The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) (21 page)

The
Faucon Dieu
must surely turn up soon. Where in God’s name
was
she?

A horrid thought jumped into the Sergeant’s mind. It wasn’t only Bretons who attacked ships. The men of St Nicholas were more than capable of taking to the seas when they were feeling the pinch. The spoil from a couple of merchants’ ships would compensate for a poor harvest, for instance. This summer, the weather had been indifferent and most of the crop had suffered; it would be no surprise if David got together a band of men to find a ship and steal the cargo, murdering all the men aboard. They could have been the fellows who sought to take the
Anne
, but were prevented … if they had met with the
Faucon Dieu
, they could have taken her easily.

Thomas sat very still, gazing intently at the door before him. Automatically, he took the dagger from the secret sheath under the table-top and gripped it hard. If the men of St Nicholas had taken his ship, he would wreak the most terrible revenge upon them, he promised himself. After all, people who raided ships deserved all they got. Their punishment was to be the sea’s prey.

The cottage was not far from Tedia’s, and she led him back up the beach towards it. Mariota’s home was a somewhat dilapidated building, with the thatch thin and weakened by the storms. A well stood in a yard, some boards laid over it to stop unwary chickens falling in, and beyond was a little garden with a few spindly beans and peas, long past their best.

‘Here we are,’ Tedia said, and settled Baldwin on a bench by the door. In a moment, Mariota had joined them.

She
was a shortish woman, with wide hips and a compact, powerful body. Large breasts jutted above her belt, and her sharp eyes studied Baldwin, creating an impression of hostility, he thought, but only for a moment. Then her eyes crinkled and she smiled. ‘So, Sir Knight. You look drier and cleaner than when I last saw you.’

‘I am well, I thank you, if a little sore and tired,’ Baldwin said.

‘It was Mariota here who mended your clothing,’ Tedia explained as she brought out a large cup of wine.

‘I am grateful to you, then,’ Baldwin said and sipped. It was a delicious, sweet wine, and he smiled at the flavour for a moment, and then his mind turned to wondering how a woman like Mariota could have afforded it and his smile faded.

‘It was nothing. The least I could do,’ Mariota said warmly. ‘I should have found you myself. You were nearer to me than Tedia’s. Still, it was foul weather that night.’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. He was about to speak when he saw Mariota’s look go from him to Tedia, a small grin on her face.

She said, ‘So then, Tedia – have you tested the length of his sword?’

Baldwin was about to say that he had lost it, when he caught the true meaning of her words. As Tedia laughed aloud, Baldwin could only feel a rising embarrassment, and mumbling about returning to the beach, he drained his cup.

Back outside, Simon took deep breaths to rid his lungs of the foul air in the cell. He had to get away from the castle. Standing here beneath the walls of the keep, he was taken with a feeling of loathing for the place, and he turned through the gates, past the donkeys bringing in the smaller loads from the ship, narrowly escaping being squashed against a wall by a two-wheeled cart. Soon he had left the castle behind him, and he headed south.

The sun was high, and here, before the castle, he was given a clear view over the sweep of the great bay in which his ship sat. Rather than get stirred up at the sight of Ranulph Blancminster’s men raping the
Anne
, he stared beyond her to the south.

The
sea was a marvellous expanse of blue with bright sparks where the sun was reflected. In the far, far distance, he saw a pair of ships with their sails billowing. Perhaps they were fishing – Simon couldn’t tell. It would be some time before he became used to the different vessels, just as it would be some little while before his guts grew accustomed to their motion over the waves. He was quite certain that he
would
grow used to such things, because other men did. Look at Baldwin: he never minded sailing …

Simon felt buffeted by a hammer of grief. It started in his ribcage, and the pain of it leaped up into his throat like a thick bolus; he could scarcely breathe, and then his eyes grew prickly. A tear formed as he remembered his friend’s stern but kindly expression. It was terrible to think that he was gone for ever. Simon would have to go to see Jeanne and tell her himself that her husband was dead. He couldn’t expect anyone else to do that. He wouldn’t
want
anyone else to do it. It was the last service he could do for his comrade.

Strange. They had been friends since 1316, yet it felt as though they had been companions for much longer. There was something about the knight which invited loyalty; maybe the way that he respected almost all men, and was reluctant to make assumptions about someone’s guilt based solely on their status in the world. Baldwin held firmly to the principle that the truth was the only issue of importance in an investigation.

Simon sniffed, about to walk into the open, when a low, malevolent snarl at his heel made him jump with fright. At the side of the road was a large hound, crouched low like a cat ready to pounce, his great shoulders rippling with power, head a scant inch from the ground, his tail still except for a little twitching at the tip. Large amber eyes held Simon’s fixedly.

‘It’s all right, boy,’ said a voice.

Simon looked up and saw the figure of Hamadus.

‘Christ Jesus, Sexton!’ he said.

‘Aha, you shouldn’t misuse the Lord’s name like that,’ Hamadus remonstrated. The dog gave a low rumble again. ‘Calm down!’ The old fisherman appeared to take his silence for an apology. He glanced
down at the port. ‘I’m sorry. It must be distressing to see your ship pulled apart like that,’ he said, more kindly.

‘It’s hard,’ Simon agreed.

‘Better than not being alive to see it, though.’

‘I only hope that I can find my belongings.’

Hamadus squinted at him. ‘If it’s something worth holding, it’ll have already disappeared,’ he said reasonably. ‘Those men aren’t there for fun, you know.’

‘No,’ Simon agreed mournfully. He had not thought that his private belongings could have been taken. It was fortunate that he had already sold most of his goods on his journey. There was little to lose. ‘I suppose not.’

‘No suppose about it. The thieving bastards would take the skin off your back if they reckoned they could get away with it and make a profit.’

‘If they’re such thieves, why doesn’t Ranulph or Thomas go and keep an eye on them?’ Simon asked, unthinking.

Hamadus gave him a long and contemplative look. ‘They are the men who ordered the theft, man.’

Simon shot him a frown of disbelief.

‘Don’t believe me?’ Hamadus said without rancour. ‘Wait till you see more of the island and our master before you judge.’

‘Who actually has the power here?’ Simon asked shrewdly.

‘You are a wise man,’ Hamadus said with twinkling eyes. ‘Well now, up there,’ he pointed northwards, ‘on St Nicholas, the man who’s
supposed
to have the power is the Prior. After all, he’s the man put there by the Abbey in Tavistock. But there are only a few monks at the priory, and they could easily be overwhelmed by the men of the vill. St Nicholas has about fifty men at the vill and about the place, and if they refused to work and perform their labours for the priory, the priory would have to close. The man with the real power is the reeve, David, because the reeve is looked up to by all the men of the vill, and at the same time the Prior daren’t upset him, because the reeve is his ambassador in the vill. The reeve lets him know when there is a discontented feel in the air, and the Prior can put things right.’

‘Why
should he wish to upset his reeve?’

Hamadus gave him a curious gaze. ‘Perhaps the Prior disapproves of some of the reeve’s activities. Even so, he doesn’t want to cause conflict. With so few monks, it would be easy to overrun the priory.’

Simon noted that he had not answered his question, but since Hamadus appeared unwilling to continue, the Bailiff nodded as though content.

‘Well,’ Hamadus continued, ‘it’s the same here. The man on top should be Ranulph de Blancminster, the Lord of the Manor and castellain. But all his business with the people here is dealt with by that lying, thieving bastard of a Sergeant. What Thomas wants, Thomas gets. He orders the men about the castle, he administers the collection of taxes, and no doubt pockets some, just as any good tax-gatherer will. He commanded the gather-reeve, poor devil, and he still commands the men-at-arms. Ranulph has little power in reality. He thinks he owns this place, but it’s his man who runs it all.’

‘Are there many villeins here?’

‘I suppose eighty or ninety families. Ennor is a good island,’ Hamadus responded.

‘And on St Nicholas the peasants are answerable to the priory, not to Ranulph?’

‘Aye. There’s little love lost between the two islands.’

‘Why is that?’

Hamadus kicked at a pebble. ‘Perhaps islanders can feel hunger and disaster more than folk on the mainland. People over there reckon a bad harvest will mean a hard winter, but they don’t know the half of it. Here, if we have a bad harvest, we starve. In winter, there aren’t the boats to bring enough food. We can’t go to the next market to demand help, we can’t walk the roads begging alms like someone from the mainland. No, if there’s not the stock put by, we go hungry. So sometimes in the past, islanders have been forced to put to sea to try to win a prize.’

‘You mean that they have turned pirate?’

‘At times. And the harvest is poor this year.’

‘Why should that mean that the two islands resent each other?’

‘Here
on Ennor, Thomas and his men control the people. It’s only the folk of St Nicholas who can slip the leash when they feel they must, and who go to take Breton ships.’

Simon nodded. So that was why the Prior was annoyed with his reeve. The latter was little more than a pirate-leader, and took his friends out with him on his raids! No wonder, too, that the men of Ennor disliked their neighbours.

‘What of the death of the gather-reeve? Do you think
he
was corrupt?’

‘Do you know a man who pays his taxes and rents who doesn’t believe the gather-reeve is a thief?’ Hamadus chuckled with a wheeze. ‘Everyone thought he was bent.’

‘So anyone could have killed him.’

‘It’s possible,’ the old man said. ‘How much shall I help you? Put it like this, master: if a man was going to murder another with a knife in the chest, either he was trusted enough to get close to the gather-reeve, or he was an assassin, and Robert knew nothing of his approach.’

‘True enough.’ Simon wondered who was honourable here. Peasants weren’t honourable, nor apparently were Ranulph or his men. The islands seemed full of men who were happy to turn thief as soon as a battered ship appeared in sight. It was a depressing thought.

‘Cheer yourself!’ the old fisherman urged him. ‘Surely no island man would think of killing a fellow in that devious way. They’d all stand before their enemy and demand a fight; they wouldn’t slip a knife in a man’s breast as he was planning to meet his woman.’

‘His woman?’

‘A woman who lives on St Nicholas,’ Hamadus said, as though reluctantly.

‘How would he have got there?’

‘No doubt he had a boat to convey him.’

‘There was no sign of one. Perhaps his murderer took it?’

‘Perhaps.’ Hamadus was looking at him oddly, as though wondering whether to tell him more. Simon pressed him, ‘What were you doing on the night he died?’

‘I
was cleaning the church. William was up on the hill with his flock, so I stayed in the church to see that it was safe.’

‘You saw nothing of this Robert?’

‘Not since that morning. He visited me to ask for more rents – but my dog persuaded him to rethink his plans!’ Hamadus wheezed with amusement.

‘I can’t think why,’ Simon said drily with a glance at the great beast.

‘Oh,
he’s
all right, Bailiff. It’s the animals with two legs on this island you have to worry about!’

‘So you saw no one?’

‘While in the church? No.’ Hamadus peered at Simon. ‘But perhaps when I was walking home I saw Thomas, the Sergeant. He wasn’t in the castle when night fell. He got back late, so I heard, and very wet from the storm. I wonder where he was before that? Now, I have to return to my work. Godspeed!’ Hamadus walked away with a light whistle. The dog immediately rose, moving with a lissom smoothness that was more feline than canine, and slunk around Simon to trot down the track towards La Val at the bottom of the hill.

Simon stood watching. He was not normally afraid of dogs, but that one, he confessed to himself, was enough to scare a man witless. He would hate to think of it attacking him in earnest.

Baldwin
was at last forced to confess defeat. They had walked all the way along the flats while the tide retreated, resolutely ignoring Mariota’s smutty innuendo, until at last Tedia pointed.

‘Look. Now you can see the sands all the way to Ennor.’

‘It appears as though a man could walk all the way,’ Baldwin observed.