Michael JECKS - The Devil's Acolyte

‘Oh, thank goodness, Bailiff. The Coroner is here and is asking for you.’

Rudolf was pleased to be on the move. After so many years of travelling, he and his family had the matter of striking and breaking camp down to a fine art. In no time at all the fires were doused, his pack-horses laden, and the carts filled ready to travel. With luck they should reach Ashburton before dark, although Rudolf hoped they would find a better path before long, for his two-wheeled cart was lumbering unevenly behind the horse, making the beast roll his eyes with alarm.

They had barely managed a mile when disaster struck. Rudolf was in front, leading his own sumpter, a gentle mare who could carry a vast quantity on her broad back, when he heard a warning shout, a terrific splintering crunch, and then a series of curses as a horse whinnied high with panic.

It was all because of a great lump of stone. The wheel had caught the rock, which had moved suddenly, letting the wheel fall into a deep rut. It jammed, and the horse had slipped. The beast was maddened with fear, and sprang up again, jerking sideways, but the wheel was firmly fixed, and wrenching it like that, the timbers snapped, even the metal tyre shearing. The cart had broken its wheel and axle as well. They would need not only a wheelwright, but a capable carpenter as well, and in the meantime they were stuck here.

There was no point in trying to redistribute the load – Rudolf had seen that instantly. They wouldn’t be able to transfer enough to the other mounts, and the petrified horse pulling the cart had been so frighted that one hoof slipped into a small hole, and with a sound like a tree cracking under the weight of an avalanche, the leg snapped.

His wife now stirred the stew which that horse had contributed. They would have a good meal today, but that was little consolation, knowing that they would not reach safety until his son had returned from his urgent journey to Buckfastleigh to ask for help. He must find another pony or horse to carry as much of the load as was possible on its back, because there could be no doubt that a cart was little use here.

‘Rudi? You want some wine?’ his wife called.

‘No, Anna. I am not thirsty yet. I shall wait a while,’ he responded. There was no point in anger or bitterness. All he could do was try to ensure that he and his little team were safe. His son had left soon after dawn. It was only a few miles to the town, from what he had heard, so with a little good fortune, Welf should be back with a horse before nightfall. Then all they would have to do would be to wait for the morning, break camp, and be off. He hoped there would be no more hold-ups.

‘Don’t worry, Rudi,’ she said, walking to him. In her hand she held a large wineskin made from a goat, and she held it out to him. ‘Drink. There is nothing more to be done tonight.’

‘I hope Welf is all right. I had prayed that he would be back already.’

‘You are fearful about that pewter, aren’t you?’

‘It was a very good price,’ he said obliquely.

She laughed. ‘You mean, it was too cheap to be legal! Well, we bought it in good faith. If it was stolen, it is not our concern, is it?’

‘It may grow into our concern. A man’s dead back there, and we were too close for comfort. It is all too easy for a foreigner to be blamed.’

‘All we need do is tell them the truth. That we bought the metal from a merchant, and then wanted to be on our way.’

‘Yes. One day after I fought with the man who is dead. The fool! Why didn’t he leave us alone?’

When he entered the guest room, Simon instantly recognised the stocky figure standing in front of the window with his back to him.

‘Coroner! Godspeed!’

Whirling, the Coroner studied him with a grin. ‘It seems as though wherever you go, someone is soon murdered, Bailiff!’

‘It’s good to see you, Coroner,’ Simon said with genuine relief. ‘I was beginning to wonder whether the body would have completely dissolved before anyone got here, what with the strong sunshine.’

‘I shouldn’t worry. I’m not like some – no need for money.’

Simon smiled. Many of the Coroner’s colleagues would haggle over money, demanding payment for going and doing their duty, but Simon knew that his friend was not formed from such a corrupt mould.

‘Now, you have a body for us,’ Coroner Roger said. ‘A good thing, too. It was growing tedious being at home with my wife all the time. You have never heard a woman nag until you’ve witnessed my Lady in full flow.’ The Coroner spent all his time, when out of her earshot, complaining about his wife, but it was plain as a turd on a leaf that he adored her.

‘Us?’ Simon queried. ‘You want me to help you?’

The big man blinked with surprise. ‘Hadn’t you heard? Baldwin is with me. The Abbot specifically asked that he should accompany me. That was why we took a while to arrive.’

‘No, the Abbot didn’t tell me,’ Simon said, and as he told the Coroner all about Wally’s death and the discovery of his body, he felt his heart sinking.

It wasn’t that Baldwin was here. That was a cause for delight so far as Simon was concerned. The knight was astute, swift to spot problems with evidence, an acute questioner, and a good companion. No, it was the inference that the Abbot had decided that Simon wasn’t capable of dealing with the matter on his own.

If it were only that, Simon wouldn’t have been concerned, for he was happy to confess that Baldwin was the better investigator of them both, but it wasn’t only that. Suddenly there sprang in upon his mind the attitude of the Abbot on the day when he had been told of the robbery of the Abbot’s wine.

At the time, the Abbot had said that he was worried about Simon’s ability to cope, hadn’t he? If not then, soon afterwards. Damn that hammer! It had reduced Simon in the Abbot’s eyes, that much was clear. And it could cost him his position. There were always other men who were thrusting hard at his heels. Many would be glad of the post of Bailiff and the money it brought.

If the Abbot had lost faith in him, and he was to lose his post as Bailiff, he wasn’t sure what he would do. It would be hard enough to work under another man, if the Abbot decided that he was competent enough to remain but only in some lower, more subservient Stannary position, but it would be impossible for him to maintain his lifestyle. He depended upon the money to support his family.

When he reviewed the last few months in his mind, he could see why the Abbot would have lost all trust in him. It wasn’t only the most recent problem with the hammer. Earlier in the summer he had been steward in charge of the tournament at Oakhampton which had turned out to be pretty much of a disaster. Several men had died, and although the killer was found and his guilt proved to the satisfaction of Lord Hugh de Courtenay, something about the resolution of the case continued to niggle at him.

Perhaps the Abbot was right to doubt Simon’s abilities. After all, the Bailiff so rarely had any idea why people committed their crimes, and without that insight, what was the point of employing him? Far better to ask Baldwin to come and seek the guilty. Baldwin always succeeded, he told himself bitterly.

‘Are you well, Simon?’

The Coroner’s voice broke in upon his gloomy thoughts. ‘Oh yes, I am fine,’ he replied hastily. ‘Where is Baldwin?’

‘The Abbot asked to see him as soon as he arrived here. I don’t know why.’

‘Oh.’

That response served only to increase Simon’s fretfulness. So now the Abbot wanted to speak to Baldwin alone. Simon knew that the Abbot had always had a lot of respect for Baldwin, but surely this meant that Abbot Robert was asking Baldwin for particular advice about matters while his mere servant, Simon, entertained the Abbot’s other guest, the Coroner.