The Outlaws of Ennor

Chapter Seventeen

‘William? It’s me, Isok.’

The priest threw open his door with a rattle. ‘Good God alive, Isok, what is this?’

He was justifiably annoyed to be woken. All those who lived in the vill knew that it was after his hour for sleep. By this time he had completed the round of services, and it was his routine to finish the day with a large cup of wine, followed by a good long sleep, ready to wake for Matins. He had been asleep for about an hour, and now this idiot wanted to talk? He noticed that Isok was carrying something. ‘Are you mad, man? Whatever you’re carrying, get rid of it! Do you want Ranulph’s guards to come here and find you with contraband?’

Isok stared at him bleakly. ‘I have some fish in my boat, but no contraband today. This is more your line of work, Priest.’

He entered, shouldering William aside, and allowed his burden to fall to the ground.

‘Jesus’s cods! What have you done, you moron?’ William demanded, falling to his knees and feeling Luke’s face, hands, wrists. ‘He’s dead!’

‘Of course he’s dead,’ Isok said coldly. ‘Whether he drowned or not, I don’t know. But look at him more closely, and you’ll doubt it, I expect. I found him out on Arthur’s Porth. There were bits and pieces of boat all about him.’

‘Why?’ William wondered.

‘Someone killed him and threw him into a boat,’ Isok shrugged.

‘You mean his murderer thought that when the body was found, people would think he’d been killed in an accident?’ William said scathingly. ‘Any fool can see he’s been stabbed!’

‘Perhaps the killer thought Luke’d just sail into the distance and never be found,’ Isok grunted. He had discovered William’s mazer, and was filling it from the priest’s large cask.

‘Hey!’ William snarled, and snatched it back. He spilled a little, but the rest he eagerly poured down his throat. ‘This is a complete mess. What can we do?’

‘You have to deal with it,’ Isok said flatly. ‘If it gets suspected that it was someone on my island, it could be troublesome. The men at La Val would welcome an opportunity to come and destroy our vill.’

‘You think it could come to that?’ William breathed, but then he nodded. ‘Yes. It makes sense. Ranulph has sought to impose his will on the island for the entire time I have lived here. You’ve seen it too.’

‘Yes — and the murder of a priest is enough justification for him.’

‘Leave it to me. I shall do what I can.’

Isok thanked him, and was about to leave when William stopped him. ‘Where are you going? You can’t sail back home at this time of night.’

‘No,’ Isok said, his eyes downcast. ‘But I wanted to speak to Hamadus. I haven’t had a chance to see him for a while.’

William was tempted to ask whether he wanted to see the old man about his marital problems, but something stopped him. The younger man looked like a fellow who had been tightened and tightened like a new rope; he was now so tautly stretched that any movement might make the hemp break — and when that happened, William was not sure he would want to be in the near vicinity. A divorce was one thing: in this case it was the accusation his wife had levelled against him which was going to cause him the most grief. It made William sad to see this couple whom he had joined in God’s name so close to separation.

‘Friend, go carefully,’ he implored, but said no more. He could give no solace to a man who was suffering so much.

‘I go as carefully as I may,’ Isok said, but his eyes avoided William’s. ‘You know Robert was after my wife? David told me earlier today. He was trying to get under her skirts. And now he’s gone, there’s another at my house.’

‘Another man? Who?’ William asked, so surprised that he forgot to ask about Robert. He had an unpleasant suspicion that, were he to ask whether Isok had killed the man, he would either hear something he would prefer not to, or he would be told a lie. Either was a considerable responsibility, and he needed more time to think of how to frame his question.

‘Some knight. He was washed up on the evening of the storm and Tedia found him. Rot his ballocks! Why couldn’t he have been found by someone else’s wife? Brosia would have been happy to have picked him up. You should see her: hitching her tits up for all to see when she thinks he’s got his eyes on her, and David looking daggers at anyone who doesn’t pretend not to notice! I wish he’d just drowned.’

‘Yes,’ William said absently, but then his brows lifted in surprise. ‘That is an evil desire, Isok. You dare to wish a man damned, just because you don’t trust your wife any more?’

‘I don’t normally, you know that,’ Isok said with harsh self-pity. ‘I wouldn’t wish a death like this on any man,’ he added, prodding Luke’s body gently with a foot. ‘But why should I be forced to suffer more? Haven’t I got enough troubles of my own?’

‘Perhaps you have. And perhaps God in His mercy will look down on you and offer you some consolation, Isok. But He won’t if you continue to damn other mariners.’

‘I’ll hold my tongue in future.’

‘Good. Where did this knight come from?’

‘From a ship that foundered during the storm. It sounds like he doesn’t know what happened to him. He was fortunate that he was washed up on our shore.’

There was no need to add to the comment. Any man who fell overboard was lucky if he lived, just as men who survived wrecks were lucky. It was said that, for every man who died naturally on the islands, nine more bodies would be delivered by the seas. That was how many wrecks there were each year. God alone knew how many died at sea and never reached land again, their bones picked clean by the monsters of the deep.

Remembering Simon’s words about a friend who had been washed from the Anne, William mused, ‘I wonder whether …’

‘What?’

‘There was a wreck, and a man was washed away. Perhaps your fellow is this man. I should like to speak to him. Can you arrange for him to come here?’

‘I’ll try.’ Isok was a little happier to think that the stranger would soon be removed from his home.

‘Good. Well, Godspeed, Isok. I shall see you in the morning.’

When Isok was gone, William sat down beside Luke and put a hand on his cold shoulder. ‘You were a fucking idiot, weren’t you, you overblown piece of pigshit! And now, thanks to you, that poor bastard there’s going through hell.’

In the castle, Thomas pushed away his plate with a grunt, then belched softly. At the opposite end of the trestle table he could just see Simon, and he wondered how the good, decent Bailiff was feeling, sitting in this den of criminals. Hah! he thought sardonically.

Thomas himself was feeling more than moderately belligerent. After deliberating over David’s probable crime, and swigging down the better part of two pints of wine, he was not prepared to take any nonsense from some bedraggled Bailiff from the mainland. Puttock had no idea what it was like, trying to keep an island like this on an even keel. The damned peasants were so fractious; self-reliant and argumentative, aggressive, and acquisitive. They were thieving devils who’d have the laces from a man’s boots if he stood still long enough.

He was worried. There were rumours of a second ship which had appeared after the storm, but of which nothing had been seen since, and he was convinced that the Faucon Dieu had sunk without trace, or had been carefully taken to a quiet cove and unloaded into the ships of the men of St Nicholas. It was their usual behaviour. They were pirates. Thomas had no proof, nor witnesses, but he could see how well the men lived on that island, and it was surely not on the incomes which they won legally, because Thomas knew what they each should have. It was a profitable business, piracy, slaying everyone on board, then stealing all the goods before holing the ship and letting it sink or be broken on the rocks west of the islands. The best part was, they wouldn’t ever be seen, not unless Ranulph formed his own navy to guard against such attacks, but the cost of that and the cost of the men hired to sail the ships, would be prohibitive.

What if it was his own ship?

As Ranulph stood and made to leave the room, Thomas coughed loudly. Ranulph shot him a look. When Thomas pointed at Simon, Ranulph gave a sneering smile, then nodded.

Thomas beckoned to a servant and gave him instructions before rising and making his way to the little solar. He felt some trepidation. His master might refuse to believe him: after all, the vill on St Nicholas was owned by the priory. The villeins there were the property of the Prior, and that made attacking them a dangerous course of action. The Abbot of Tavistock was a litigious fellow, quite prepared to take any man to court in defence of his rights and liberties, and an attack on his island would result in costly legal actions even if it was possible to prove that David was leading a new band of pirates.

He had no doubts on that. The people there were known to take part in piracy, but for the most part they had concentrated their efforts on Breton and other vessels, not British ones. Ranulph, too, was convinced of their piracy, but he’d always declared that while they were attacking other men’s ships, he would leave them alone. For one thing, it meant that they had more money to swell his coffers, and for another, that they were busy elsewhere and not causing trouble for him.

It was tricky. Thomas couldn’t come out and accuse them of attacking his ship … he wasn’t supposed to have his own ship. He was only a Sergeant, and if Ranulph learned that he had a ship of his own, he would not unsurprisingly wish to know how he had accumulated such wealth. No, Thomas would have to be more subtle.

Robert’s murder was the perfect pretext. If the people of the vill had dared to attack and kill the castle’s own gather-reeve, that was a different matter. Ranulph would be so furious, he’d be bound to demand the head of the man responsible. And David was not at the vill on the night Robert died, the Bailiff said.

Reassuring himself with these reflections, Thomas made for Ranulph’s solar.

The solar was a small chamber one floor above the main hall, and as Thomas entered, Ranulph was already sitting on his chair. ‘Come on,’ Ranulph said, waving a beech mazer with silver inlay. ‘You have a face like a mastiff with a paw in a mantrap. You’re going to tell me bad news, aren’t you? Well — get on with it.’

‘The gather-reeve was stabbed,’ Thomas said. ‘I think that the killer was one of those mad felons out on St Nicholas.’

‘Why one of them? Why not one of our home-grown bastards?’ Ranulph demanded.

‘Oh, few of our Ennor islanders would dare to do such a thing. No, it’s more likely that it was a St Nicholas pirate. Perhaps Robert saw someone with a boat after dark, or was lured to the beach by a man.’ Thomas went on to explain that he suspected David of killing Robert.

‘From what I’ve heard, it was no man lured Robert out there,’ Ranulph said.

‘Ah — so you have heard of that?’

‘He told half the men in the castle that he was hoping to get laid!’ Ranulph said dismissively and finished his mazer. Handing it to a steward, he barked, ‘Come in!’ as knuckles rapped on the door.

Thomas was surprised that Ranulph was already aware of Robert’s womanising. Not that it should surprise him. The man sometimes learned things with surprising rapidity when Thomas least expected it. Still, it would make the coming conversation easier. Then, when Simon entered, Thomas was still more delighted to see how relaxed the Bailiff had become after a good meal with plenty of wine.

‘I have to thank you for your hospitality,’ Simon said, bowing to Ranulph. ‘I haven’t eaten or drunk so well in many a week. Foreign food is not good to an Englishman’s belly.’

It was true enough. He’d been laid up twice with a bad gut ache while he was in Spain. The second bout had threatened to kill him, and he still felt that it was a sign of God’s kindness that he had been brought back from the brink.

‘I am keen to support shipwrecked mariners,’ Ranulph said.

‘Your generosity is welcome,’ Simon said, impressed by the aura of power that surrounded the man. Ranulph wore his responsibilities lightly. Now he was in his own chamber, he sprawled in his large chair like a man who was entirely relaxed, although Simon couldn’t help but notice the weapons which lay within reach. There were two daggers on the table near his hand, a sword at his belt, and leaning against the wall was a polearm with a curved blade like a billhook.

‘I would be grateful if you could see to the release of my friends,’ Simon said.

‘Are they the two who tried to attack me?’ Ranulph growled.

‘That was surely a misunderstanding.’

‘I dislike misunderstandings which almost cost me my head,’ Ranulph said. ‘So I think I’ll keep them until I am sure that they fully comprehend their places here.’

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but Thomas interrupted him.

‘Don’t worry, Bailiff. For our part, we intend Sir Charles to be released. There’s no point in keeping him locked away. He’s no threat to us, is he?’

‘How soon before he’s freed?’

Ranulph gave him a slow, steady look. ‘You can trust me to decide on when I allow prisoners to be released, Bailiff, in my own manor.’

‘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.