The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) (39 page)

‘You think I’m dreaming because I’m only a boy, but I’ve heard the men talking. They all say that he’s ruthless, and he’s been on edge for the last few days. Ever since
we
got here.’

There was a knowing tone to his voice, and Simon gave him a quizzical look. ‘What of it?’

‘What happened the night we arrived, Bailiff?’

‘The storm.’

‘Aye. And the murdered man. And Thomas was out that night. He didn’t get back until the storm was begun.’

‘How do you know?’ Simon asked, surprised that Hamo too had heard this. Plainly Oderic had told the truth then.

‘I’
m only a boy. Men talk when I’m around because they can ignore me,’ Hamo said bitterly. ‘It doesn’t matter what I hear because I’m too thick to put two and two together.’

‘Is it common knowledge that Thomas was out that night?’ Simon asked seriously.

As Hamo nodded, Simon stared out to sea. If Thomas
had
been involved in the murder of Robert, perhaps he might suggest that someone else had killed his gather-reeve. A man like Sir Charles was a gift to him. The perfect suspect: a man who had been seen to be violent, who drew his sword first and asked questions later, a man who was used to killing.

That was one thing; there was also the matter of the men of St Nicholas. Simon detested pirates. Now he had experienced at first hand how terrifying their assaults could be, he was happy to think that any who were guilty of attacking innocent ships, like the Bretons who had pursued the
Anne
, should themselves be hunted down and slaughtered. People who routinely committed such crimes deserved all they got.

However, the murder of the gather-reeve was a different issue. Simon was unwilling to see Sir Charles used as a convenient scapegoat in the absence of the true criminal. Especially if Thomas’s action was a result of his own guilt.

Thinking furiously, Simon recalled Sir Charles’s request for weapons. That was one option, of course, but better if Sir Charles and his man could simply be whisked away from here and removed to a place of safety. But the mainland was a long way distant.

First things first: Sir Charles needed a weapon. Suddenly Simon recalled that Robert’s sword had not been found.

‘Hamo, there are some things I think we need to try to do,’ he said meditatively. ‘First, can you find your way to the kitchens?’

Baldwin walked farther up the beach. He had left William and Isok near the place where the body had been found, because he felt in need of solitude. Something about this place was soothing to his nerves, but the company of Isok and William was disturbing.

Isok
had reason to hate Luke, he knew; he also had good reason to detest Robert. Both men had either attempted or were about to assault Isok’s wife. Baldwin was only hopeful that Isok never learned that he himself had already tasted the sweet pleasures of Isok’s wife.

Looking back at the pair of men at the shore, Baldwin felt a renewed pang of regret. He should never have taken Tedia. Her desperate desire was no excuse. Chivalric love stories occasionally permitted a love to be consummated, but generally such pleasures led to disaster – in the tales, the lover and the object of his desire were destroyed by their love. Such were the stories of all great lovers, even Guinevere and Launcelot.

That thought made him look about him with a frown of concentration. This place was called Great Arthur – did that mean it was named for the fabled King? If so, it was a curious choice. This island was certainly no Camelot.

The story of Arthur, his one love, Guinevere, and the King’s betrayal by his most loyal servant, Launcelot, was one which was known to most knights, but here Baldwin felt that it had an especial significance. The place was imbued with a curious spirit. He would ask his two companions whether there were any tales associated with it.

Sitting on a large stone at the southern point of the stretch of land, which rose after the beach, Baldwin found himself considering the man Luke. Certainly he had been a liability as a priest, and he was probably the worst womaniser Baldwin had ever met, other than that terrible Irishman John, whom he had known in Crediton. Luke would ignore any obstacle in his single-minded assault on a woman. He would not worry about husbands, certainly, since Baldwin knew that he had once succeeded in wooing a bride of Christ. He had the nerve to try to steal Isok’s woman from him, probably because Luke felt safe enough, protected by his cloth.

With most men, he would have been safe, too, but in a place like this, an island far from the King’s justice – or the Bishop’s – he would have learned a hard lesson. And that he had, apparently.

Guinevere had betrayed her husband, just as Tedia had betrayed Isok; Guinevere with Launcelot, Tedia with Baldwin.

And
yet earlier she had tried to betray Isok with Robert. Robert, whom she loved already, so that when Luke tried to foist his own affections on her, she read his offer as a licence to sleep with Robert. Whichever way Baldwin looked at it, in this situation the most likely candidate for murderer was Isok. The peasant had learned of Robert’s desire for Tedia from David; he had heard of, or probably saw, Luke’s infatuation with his wife at the chapel each time they went to it. Luke was never one to hide his desires, from what Baldwin recalled.

Slowly, feeling every year of his age, Baldwin walked back to the beach. ‘Let us return,’ he said.

‘It was a waste of time coming here, then,’ Isok muttered. ‘There was nothing to learn, just as I thought.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Baldwin said. ‘Isok, tell me, what did you do the night of the storm?’

‘Nothing.’

His broad back was as undemonstrative as his face, but Baldwin persevered as they trudged back to the boat. ‘You went to your wife, but when you spoke to her, you argued and you left her there, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. She insulted me.’

‘How so?’

Isok turned and glared at him. ‘Because she taunted me on my inability …’ His voice seemed to choke him. Ashamed of his outburst, ashamed of his incapacity, he reddened and had to look away, staring instead at the waters which rolled softly to the shore.

‘Isok, I am sorry if I seem insensitive, but consider: you are the obvious, clear, bitter enemy of the two who are dead.’

‘Me? Why?’

Baldwin smiled apologetically. ‘I have heard of Robert’s desire for Tedia, and that Luke was instrumental in your wife’s attempt to win a divorce. Such things must drive a man mad. Is that what happened the night of the storm? You were prepared to go to Ennor and murder the gather-reeve and then you went to see Luke and murdered him too, putting him into a boat and hoping that he would float away for ever. You had two hated enemies, and you saw to them both in a day. Is that what happened?’

Isok
frowned angrily. ‘I have had to endure the jibes of all my family and friends, with their humorous little comments, ever since my marriage and knowledge of my … my failing. Now you come to me and ask whether I killed someone? Is it not a miracle I killed no one before? Why should I suddenly choose to kill a man
now
? If I was so bitter, I would have lashed out at a man long before now.’

‘Perhaps something occurred which made you lose your mind in rage at the time,’ Baldwin said.

‘No.’

‘Then where were you during that night? Tedia said you were not with her.’

‘I went and slept in a friend’s house. Tedia’s Aunt Mariota looked after me, and stopped me from going out. She told me to remain in her home, and then she went to discuss the thing with Tedia. She wouldn’t want a niece of hers to become a divorced woman, she said. It was dishonourable.’

‘So she left you, went to speak to Tedia, and when she returned … what?’

‘She stayed there. Next morning Tedia came, but said she wouldn’t see reason. That was all. I would have to go through with the shameful tests.’

They had reached the boat, and Isok glowered at Baldwin as the knight and the priest climbed in. Isok walked to the anchor and picked it up, then placed it carefully in the boat before shoving it until it was off the sand and rocking gently. Then he climbed inside, dripping, and pushed away from the shore with an oar. While he prodded the sand, using the oar like a punt’s pole, he spoke. ‘Tedia was a wonderful wife to me. You should have seen her on the day we wed. She was tall, slim … perfect. We loved each other completely.’

He stopped. The oar he set away on the boat’s bottom, and then let the sail fall free. Tying the sheets until the vessel was moving at a fair speed, he sat at the back before he continued.

‘I think that she still does, but her mind is poisoned by the number of people who have told her that the only part of life which matters is sex. Brosia is always on at her about how much men look to her and not to Tedia; Luke desired her and was prepared to
do anything to win her; Robert adored her, I think. But so do I. I would kill any man who harmed her, yes, but I can’t stop her trying to leave me if she wishes it. If she has decided she no longer wants me as her husband, then I cannot force her to love me. Yet I will still love her.’

It was the truth. Tedia would always, to him, be his wife. He hated discussing her and his marriage before a stranger, but there was something about this knight that made the experience less painful. Something in the man’s eyes made Isok feel as though Baldwin felt sympathy for him. There was compassion in his face, as there was in Father William’s as the priest said quietly, ‘Isok, I think I understand a little of what you’re experiencing. Come and talk to me if you need to discuss anything. I will always have an ear for your problems.’

‘Thanks, Father, but I’ll be all right.’

Baldwin was looking out at the sea as he asked, ‘I suppose you slept poorly that night in Mariota’s house?’

‘How could I sleep? I had just learned that my wife didn’t love me.’

‘She told you that?’ Baldwin asked.

‘She didn’t have to! I mentioned what David had said about a man who was cuckolding me, and I saw in her eyes that it was true! That was why I left. I couldn’t stay there. I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t hit her, do something I’d regret!’

‘You went to Mariota’s house; you state that you didn’t kill Robert or Luke. Yet when you were walking to Mariota’s house, did you see anyone else out at the time?’ Baldwin pressed. ‘Someone certainly
did
kill Robert and Luke. With two murders, it is surely most likely that the killer was the same person in both cases. Someone who was out at Ennor on the night of the storm and who had reason to wish to see Robert dead. The same person wanted Luke dead – although we have no means of knowing exactly when he died, of course.’ Having spoken, he bent his head, considering. Isok’s words had introduced another person with time and ability to kill Robert – Tedia’s aunt. Much though Baldwin disliked the thought, he knew that women were often guilty of homicide.

While
Baldwin’s attention was concentrated down at the boat’s planks, William found himself staring at Isok, and his eyes narrowed as he saw Isok glance shiftily in his direction. William was shocked by that look. It made Isok look as guilty as a newly hanged felon, and he was tempted to call the other man’s attention to it, but he knew that as soon as he had done so, Isok’s face would have returned to its natural bullish resentment. There was no point. Still, William resolved to keep a close eye on Isok while he could.

Baldwin looked up, frowning. ‘Well? Did you see anyone else out there?’

‘I saw one man: Hamadus.’

William drew in his breath with a start. ‘Him? What was he …’

‘I don’t know. I saw him near the point, down near the way to Bechiek,’ Isok said, and then threw a suspicious glance at Baldwin. ‘I was walking, trying to clear my head. It was later I thought of going to Mariota’s house.’

‘Did you see Robert?’

‘No. I walked about the place for a while, and then went to Mariota’s. She left me for a while, and that’s that.’

‘Mariota. I shall want to speak to her, then, as well as this Hamadus. Who is he?’

William smiled drily. ‘He’s no one much. Just an old man who’s given up the sea. He taught Isok here much of what he knows about the sea.’

‘He would have had nothing to do with Luke’s death,’ Isok said shortly.

‘Why do you say that?’

Isok met his gaze firmly. ‘No seaman would have pushed Luke offshore. Whoever did that didn’t think about the tides, see? The sea pulls things away from the land when it goes away, but then it brings them back. I think that the boat was pushed out to sea from one of the islands when the killer thought that he was safe, but the tide was coming in, and took the boat and wrecked it on the island there. Hamadus wouldn’t have made that mistake. He’d have taken it far
out to sea and let it go there, where it couldn’t come back to trouble him.’

‘Perhaps this man wasn’t thinking,’ William said. ‘After all, he was committing a serious crime in killing Luke – especially if he had just killed poor Robert too.’

‘Any man with sense could have killed them and not thought it a crime!’ Isok said.

His quiet violence was impressive. His tone was calm and undemonstrative, but Baldwin could see the way that his hands were pulling at the boat’s ropes as he spoke, and how his knuckles whitened with the effort. There was enough anger and frustration in those hands to kill a man, Baldwin thought. Easily.