Michael Jecks - The Outlaws of Ennor

‘No,’ Baldwin said, looking at the Prior.

Cryspyn had jumped as though startled. His face worked as the acid rose into his throat. In the past he had been able to eat the finest of foods and wines, but not now. He was forced now to suffer the most tedious of foods, which a physician had told him would work well for his humours, but nothing seemed to work for unpleasant shocks.

‘And did this person give you a name?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘Yes.’

‘Then perhaps you’d have the goodness to tell me?’ Cryspyn asked, his voice rising with his impatience.

Baldwin said nothing, but held Cryspyn’s gaze with a serious intensity.

The Prior tutted. ‘Come, now! Won’t you tell me?’

‘I had thought you would like to say. After all, Benefit of Clergy protects a man in Holy Orders.’

‘Benefit of …’ Cryspyn’s face paled. ‘My God! You don’t mean … William?’

Baldwin snapped irritably, ‘No, I do not! I mean you !’

‘Me?’ Cryspyn’s face fell. His eyes widened, his mouth gaped, and then he hiccupped. A hand flew to his mouth, and his face drew back into its normal expression of pain. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘I think you should have the goodness to confess, Prior. You were seen there.’

‘Sir Baldwin, you are the unsuspecting victim of a joke, surely a joke in bad taste.’

‘You deny killing the man?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘You were not there on the island?’

‘No. I wasn’t!’

Baldwin was confused, but then he thought he had a glimmering of understanding. Of course! The woman Mariota was protecting someone else. She had only mentioned Cryspyn to give herself time to warn him! ‘Prior, please accept my apologies.’

‘I suppose I must accept them, but only as a matter of politeness to a guest,’ he said pointedly as he thrust past Baldwin and stalked out.

Baldwin roused Simon from his partially drunken reverie. ‘Come with me. We need to talk.’

‘I think it’s better that we find a place to sleep.’

‘Not yet, old friend.’ Baldwin had Simon’s arm in a firm grip, and he manoeuvred him through the door and out, across the courtyard and through the gate. ‘I have been speaking to a woman who stated that she saw Cryspyn stabbing Robert. Since Cryspyn has denied the murder, this means that one of them is lying. If she is lying: why? She has convicted Cryspyn for no reason.’

‘She has reasons,’ Simon said. He closed his eyes and leaned back. ‘Perhaps it’s just that she dislikes him and made it up.’

‘She knew that I’d have to confront him. That means that she knew her lie would be found out, and probably quickly. Perhaps she meant to run straight to the guilty man and warn him.’

‘Who?’

‘There are only two men whom she would try to protect. She would not wish to protect any of the men from Ennor, I am sure of that. No, I think that it comes down to two: either David or William.’

‘Why David?’

‘Because he is of her tribe. This place is astonishingly tribal. David is of her family, and more than that, he is the leader. Thus she would be willing to serve him by lying to us. That, to me, makes much sense.’

‘I see. What of William?’

‘There is a bond between him and the people of the islands. He loves them, and I think that they reciprocate that love. Luke, I think, he detested because of the mess he made of the church of St Elidius. William was enormously proud of that little church, and Luke ruined it for him. He murdered Robert, I suppose, because he was angry about the gather-reeve’s depredations — although any man could have seen it was Thomas, not the gather-reeve who was responsible. Why William should have suddenly killed Robert now, I do not understand.’

‘I think I know that, at least,’ Simon said. ‘I heard from Ranulph on the ship coming here that the story of Robert’s murder in a tavern had not been broadcast for some years. Perhaps it was common knowledge before William went to Ennor, and he never heard it before, or at least, he never heard who the man was whom Robert was supposed to have murdered. And then, recently, while he was living in St Mary’s, suddenly he heard the full story.’

‘What story?’ Baldwin asked.

‘William is called “William of Carkill”. The man Robert murdered was called “Jack of Carkill”, and William once told me his brother had run off to sea. When he saw me on my first day, he called me “Jan”.’

‘Another name for Jack,’ Baldwin breathed.

‘Yes. Jan is a nickname. I think he heard about Robert’s murder of his brother, and it made him lose his mind. He stabbed his brother’s murderer.’

‘Perhaps. Yet what of David? He has never made a secret of his hatred of Robert, nor his loathing for men who tried to prise apart Tedia’s legs. I think he has a particular detestation for any foreign man who attempts to win the affection of a local woman.’

Simon opened an eye. ‘That was said with feeling.’

‘No, no. I was just thinking.’

‘So if this woman would have protected either, which do you think it was?’

‘She told us of Cryspyn, knowing that he wouldn’t suffer — even if we were to accuse him, we could do little. He is a man of the Church, so he’s safe.’

‘The same goes for William,’ Simon yawned.

‘But not for David,’ Baldwin said. ‘She never mentioned David. Perhaps she wanted to make sure that he was secure even from investigation?’

Simon grunted. ‘You can let go of my arm now, if you want,’ he said. ‘Just point me in the right direction.’

‘I want to speak to David again, and William.’

‘William said he was going to the church.’

Baldwin glanced back at the great building behind them. ‘Come on, then.’

The door thundered when they threw it open and strode in, Baldwin tall and imperious, Simon more subdued.

For William, kneeling at the altar, their entrance was like a clap of thunder. He gave them a bad-tempered look before returning to his prayers and closing his eyes. It was hard, trying to remain forgiving, but he was determined. He had said many prayers for Robert already, since learning of his murder. Now he wanted to say some more.

But the presence of the two men was distracting. He found his mind wandering. It was infuriating that they should come in here and disrupt his prayers. Muttering a hasty Pater Noster , he stood, made the sign of the cross, and walked past them to the entrance, where he waited, fuming.

‘What was the meaning of that? It was an intrusion into a man’s communion with God, you irreverent arseholes!’

Baldwin was in no mood for his temper. ‘Mariota told us about you. She saw you at the beach. She said you were there, that you saw the body and saw the murderer.’

‘She’s wrong,’ William said, and made as though to move off.

Simon blocked his path with an apologetic, ‘Sorry, William.’

‘She told me it was someone else killed Robert,’ Baldwin pressed on, ‘but I don’t believe her. I think she was trying to protect someone. Someone like you.’

‘You think I killed him?’ The priest smiled thinly. ‘Just as I’d have liked to kill Luke for his betrayal of the trust put in him? He took my little chapel and turned it into a midden. A disgrace for St Elidius — Luke dishonoured him — so I executed them both, is that what you think?’

‘What of Robert?’

‘I was there, yes. I saw his body. I didn’t see her, though.’

‘Did you kill him?’

‘Why should I?’ He looked up and met Baldwin’s eye.

‘Because he killed your brother Jan,’ Baldwin said.

William sighed. ‘I knew of Robert as an evil man when I lived on St Elidius, and then, when I moved to St Mary’s, I met him a few times, and I realised that Thomas’s story about him being a cheerful murderer was nonsense. He was a weak-minded fool who had made some mistakes and was paying for them with his exile. He may have killed, but not in anger or from some bloodlust. No, he killed to protect himself or another. Then, when I heard of his victim, I realised that I hated him for ending Jan’s life, but I knew what sort of a man Jan was. He was an unholy terror, brutal and cruel. If he had found a good woman who could have held him in check … but no. Some men cannot even be held back by women. No, Robert was almost certainly forced to kill him. You see, I cannot blame a man for self-defence.’