Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

The question was, had they been given a chance to defend themselves? Coroner Roger knew that they had left this place yesterday afternoon, intending to rescue the Coroner’s two men and Saul, and the three had returned safe and well, if grumbling bitterly, and said that the Keeper and his friend were still at the castle. There had been news of a fire, too, but no sign of Baldwin or Simon. It was a known fact that Sir Ralph and his son were capable of taking hostages and ransoming them. If that was what they intended with Baldwin and Simon, Coroner Roger would soon show them the error of their ways.

Although he had never seen the need to broadcast his affection, Roger was fond of both men, and the thought that they might be held in a grotty cell without food was disquieting. Still worse was the thought that they might even now be in peril of their lives. What Sir Ralph could be holding them for, Coroner Roger had no idea, and he didn’t care. If they were being held, he would have them released. If he was to act swiftly, he could come to the castle and surprise the men guarding it. Then he could take the place quickly with a minimum of bloodshed.

The Coroner sat with the Squire and the Reeve, and debated with them the best means of gaining access to the castle. None of them knew it well, but the Squire had passed by it a few times, and the Reeve had once gone there with a message.

‘Sir Richard never had the money to properly guard it and the perimeter is largely a wooden palisade at the rear, dug into the wall.’ The Reeve was a sharp-eyed man with the dark, weather-beaten features of a farmer. Although his waist spoke of his prosperity, the green tunic he wore was faded, and his leather belt was straining as though he had not bought new clothes for many years. He had a quick mind, and spoke with decision about matters he understood.

‘How clear are the approaches?’ Coroner Roger asked. They were using sticks to mark out the land in the dirt at their feet.

‘Not very. There are trees on the hillside behind here, but there is a broad expanse leading to the walls which is still clear. If the guards are attentive, it’ll be a hard fight to break in over the wall. If they aren’t, it’d be quite easy to get in.’

‘What about the front?’ asked Squire Hubert, a heavy-shouldered man in his early twenties with a narrow, regular face and light hair. His eyes were a startling blue, and when they fixed upon the Coroner, Roger had the uncomfortable impression that he was being interrogated. Squire Hubert sat quietly for the most part, deferring to Coroner Roger, but he was clearly a trained warrior. Younger than the other two men, he yet had experience of three wars and had managed men in battle. He was no strategist, he said, but if he was told what he must do, he would achieve his objectives.

‘Clear. There’s roads coming in from the north here, from the east here, and the south too. We could ride to the gate, but then we’d be standing out in the open with arrows and all sorts being thrown at us. Not a nice prospect.’

‘But if we had a small party at the rear, while more go to the front as though to storm, and then pull back as though defeated, the guards might all go to the front, leaving the rear walls clear to be scaled. If need be, we can deal with any individual guards who remain.’

Coroner Roger nodded. ‘That makes most sense. We have to rescue my friends and end this family’s reign of fear.’

‘We’ve heard about their depredations for too long,’ the Reeve said. ‘No one wanted to accuse the new Lord of Gidleigh, though. Bastard! I can’t guess how much he and his son have extorted from people passing by.’

‘You say he killed this miner?’ Squire Hector asked. ‘Do you know of any others he might have murdered?’

‘Not at present, but the main thing is, we have to remove the threat before any others meet the same fate,’ the Coroner said. ‘Especially my two friends.’

‘In which case, we should hurry,’ Squire Hubert said. The sun was rising in the sky. ‘We want to get there before the day is far advanced.’

Their plan was soon agreed. They had almost seventy men, which the Coroner and the Squire both felt was adequate. As they rode, Coroner Roger and the Squire discussed tactics. ‘I’ll take twenty-odd to the gate,’ Coroner Roger said. ‘You take the rest to the rear.’

‘Good!’ Squire Hubert said. His voice was warm and enthusiastic. ‘The Reeve and I shall get in while you are making some little noise, then rush the garrison.’

‘And open the gates so that we may enter,’ Coroner Roger reminded him. ‘But be careful that you don’t visit death on my friends.’

‘One dark man with a beard that covers only the point of his jaw, wearing a crimson tunic; the other a taller man, thicker in the belly, and wearing a tatty green coat and worn boots.’

‘For God’s sake, don’t tell him I said that!’ Coroner Roger said lightly, but in his heart all he could see was a castle in flames, and the bodies of his friends lying in the dirt, trampled by maddened horses and terrified men.

Baldwin left the hall and stood outside in the yard. He was there some while later when Simon walked out.

‘Baldwin, we have to try to get out of here before Coroner Roger arrives.’

‘Yes, you’re right, I know,’ Baldwin said, but Simon could see that his mind was elsewhere.

‘The boy ran at Sir Ralph. There was nothing else you could do.’

‘I could have used the flat of my blade to turn his knives. There was no need to kill him. I am an experienced fighter – and him? He was a monk, in Christ’s name!’

As he spoke, there was a gruff clearing of a throat behind them, and they turned to find Sir Ralph in the doorway to his hall. Seeing that he had their attention, he walked slowly towards them.

‘My Lords, I have to thank you for… Sir Baldwin, I owe you my life.’

‘You do. Undeservedly.’

‘Perhaps. But I shall try to meet your expectations of me,’ Sir Ralph said, a little stiffly, for he had not expected Baldwin to meet him with such discourtesy.

‘My expectations? I doubt that, Sir Ralph! All this mayhem – it’s all your fault, isn’t it?’

The other knight lifted his head with a faint renewal of his past haughtiness. ‘Me? Why should it be my fault?’

‘Because you are the father of all the sins here, that’s why! Do you realise who that boy was, whom I have just executed for you?’

‘The monk? I… I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t you? Yet he was your flesh and blood, Sir Ralph. He was your son!’

‘No,’ Sir Ralph scoffed. ‘He can’t have been. I never saw him before he arrived here.’

‘Call Scut here. Let’s see what he can tell us.’

Roger arrived a few moments later, wiping his hands free of Mark’s blood. ‘What is it?’ he demanded pettishly. ‘I have work to attend to, laying out that poor boy.’

‘That boy,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘Where was he from?’

‘Axminster. The poor fellow was born to a mother without a father. He was one of those taken into the cathedral by Bishop Walter some years ago.’

‘Axminster?’ Sir Ralph said.

‘Did you know a woman there?’ Baldwin pressed him.

‘Well, I did, yes, but surely she would have let me know if I had…’ Sir Ralph closed his mouth. He had met a widow there, it was true, and for a month he had stayed with her, but Mark couldn’t be his son. It was impossible. ‘No, he’s no relation of mine. His blood is not mine.’

‘He thought he was your son,’ Baldwin said.

‘It is true, Sir Ralph,’ Roger Scut said. ‘He confessed as much to me.’

‘And you didn’t see fit to tell me !’ Sir Ralph snarled. ‘Why was that?’