to a woman, no matter how little they are egged on by her. And if widows suffer from unwanted attentions, how much worse is the position of the woman who seeks a divorce on the grounds that he’s not damn-well giving her a seeing-to when she wants it!’

His voice had risen with his own frustration, and seeing their surprised expressions, he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself.

‘My friends, I am sorry, but this … this matter will not leave my mind. The poor woman — I am sympathetic to her, but does she realise what she’s doing to her husband? I doubt it.’

‘What will happen to him?’ Baldwin asked.

‘He must strip in front of two wise and honest women, and we must see whether they can make his pride stand erect,’ the Prior said, pronouncing the euphemism with a degree of hauteur. ‘Later they shall report to me.’

‘So this will at least be a trial conducted in private?’ Baldwin assumed.

‘I wouldn’t allow the vill to witness his failure! No, this is to be held in a private chamber, but then the women will report in front of all so that the poor fellow’s woman can have all the world see that the fact that she is not serviced is not her fault. The marriage’s failure was not of her making, it was all her husband’s.’

For a few moments Baldwin was silenced by this revelation. ‘I had not realised. That seems to me to be unnecessarily cruel.’

Cryspyn nodded and took up a pot of strong red wine. Downing a good quarter pint in one long draught, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. ‘It is ,’ he said at last.

‘Would you like to hear my conclusions about Luke’s death?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Please.’

‘He was murdered, and later he was thrown into a small boat, presumably in the hope that his body would be carried away by the currents and lost somewhere far away from the islands. He was stabbed. I think his death would have been instantaneous, for the wound must have punctured his heart and no man lives long after that.’