The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) (32 page)

‘I asked the good Bailiff to enquire about Robert’s death, since he has had some experience of such work,’ Thomas said. ‘Perhaps he should let us know how his investigations are progressing.’

‘I haven’t had much time to speak to anyone,’ Simon said.

‘There are not many people up at that part of the island to speak
to
,’ Ranulph said, taking a fresh mazerful of wine from his steward. ‘And those who live there aren’t necessarily going to help an official, eh, Tom?’

The Sergeant smiled in acknowledgement. ‘True. Many of these islanders are less than cooperative when they meet men from La Val.’

Simon chose to say nothing about the men of the castle of La Val. He had only experience of Walerand, and he sincerely hoped that Walerand was not an example of the sort of man who was routinely hired by Ranulph. He said, ‘I questioned a few men, but could learn nothing from them.’

‘Perhaps I should have them rounded up and persuaded to talk,’ Ranulph said ruminatively. ‘My boys like the chance of using their
fists. They can be right persuasive. And any man who has a daughter might decide to open his trap when his daughter is being raped in front of him.’

Simon was about to smile politely, thinking that this was some kind of tasteless sally, but his face froze as he realised that Ranulph was serious.

The Lord of the Manor appeared to notice his sudden stillness. ‘You shocked, Bailiff? You don’t treat a felon that way where you come from? Well, we do. If we find felons, we take them out at low tide to a rock in the sea to the west, with a couple of loaves and some fresh water. And we leave them there. There’s no need for chains or anything, because if they’re found back on the islands, they’re taken straight back, and if they don’t make it here – hah! – there’s little chance of them swimming to another shore! We’re miles from anywhere out here.’

Thomas smiled serenely. ‘I don’t think the Bailiff understands, sir.’

‘No?’ Ranulph swung his leg from the arm of his chair suddenly, and in an instant he had snatched up one of the daggers from the table. It flashed in the light, and then thudded heavily into the wood of the door. An instant later, the second followed it.

Simon did not blink, but he glanced at the two daggers. They had struck the door at a man’s breast height, and where they stood, he saw many other chips and marks where they had hit before.

‘I don’t practise with these every day for my amusement, Bailiff,’ Ranulph said, getting to his feet and retrieving the knives. He hefted one in his hand, eyeing Simon. ‘I won this place in the last year of the old King’s reign, in thirteen hundred and six. The castle’s crenellated now; I managed to get permission from our new King back in the eighth year of his reign, thirteen hundred and fifteen.’ He peered at Simon to see whether the Bailiff understood the significance of this. ‘He has banned all tournaments, he’s restricted castles throughout his realm, he won’t allow his barons to fart without asking him first, but he let me crenellate. You know why? Because Cornwall is the easiest place for an invasion to start. If someone wanted to invade our country, they’d land in Cornwall. And where
would a man start from to get to Cornwall? It would be easy for him to start right here, wouldn’t it?’

Simon nodded, but without conviction. Such strategic matters were for others to consider, rather than him.

‘I have twelve men-at-arms here. Twelve to guard the islands from invasion. It’s not enough. I also have to keep a watch on the people here. These men are my officers, Bailiff, just as you are an officer to, so I hear, the Abbot of Tavistock?’

Simon nodded again, this time more warily. Ranulph was hinting at something, as though the fact that he knew of Simon’s position gave Ranulph power over him.

‘We have some hundred and fifty, maybe two hundred men living here since the famine. That’s all. But they are all strong enough and ugly enough to want to rule their own lives. And we let them much of the time, because it doesn’t hurt us, and it keeps them busy. If they have a fight amongst themselves, so much the better. While they hate their neighbours, they can’t be plotting the ruination of my castle and the murder of my men.’

‘Perhaps if your men were to treat them better, you’d have less need to protect yourself.’

Ranulph gave him a long look, then flicked a dagger up into the air and flung it. The second was in the air before the first slammed into the door. ‘You think so? If I had some feeble milksops here, how long do you think they’d last? The people on these islands are living close to starvation most of the year. The only way they can survive is by occasionally catching a ship and stealing the cargo. That’s the sort of men that my lads have to deal with. You think you can treat pirates with kindness? You reckon appealing to their better nature will win them over?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘What you need is a strong arm, Bailiff, a strong arm and the mailed gauntlet. That’s the only treatment the islanders understand.’

‘I got the impression from William that—’

‘You mean William from St Mary’s? Christ’s armpits! You explain, Thomas.’

‘You see, Bailiff, the priest used to be on St Elidius. There he got to know the pirates quite well. I think they look on him as some
sort of mascot – it is said that he blesses the children but specifically excludes their right hands, so that if they feel the need, they may murder with their right hands any who get in their way, and their hands are only blessed when they die. They have it all thought out. William is in league with them, and the only reason he’s here on Ennor is so that he can spy on us, to the benefit of his friends.’

‘You mean to suggest that he’s a pirate and murderer? I can’t believe that!’ Simon scoffed.

Ranulph continued, ‘It’s true. That’s why we’re so careful what happens here.’

Thomas was concerned now. Simon was growing truculent. As Bailiff to Abbot Robert of Tavistock, he could be a sore embarrassment if he didn’t swallow the story Thomas had concocted; his smiling scepticism at the stories about William, which Ranulph and Thomas knew to be true, was proof enough that he was unsound. Perhaps the Bailiff shouldn’t be allowed to make his way to the mainland again … Without him, the Abbot wouldn’t get to hear about an attack on St Nicholas until it was too late, and Ranulph and Thomas’s stories had already been spread widely from the Earl of Cornwall to the King. That was their only protection. Thomas would try anything to have his revenge on the bastards who’d sunk or stolen his ship.

Then, in preference to killing Simon, Thomas realised that there was another manner of dealing with him. He smiled.

‘If,’ he said smoothly, ‘the islanders here were to think that they could get away with the murder of a gather-reeve, they might think they could attack any of us here with impunity. We
must
find the murderer. Or perhaps we should make an example of someone else.’

‘Like who?’ Ranulph asked, throwing his knives again.

‘If only we could put paid to the pirates of St Nicholas once and for all,’ Thomas said. ‘But we don’t have the manpower. So perhaps we should make an example of someone who has been disloyal or treacherous in some way.’

Simon watched them, and as he did so, he saw a strange look pass between the two: Ranulph seemed frowningly confused, Thomas
smilingly confident. It was his exhaustion, he later considered, which had prevented his understanding that look.

Otherwise he must have realised the implications.

Baldwin awoke lying on his side, with a feeling of intense comfort. He stretched, and immediately was aware of the naked woman who had moulded herself to his back. She lay still, her warmth all along his body giving him a sense of well-being and joy. With his eyes closed, his mind still befuddled with sleep, he smiled, thinking of Jeanne, and how pleasing it was to have such a woman as a wife, and he turned to her. She had rolled away as he turned, and now he pulled her warm body to him, feeling her buttocks slip agreeably into the curve of his lap, her legs fitting about his own, and he slipped an arm under her neck, the other over her torso, his hand cradling her breast, his finger finding her nipple. He bent his head to kiss her shoulder, then her breast while his hand strayed lower, and it was only then that he realised that this was another man’s wife.

She was not withdrawing from him. Indeed she arched her back, sighed, and thrust her arse at him in a manner which left her own desires plain. Lifting her arm over his neck, she turned her head and her lips met his in a soft kiss. It was impossible to reject her. With an exquisite thrill, he felt her lips part slackly, felt the tip of her tongue. Her hand caressed his chest, avoiding his scratches, then it moved down to his groin, taking firm but gentle hold. He could feel her lips broaden into a wide smile. ‘Good morning,’ she murmured.

Baldwin felt a hot rush of guilt at the thought of his wife, waiting at his home for his return, lonely without him, never dreaming that he could betray her, and then he felt Tedia’s lips on his again, and he shivered at their touch.

He should have hurried from the bed, but her soft warmth was captivating, her odour alluring, and her enthusiasm entirely overwhelming. He closed his eyes as she pushed him onto his back and began to make love to him.

Afterwards
Baldwin lay back in the bed with the euphoria thrilling his entire body, listening to Tedia as she prepared food for them and sang with more joy than he had seen in her before. He felt only a wonder and delight, but soon, as he listened, he found his thoughts growing more confused.

He adored his wife Jeanne, and what he had just done was against his oaths to her. He had betrayed her. He was a traitor.

Other men would take any available woman, he knew. His own principles were such that he considered that dishonourable, and yet he had now performed an act of adultery with this woman almost without thinking. And not only had he betrayed his wife, he had done so with a woman already married. She had betrayed her own husband, just as he had his wife.

It made him feel wretched just to hear her happiness. He rolled out of the bed which had become hateful to him, and pulled on his tunic, walking out into the open air. He crossed the track that passed before the house, and went barefoot along the beach.

There was a cleaner smell to the air here, a musky, masculine scent of sea and of salt. He approached the water with a certain trepidation. It was chill, but not cold. He hesitated a moment, and then threw off the tunic and walked into the water. With handfuls of sand, he rubbed his torso and legs until his skin tingled, and then he immersed his entire body, closing his eyes and allowing himself to sink beneath the gentle waves.

Rising again, he was caught by a slight breeze that took the remaining heat from his body, but rather than any sense that he was risking his health, he felt refreshed by it – not that the fact stopped him from pulling on his tunic at the earliest opportunity.

The morning was perfect. There were a few clouds high in the
sky, but mainly all above was clear and blue, an exquisite colour that looked like washed silk. All about him the islands shone in a sea which sparkled with a million stars of sunlight: their sand was a gorgeous yellow like honey, their plants were the most verdant Baldwin could imagine, their leaves bright and glistening as though each had been waxed and oiled for his benefit. All about him, he was aware of birds singing and trilling, while the constant rhythm of the sea was soothing.

Walking to a cluster of rocks, Baldwin sat and stared out south and east. He could imagine that this view was created solely for his enjoyment. The sea looked as flat as the glass Baldwin had seen in the windows of Crediton Church, but the hue was incomparable. There was nothing in his experience which could have matched the sheer beauty of the colour when tied to the sparkling of the sun. Before him was the vista of Ennor with, south and a little west, Agnas. It was peculiar to think that there were these little hillocks of security in the vast seas, and still odder to consider that these same havens had caused the death of Simon and all the crew.

Simon. He had not thought of him for several days now, and yet it was as if the pain was ever-present, always just on the borders of his awareness. Simon was his oldest friend after his servant Edgar, and now he was gone.

Baldwin took a deep breath and was surprised to find that it caught in his throat. His eyes were filling, and he had to bow his head in grief.

It was some while before he realised that the soft sensation at the back of his neck was the warm hand of Tedia. He snorted, swallowed, and wiped his eyes. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘It’s natural enough. You’re a long way from home,’ Tedia said gently. ‘At least you’re still alive.’

Baldwin was able to smile at that. ‘Yes, and in large part that is due to you.’

‘I did nothing that others wouldn’t do.’

‘Really?’ Baldwin was interested. As she went to his side and sat on his lap, he rested a hand on her thigh, another in her hair. ‘All islanders would save a wounded and dying man?’

‘Maybe
not all. Some would merely take them for their slave and force them to lie with them at all hours for sex,’ she said lightly. His hand moved to her armpit and tickled; she gave a brief scream and moved away – but not leaving his lap. ‘There are stories of a man who was found washed up and near death after a storm, and a woman of Bechiek cut off his fingers to take his rings. She didn’t realise he’d survive. Later he was able to show his dreadfully scarred hand, and she was so fearful, she died on the spot. They found his rings in her cottage.’