The Manor of Death

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Angerus de Wile lived in a low cottage facing the beach in Dawlish, one of an irregular row of small huts and bigger crofts that housed sailors and fishermen as well as a few traders and craftsmen. As a shipmaster sharing in the profits of each voyage, he was richer than most of his neighbours, but his dwelling was still very modest. The walls were oak frames filled in with cob plastered over wattle panels, and the roof was made of thick stone tiles, as thatch or wooden shingles would not stand the winds that constantly threatened the shore.

His wife had died in childbirth four years earlier, and his eldest daughter, now aged nine, looked after the other two children and kept house while their father was away at sea. John de Wolfe thought that the girl did a good job, as when he came to see Angerus a few days after the conference in Rougemont, he found the little house warm and comfortable. There were clean rushes on the floor and a savoury smell came from a small cauldron hanging on a trivet over the fire pit. Unusually for Devon, there was a crude box-bed against the wall, a cave-like cupboard where Angerus slept when he was home, the three children sleeping on hay bags laid on its roof.

De Wolfe, who today had left both Thomas and Gwyn behind in Exeter, accepted some hot broth that the daughter ladled from the pot, followed by a cup of good wine that Angerus had brought from his last trip to Bordeaux. Seated on stools around the fire, he explained the situation and asked the shipmaster if he was willing to take the St Radegund out, given the possible risks. Though the man was virtually his servant, in that he now worked for the partnership, John made it clear that he was asking for a volunteer and that he was free to refuse if he so wished.

The shipmaster sat for a while, staring into the small glowing fire. His lower jaw, which stuck out so that his teeth markedly overlapped the upper set, made him look like an angry dog about to attack a tethered bull or bear.

'I'll take the ship and be glad to do so, Sir John!' he said eventually. 'It was sodding pirates of some sort who so cruelly slew Thorgils, my master and friend! It would be some measure of revenge if I could help you.'

John looked at his daughter and then at the two younger children, sitting wide-eyed watching them from the bed.

'You have a family to think of, Angerus — but with a dozen armed men on board, as well as myself, the constable and doughty Gwyn, there should be no great risk to you or your crew.'

De Wile looked across at his children, who were obviously well loved and well cared for. 'They have been brave since their mother died, Christ bless her soul! I'm sure if the worst happened, Mistress Hilda would see them cared for, as she has done for the families of Thorgils' crew.'

They talked for a while longer about the details of the proposed voyage and agreed that Angerus would sail the cog out of Topsham in ten days' time.

'It may well be that we'll see no sign of any attackers,' warned de Wolfe. 'Or it's just possible that some other privateers will take the bait, like those said to be working out of Lyme.'

Angerus shrugged. 'The sea's a big place, 'Crowner! You could hide a thousand ships just in the Channel, so the chances of them coming across us once out of sight of land are very slim, unless they know exactly when we left harbour.'

'That's just what we have been trying to achieve, and will do so again in the next few days, now that we have a date. You can tell your men that you have a cargo of silver coin for the king's troops, but for God's sake don't mention the soldiers until they actually turn up at the moment you're ready to cast off your mooring ropes.'

When he rose to leave, John made a point of going to each of the children to press a penny into each hand, as he ruffled their hair affectionately. Though he was not used to children, he sometimes had a yearning for some of his own when he saw a contented family like Angerus's. As he walked back along the strand to the tavern where he had left Odin to be fed and watered, he wondered if things would have been different if he had sired a few on Matilda, though she had never expressed the slightest interest in motherhood, preferring the sisterhood of the Church and apparently yearning only to be a bride of Christ. He was now forty-one years of age and life was slipping by at an astonishing rate, but he knew he still had the potential to be a father — all he needed was the mother!

The thought quickened his steps until he told himself sternly not to be such a damned fool, as an image of Nesta floated into his mind. Doggedly, he walked on and after checking at the alehouse to see that his stallion had been properly cared for, he turned up the side street and loped towards Hilda's grand house, its stone walls and two front pillars marking it out from every other dwelling in the village.

As he approached the heavy door, he felt excited at what had almost happened the last time he came here. He rubbed at his chin to see how much stubble had grown and even ran his fingers through his thick black hair in an attempt to tame it. Flinging the sides of his riding cloak over each shoulder, he tightened his broad leather belt another notch and adjusted the sheath of his short sword at his side. Then he pounded on the door with his fist and waited impatiently for Alice to open it and let him stalk up the stairs to the blonde beauty in her solar.

The oak boards creaked open and the maid looked out timidly.

'Alice, I'm here again to see your mistress!' he announced almost gaily, putting one foot over the threshold.

The young girl stared at him, this great man dressed in black and grey. 'But she's not here, sir. She's gone to Holcombe to stay with her family for a week.'

Deflated and feeling slightly foolish, de Wolfe backed down the steps and trudged moodily back to the waiting Odin.

The next ten days seemed to pass unusually quickly for John. There were a number of new deaths that needed investigation, one in Totnes which occupied two of those days, much of it in travelling. There were no more arrows fired at him, and with no possible means of investigating the failed assassination he had to write it off to experience. He was convinced that, like the killing of the Keeper, it was an attempt to extinguish his interest in Axmouth.

The false 'treasure' was duly brought to Rougemont by an armed party and locked in the sheriff's inner room. Both Gwyn and Thomas reported that the city was rife with gossip about the thousands of silver pennies destined for the king's troops in Normandy.

It was not the first such happening, as genuine exports from the Exeter mint had been made at intervals, albeit recently debased by the covert addition of tin. However, the large amount involved in this new consignment and the fact that it had been brought down from the Bristol mint made it a talking point in the taverns and churches of the city. John's two spies also confirmed that the place and date of its departure were widely known amongst the populace.

'If this doesn't reach the ears of those who would like to steal it, then we'll have to admit defeat,' said the sheriff resignedly as he bumped his shins on the six boxes of stones that cluttered his quarters.

During those days de Wolfe's relations with Nesta had improved, and he had spent several nights with her in the Bush, though he still felt awkward knowing that Owain ap Gronow was lying only a few paces away.

One day he again went down to Dawlish, as he felt he could not commandeer a ship and her crew that used to belong to Hilda without the courtesy of getting her approval. If nothing else, the potential danger to the master and crew made it imperative that Hilda was brought into the secret, as he knew that the welfare of their families was close to her heart. Following the rapprochement with Nesta, he decided to take Hugh de Relaga down to Dawlish with him, as the gaudy portreeve was not only the third member of their wool exporting consortium but would serve as an effective chaperone, as John felt that he might not be able to trust himself to behave if temptation became too great! The meeting was decorous and friendly, and John had no opportunity to be alone with Hilda, much as he chafed against his own decision to avoid temptation. Hilda readily agreed to using the cog as a decoy, as since Thorgils had been killed her anger still burnt against those who so treacherously slew shipmen on the high seas.

The circle of people made privy to the ambush plot was widening, but John felt that he could trust all of them not to divulge the secret until the moment that the St Radegund actually sailed. The troop of men-at-arms that would hide on the ship would not march aboard until the very last minute, when it would be too late for any spy to get a message to Axmouth to prevent a privateer from leaving to intercept the treasure ship. John still did not exclude the owner of The Tiger from being party to the murderous trade, and his servants in Exeter would be well aware of the departure of the vessel.

It was Gwyn, with his knowledge of the sea, who pointed out that any pirate ship would have to leave Axmouth at about the same time as the St Radegund sailed from Topsham, otherwise it would have to wait twelve hours for the next tide to be able to float off and leave the estuary of the Axe, by which time the treasure ship would have vanished over the horizon.

A few days before Angerus de Wile was due to take his ship to sea, John asked Thomas to scribe another short letter to his wife. He decided that though his wife's continued absence was something that he was getting used to — and which he was now quite content to be a permanent situation — he was bound as an honourable knight to try all means to persuade her either to return to him or at least to give some clue as to her intentions.

'I have to let her know that I have been called to London,' he growled to his clerk. 'Perhaps the knowledge that the king himself wants me to become coroner to the royal court will change her mind about staying in Polsloe.'

Thomas was quite ready to believe that Matilda's snobbery and ambitions of social elevation would entice her away from the desire to take her vows of chastity and obedience. His master's thoughts were similar, but John felt that his duty as a husband and a Norman gentleman obliged him to take the risk. The letter was duly delivered to Dame Madge but, contrary to John's fearful expectations, no reply had materialised by the time he left on the St Radegund.

On the evening before the departure from Topsham, he went down to the tavern in Idle Lane to tell Nesta that all was set for the following day. He waited until one of Nesta's maids had brought him a thick trencher of bread carrying a meaty pork knuckle surrounded by fried onions — and Edwin had refilled his quart pot with best ale. With the auburn-haired Welshwoman sitting opposite to make sure he ate every morsel, he gave all the details of the trap they were hoping to set for the pirates. She had done well in carefully seeding the news of the 'treasure ship' amongst her patrons. As many of these were merchants or carters who travelled the roads of Devon and the nearby counties, he knew that the gossip machine would have spread the news from the Bush far and wide.

When he had finished his meal, they talked for a time and he found her in a pensive, reminiscent mood. She spoke of the stressful times of the past two years, of the burning of the inn when she had almost lost her life and of the miscarriage she had suffered. John knew from her mood that there would be no climbing the ladder to the loft that night. Before he left, she had a caution, born out of her regard for him.

'Be careful tomorrow, John. You can be too reckless sometimes — you are not indestructible!'

She bent and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, then walked quickly to the ladder and climbed it without a backward glance.

Soon after dawn next day a cavalcade left Rougemont and proceeded through the city to the South Gate, drawing a lot of attention from the people clustered around the food stalls lining the main streets. The statuesque figure of Ralph Morin led the procession, erect on his big horse, followed by the coroner and his officer riding side by side on a pair of rounseys from the castle stables. Three packhorses came next, each with a pair of money chests hung over their backs, flanked by ten mounted soldiers. The rear was brought up by Sergeant Gabriel and another man-at-arms. All the escort wore round iron helmets with a nose-guard and jerkins of thick boiled leather. The only exception was the constable, who had a full-length hauberk of chain mail. All carried swords hanging from their belts, supported by diagonal baldrics over their right shoulders, and long sheathed daggers at their backs. This formidable group took the road south alongside the river, which led to Topsham, five miles away. They reached the port where the river became a wider estuary an hour before high water, and the boxes were quickly unloaded from the pack animals and stowed in the hold of the St Radegund, watched by a curious crowd on the quayside. Though the inhabitants of Topsham were used to ships and cargo coming and going every day of their lives, to see such a strong escort of armed soldiers was a novelty — and the novelty was increased when they saw the troop filing aboard the vessel, instead of going back to Exeter once the chests had been safely delivered. The crew of the cog were also mystified, as for the sake of secrecy Angerus de Wile had not yet told them the true purpose of this voyage.

His mate, an old sailor named Alphegus, voiced their concerns. 'We can't house and feed this lot all the way to Honfleur!' he exclaimed, as under Gabriel's direction the soldiers clambered down ladders into the hold and out of sight. He was already puzzled, as the ship had loaded no other cargo for the alleged voyage to Normandy.

De Wile placed an arm reassuringly around the old sea dog's shoulders. 'Don't worry about feeding them, Alphegus — they've got rations for a day in their pouches. We should only be out for a couple of tides!'

With the other five crew clustered around, he at last explained what they were doing. Though the coroner had been a little concerned at virtually tricking the crew into this venture, they were quite happy to go along with it, partly because they felt safe enough with eighteen armed men aboard and also because they wanted to see revenge wreaked on those who had caused the deaths of fellow mariners.

At high water they cast off and the ebb tide and light breeze took them down towards the open sea, where they turned south-east and began to cross the wide expanse of Lyme Bay. Until another vessel came in sight — if it ever did — there was no need for the men to be concealed, though all but de Wolfe, Morin and Gwyn did stay in the hold, most of them playing dice on top of the boxes of spurious silver.

The offshore wind was light and mainly northerly, unlike the last time John ventured to sea a few weeks before. Then the strong south-westerly hurried them up-Channel, but this much slower progress suited their purpose better, as it gave them more time to be exposed to any rogue ship searching for them. To increase their lingering even more, Angerus deliberately failed to make the best use of the yard-sheets and steering oar, so that they meandered away from the mouth of the Exe, slowly increasing their distance from the land. It was fairly hazy, and by noon the coast of Devon and Dorset was just a misty blur on the northern horizon. De Wolfe was beginning to fear that the whole venture was going to be a complete failure and a waste of several weeks of careful preparation.

'Where are we now?' he asked the shipmaster, who was standing alongside Alphegus, who manned the steering oar.

'About level with the Axe, Sir John,' replied the shipmaster. 'But a long way out. There would be no point in trying to flaunt ourselves as a possible victim within clear sight of the shore.'

Half an hour later that landfall had melted into the mist, though east and west, where the haze was thinner, Portland Bill and Start Point could just be glimpsed. The sea was calm, with just a slight swell passing under the ungainly hull — which was just as well, as the effectiveness of some of the men-at-arms would have been badly blunted by seasickness.

Those on deck stared into the distance until their eyes watered, feeling increasingly disappointed as the time went by.

'Can we turn around and go back for a while, to give them a better chance of seeing us?' demanded Ralph Morin, utterly ignorant of the ways of the sea.

The shipmaster shook his head. 'Not against this wind — and anyway it would be obvious that we were heading in the wrong direction for the treasure ship.'

One of the crew had clambered up the rigging and sat perilously on the centre of the yard that supported the single large sail. A few minutes later he gave a yell and called down to those on the afterdeck.

There's a sail away to the nor'-east. Coming out of the haze in this direction.'

There was a buzz of excitement, which was taken up by the soldiers in the hold, who were getting bored even with their gaming.

'How far away?' yelled Angerus, turning his pugnacious face upwards to the lookout.

'About five miles, I reckon.'

The master turned to the coroner and constable. 'Too far yet to see who it is. Might be a legitimate trader out of Lyme or Axmouth. I'll just keep on this course and see what they do.'

Morin motioned towards the hold. 'We'd better get out of sight soon and just leave the crew on deck.'

They went to one of the short ladders that were propped against the inner edge of the hatch-coaming and went down, to join their men. The hold was normally closed by a series of heavy planks across the opening and covered with a canvas sheet. Now, only a few of these boards were in place and the cover loosely draped across them.

Half an hour later Angerus came to the edge of the hold and called down. 'That vessel is coming straight for us, about two miles away. We are out of sight of land altogether now.'

'Can you see what ship it is?' asked de Wolfe.

'Not yet, just another cog, but she's going to cross our path soon, though I'm not making my best speed.'

'Perhaps you better had,' suggested Gwyn. 'If she is a pirate, her master will be suspicious if you don't try to get clear.'

There was some shouting and creaking of ropes and spars as Angerus went through the motions of getting a fraction better performance out of the St Radegund.

After another half-hour, de Wile called out again, sounding anxious. 'I'm sure it's The Tiger — she's closing on us fast. Another few minutes and she'll be here!'

Ralph Morin climbed partway up the ladder and peered over the hatch-coaming. 'You'd better act scared, Angerus,' he ordered. 'Get your men to run around and point. We'll stay quiet down here until they actually start to board, then you cross to t' other side of the vessel and keep out of the way!'

He motioned to the others in the hold to keep quiet, as sounds travel far across water on a calm day. They all drew their swords and a few had maces or long knives in their other hands, ready for action.

John felt the frisson of excitement that always pervaded him just before a fight. Gwyn was grinning broadly at the prospect, slipping his left wrist through the leather loop of his fearsome ball and chain.

In a few minutes they heard their own crew shouting defiance that held a fearful tremor that was not all feigned. Almost at once, a more distant yelling began and they heard, the creaking and splashing of another vessel as she came at them from astern with her port side towards their bow, then a lurch and grinding as she slid along their hull, deliberately smashing the steering oar to disable them.

There was a rattling as several grappling hooks were thrown over their side and the St Radegund lurched again as the two cogs locked together. All this was accompanied by bloodthirsty yelling from the crew of The Tiger, as they began to clamber over the gunwales.

'Right, men, get up and kill the bastards!' roared the constable. As the troop commander, he was in charge, but John and Gwyn were alongside at two of the other ladders, leading some of the men-at-arms up on to the deck. Angerus and his crew had wisely taken Ralph's advice and were running down the port side towards the bow, leaving the waist of the vessel free for the attackers to board. Five or six men were clambering down from the rail, waving knives and swords, as Morin and the others suddenly materialised in front of them.

Their shocked surprise was almost ludicrous as they saw more than a dozen armed soldiers swarm out of the hatch and advance upon them with raised weapons.

'Back, get back aboard!' screamed the first man across the gunwale, but it was too late. John saw that the leader was Martin Rof, and he ran at him with a roar, his own sword upraised. The master of The Tiger was no coward and parried John's blow with a clash of metal, as Gwyn and Morin forced other men back against the thick wooden bulwark that ran around the deck.

There was a cacophony of screaming and yelling and the sound of weapon on weapon. Morin had engaged the mate of The Tiger, a huge man with a bald head, who was wielding a dagger and a short stabbing spear. The constable was thankful that he had worn the heavy hauberk, as the mate's pike had a longer reach than Ralph's sword and was bruising his chest and belly with every jab. Gwyn had felled another ruffian with the first swing of his ball-mace and was chasing another back over the rail, while John was dealing with the shipmaster. Martin Rof was swinging his sword desperately as he backed to the gunwale, obviously seeking to get back to his own ship, but John used his yard of steel two-handed and battered down Rof's defence by sheer force. The last swing caught the bearded shipmaster across the forearm, and with a scream he dropped his sword and dagger to clutch his wounded limb, blood pumping from between his fingers.

He tried to get up on to the rail, but de Wolfe grabbed him by the neck of his tunic and pulled him to the deck, where a kick in the head kept him down. When John looked around, the battle was over, and indeed several of the soldiers had not struck a blow, as they so outnumbered the half-dozen who had clambered aboard. Gwyn stood over a dead man, and Ralph had soon overcome the bald mate by chopping his spear-shaft through with a mighty swing of his broadsword. However, the man had leapt back aboard The Tiger, where those of the crew who had not climbed across were desperately hacking through the ropes from the grapnels, allowing the vessels to drift apart.

'The sods are getting away!' roared Gwyn, leaping up on to the rail.

Fearful that he would jump across and be left alone on the other ship, de Wolfe yelled at him to stop, but Gwyn's innate good sense overcame his fighting spirit and he contented himself with hurling insults and abuse at the rapidly retreating vessel. He was joined by the crew of the St Radegund who ran back from the safety of the port side to jeer across the widening strip of water at the shocked remnants of the pirate gang.

'The swine have made off, Crowner!' said the shipmaster angrily.

'Not all of them, Angerus,' replied de Wolfe, pulling off his iron helmet to wipe his brow. 'We've got two of them dead here and another three captive, including their leader.'

Martin Rof lay groaning in the scuppers, still bleeding on to the deck. Ralph Morin, wincing at the bruises that were forming on his own belly, prodded Rof with his boot. 'Better not let him die, I suppose! We may need his confession to nail those others in Axmouth.'

As their blood-lust subsided, the defenders took stock of the situation, while the crew went to haul out their spare steering oar to replace the one that had been shattered. None of the men-at-arms had suffered so much as a scratch, so complete had been the surprise they sprang on the pirates — it was only their constable who had sustained a few bruises.

'Where can The Tiger go now?' asked Ralph, looking across at the receding cog as the remnants of her crew struggled to regain control.

'Not back to Axmouth, that's for sure,' replied de Wolfe. 'Every man of her crew who survived must live there, and we could soon find them and hang the lot if they try to go home.'

'Perhaps they'll join the other rogues in Lyme or Dartmouth,' suggested Ralph. 'Or even take the cog over to Flanders or Brittany, though I doubt they've got the brains to do that, without their master here.'

'The Tiger belongs to that merchant in Exeter,' observed Gwyn. 'He'll not take kindly to losing a valuable vessel. I should think they'll beach it somewhere and vanish into the woods.'

They went to look at the men they had vanquished and confirmed that two were dead, including the one whose head Gwyn had crushed. These they tipped overboard without ceremony, and John decided that, being miles out to sea, they were not within his jurisdiction and he needed to hold no inquests upon them.

Two other seamen. had deep sword wounds, one in the neck and the other in the chest. They had both lost a lot of blood and he suspected that they would both eventually die, especially if suppuration set in. Martin Rof had started to recover from the kick in the head and his arm seemed to have stopped bleeding. A rough bandage was wrapped around it by one of the ship's crew, and to be on the safe side John got Gwyn to lash his ankles together to prevent him from getting up.

By now, Angerus had shipped the new oar and had got the vessel under way again. 'Where are we bound, Sir John?' he asked. 'The Axe or the Exe?'

John looked at the castle constable. 'I suppose we had better get back to Topsham or Exeter?'

Morin stuck out his forked beard like the prow of a ship and nodded. 'Not much point in confronting the Axmouth villains with only these few men. We need to go down there with a large sheriff's posse — and the sheriff himself, if we can get him away from his clerks.'

The shipmaster brought the St Radegund about and they began clawing their way back westwards.

'The wind has moved more southerly, so with luck we'll just catch the evening tide to get upriver,' observed Angerus. 'Otherwise we'll have empty bellies by the morning if we have to stay out here all night.'

As they crawled across Lyme Bay, John went to the three wounded men lying with their backs up against the bulwarks. 'You'll all hang for this, of course,' he observed pleasantly. He opened his hand and showed them some pebbles that he had taken from the 'treasure' boxes.

'There's the silver you're going to die for! As you've nothing left to lose, except your lives, you may as well tell us what's been going on in Axmouth. Confession is good for your souls and, though you'll get a priest before the end, you can tell me as well.'

The one with the neck wound, a young man of about eighteen, began to cry, but Martin Rof summoned up enough strength to spit at the coroner. 'Go to hell, damn you!' he growled.

'I think you'll be there well before me, captain!' retorted the coroner. 'Now, who killed that poor lad Simon Makerel — and why?'

Martin turned his head away contemptuously, but the youngest man was desperate to grasp at anything that might save him from the gallows. 'It was him, sir, the shipmaster here! I saw him do it, as did half the crew. He caught the boy outside the tavern and dragged him around to the yard, where he strangled him with a length of rope.'

'You're a bloody liar! Keep your mouth shut!' snarled Rof.

'Tell me more about it, boy,' commanded the coroner.

'He was going to tell the Keeper about it, poor lad,' John told the sheriff later that evening. They had just caught the tide and decided to ride it all the way up to Exeter, rather than stop at Topsham. The prisoners had been taken up to Rougemont, using the soldiers from the ship as escort. The two badly wounded men were carried on litters, but Martin Rof's ankles were freed, so that he could walk. All three were locked in the foul cells in the prison below the keep, then John, Gwyn and Ralph Morin went up to eat in the hall above. Henry de Furnellis came out to keep them company and sat with a quart of ale while they made up for their sparse rations that day with food from the castle kitchens. He was regaled with their account of the dramatic scene out in Lyme Bay.

'This Simon Makerel was so conscience-stricken about the killing of the entire crew of that cog they pillaged that he decided to tell the Keeper of the Peace about it, after first confessing to his parish priest in Seaton,' explained de Wolfe. 'Unfortunately, he also disclosed his anguish to the young fellow we have down in the cells, who in turn was worried that he would suffer himself if Simon split on them. So he told the mate, that bald-headed swine who gave you those belly bruises, Ralph!'

'But the mate didn't kill the boy,' said Henry.

'No, he went straight to Martin Rof with the news, and the shipmaster waylaid Makerel in the village that same night and strangled him like a chicken, in front of some of the crew as a warning. He got the mate to bury him behind that bush, but unfortunately for them he was found quite quickly, thanks to the priest's dead dog.'

'Have you got that confession in writing?' asked the constable.

'I'll get Thomas to take it in the morning. I don't think the man will die for a day or two. I suppose I'd better ask Brother Saulf to have a look at their wounds tomorrow, just for the sake of Christian charity, but it seems a waste of time as they are going to hang anyway.'

As John tipped his wooden bowl to his lips to drain the last of the mutton stew, de Furnellis turned to Ralph. 'What are we going to do about Axmouth now? Unless this man Rof confesses, we really have no proof that the people onshore are involved.'

'But they must be, if we now know that The Tiger and her crew — which all belong to Axmouth — were taking stolen goods back there,' protested de Wolfe.

De Furnellis still looked worried. 'I'll wager they'll say they thought the stuff was legitimate cargo from abroad. We need to get these three men to confess as much as possible, especially the shipmaster.'

'The young one would turn approver, given half a chance,' replied John. 'But I'm not sure he knows much; he's little more than a ship's boy.'

Ralph Morin was more blunt in his approach. 'Turn Stigand loose on them, that'll loosen their tongues,' he growled.

Stigand was the grossly obese moron who acted as gaoler and occasional torturer down in the undercroft. He carried out the various 'ordeals', such as walking barefoot over nine red-hot ploughshares or picking a stone from the bottom of a barrel of boiling water, to distinguish innocence from guilt. In addition, he always relished the chance of applying a little torture to extract confessions. The previous sheriff, John's brother-in-law Richard de Revelle, was quite willing to give Stigand his head if it meant solving a case more quickly, but Henry de Furnellis was usually loath to use him unless all else had failed.

'Let's see how much we can get out of them tomorrow,' he advised. 'Then we have to decide what to do about Axmouth. You think that cog won't have sailed back there?'

John and Morin shook their heads. 'There's nothing there for them now, except their families. And I'll wager that the bailiff and the portreeve would give them short shrift, wanting to distance themselves as much as possible from Martin Rof and his pirates, now that they have been exposed.'

Gwyn had been silent while his superiors were speaking, but now he raised a matter that had so far not been mentioned.

'What about the owner of The Tiger?' he asked. 'How could he not know that the cog was being used illegally? If she was out at sea robbing other ships, she couldn't be doing her normal trading work. And with a hold full of stolen cargo, there would be no room for her own legitimate goods.'

There was a pause while the other three considered this new angle.

'You've certainly got a point there, Gwyn,' muttered Ralph. 'It depends, I think, on how closely this Exeter merchant, whatever his name is, keeps an eye on the comings and goings of his ship.'

'Robert de Helion is his name,' supplied de Wolfe. 'It seems this agent of his, Henry Crik, handles all the details. I know de Helion owns a number of ships, so maybe he doesn't keep a close watch on them all, as long as his money keeps coming in.'

The sheriff nodded. 'That would be easy enough, topping up any loss of charter fees from the proceeds of piracy. So maybe we need a stern word or two with this Henry Crik, as well as with his master in the city.'

It was getting late and soon the coroner decided to go home, weary with the excitements of the long day and the sea air. Gwyn insisted on walking back with him to Martin's Lane, mindful of the arrow that had just missed his master and the darkness of the city streets, lit only by occasional pitch flares around the castle and the cathedral Close.

They arrived at his door without mishap and Gwyn turned to go back to Rougemont, where he would bed down with his soldier friends.

'Let's hope those pirates don't die before the morning,' he said cheerfully. 'Stigand would be so disappointed. '