Michael JECKS: The Abbot's Gibbet

The Abbot broke in, seeing Simon’s dubious expression. “Bailiff, there is another thing. My letter to Walter Stapledon was replied to by his steward, but fortunately he sent it on to the good Bishop. Today I have received a message from the Bishop himself, and in it he says that although he does not know the Camminos well, his good friend John Sandale, Bishop of Winchester, recommended Antonio to him. Sandale has used Antonio before to assist the Exchequer.”

Walter Sandale was the King’s Treasurer, and Simon knew as well as all in the room that if Sandale himself vouched for Antonio, there could be no doubt of his honor. Not where money was concerned, anyway, the bailiff amended. He nodded.

Baldwin was gazing at the Venetian with candid interest. “You must be rich, Antonio, and you are known to the most important people in the country, yet you travelled to Bayonne for the fair, and then came here to Tavistock.”

Antonio smiled at the note of enquiry. “Sir Baldwin, every now and again a merchant finds himself in an embarrassing position. It is easy to make great profits from importing spices – for one shipload can be enough to guarantee a man’s prosperity for life, but the risks are huge. Pirates, other cities which are no friends to Venice, or even a crew which decides to steal the whole cargo and disappear, can all ruin a man. I have been unlucky. The French King has defaulted on a loan I made him, a ship of mine foundered off Crete, and to cap it all, a second was stolen by the mercenaries who have taken over Athens when it put into harbor for water. They demanded a massive toll, and when my captain refused, his ship was wrested from him. My son and I have travelled to many fairs to try to recover a little of our fortune so that we can furnish a new vessel to trade with the Byzantines, and that was why we went to Bayonne, but you know the ill turn our servant served us there.

“We had no idea what Luke had been up to. Our decision to leave was forced on us because of the violence of the mob that demanded our heads. It is always easy to stir a crowd against bankers, for no one understands the risks we run, but I think a part of it might have been Luke stirring people against us even then, so that he could make off with his thefts. When the posse set off after us, I and my son thought it was a section of the populace trying to attack us. It never occurred to us that Luke might have stolen from the Abbot, and when he let the packhorse go, we never had a chance of discovering what was on it.”

“So then you made your way here,” Baldwin said.

“Yes. We have gone all over the realm, to Westminster and Winchester, up to Northampton and Bury, let alone the Gascon possessions. And we have mostly been successful. The good Abbot’s fleece would have been enough to make the whole venture a success. That was why I was unwilling to go, even though my son and servant seemed in such a hurry to depart. I only agreed when the Abbot rejected my offer – and then, of course, I was made aware of Avice Pole’s elopement with us!”

Arthur rumbled, “But you didn’t stop to bring her back, did you?”

“Sir, put yourself in my position. I had just been told that all my plans had collapsed because the Abbot had rejected my offer for his fleece, I had been warned that there was a mob baying for my blood outside the Abbey, just as they had in Bayonne, and now I was presented with a fait accompli in the person of your daughter. My son and servant went to fetch her while I was waiting at the Abbey. Would you have tarried while you thought the mob might appear at any moment? I remonstrated with my son, I threatened Luke, which was why he refused to leave town with us, I told your daughter that she should immediately go home, for what would running away with us do to her honor? But when they all refused to listen, was I supposed to call attention to myself in a town where I believed my life was in danger?”

Arthur appeared to muse a moment. When he spoke again, his manner was off-hand, as if uninterested. “So what additional investment do you need to make the venture to trade for spices a success?”

Simon left to find his wife, and shortly after, Baldwin made his own excuses. The two merchants looked happier to discuss their business without others standing by and listening, and Baldwin was sure that they would appreciate the freedom to negotiate in peace. To his surprise, the Abbot motioned to him, and the knight followed him into his private rooms.

“Sir Baldwin, I hope you can spare me a few minutes?”

“But of course, my lord Abbot. How can I help you?”

Champeaux stood irresolutely for a minute or two, fiddling with the loose thread of a tapestry. When Baldwin looked about him, he was impressed to see how well-appointed the chamber was, with a pair of comfortable chairs, a table, and a fire burning in the grate. Tapestries of hunting scenes hung on all the walls. The Abbot made no move toward a seat, and Baldwin stood surveying him doubtfully, wondering what the cause of the meeting might be.

“Sir Baldwin, I will not ask you what your intention is toward the Lady Jeanne, for I am sure you are honorable. I probably have little right to ask, in any case, yet I feel I have a duty to take an interest in her since her husband was one of my knights, and a baron should protect the widows of his servants.

“But there is more to my concern than you may be aware of. With all this discussion of the trail-bastons, and how Jordan was so badly betrayed and dishonored by Luke, one should not forget the little girl he saved.”

Baldwin felt his eyebrows rise. “What of her?”

“Sir Baldwin, that little girl was the daughter of one of my tenants. I own land up beyond Tiverton, and in other parts of the country. I have a duty to the girl, do I not?”

“Are you saying that the girl was Jeanne?”

“Yes. When I heard of her parents’ murder, I went immediately to her. When Jordan said that the hue was right behind him, I wonder whether it was in truth his pursuit or just the messengers sent to tell me of the killings. Either way, it doesn’t signify, for the result would have been the same, because the men told me that Jordan Lybbe was responsible for the murders, and when I sent to have him taken, he had already flown, which was enough at the time to convince many of his guilt.”

“Was it you who arranged for her to be sent to Gascony?”

The Abbot looked up. “What else could be done? There was nowhere in the Abbey here for a girl. Though I daresay I might have found a place for her in the town, it seemed better to me that she should be among her own family. Her uncle had bought his freedom some time before, and I knew where he lived, so I sent a message to him. He had become quite a wealthy man, and agreed to look after and raise her. She was only a youngster. When a few years ago I heard that Ralph de Liddinstone was to wed her, I was pleased to hear that she would return to Devon, but I must confess to a qualm that she should marry him. Sir Baldwin, Sir Ralph was no gentle husband.”

Baldwin wondered what was the point of this discourse. The Abbot stood meditatively staring out of the window as he continued: “I am sure that he beat his wife regularly, and without good reason. When he drank, he could be abusive even to me, and if he felt his wife had slighted him, I am sure he would be quite brutal to her. It was no happy thought that she had bound herself to him.”

“I am grateful that you feel you can confide this in me, my lord Abbot, but what has it to do with me?” Baldwin asked gently.

“Sir Baldwin, if you have any hopes of wooing Lady Jeanne, I would want you to know that she has not enjoyed an easy life. Her childhood was ruined by Luke and his men, her youth was spent in a strange land, and her marriage was not successful.” His eyes met Baldwin’s as he continued quietly, “She deserves better, Sir Baldwin. You are a kindly, gentle knight, a man of integrity. If you could win her, I would thank God for at last giving her someone who would love her and treat her as she truly deserves.”