Crowner's Crusade (31 page)

He was due to call on Hugh de Relaga at the Guildhall after the cathedral bells had rung for Sext and None. By then, the High Street was already grey slush churned by the feet of hundreds of traders, porters and goodwives doing their shopping at the stalls that lined the main streets of the city. Hugh greeted him with his invariable good humour and a cup of hot posset, welcome on such a cold day.

He reported that trade was doing well, even though no exports could be dispatched out of the deep-sea sailing season – and also in spite of the greatly increased taxes to pay for the king's ransom. The previous king Henry had imposed a ‘Saracen tithe' to help pay for the coming Crusade and now Hubert Walter had introduced a new ransom tax on both income and movable goods.

‘Still, there's still plenty left for us, John' said Hugh cheerfully, as he pushed a heavy bag across his table towards his partner.

‘Any news of the king?' asked John in a sombre voice. ‘It will soon be exactly a year since he was taken in Vienna.'

‘I had a trader in here only yesterday, who had come from Dover on a coastal vessel in only five days,' replied Hugh. ‘He said that the second instalment of fifty thousand marks was due to be taken to the Emperor by Queen Eleanor herself. It will be taken by wagon down to Queenhithe and put aboard a ship a few days before Christ Mass
⁶
.'

John knew that a similar payment had been safely delivered early in November. ‘Let's hope that this will secure his release after all these delays,' he grunted. ‘I'd not trust Henry of Germany an inch – and neither does the old queen, by the sound of it.'

After an hour's talk about their business and the need for a new contract with Buckfast Abbey for next season's wool, he took his money back to the house. Matilda had gone to the cathedral and he hid the fat purse under the clothes in his trunk. This time he turned the key and put it in his scrip, mindful of the ease with which Joel the Ravisher had broken into the house in Sun Lane.

The rest of the short day was spent in aimless activities, which brought home to him the problem of what to do with the rest of his life. He took Bran for a trot down on Bull Mead, the open ground below Southernhay, where the fairs and tournaments were held, then came back for his dinner of poached salmon and mutton stew. Matilda announced that her brother had sent a message to ask her to visit him that afternoon at his town house in North Street.

‘Richard is staying there a night on his way down to Revelstoke,' she said haughtily. ‘He is returning from Gloucester, where he has been on important business.'

John guessed that his business was with the Count of Mortain, whose prime residence was at that city on the Severn, as he had married Isabel, Countess of Gloucester at the time that his brother Richard had gained the throne and given him his six counties. What Richard de Revelle was doing at Gloucester was a matter for speculation, but John suspected that he was angling for further advancement.

When his wife had left in her best finery, trailed by the dismal Lucille, who always seemed to have a head cold and running nose, John took himself to the castle to pass the time. As usual, Gwyn was there playing dice with the gatehouse guards and they went to the keep together to find Ralph Morin. At the bottom of the steps, they heard a commotion from the undercroft and saw Stigand hauling himself up the steps in a state of agitation.

‘He's killed the other fellow!' he wheezed as he came nearer. ‘Strangled him with his bare hands!'

Gwyn pushed the obnoxious gaoler out of the way and hurried down the steps, de Wolfe close behind. In the gloom of the undercroft, they could see that the outer gate in the iron fence was open and once inside, they could see the large figure of Joel sitting on the sleeping slab of the largest cell at the end of the row. The gate to this was padlocked and they peered in to see what had happened, gagging at the stink that came from inside.

‘He's dead, the bastard!' snarled Joel, raising his head. ‘He had it coming, trying to steal my piece of bread.'

Lying on the filthy straw of the sodden floor, they could see an inert shape, the body of Arnulf of Devizes, the man they had captured after the attack on the priest and nuns.

‘Did you kill him?' barked John, though the question was unnecessary, as no one else was in the cell with him.

‘I did indeed – and saved you the trouble of a hanging,' grunted Joel, with brazen indifference. ‘And you can't string me up twice, so why should I care?'

Stigand had waddled up to them by now, puffing with exertion.

‘Why did you shut these two in the same cell, you fool?' demanded John.

The fat man shrugged. ‘Saved me emptying two buckets of their ordure . . . What did it matter, anyway? They were both going to die.'

John shook his head despairingly at the man's inhumanity. ‘I'll tell Sergeant Gabriel to get a couple of men down here to shift the body out. For God's sake, clean that place out, put fresh straw down. I told you before, even if a man is going to the gallows, there's no need to treat him far worse than any pig in a sty!'

Upstairs, they found Ralph Morin in his chamber and told him of the death below his feet. The castellan sent a soldier to find Gabriel and then went out with them into the hall, to sit near the firepit and share a jug of cider. The talk soon turned to Richard de Revelle and John told them of his recent trip to Gloucester.

‘It's not time for him to take the tax money there, so he's up to something else,' he concluded.

‘So that's where he's been, the crafty devil!' said Ralph. ‘He's not been in his chamber for more than a week.'

John had previously told Ralph about the cathedral's desire to have a sheriff appointed and the castellan agreed with John that this may have been the reason for de Revelle's trip.

‘Hubert Walter won't stand for a sheriff being put in by Prince John!' he declared. ‘We all know that we need one, but pray God it's not de Revelle!'

But later, that was exactly the news that John received. Matilda came home well after dusk fell, escorted by a couple of her brother's servants. As soon as she came into the hall, he could tell that she was almost bursting to tell him her good tidings.

‘My brother is to be the new sheriff!' she exclaimed, even before she shed her heavy cloak into Lucille's waiting arms. ‘Prince John himself has given him the post, on the recommendation of the bishop.'

Matilda was almost visibly swollen with pride, as her brother was her idol, a paragon of success in the world. The main beneficiary of their rich father's will, Richard had estates in several counties. He was well educated and literate, and she compared him very favourably to her own husband, whose only talents she perceived were wielding a sword, drinking and wenching. She conveniently ignored the money he had brought to them from campaigning and tournaments and the present very profitable partnership with Hugh de Relaga.

‘He takes office straight away, after the appointment is confirmed by the county court,' she crowed. ‘As I am his sister, we will be invited to more feasts and events, which will give you a chance to better yourself amongst the important people in the county!'

She was so benign and happy that John could not bring himself to deflate her and start another quarrel by pointing out that the prince had no authority to appoint a senior officer of the king. He mumbled some non-committal sounds and her euphoria glossed over his obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Matilda had not yet finished her good news. ‘My brother has invited me to spend the Feast of Christ Mass with them at their manor in Tiverton,' she gushed.

‘He is returning to Revelstoke tomorrow to fetch Eleanor, then they will collect me in a week's time and we shall all go to Tiverton. I will be away a week, but no doubt you will find plenty to occupy you, John.'

A barbed undercurrent of sarcasm had crept into her voice, but her mood was too buoyant to pursue it. There was no mention of him being included in the invitation, for which he was truly thankful.

Dragging Lucille behind her, she went straight to her solar, as she had had supper with her brother – not enquiring whether John had eaten. No doubt she was checking all her gowns and cloaks, he thought cynically, to see what further finery would be needed to befit a sheriff's sister. John leaned down from his seat by the fire to stroke the head of his now-famous old dog.

‘We're in for some tempests in the next few weeks, Brutus,' he murmured. ‘When her brother gets kicked out by Westminster, I suppose she'll shift the blame on to me, as usual!'

I
t was now two months since they had occupied the house in St Martin's Lane and during that time, John's enforced celibacy had become irksome. Hugh de Relaga had told him that Thorgils had decided to give up even coastal voyages for the rest of the winter, so seeing Hilda was out of the question. He had no desire to resort to brothels, as he had done occasionally in his younger days – and which he knew Richard de Revelle still patronized, as there was no lack of them in Exeter.

Relief came easily and from an unexpected quarter.

From the first, his relations with Mary were cordial, as there was an immediate rapport between them, but one free of any emotional ties. She rapidly learned of the smouldering antagonism between John and Matilda and an unspoken conspiracy developed between them to improve his lot. It was Mary who fed him, supplied him with clean clothes and gave him refuge and companionship in her kitchen shed. It was Mary who got him hot water to shave and wash once a week and the sight of him naked when he sometimes discarded his nether garments to be washed, never gave rise to any embarrassment. Though the master-servant relationship persisted, they were friends in every sense of the word. She had a roguish eye and, at her age, was by no means a virgin, so rapidly the occasional touch and gesture developed into a hug and kiss. Before long, they were enjoying a quick tumble on her mattress in the kitchen shed, when Matilda was either at church or fast asleep.

The only problem was Lucille, who lived in her box under the solar steps. It was only a few yards away and Mary soon realized that the French girl was well aware of what was going on. As the two were not particularly friendly, she did not trust Lucille to keep her mouth shut, especially to her mistress. Mary fed her and was civil to the girl, but partly because of language problems, Lucille never unbent towards the cook.

By late December, Mary had reluctantly decided to stop bedding her employer, confessing to him that she could not afford to risk losing such a good job and a home for the sake of an occasional tumble. John accepted with good grace and confined his activities to a quick hug and a kiss.

A few days before the celebration of Christ's birth, Richard de Revelle reappeared, whilst journeying between his Devon manors. John avoided him, as he knew that a sneering or shouting match would be inevitable if he tackled him about his invalid appointment as sheriff. He preferred to leave it to the men in London and Winchester to react as they thought fit. Richard's acidulous wife, Lady Eleanor, who as the daughter of an earl, looked down on Matilda in the same way that the latter sneered at John's less affluent family, was travelling to Tiverton in a litter. John felt a little admiration for his own wife, who refused to join Eleanor in her swaying conveyance and insisted on riding a horse to Tiverton. For all her other many faults, she had been a competent horsewoman since her youth and John now hired a good rounsey for her from Andrew's stable, fitted with a side saddle.

He saw the cavalcade off when Matilda joined it at the corner of the lane with the High Street and as they made their ponderous way towards the East Gate, he breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of a whole week to himself. Lucille, who was too timid to approach a horse, let alone try to ride one, was left behind, which ruined any chance of reviving his activities with Mary.

It was four days before Christ Mass, the exact anniversary of the Lionheart's capture in Vienna and later he and Gwyn sat rather despondently in the Bush, drinking ale and going over that fateful day in their minds.

‘We did all we could, Sir John,' said the Cornishman quietly. ‘The two of us couldn't have saved him against those odds.'

John had to agree. ‘I suppose not, it was a hopeless venture once we had turned around after Sicily. Looking back, I suppose we should have pressed on to the Spanish coast, it would have been a better prospect than trying to creep through central Europe.'

Eventually they left this overworked topic and went on to the other matter that had Exeter's gossips in full spate. Nesta had joined them, looking pert and pretty in a green kirtle, with a white apron tied around her slim waist, a lock of her auburn hair peeping from beneath her linen coif. John had abandoned his headgear, now that the wound had healed to a reddened scar, buried under his own black thatch.

‘When does de Revelle think he's taking over as sheriff?' she asked. ‘I've only met the man once, but disliked him on sight when he came here trying to buy the inn, taking advantage of a newly bereaved widow.'

‘It's supposed to be directly after Christ Mass, according to Matilda,' said John. ‘The actual appointment will be confirmed by the Shire Court, but will be a formality, as half those freemen, bailiffs and serjeants are in Prince John's pocket already.'

‘Gabriel told me this morning that Ralph Morin has sent a message by the courier about it to the Justiciar,' announced Gwyn. ‘Let's hope he gets there safely, not like that poor fellow Smale.'

Nesta hurried away to settle some argument between Molly and Edwin over where to put the decorations for the coming festival.

A pile of freshly cut ivy and holly was lying on the floor and Gwyn and John joined in the task of wreathing them around the walls and hanging them from the rafters.