Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

‘And this terrible tale might have a different ending.’

‘You do not feel that Wylkyn killed his master?’

‘No. He would never have harmed Sir Richard. His whole endeavour was to help the poor man with his possets and potions.’

‘Then…’

‘I think Mark was keen to assist his father.’

‘Sweet Jesus! You mean this?’

‘I was there in the room. Mark was present for much of the time. Anyone could have gone into Wylkyn’s room to fetch powders or leaves, Mark the same as anyone. He knew his father was Sir Ralph, and he sought to further my brother’s interests. Perhaps he intended to tell Ralph what he had done, and try to claim benefits of some sort. Maybe seek patronage.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘There is little a man like Mark would not do to improve his prospects, Sir Baldwin. I know that someone like you is immune to the lust of better offices, but for a political monk, what else is there? Especially when he is left in a backwater like this. What is more natural than that he should dream of halls of his own, of power and influence?’

‘So Esmon wrongly assumed that Wylkyn must have murdered Sir Richard, and sought to avenge the crime.’

‘Exactly.’

‘A terrible mess.’

‘Life often is, Sir Baldwin.’

‘True, my friend.’

‘You seem to feel the misery of other people, good sir.’

‘There are times,’ Baldwin said quietly, ‘when I feel that I carry the weight of too many men’s sins and grief on my shoulders.’

He found Simon sitting on a barrel near the mill, disconsolately throwing stones into the mill-leat. ‘Roger was a good man.’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘I shall take his body to his widow as soon as I can make arrangements.’

Simon nodded and threw another stone into the river. ‘It seems as though the whole of my life has been turned upside down in the last few months. First my Lord Abbot’s decision that I should move to Dartmouth to live, then the news that my daughter has found herself a lover, and now poor Roger is dead. A friend who died trying to save us.’

‘I know. And the hardest knock is that I doubt whether we would have been in any danger if he and his men had not arrived when they did.’

‘That did surprise me. What made Brian take over the castle just then?’

‘I doubt he would have rebelled if it was not for the show of force at the gate. It made him feel insecure and he chose to protect himself as he knew how – by taking the place. If the rear wall had been secure, he might have held out for weeks.’

‘If he’d not bothered to fight, he’d still be alive now, and so would many others. Coroner Roger would only have arrested Sir Ralph and his son.’

‘Yes. Instead many died. And we still have an investigation to complete.’

‘Wylkyn?’

‘Yes. I know where his body lies.’

‘Under the pile of stones, of course. Then let’s fetch it.’

‘We cannot report it to Roger now. There is no one else here to whom we can give it.’

‘There is another Coroner who lives in Exeter, isn’t there?’

Baldwin sighed. ‘Yes. But think of it in this way, Simon. How much easier would it be, should this body be added to the toll from yesterday? Will it help any man to learn that the vill aided the concealment of a body? Or that an old man and a fool hid Wylkyn on the orders of Esmon of Gidleigh?’

‘No, of course not. But justice demands something.’

‘You talk to me of justice today?’

Simon saw a picture of Roger in his mind’s eye, the dark features, the piratical grin, the cynical leer when he doubted a witness’s words, and slowly shook his head. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Find Piers and Elias and Roger Scut. With them we can fetch the body.’

It took no time to gather the men and soon they were on their way, Hugh leading a small farm cart, Piers and Elias walking alongside, and Roger Scut, Baldwin and Simon on horseback. Their route took them back along the path where the girl had died, and Baldwin asked exactly where she had been found. Elias pointed out the position.

‘I see. And you were in that field with Ben?’

‘No. That ’un.’

Baldwin stared at the freshly ploughed soil. He could see over the hedge, but no one on the road would have been visible. On the opposite side, a hedge had been recently laid, the long branches set down horizontally and kept in place with pegs and grasses to form a strong, living barrier to the sheep and cattle that would next year graze here. ‘That’s where Osbert was?’

‘Aye.’

Baldwin nodded, but then looked nearer. ‘And this must be where Sampson and Surval were.’

Elias shot him a look, but it was Piers who said, ‘Surval never told me he was here.’

‘Perhaps you forgot to ask him?’ Baldwin said mildly, but then he met Elias’s look before urging his mount onwards.

At the wall, Hugh let his pony wander without taking the cart from its back. Baldwin and Simon’s horses were loosely hobbled so that they could nibble at the grass while the men climbed over the fence and took the track Baldwin had found before.

‘Are you sure he’s here?’ Piers said doubtfully. ‘This isn’t the easiest place to hide a man, is it?’

‘When I was here the other day, I found small drops of blood on the way,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘They led me to the pit here, as though someone was going to throw in something, and yet all there was, was a dead calf. Ah yes. There it is.’

They had reached the pit now.

‘Maybe someone from the farm put it here?’ Piers said helpfully.

‘But as I said, there was blood on the way here,’ Baldwin said as he led them to the pile of stones. ‘And you will find him in there. Please get him out. There should be no need to tell anyone else of this. If we keep silent ourselves, we can remove him, put him with the dead in the churchyard and make an addition to the records to show that Wylkyn died trying to help us storm the castle.’

Roger Scut’s head shot up. ‘You expect me to add this man’s name to the list? I can be no part of that! I should be perjuring myself!’

‘Scut, if you do not, I shall tell the Dean about your efforts: seeking to accuse an innocent monk of a murder he didn’t commit, releasing him from gaol so that he could be hunted down and killed, and all so that you could take more wealth to yourself. Would you like that?’ Baldwin asked with silky sarcasm.

‘I didn’t release him. Sir Ralph did.’

‘But you tried, didn’t you?’ Simon said. ‘And Dean Peter is an old friend of mine and Sir Baldwin’s. He would trust us.’

‘Very well. I suppose I shall have to agree under the threat of your blackmail,’ Roger Scut said with a show of reluctance. ‘If that is all…’

‘No, it is not. You also have a farmer, Jack, whom you have forced to give up lands he himself acquired. You will give them back to him in their entirety.’

‘What? I can’t do that! What would my other peasants say?’

Baldwin reached out almost lazily, and grabbed a handful of his tunic. He pulled Scut to him. ‘Arse that you are, by name and behaviour, I swear this to you: if you do not release Jack from your intolerable service, I shall see you ruined in the Church. You wanted this little chapel so that you could take the money from it, didn’t you? Well, if you do not agree to my demand, Scut, I shall make it my job to tell the good Dean that you are so keen on it, and I will ensure, Scut, that you have it and it alone. You will take Mark’s place here, without a Lord, now that Sir Ralph is dead, without a patron, and without any income. I can do this, Scut, if you do not release Jack and return to him all the lands you have recently taken from him.’