Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

Osbert was not of a mood to notice a newcomer. ‘After he’d shoved his pork sword into my mother and got her with child, he fell in love properly.’

‘He married,’ Piers said without thinking, and opened his mouth to welcome his new guest, when Osbert spoke again.

‘No. The bastard fell in love with Huward’s wife. All those children of the miller’s? They’re Sir Ralph’s. Mary, Flora, Ben, and me too. We’re all Sir Ralph’s children.’

Hearing the sharp intake of breath, he looked up, just in time to see the ravaged face of Huward at the doorway.

‘I thought you’d soon be here.’

Esmon stood with a pair of his men-at-arms behind him in the main gatehouse guard room. His hand was still painful, but he found that clenching and unclenching it eased the pain a little, and he was sure that it would only marginally limit his ability to fight if he was forced to draw his sword. Not that there should be any need for that, he thought as he observed Roger Scut at the back of the little band. ‘What, a wounded servant, two watchmen, a cleric, a Keeper and a Bailiff? All to come and speak to me? This is quite a party. What do you want? More wine?’

Simon smiled calmly. ‘You have a reputation, Master Esmon. Men say that you raid and kill on the moors.’

‘Who accuses me? I’ll show my innocence,’ Esmon said offhandedly.

‘You will learn at the next county court. You will be attached.’

‘By you, Bailiff? Oh, I don’t think you have the power.’

‘I think I do, and so does the Coroner and this good Keeper. And since the murder concerns a man going about his business on the moors, a man who mined tin, I have every right to arrest you now and take you to my own court.’

‘I don’t think I’ll submit to that. And what would you want to achieve, anyway? I am a friend of the Despensers. Touch me, and you’ll regret it! Copy that Keeper. He seems content to maintain his dignity with silence. Perhaps you should learn from him, Bailiff.’

Baldwin looked up at that. ‘You think I was keeping quiet? I was only waiting to hear what the good Bailiff had to say.’

‘You’ve heard him.’

‘And I say that you are to be arrested and will be judged by me in my court for breaking the King’s Peace, robbing and ransoming to the detriment of the King’s subjects.’

‘What, nothing of murder?’ Esmon sneered.

‘That was a crime committed outside my jurisdiction, but the good Bailiff has accused you already.’

‘So do you intend to steal me away even now?’ Esmon demanded, and his anger was unfeigned. These people had come here and taken advantage of his father’s hospitality, and now they dared to accuse him! It was against all the rules of chivalry to behave so rudely. ‘I suppose you would like me to put on sackcloth and ashes?’

‘No, but I would like to hear you apologise for trying to ride me down in the road,’ Simon said.

‘What?’

‘It was you who rode at me and struck my servant here instead because he tried to save me.’

‘I was riding on a road – if your servant got in my way, that’s not my concern.’

Baldwin, who was watching Simon, saw the Bailiff’s smile subtly alter. Now only Simon’s bottom teeth showed, and that, as Baldwin knew, was an infallible sign that Simon’s temper was about to snap. He interrupted quickly. ‘Esmon, you knocked Hugh here aside and could have killed him. If it was an accident, it should be no trouble to apologise.’

‘I certainly think it was a shame I hit him ,’ Esmon said, eyeing Simon with cold anger.

‘Good,’ Baldwin said hastily. ‘And now we can see the carter and Coroner Roger’s men released.’

‘No. They were found near a farmhouse where someone had robbed a woman. Until my father speaks to them and determines their innocence or guilt, they have to remain here, I fear.’

‘They shall be released,’ Simon said, slapping his sword hilt. Baldwin caught his elbow to stop him marching forward.

‘They stay here, Bailiff, and they’ll only be released when my father says so,’ Esmon replied. ‘I don’t know why you think you can claim authority over my father’s court, but he takes such arrogance badly.’

Baldwin heard a noise, and glancing over his shoulder, saw more men walking in through the doorway and fanning out to encircle Simon and him. ‘So you refuse?’

‘Certainly I do. These three were found near a theft. What would you do, Keeper? Let them run wild?’

‘Will you surrender to our safekeeping for the murder of the man Wylkyn?’

A woman’s voice called sharply, ‘What is all this about?’

Esmon could have sworn aloud. ‘Mother, please leave us.’

‘I asked what this was all about. Why are our guests in here surrounded like felons?’

‘These guests, as you call them, want to arrest me.’

‘Because of Wylkyn?’ Lady Annicia walked in like a lady, but her deportment was not quite as smooth as when she was completely sober. Baldwin could smell the wine on her breath. She glanced at Baldwin and Simon with a perturbed frown. ‘He was a terrible man, though. He killed Sir Richard Prouse, you know, and then he drew a knife against poor Esmon too. Last week he tried to hurt my son when he met him on the road, and Esmon defended himself. That is all.’

‘It would be, perhaps, if Esmon had not led a raiding party to rob the carters and kill Wylkyn, and it would be easier to believe if the body of Wylkyn hadn’t disappeared afterwards,’ Simon said. His attention was still fixed on Esmon, keeping an eye on the youth’s hands in case he tried to draw a sword.

‘I would like to offer you wine, will you come to the hall?’ Lady Annicia said. ‘I am sure that we can discuss this more sensibly without the need for raised voices.’

‘Not until we have seen the men being held,’ Baldwin said firmly. ‘My Lady, please command your men to open that door.’

‘Very well.’

‘Mother, I…’

‘Esmon, you may go to the hall and arrange for wine to be served while we await your father’s return.’

‘I…’

‘Go. Now! ’

He reluctantly submitted and pushed his way through all the men in the room. Outside, he let out his breath in an angry gust. It was infuriating that she had arrived just then. There was no telling what she might do to calm the Bailiff. Esmon had hoped that he might be able to taunt the man into an indiscreet action, pulling a knife or sword. With all the men there, he wouldn’t have got two feet before falling under all their blows, and the rest would have been cowed and fearful after such an outburst, but now he didn’t know what would happen.

Huward entered the barn, his attention fixed on Osbert with an expression that made Os shiver as though someone had walked over his grave. It was a dead face, as though Huward had already lost his soul and was staring into the pit of Hell.

‘Huward, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.’

Standing a little inside the doorway, Huward showed no emotion. He didn’t speak; he couldn’t. The discovery of his wife’s deceit and disloyalty had snapped something inside him. It felt as though his entire life had been a sham. He had believed in his wife, in her love, in her devotion – and in his children. To learn that the children might not be his own, that was too much to bear. Although he had spent the night with Surval trying to come to grips with this, to see how he could rebuild his life and make peace with his wife, the more he considered how she had lied to him over the years, the more he felt that he couldn’t go back.

This conclusion he had reached as he walked about during the morning after leaving Surval at dawn. He had not been hungry, and the idea of food made him feel physically sick. Perhaps he could have gone back to his mill, confronted his wife, demanded to know if it were true – but no. It could serve no useful purpose. All it could do was harm the memory of his Mary and hurt poor Flora. Ben would survive, and Gilda would probably be granted a pension from Sir Ralph, the bastard ! No, Flora didn’t deserve to be hurt. And she might still be his own daughter. Gilda couldn’t know which was Sir Ralph’s and which was Huward’s child.