The Death Ship of Dartmouth: (Knights Templar 21) (40 page)

‘And he’s got the Lord Despenser’s papers. All he does, he does in Despenser’s name.’

Hamund frowned disbelievingly. ‘You mean you’ll do nothing about it? The man’s got papers, and that means he can murder who he wants?’

‘No, of course not. Not unless he’s got good reason.’

‘You reckon Will would have given him good reason?’
Hamo choked. ‘Gentle old Widecombe Will?’

Ivo gestured peevishly as he struggled to think what to do. ‘I can’t just jump on a ship and arrest a knight. He’d have us all taken off and hanged.’

‘He might be dead before he could do that,’ Hamo said.

‘You think so?’ Ivo said icily. ‘Look – the bloke’s a friend of Despenser. Haven’t you heard anything about him? He’ll just sign a paper releasing his friend, and then we’ll be hanged. The Sheriff won’t dare to do anything to help us. Who’re we to him?’

‘Right. If you won’t come, I’ll get help elsewhere.’

‘Tell me where, and I’ll come too,’ Ivo said.

‘The Keeper of the King’s Peace – he’s staying with the Port’s Keeper.’

‘Another knight …’ Ivo mused.

Hamund was keen to see the Keeper for his own reasons. ‘Shall we go and see him, then?’

Ivo chewed at his lip uncertainly, then without speaking led the way up the road to Simon’s house, where the three found the door standing wide. ‘Bailiff?’ Ivo called. ‘Bailiff?’

There were voices in the hall, and he entered slowly, fearing what he might find. No man left his door gaping in the middle of the night unless there had been some disaster. He peered round the doorway into the hall. ‘Sir?’

‘Get in here, man,’ Simon snapped. ‘What do you want at this time of night?’

Hamund followed him inside and saw his friend. ‘Pierre! Thank God, you’re all right!’ he cried in delight.

‘I am so at present,’ Pierre smiled, glad to see Hamund
again.

‘What is all this about?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘The gaoler, a good man called Will, is murdered,’ Hamo said, bowing his head respectfully to the knight. ‘There were sailors held there, but their master, the knight Sir Andrew, freed them and killed Will because he took too long to open the door. That’s what he thought, anyway. He died a little while after telling me this.’

Baldwin and Simon exchanged a look, but it was Sir Richard who snorted, shifted his sword, and hooked his thumbs on his belt.

‘Keeper,’ he said, ‘I know that this is a dangerous affair, and we don’t know where it might end, but this man Will has to be avenged. It is our duty to catch the murderer.’

Simon said nothing, but took up his sword and buckled it about his waist. ‘Take us to the gaol first,’ he said to Ivo.

Hawley had spent some time going through his chest with his second clerk, who spent much of his time when he thought his master wasn’t looking, staring at the bound and gagged figure on the floor rather than keeping tabs on the money.

A small sack of coins had been found in Strete’s tunic, hidden at his breast, and at last, when Hawley had the tally, he sat back on his heels and nodded to himself. He put the sack back in his chest and locked the lid. The key he weighed in his hand a moment, then he reopened the lid, took out three pennies, and locked it again.

‘These are for him. Stick them in his purse,’ he said to the
clerk.

It was tempting to hang the bastard or, more sensibly, to stab him and leave him in the woods over the town where he wouldn’t be found until his bones had been picked clean. Or take him to sea and dump him there. The man had been as treacherous as any could be, and he deserved to die for that. Any sailor found stealing at sea could be summarily dealt with, and a man who stole from his master here on land deserved the same fate. That was Hawley’s view, and he held to it rigidly.

However, he
was
on land – and killing men willy-nilly in Dartmouth would be sure to be frowned upon. God damn it.

‘Get Cynric and bring him to me,’ he said to the clerk. ‘You can go back to your bed.’

The man scuttled away, relieved to be free of his stern-faced master. Before long Cynric appeared in the doorway, saying laconically, ‘He told me what’s happened. You want me to string him up?’

‘No. I’ve a better idea. Take him to the Porpoise and leave him in there by the gaming room.’

‘They’ll not like him being unable to repay his debts,’ Cynric smiled, seeing how Strete was shaking his head in shock and horror, moaning through the gag.

‘He has three pennies – perhaps they’ll help him a little.’

‘Yes. It’ll make them keep him to entertain themselves that bit longer,’ Cynric chuckled, and grabbed Strete by his ropes. He swung the body up and over his shoulder with arms that had muscles standing out like cables. Then he turned and left the house.

The gaoler remained on the floor, the blood slick on the ground all about him. Baldwin felt his anger rise as he took in the sight. ‘This is a disgrace,’ he muttered coldly. ‘He was only doing his job.’

‘They released all the men, and then Sir Andrew just pushed the knife into him and ripped it up to kill him,’ Hamo said.

‘I will not let a damned butcher like this escape,’ Coroner Richard grated.

Baldwin glanced at Pierre. The squire and he had both seen such killings before.

‘It’s a slow way to kill an enemy,’ Pierre said. His face was twisted with disgust. ‘The slowest, perhaps.’

‘And the most cruel. This was the act of a man without honour or compassion. He must be caught.’

Simon, who always had qualms about viewing the more unpleasant corpses, stood at the door with his arm at his nostrils to keep the smell of opened bowels and blood at bay. The thought of a knife slicing through the belly and intestines of this old chap Will was appalling, and he felt himself filled with a righteous fury.

‘R
IGHT!’
Sir Richard said, speaking slowly and precisely. ‘Sergeant, I want you to gather some men and go to the inn. If Sir Andrew is there, arrest him. If he attempts to escape or refuses to go with you, you have my authority to use all force necessary.
Is that clear?
’

‘Yes, sir.’

Baldwin added, ‘If he is not there, come straight back here at once. You – Hamo, isn’t it? You must go to the houses of Master Hawley, Master Kena and Master Beauley. Tell them
that the
Gudyer
’s crew has attacked and murdered this man, and that we need a force to protect the town against them.’

‘I will, sir.’

‘What of us?’ Hamund said.

Baldwin glanced at him, then at Pierre. ‘It is for you to decide what you wish to do. I would ask you to help us, but if you feel you cannot, I will understand.’

Pierre nodded. ‘I thank you for that. I would like to help you against this man.’

They had only a short wait before Ivo came hurrying along the street with a couple of extra men at his side.

‘He’s not there, Sir Baldwin. They reckon he must be on his ship.’

‘Then we shall arrest him there,’ Baldwin said.

The man at Hawley’s door was a scrawny sailor Hamo had seen about the town often enough, usually drunk. Hamo pushed past him and marched into the hall.

‘What do
you
want?’ Hawley asked, surprised and annoyed.

‘The Keeper has asked you to come and see him, master.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s been a murder. There are some sailors abroad in the town, and he wants to catch them – quietly.’

Hawley nodded as he pulled his baldric over his head, settling his sword at his hip. Then he followed the lad out into the street and up the road. At the gaol he found Kena and Beauley waiting for him, and Baldwin explained what he intended.

‘The men we seek have run off to the south. We may
be able to catch a number of them. If so, all well and good. They can be held in the gaol again. The one I want, though, is their master, Sir Andrew de Limpsfield. He it is who incited murder, and he killed the poor gaoler here as well. He’s on his ship. I want him arrested for this killing.’

‘I will come too in my capacity as Coroner,’ boomed Sir Richard.

‘It’s a large ship,’ Kena commented, eyeing the big man doubtfully. He was wondering whether such a bearlike fellow could climb her sides.

‘We can take it,’ Beauley said. ‘We’ve done it before, haven’t we, Master Hawley?’

Hawley nodded, but gave Beauley a hard look. Capturing ships was a part of their job, should they come across an enemy vessel, but it wasn’t something that was spoken of too much, especially in front of men like a Keeper. He wondered whether Beauley had intended to make him sound like the attacker of the death ship.

‘Do you go and prepare, then,’ Baldwin said. ‘I want that man arrested by dawn.’

‘Very well,’ Hawley said. ‘Beauley, I’ll see you at the shore with the men.’

He strode off from the marketplace and hurried to his house. There he roused his steward and told him to gather as many of his crew as could be found quickly, before taking a long draught of wine. Cynric was already back from his mission to the Porpoise, and grinned wolfishly at the thought of the fight to come. Hawley’s belly felt as though he had swallowed liquid fire as the wine hit it, but then a
warmth spread through him.

When he had finished the wine, he went out into the street. The steward had done well. There were five-and-twenty of his stoutest men gathered there, all equipped with their favourite weapons. He beckoned them to follow and set off, explaining what they must do.

The ship stood out clearly from here. Lights sparkled over her deck and two on her mast, and Hawley mused on the best means of attack as he went. The shore was empty: the others weren’t here yet, and he studied the vessel while he waited for them. Before long the Coroner himself arrived, and he and Hawley spoke in low tones, trying to make sense of the defences and plan the assault. As if they needed any warning, they heard a guffaw from the ship, and a man speaking to another, causing a loud explosion of laughter. Sound travelled well over the still water, much better than over land. They spoke in careful whispers.

By the time Kena and Beauley had arrived, the two had made their choice. The
Gudyer
was lying with her bow pointing up river. If they rowed straight to the ship, their vessels would be shown clearly against the lights of the town behind them. All the flickering torches and lamps would make glittering reflections on the soft waves of the river; their oars would leave a fine phosphorescence, and even if the men crouched low, a half-awake watchman must see them clearly. In preference, making use of the darkness that lay on the opposite, eastern shore, they would be almost entirely hidden.

Kena and Beauley agreed with the outlined plan. Hawley and Beauley would circle about the ship. They were the
younger and more vigorous men (a comment with which Kena was content to agree) and would mount the main attack with the fifty men at their disposal. Kena’s team of a further twenty-two would wait until the main attack was underway, and then race for the ship themselves, arriving as a mobile reinforcement. Using their boats they could aim straight for the part of the ship where Hawley and Beauley needed them, ideally.

‘We’ll go down the coast until we’re level with Kingswear, and then cross over,’ Beauley said quietly. ‘Then make our way upriver.’

Hawley shook his head. ‘Go upriver from here. It’ll be slower and harder work, but when we go down towards the ship, we’ll have the river with us, making the approach faster. As soon as we reach the ship, it’s grapnels out and all aboard as quickly as may be.’

Ordering their men to keep all their weapons quiet and prevent them knocking or rattling, the commanders led them to the water’s edge. There were many small rowing boats here, hauled up on the shingle, and the men made a great effort to enter them silently. Even when one man slid under the water, his feet losing their grip on the slippery stones, he held his tongue. All Hawley could see were two anguished eyes gazing at him before they disappeared. Instantly Coroner Richard pulled him up again, and the man stood, mouth clamped shut, shivering with the cold and his shock.

Then they were in the boats. Sir Richard joined Hawley in his, sitting a little ahead of the merchant, who took the steering oar at the back.

At a signal from Hawley, his men began to row slowly
upstream, pulling away firmly in time to his fist’s pounding on his thigh. Other boats followed in the darkness, one overhauling another and making the oars tangle, but they were soon sorted again, and continuing up the river.

Hawley watched the ship from narrowed eyes as they went, convinced that someone must realise the danger, but the watch on the ship appeared to be unaware of them, or, if he had seen them, thought nothing of a group of small rowing boats making off up river towards a fishery on a poaching expedition. They carried on until Hawley considered that they were safe from view. Unless they had a watch in the prow itself, it was unlikely that a sentry would notice them. The man on the main deck would have his view of the river obscured by the jutting castle at the front.

‘
Now!
’ he hissed, and the boats turned swiftly and began the race to the
Gudyer
. Hawley crouched down, the steering oar gripped firmly in his left fist while his right played with the hilt of his sword. The ship was a small, black shape in the distance, a curious round-sided lump with a projecting spike that looked as though it reached up to the clouds that fleeted by. Horn lanterns glowed at the mast and on the deck, making the prow stand out in relief against the blackness beyond.

When Hawley saw that they were nearly at the ship, he hissed a low command and the oars were raised and shipped. The vessel now was a growing mass of wood and spars, ropes thrilling to the wind.

Hawley risked a quick look over his shoulder and saw the boats catching up with him, and the
Gudyer
was near enough now to see the separate strakes of her clinker hull.

He let the boat move on until it reached the rear of the ship, and only then did he nod to the man in the prow.

He stood easily, balancing on the balls of his bare feet, a rope with a grapnel in his hand; swinging it, he eyed the ship and then hurled it upwards. There was a clatter, a rasp of metal on wood, and he had it firm. Another man grabbed hold of a dangling rope and pulled, and then others had their own handholds and were swarming up the sheer side of the ship like so many spiders.