Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

‘You thought you’d break our master’s hall? What’s got into you all? Are you gone mad? Calm down, the lot of you, before I use this to calm you meself!’

‘You blame us? That priest there tells us that this turd is no man of God, and you blame us for our anger? What’s the matter with you, Piers? Lost your cods? You’d be happy to see the killer of my daughter walk free just so that you can announce there’s been no fighting in the court? Ballocks, I say!’

‘Huward, restrain yourself. Would it serve Mary’s memory for you to be hanged because of disrespect to your lord? You want to die like that?’

Baldwin was glad to see that Huward hung his head and turned away. He could have sprung forwards even so, but other men, probably those from his own frankpledge , were there to surround him, shielding Mark with their bodies, and Baldwin felt safe enough to gaze about him again, meeting the faces of all the men in the room and staring down those who looked most truculent.

‘Sir Ralph, I demand that this court be closed now so that men might recover their senses. It is clear enough to me that the boy here is a priest and that he deserves the protection of the court and all your men.’

‘I don’t need you to tell me my responsibilities. The priest here only said that any cleric should know his Placebo – he didn’t say this man wasn’t a priest.’

Baldwin slowly surveyed the room. ‘Sir Ralph, I demand that you release this fellow into my hands as Keeper of the King’s Peace. It is clear to me that your villeins are convinced that he is not entitled to Benefit of Clergy and that his life is at risk.’

‘He is under my protection,’ Sir Ralph said testily. ‘This is my court, and I will not relinquish him.’

‘I demand–’

‘You have no right to demand anything!’ Sir Ralph suddenly spat. He leaned forward in his seat as though to launch himself at Baldwin, but his wife put a hand out and caught his wrist. The knight hesitated as she spoke.

‘Sir Baldwin, I agree with you. Any harm that might come to him will be the responsibility of Gidleigh. His safety must be paramount.’

‘You shall look after him, then, until Scut and I can get him back to the Bishop,’ Baldwin said with a slight bow.

‘Yes, I shall hold him.’ Sir Ralph smiled humourlessly. ‘I shall keep him safe in the comfort of my little gaol.’

‘If he dies, I shall inform the good Bishop that you allowed his death through negligence,’ Baldwin stated sharply. He had little choice, he knew. This was Sir Ralph’s court.

The knight shrugged. ‘You know as well as I that the death of a prisoner from cold or hunger is death by natural causes. I’m sure he’ll enjoy my hospitality while we wait to receive the letters he says the good Bishop sent him and which are held in his chest. No doubt they will prove his innocence.’

‘The chapel is burned! Any letters have been destroyed!’ Esmon called. ‘He can’t recite his prayers and I say we should hang him. He killed the girl, let him pay.’

‘I will reserve judgement until I see the letters,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘If they have burned, we must send to the Bishop for copies or confirmation that this man is a priest.’ He spoke as though reluctantly, and Baldwin was struck with the feeling that Sir Ralph had aged in the last few minutes, like a man who has realised he has failed someone he loved. Baldwin could not help but glance at Annicia as Sir Ralph waved an arm, stood, and walked heavily from the room.

Lady Annicia was sitting as though she was entirely indifferent to the outcome of this discussion, but her face was blank only in appearance because she was controlling herself with difficulty. Utter dejection was revealed on her face. As Baldwin watched, fascinated, he saw her eyes glitter with hatred, and he saw that she was staring at Huward.

‘What in God’s name can you have against him?’ he wondered, but then he gladly helped Mark to his feet and watched as he was taken away.

He himself was not convinced of Mark’s innocence, but he was quite sure of one thing, that Mark was definitely a priest; and, he reminded himself as he looked towards the table again, that Roger Scut had betrayed him.

Walking from the room, he didn’t notice that Lady Annicia motioned to a servant, pointed to Huward, and spoke softly.

Elias had intended to escape the place as soon as Sir Ralph declared that the court was to adjourn, but he wasn’t fast enough to escape Simon. Before he could reach the roadway at the front of the castle, Hugh had caught up with him. ‘My master wants to talk to you.’

‘Who is your master? That knight?’

‘No, he’s the Bailiff from Lydford,’ Hugh said.

Elias scowled. He had heard of Lydford – who hadn’t? The Stannary court there reckoned itself competent not only to try a man’s guilt and deliver him from gaol, often they would do so before the King’s Justices had time to arrive. Their power was absolute, and they had little regard for serfs. Many miners had once themselves been serfs, but had escaped to the moors, where they lived the easy life of freemen, owing service to no one.

The Stannaries were fiercely protective of their people. Elias knew he must be careful responding to the Bailiff’s questions. He waited, chewing his lip. It wasn’t his fault he was the only man who admitted to finding the body of the girl. Nothing to do with him, whoever had killed her. Nothing at all. But he’d be the man who was fined first and hardest, just because he’d stumbled over her corpse.

‘You’re Elias? I am Bailiff Puttock of Lydford.’

Simon wasn’t the sort of man to make Elias feel at his ease. He loomed over the peasant, while Hugh wandered idly around behind Elias, making him wonder whether he was about to be arrested. ‘Yes, sir, but I’ve done nothing, I just found the bodies, that’s all. I can’t help that.’

The knight was at the Bailiff’s side now, two evil-looking watchmen behind him. One glowered at him as though suspecting Elias of raping his wife. The other looked bored stiff. The two were so incongruous together that Elias found himself staring at them. Baldwin’s voice made him jump. He had all but forgotten the Keeper.

‘No, Elias,’ said Baldwin gently, ‘you are not held to be at fault. Nor shall you be if you tell us the truth. Now: the body you found up on the moors, the body of this miner – are you sure he was dead?’

Elias ducked his head, confused by the question. ‘His neck was broken, and his hand had been hacked off, like someone had gone berserk… Have you seen a man survive something like that?’

‘I think we may safely conclude that he was dead,’ Baldwin grunted. ‘Did you recognise him? Piers tells us it was probably a man called Wylkyn. Is that so?’

‘Yes. I’d seen him often enough. Used to be a servant at the castle – back in the days of Sir Richard, that was.’

‘Is that why you were asked to find him?’ Baldwin asked suddenly, cutting into his speech.

‘Asked to…?’

‘Don’t pretend to be stupid. Just tell me quickly: who told you where to find that body?’

Elias stared dumbly at the ground. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh, I reckon you do,’ Simon said. ‘Come on – how much were you paid?’

‘Nothing.’

Baldwin leaned down. ‘Elias, we can ask you here, and you can answer, or we can have you taken to Sir Ralph’s cell and leave you there until you choose to respond. Of course, if you refuse, we can have you taken to Exeter to answer to the Justices there in the county court. It is up to you.’

‘Which will it be?’ Simon rasped.

Elias was loath to answer. He didn’t know what to do, where to look, so he kept his head down, staring at their feet while he tried to think of an answer that would be safe, that would allow him some room for escape. It was a huge relief when he recognised the voice of Piers the Reeve.