The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) (36 page)

‘Those snail-eating sons of worms are coming farther and farther westwards, aren’t they?’ Thomas said.

‘You
think so? I just wondered …’

Thomas glanced at Walerand’s face. The youth seemed confused, but then he often did. Now his features were screwed into a frown of concentration that was almost painful to behold. ‘What is it?’

‘Just that I didn’t think they’d come all the way here. It’s a long journey home for them, isn’t it? And at risk all the time. You don’t think they’ve found somewhere to lay up, so that they can come and attack ships about here?’

Thomas’s good humour left him. In a flash his earlier reflections returned to him. This was no idle speculation – this was certainty. David had attacked it. Some other islander must have black hair and a beard.

‘No, it’s not Bretons at all!’ he burst out. ‘It’s those damned islanders. They go from their strongholds in St Nicholas and attack honest merchantmen on their way from Guyenne to England, the murderous devils! They attacked this lot because they were sure that the people on board would be carrying a good cargo, but were beaten off, just as the last ones were when they attacked the
Anne
!’ He struck the gatepost. ‘This is the last proof. Maybe it was one of them murdered Robert as well, just because they hated paying customs! And now they are trying to steal more cargos. Well, they have attacked their last ship now! We’ll see to the miserable crew of cat’s offal! We shall end their crimes once and for all!’

‘With twelve men?’ Walerand said scornfully. ‘You reckon you can storm the St Nicholas islanders? Even with all the servants from the castle, they’d be too few.’

‘You are a moronic little turd, aren’t you?’ Thomas said, contempt dripping from his voice like venom. ‘You don’t mind causing pain to a woman or a man weaker than you, but when it comes down to serious work, you cringe and whine. You have no plans greater than seeking an extra penny a day for yourself. You don’t even dream of making a pound, you are so far behind. Perhaps I should not put your name forward to Ranulph to take over Robert’s duties.’

Walerand felt that like a fist in the gut. He whined, ‘I didn’t mean to insult you, sir. You know so much more about these things and I just—’

‘You
just opened your mouth before thinking, as usual! Well, listen then, fool! Perhaps you’ll learn enough to make you useful. We have a ready force of men to help us.’

‘Where?’

Thomas favoured him with a glance in which amusement and derision were mixed in equal portion, before staring out at the
Faucon Dieu.

‘Can’t you see them yet?’ he asked.

Baldwin was delighted to enter the church with the stolid priest and accept a large pot of wine before viewing the corpse.

‘I thought that the Prior would ask someone to come and view the body,’ William said, eyeing this tall knight with interest.

He struck William as a dangerous man. Most knights could appear dangerous in one way or another, of course, but to William’s eye, Baldwin seemed like that most intimidating of men: a powerful officer who was not interested in bribes but who actually sought justice and truth. While speaking to William he seemed to pay a lot of attention to the plight of the people of St Nicholas, but the only time he showed anger was when William spoke of Robert and the flagrant abuses of his power.

‘He was one of the castle’s men, I suppose,’ Baldwin said, frowning. ‘Did his master know that he was trying to steal from the people of the islands?’

‘Of course he did! But Ranulph and his blasted lackey Thomas don’t give a ha’penny damn for what the people feel. As far as they are concerned, the islanders here are no better than cattle. They can be hung, killed, or baited, but God forbid that they should try to retaliate.’

‘Yet someone has retaliated,’ Baldwin observed. He was keen to bring the subject around to the ship in the port, find out whether it was the
Anne.

‘Aye, well, perhaps that was for his other sins.’

‘What other sins?’

‘Who can tell?’ William asked, his face hardening. ‘The man was run out of England when he committed a homicide in a tavern. That
was why Thomas brought him here, because he had killed a man in cold blood, and Thomas saw that he
enjoyed
it. The Sergeant always tries to recruit men who enjoy their crimes.’

‘Thomas himself had no reason to seek this gather-reeve’s death, I suppose?’ Baldwin mused.

‘There were stories …’

‘Such as?’

‘Perhaps Robert learned about some of Thomas’s other ventures. What would Thomas do to silence him then?’

‘What form of venture would that be?’

William set his head to one side. ‘There is only one which would interest Thomas, and that is making money. Men here have their own ways of doing that. Some allege that they turn to piracy, but I doubt that! No, I think that Thomas has his own way of fattening his purse.’

‘Come on,’ Baldwin snapped, eager to be done so he could go and look at the ship. ‘Enough of this innuendo! What does he do?’

‘I can’t explain now. Wait until later, and I’ll introduce you to someone who knows.’

‘Who?’

‘Someone on the island who knows much about the sea. But now we should concentrate on the poor fellow in here.’

‘Of course,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘I believe that he was a priest called Luke?’

‘Yes, Luke was the chaplain of St Elidius, so of course he fell under the Prior’s control. I didn’t like him, I have to admit.’

‘The Prior? Oh, you mean Luke.’

‘Yes. In my vocation, one sees a few men like him: they can’t wait to get their hands on the next woman. It’s bad for the Church, and they risk their eternal souls, but they will still do it, just for a few minutes’ pleasure.’ He sighed loudly.

Baldwin could control his agitation no longer. ‘Before we speak about this Luke, can you tell me: that ship in the harbour – what is she called?’

‘Her?’ William stood and peered. ‘The new one, I don’t know, but the older of the two was called the
Anne
, I think. She came into
port the morning after that terrible storm.’ His mouth fell open with a jerk. ‘Ah! Some day my head will be knocked from my body, and it won’t matter because there is so little in there! Of course! He mentioned a man, a close friend who was washed from the ship during the storm, a knight called Baldwin. There has been much on my mind, Sir Baldwin. My apologies – I should have sent a message to the Prior to tell him of your friend, but – alas! – I forgot!’

‘You have met Simon?’ Baldwin exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

‘Yes, but hold your excitement, friend! He’s at the castle.’

‘That is wonderful! I have to see him at once!’

‘No, you don’t,’ William said forcefully, and stood in front of the knight. ‘No, Sir Baldwin, you mustn’t. I’ll send a messenger to him and ask him to come here to meet you.’

‘I should go at once! He will fear that I am dead, and I should put his mind to rest.’

‘No. If you go there, you run the risk of being kept in captivity. There was another knight on the same ship as you, a man called Charles?’

‘Yes. He was a companion on my way here,’ Baldwin said.

‘He is held prisoner, and I have heard that the Lord of the Manor may decide to have him tried as a felon for drawing a sword on him,’ William explained, and told the story of how Sir Charles had sought to protect the ship. ‘So you see, it could be dangerous for you to go to the castle. Better that I should persuade Simon to come here to meet you.’

‘Friend, I don’t intend to draw a sword on the good Lord of the Manor,’ Baldwin said humorously.

‘Friend, you don’t
have
a sword to draw,’ William responded.

‘So what problem could I have?’ Baldwin asked, confused.

‘Only this: rumours fly about a small town like La Val. I have heard that a sword was found next to the body of a tax-gatherer after the storm, and it may have been used to run him through. But this sword was an odd one, Sir Knight. It had a short blade, like a knight’s riding sword, a bright blue blade, and there was an inscription on it, I’m told.’

Baldwin
smiled, but he could feel his blood moving more slowly about his veins. ‘Well?’

‘Sir, the inscription was a Templar cross, I am told. A sign of evil and the devil.’

‘What does that have to do with me?’

‘I may be a mere priest to a vill of brutes and fools, sir, I may spend most of my days in my fields labouring like my flock, and perhaps I have a little of the slow mind of a local man, but I was educated once, and I can add and subtract. And my addition tells me that the appearance of a knight with no sword at the same time as a body, stabbed with a strange and unique sword found near the body could add up to a knight who met a man and killed him, and then discarded his weapon. If I can add up the matter to that, what could not the Lord of the Manor make?’

‘I see.’

‘And worse, if the Lord of the Manor could show that the man he had captured and killed for the murder of his own gather-reeve, if Ranulph could show that this man had been a Templar Knight, he would be acquitted of homicide, because he would have executed an outlaw. Even if he killed this knight’s friends, he could argue a close case that he had thought them all Templars or he had thought them all heretics with the Templar.’

‘He would hardly think of …’

‘Sir Baldwin, he is holding Sir Charles and is likely to have him executed for drawing a sword on him; if other survivors of the ship die, it means he can take all the goods from it, as well as the ship itself, and keep them. Do you seriously believe that he wouldn’t consider such a course?’ William leaned closer, his face an anxious frown. ‘Believe me, I know this man! He would tweak the nose of the devil if he thought that there was money in it for him!’

Baldwin sat back and stared unseeingly at the wall. He lifted his pot automatically. ‘I never met a man that night. I was almost drowned. The woman, Tedia, found me, and she saved my life. She could swear to my ill health. I was in no fit state to kill anyone.’

William gave a snort. ‘Her evidence wouldn’t do much more than guarantee your death, Sir Knight. The Lord, in his great wisdom, has
decided to view all the islanders of St Nicholas as felons or potential felons. If she was to go to the Lord’s court and swear that you were innocent, he would probably insist on your execution before the day was out.’

‘This is ridiculous!’

‘Of course it is! And it would be alarming if it were not easy to see why Thomas would like to see you convicted.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It will become clear when I introduce you to my friend,’ William said.

‘I dislike the idea of sitting here and not letting
my
friend know that I am alive.’

‘I don’t like it myself. I shall see to it that he is advised of your presence here, and I can ensure that he goes to visit you on St Nicholas. That would be safer.’

‘Then I shall take your advice,’ Baldwin said reluctantly. He hated the thought that Simon could be anxious for him, or believe him dead, as was more likely, but he liked the priest, and if William was to be believed, this would be the safest option.

He tried to put thoughts of Simon from his mind. ‘Now, tell me what you can about this dead man.’

Cryspyn felt happier about the idea of walking unarmed into a lion’s den than sitting here with these two, but he knew that it must be done.

‘I suppose you know what I am about to ask.’

Brosia gave a sidelong glance at Mariota, wondering whether someone had denounced her for flirting with Luke. If anyone would dare, it would be Mariota. The slack-titted draggle-tail had jealousy enough for a vill of lepers staring at a King’s feast; she had no man and was resentful of any attractive woman. Obviously, she hated Brosia, just as Tedia did, because Brosia was better-looking and won the hearts of many men in the area. Luckily David never found out. He wouldn’t be happy to learn that he had been cuckolded.

She was about to open her mouth to deny whatever Mariota had said, when the older woman spoke.

‘Prior,
I’m not up to the task. Ask Brosia here, by all means, but I am too old and ugly to do what you want. Why should a man like Isok want
me
to service him?’

‘I don’t know what a man like him would want,’ Cryspyn said gallantly, ‘because I am chaste, as I should be, but I am sure that a man with fire in his veins would be honoured to have you try to help him.’

Brosia cried out, ‘What, you want us to make him large with semen for his wife?’ She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘
Me?
I’m a married woman, Prior!’

‘I can’t think of a better woman to attempt this. Consider, Brosia, I must have honest women to help with this task. I have been ordered by the Bishop himself to see to it. He suggested three women – can either of you think of a third to help?’

Brosia bridled. ‘This is silly! How can you expect me to try to rouse him when his own wife cannot!’

‘That, I think, is the point,’ Cryspyn said drily. ‘And I have heard much about some successes on the part of certain women in this manor. Perhaps they were overblown.’

Mariota was studying Brosia with delight. ‘Perhaps you fear you aren’t capable of such an onerous task?’