The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) (9 page)

‘Where are we?’

‘On the isle of Ennor. Some miles from Cornwall. You’re Cornish?’

‘Devon,’ Simon responded shortly.

‘Hmm. You drew the short straw in life, I see. How many were there on your ship?’

Simon tried to calculate. ‘Myself and three other passengers, six I think in the crew, and this lad.’

‘So many!’ The priest stopped his pumping for a moment. ‘Aye, and I expect there will be more, foundered on other shores. The sea is a hard mistress.’

Simon nodded. ‘My friend … he was washed from the deck …’ His voice broke as he recalled the events of the previous night.

‘He may have lived. You can never tell with the sea,’ the other man said reassuringly: a lie of this sort was kinder than the truth. ‘Come with me. I am called William. At my home we can fill you with warm drink and good bread.’

‘What about the others? The ship is still out there,’ Simon said, pointing a shaking finger vaguely out towards the empty sea.

‘If it’s that way, it’ll be seen and no doubt many of my neighbours will want to go and see what the damage is,’ William said drily. As
he well knew, when food was scarce, the islanders would themselves turn to piracy. Wrecks saved them the risks of such adventures. The people of the islands made good profits from wrecks. Any who helped rescue the vessel would be entitled to a share of half its value. The new law of salvage was understood and appreciated by all on the islands. Not that it mattered, William thought privately. He had been kept awake all night by the storm, sleeping with his flock in the little barn, and he was sure that these two were enormously lucky to have survived. Surely no one else could have, if the ship had foundered. In any case, if there were beams from the ship … ‘Aha!’

Simon followed his excited gaze. ‘What?’

‘There’s a damn great lump of wood out there. Wait here a minute!’ William declared gleefully, and waded into the cold waters. He soon reached Simon’s baulk of timber, and pushed it into shore, dragging it up the beach, a smile breaking across his face. ‘This will replace the broken lintel at my church! Perfect! Now for hot drink and food!’

So saying, William picked up the slight figure of the boy, who was now coughing weakly, and led the way up a sandy path. Simon was exhausted, and had to stop and rest at every opportunity, although it was only a matter of a few tens of yards, and William was patient, waiting for him whenever the coughing or sobbing took him over.

‘Come, master. We’ll soon have you before a fire. Life looks better with a warm fire in front of you.’

Simon knew that. Long before they reached William’s door his teeth had begun to chatter uncontrollably, and as soon as he saw the stool near the fire, he tried to sit on it. His enfeeblement made him miss the mark and he fell over, painfully striking his head against a hearthstone. Even when he had righted the stool and tried again, he slumped so heavily that he nearly overbalanced. In preference he seated himself on the packed clay of the floor.

‘I’ll have to send for the castle’s men,’ William said. ‘But I’d dearly like to know how you came to survive and make it here.’

‘We were lucky.’

‘You mentioned a friend?’

‘We
were chased by pirates,’ Simon said shortly. ‘They came upon us on our route home from Compostela.’

‘They are the devil’s own whelps, these foreign pirates,’ William said with feeling. ‘They plunder where they may, murdering as they …’ Then he noticed Simon’s expression and waved. ‘My apologies. Please continue.’

Simon spoke as the man poured wine from a small barrel into a large pot, which he set on a trivet over his fire. There were three goodly-sized logs glowing, and William soon blew them into life.

‘We fought them. They came at us like wolves, and when they threw their grappling irons, it was all we could do to keep them away. They would have overcome us, but for my friend. He slew their leader, and they withdrew, but they had done the damage already. They’d killed the helmsman and three other sailors. There weren’t enough men to steer and man the thing. When the storm hit us, we were driven like lost souls in front of devils. It was a terrible sound, the way that the wind sang in the ropes.’

William nodded. He hoped Simon wouldn’t speak of such things in front of any of the fishermen in the vill. They would mercilessly rib a man who didn’t know his cable from a sheet or a sheet from a shroud.

‘Then,’ Simon continued, ‘the sail burst. It was like a clay plate being struck by a hammer! One moment it was there – the next: nothing! A man went up to do something, but the next gust took him away. All we could do was lie down and cling on to anything that came to hand.

‘We survived like that for a good long while, and then there was a scraping jerk, and the ship spun around on her centre. One of the sailors cried aloud in prayer, saying we’d struck a rock and must be destroyed. Another one told him to shut up, that while there was life in our bodies, we had a chance, and then a great wave came over the ship.

‘My friend Baldwin was holding on to a baulk of timber that ran along the side of the ship. It was held rigidly in place, but this mass of water crashed over him, and when I could see again, there was a
hole in the side of the ship. All that rail had gone, and with it, Baldwin.

‘I think that I gave up then. I wanted to be dead myself. It was awful to think of drowning in that sea, consumed by the waters, but the weather began to abate almost immediately, as though God was satisfied with our sacrifice. He had taken enough.’

It made the tears spring back into Simon’s eyes to think of that moment. When he saw Baldwin was gone, he felt as though a great void had opened in his own chest. With a scream, he almost hurled himself into the water to try to find Baldwin, but Sir Charles had taken his arm and prevented him.

William nodded. ‘I know, friend. I come from a seafaring family myself. My own brother Jan went to sea – and I am inordinately glad that I found a vocation in the Church. Our father died in the sea, and so do so many who depend upon it.’

‘You thought I was Jan, didn’t you?’ Simon recalled. The priest had called him ‘Jan’.

‘There was a resemblance,’ William said quietly. ‘Please, continue.’

‘Not long afterwards, the cog spun around a few times, and then seemed to shudder, and with that, she began to move again. I think the water rose and lifted her off her rocky spike. But she was badly holed. A man went to look, and came back to say that she couldn’t survive. She was about to sink. We jumped and found the beam you have left at the waterside, and held fast to it. When dawn came, we saw – God! with how much relief! – this island. I made for it with all the strength I had. The others …’

‘Don’t worry about them. If they all followed your example, perhaps they will all be well enough.’ William rose. ‘And now, master, if you will excuse me, I shall report my finding of you to the Lord of the Manor. He will want to know.’

Aye, he added sourly to himself. And Ranulph will want to be among the first of the thieving devils to get his hands on any free cargo!

He was the kindest man on St Nicholas. That was the trouble. Tedia sniffed as she went about her work that next morning. Mariota had
sent Tedia with food to wake Isok, and Tedia had found him snoring on Mariota’s bench, the goat bleating angrily. Tedia released the animal and tethered her outside, then woke her husband and gave him a loaf and some cheese for the day. Isok had taken them, then disappeared quietly, walking along the shoreline to meet his brother and others, to mend nets and chat. Tedia waved to him once, and then realised that he wouldn’t turn to acknowledge her, and she bent her steps homewards, sobbing quietly.

She knew she was the subject of gossip all over the islands. The men and women of St Nicholas, St Elidius, Bechiek and Ennor all knew of her troubles – and Isok’s complaint. Who wouldn’t? Even the children pointed and giggled. They knew as well as any that a man and woman who couldn’t couple couldn’t perform their most important responsibility: have children of their own.

Tedia was no shrew. She didn’t want to see her husband hurt. Poor Isok. All he had wanted to do was keep her happy, and he had tried his best. He had tried to consummate their marriage, while Tedia had made herself as alluring as possible, lying naked before him, squirming and pleading with him to service her, touching him with the enthusiasm born of hope and simple lust, but it had all failed. There was nothing she could do with the touch of her hands, breasts or lips that would make the broken wand stand.

While Tedia felt her excitement wane, to be replaced with shame and frustration, Isok reddened, chewing at his lip. It was the beginning of his bitterness, and all because she wanted him to do his duty by her, as he himself wished. Now all was too late. Tedia had applied herself to the problem with her usual single-mindedness, and when all else appeared to have failed, she spoke to the new priest up at the chapel of St Elidius to ask for his advice.

Luke was a better-looking priest than the average, she reckoned. He was well-made, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His eyes were a startling blue, his hair fair, and he had that way of looking at a person, as though there was no one else in the whole island who mattered. Her frustration was grown so great Tedia would consider anything – any man. She reckoned that if she wanted, she could have taken Mabilla’s place as another priest’s mare. Perhaps
she still could. Trouble was, if she were to do that, it would almost certainly mean the end of Luke’s time here. Mabilla’s man, Peter Visconte, had been called back to Exeter as soon as stories of their behaviour reached the Bishop. The talk about that affair hadn’t stopped yet, although it had happened a good seven or eight years ago.

Strange that such a witty, intelligent man should have been sent here. The islanders were used to a strange mixture of malcontents and incompetents. To have someone who was apparently learned was curious. Especially since Luke was so good at the way he put his ideas across. All the women thought he was wonderful. Brosia was always preening herself when she went to church. The reeve’s wife said Luke always stared at her breasts. Tedia thought Brosia was fooling herself. The man had more interest in people like Tedia – someone with intelligence. That much was obvious.

But he was still a priest, and Tedia drew the line at seducing a man of God. The thought that she might do that was scary. She preferred to pick on men more of her standing. And Robert, the gather-reeve of Ennor, their neighbouring island, was the best she had seen.

He was a good-looking fellow, once he stopped strutting about. Most of the time he walked around like a constipated duck. She’d told him that, and he had looked hurt, but then he had to laugh with her.

It had been a long, wonderful summer’s day, only a matter of two weeks ago. Isok and the men were out in the boats, and Robert had come past. Tedia was thirsty after a backbreaking morning digging in her field, and Robert had been carrying a wine-skin.

‘That looks good enough to kill for!’ she had said, half-jokingly, almost before she realised what she was saying. This man was the gather-reeve for the Lord of the Manor, Ranulph Blancminster, after all! If Robert were to denounce her for her lack of respect, she could have been taken and whipped. She’d put nothing past Blancminster.

The latter instilled fear in all the peasants. Ruthless and indifferent, he ruled the islands under his authority like a monarch. There was no one on Ennor to restrain him, and although Tedia lived on St
Nicholas, and was serf to the Prior, owned by the Manor and ultimately answerable to the Abbot of Tavistock, the Lord of Ennor would be a very bad enemy for a mere peasant.

‘You think I’d be worth killing just for a mouthful of wine?’ Robert had asked, with mock offence. ‘Perhaps I am too violent to give up my wine without a fight.’

‘You’d wrestle with a poor woman like me, sir?’ she’d responded, and then flushed to the roots of her hair.

Tedia knew that it wasn’t so often that a woman would flirt so suggestively with any man – especially the gather-reeve. She hadn’t meant to – but when he grinned at her he was quite handsome, and she felt a familiar stirring at the sight. It reignited memories which she had tried so hard to suppress. Memories of rolling naked with a boy in fields of flowers while the sun warmed their backs; memories of swimming naked with boys; memories of golden afternoons with nothing to do but lie in the grass and listen to the waves while a boy’s hands investigated her body with a cautious, delicious reverence.

‘I think there should always be wine for a lady,’ he had said, and within the hour, they were sitting side by side on the beach at the westernmost porth of the island, beyond the line of hills that hid them from the view of the vill and the monks of St Nicholas. Here they spoke for hours, until the sun was moving too far from its zenith. As it began to sink westward, they had stopped speaking, and merely watched. The wine was all gone, and Tedia felt a warmth flowing through her body from the unaccustomed drink. She wanted to stay there for ever. If she had died then, she would have died happy.

Her happiness almost turned to ecstasy when she touched him and felt him shake. And then she kissed him, softly, sweetly, and with real affection. An affection which grew to desire when she saw how his body had responded. She stared at him for what felt like an age.

It was curious. No, it was more than that: it was wonderful, exciting,
thrilling
! For the last few years she had felt like an old woman: undesired and unlovable. No matter what Isok said to her,
she always believed that it was her fault. It was her sin, perhaps, in loving too many boys when she was a girl before she married; or maybe it was something Isok had done. She had no idea. All she knew was, that suddenly she had here, within reach, proof that she was not undesirable, that she could still make a man’s heart run with liquid fire. She could make his manhood rise as firmly and proudly as a mare could her stallion or a bitch her dog. She was still a woman.