Michael JECKS - The Merchant’s Partner

Baldwin grunted, and maintained a disapproving silence for the rest of their journey. It was not far. They stopped outside the inn, and at a curt nod of Baldwin’s head, Edgar dropped from his horse and walked leisurely to the door. Watching, Simon saw him casually glance up at the sky, trying to assess the time. The bailiff nodded to himself. It was very early to waken the innkeeper. But then he realised his error.

After looking up to reassure himself as to the earliness of the hour, the servant grinned back at him quickly, then beat on the door in a shockingly loud tattoo before retreating a few yards. It was a sensible precaution, from the bellow of rage that issued from inside. Simon heard rapid steps, the sound of bolts being drawn, and then the door was yanked open and the unshaven and furious features of the publican appeared, mouth wide to roar at whoever had woken him. At the sight of the knight with his servant and friend, his mouth snapped shut as if on a spring.

“Sir Baldwin,” he managed at last, with a snarl that appeared to be his best approximation to a smile. “How can I serve you?”

The knight grunted. “You can fetch hot drinks for three, prepare cooked eggs and bread for our breakfast, and start to organise a search party. Then you can send word to my house that we are all well, find Tanner, and tell him to come here immediately. Prepare provisions for three days for three men.”

“I… Er…”

“And you can do it all now. We must hunt a man.”

It seemed to the bailiff that no sooner had they sat to watch the innkeeper’s wife cooking their eggs on her old cast-iron griddle over the embers of last night’s fire than the men from the village began to arrive. Farmers and peasants walked in, strolling casually as if the matter was nothing to do with them, or cautiously and reluctantly sidling through the curtain as though expecting to be arrested themselves. Each was told by Edgar to go and arm himself and return as quickly as possible, with food for at least three days.

It was not until Tanner arrived, covered in snow almost up to his knees and dripping, that Baldwin looked up and began to take an interest. The old constable walked straight to him. There was no need, he knew, for subservience with this knight. Glancing up as his bulk approached, Baldwin gave him a slow grin and waved a hand to the fire. “Have you eaten? Would you like to have some eggs?”

Glancing carelessly at the griddle. Tanner shook his head. “What’s the matter, sir? The innkeeper’s boy told me to come here straight away. Said we had to hunt a man.”

“That’s right. Greencliff has run away again.”

“Harry’s gone? Oh, the daft bugger!” He shook his head as if in tired annoyance, then said, “But so what? If he wasn’t there for the death of the witch, because he was with de la…”

“It’s not that easy. He was not with de la Forte,” the bailiff broke in, and explained about the change in Stephen de la Forte’s evidence. When he spoke of the murder of Trevellyn, there was a sudden hush in the room, as the men all around realised why they were being asked to chase Greencliff. When Simon had finished, he found he was immediately bombarded by questions from all sides, and after a moment Baldwin stood with a hand raised for silence.

“Quiet!” he thundered, and gradually the noise died down. “That’s better. Now, Harold Greencliff was not at his house last night. The fire was cold, so it’s likely that he left the night before. Otherwise it would at least have been warm when we got there. So, where has he gone?”

The room was quiet as the men thought, then one said, “He could’ve gone to Exeter, to the docks again. ”That’s where he went after the witch was killed.“

Baldwin nodded. It was certainly possible. “He could, but was there anywhere else he might go? Did he have any family or friends he could have gone to stay with? Anybody outside the area with whom he could rest?”

All round the room heads slowly shook. “In that case, we have no choice: we must try to search for him on all of the roads.” Baldwin sighed. The only result of this would be long hours in the saddle. To think that he had felt sympathy for the lad when he had been in gaol! He sat, glowering.

Simon stirred thoughtfully. “We saw the footprints in front of the house,” he said. “Were they going to it or leading from it?”

“What do you mean?”

“We thought he was going home from Trevellyn’s house, but we could have been wrong. He might have gone to Trevellyn’s house, killed him, then carried on towards the west on the road. Or he could have done the murder, then headed home and carried on from there. We can’t be sure which.”

“Yes,” Baldwin agreed. “So those are the directions we should concentrate on. Beyond Trevellyn’s place, and back this way.”

“He can’t have come this way,” said a stocky man in a tough jerkin of leather and skins.

“Why not?” asked Simon, frowning.

“I’m a hunter. Mark Rush. I was up at the lane all last night between his house and here – there’s been a wolf or something attacking sheep in the pens over that way – and I was sheltered there all night. When it snowed, I went into my hut, but when it was clear enough I was out again. He never passed me.”

“Are you sure?” said Baldwin dubiously. He found that the man’s eyes moved and fixed on him, curiously light and unfeeling as he spoke.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure. Nothing living passed me that night I wasn’t aware of. Harry did not pass.”

Simon eyed him thoughtfully, then nodded. “In that case we should look in the woods to the north and south of the lane, especially near his house.” He thanked the woman, who passed him a platter with two eggs and a hunk of roughly torn bread. “I suggest we have three parties: one to ride to the west and look for signs, one to search for tracks in the woods north, the last to look in the southern woods. Whoever finds anything should return here with a message to be left with the innkeeper.”

They talked a little longer about the details, but agreed to this simple plan. Baldwin and Edgar would take the western road, Simon the southern woods, and Tanner the northern. Splitting the men into three groups of four, Baldwin and Simon quickly finished their breakfast, went out to their horses, and mounted.

Simon was pleased to have been able to enlist the light-eyed hunter for his search. The man looked capable and confident. Although quiet and soft-spoken, he moved with an alertness and graceful ease which spoke of his skill and strength. He was older than Simon, probably nearer Baldwin’s age of forty and odd, although whether he was older or younger than the knight was a different matter. The bailiff could not guess.

As they rode along to the lane leading to the Greencliff farm, Simon studied him. He wore a heavy-looking short sword by his side. There was a bow at his back and arrows in a quiver tied to the saddle over his blanket in front of him, where he could reach them quickly. Before the three groups divided, Baldwin, Simon and Tanner had held a quick conference to confirm the main plan. Whoever was to find what could be Greencliff’s trail was immediately to send a messenger back to Wefford so that he could guide others there. If Simon’s or Tanner’s teams found no sign of the youth, they were to carry on and join Baldwin’s, for it was in his direction that there were going to be the highest number of roads to search, and thus he had the greatest need of men.

With the details agreed, they had separated and made their way to the areas allocated to them for searching.

Baldwin knew, as he urged his horse into an easy lope, that his would almost certainly prove to be a wild goose chase, and reviewed the road ahead. This lane led to Greencliff Barton itself, then on up the hill to the Trevellyn house, and past it to the crossroads on the Tiverton road. Where would they go from there? Into Crediton itself? Or north-east to Tiverton? Or should they carry on west? Where would the boy have gone?