The Outlaws of Ennor

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sir Charles delicately poked a foot at the water. He had his tunic lifted above his knees, and he stepped cautiously forward. Suddenly he yelped with alarm as he slipped into a hole. ‘What?’ he demanded, reddening.

‘Nothing, Sir Charles,’ Paul said, straight-faced.

‘You are fortunate that I have known you for so many years, my fellow,’ Sir Charles said before turning back to face the water. ‘This is extraordinary. We arrive here, thinking that we are on the correct island, only to discover that it is separated from the one we need, and all the people we expected are there, not here, and then my incomparable companion manages to forget to tie up the boat we need to reach the damn place.’

‘It wasn’t my fault. I thought you’d have done that,’ Paul objected.

‘Did I say that I would do so? I do not recall any such words passing my lips. No, I think it is usually the servant who is expected to tie up the boat.’

‘There was nowhere to tie it to.’

‘Then you should have pulled the damned thing up the beach.’

‘I did.’

‘Not high enough, Paul.’

‘It’s the way the sea goes up and down. I thought it was up. Then it came up higher, didn’t it?’

‘Quite extraordinary,’ Sir Charles said.

At least he was feeling cheerful. The only problem was that the men from Ennor were going to attack the vill under the priory, and Sir Charles had not managed to get to the Prior in time to warn him. That was a matter for regret, but also for urgency. If they were quick, they might be able to get there before the main fight, and then Sir Charles desired to meet with Ranulph alone, to teach him that capturing Sir Charles and keeping him in irons was only to be attempted by someone who was going to execute Sir Charles quickly. Because otherwise he would return to haunt you, and make life very painful, if only for a short while.

‘Come on, Paul,’ he rasped. ‘We have to get there.’

‘God’s eyes! Look at that!’

Sir Charles looked up, saw the men racing over the sand to meet with the villagers and swore. He took an unwary step forward, felt his feet sliding away from him, and with a startled squeak, his eyes wide open, he heard the water slap up over his ears and the sudden burst of roaring as it reached inside them. Then the cold rushed in through his mouth and nose, and he knew what panic was.

Ranulph roared in rage and delight, hefting the sword which had been his for a decade, a long weapon with razor-sharp edges. A man was before him, and he ran straight at him, the point of the sword thrusting through his ribcage as though it was simply lard. There was no friction, nothing. The sword was as good as it had ever been. He slashed at another man, but missed, and then there was a serious-faced dark man with a narrow beard in front of him.

The fool had no sword, only a short dagger. Ranulph laughed and swung his sword up, ready to bring it down on the idiot’s skull, but the man had slipped forward, unfearing of the naked steel dripping blood, caught hold of Ranulph’s sword-wrist, and wrenched it backwards. Only when his face was near to Ranulph’s did he recognise the man as the same fellow who had been with William the day before, walking up towards Hamadus’ home.

‘Who are you?’ Ranulph gasped.

‘I am Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, and you are a knave to attack an innocent vill.’

‘Let me free, sir, and we’ll see who’s a damned knave!’ Ranulph spat, and punched at Baldwin’s face with his free hand.

Baldwin felt the first blow slam painfully into his cheek. He lowered his head to make Ranulph’s aim more difficult, gripping Ranulph’s wrist with both hands, but Ranulph’s strength was astonishing, or perhaps it was Baldwin’s weakness after the journey here. Whichever led to it, Baldwin found that he couldn’t force the wrist down any further. Instead he had to cling on tightly as the thick, callused fist battered at him. And then, when it stopped, Baldwin knew that there was a reason. He glanced quickly, just in time to see the small dagger aimed at his heart, and kicked out with all his strength.

The two men were unbalanced, and Baldwin’s sudden movement forced Ranulph to go over backwards. He had to drop the dagger to try to break his fall, and then he received Baldwin’s full weight in his stomach. Before he could even think about recovering his breath, he felt the prick of a dagger under his chin.

‘Tell your men to stop. Right now. Order them!’

‘They won’t hear me!’ Ranulph snarled.

Baldwin pushed the little blade upwards. ‘Well, you had better try sodding hard, then, had you not?’ and watched the trickle of blood run down the slick metal. He set his jaw.

Ranulph gave a grunt — a nod would have been dangerous — and Baldwin slowly withdrew the blade. Instantly, Ranulph grabbed his second dagger and shoved Baldwin away, readying his arm to stab. Baldwin felt himself overbalance, and then he was on his back, Ranulph’s hand at his throat, the dagger reversed in his fist. Ranulph lifted his hand to thrust it into Baldwin’s chest, and roared, ‘No one tells me to stop, you churl!’

In the moment before the blade sank into his breast, Baldwin felt that sense of having witnessed this scene before. He knew this had already happened, and suddenly he was there on the ship again, reeling and falling as the Anne shifted, leaving him stunned while the pirate-master prepared to swing his axe. But Ranulph and he were on dry land. There was no plunging deck to save him now. He saw the determination in Ranulph’s eyes and saw his own death mirrored. There was nothing he could do.

Oh God, I love my wife, was his last thought, and then as he was about to close his eyes, there was a flash of blue, and he winced even as Ranulph’s eyes suddenly popped wide in alarm. There was that hoarse bellow which he had missed so much over the last few days.

‘You misbegotten bastard offspring of a wolf and a drunken priest’s whore! Drop your fucking weapon before I take your head off!’

‘Simon,’ Baldwin said, looking up with a wash of exhaustion trickling through his bones as the dagger fell from Ranulph’s hand. ‘There are times when it is a positive delight to see you. However, that is never more the case than when you turn up in the middle of a fight like this. Even if,’ he added with mock sternness, ‘you have the infernal nerve to pinch my own sword in order to save me.’

His expression was curious, slightly weak as though he was exhausted, but Simon could hardly see, because his own eyes were suddenly fogged, and his voice was not to be trusted. It was all he could do to sniff, wipe a hand over his brow, and nod. Then, as Ranulph made a move to reach for a dagger, Simon stood on it and then pulled his sword’s blade higher, one hand on the hilt, the other on the blade, pulling Ranulph’s head up against his own belly and forcing the blade into his throat. ‘Don’t think of it; don’t tempt me!’

He looked about at the mess. There were many men struggling on the ground, but fortunately the battle had been quite equally matched. Although Ranulph’s men had intended to grab a number of men by surprise, the place appeared to have been almost ready. There were plenty of men already armed, and few, fortunately, were lying still on the ground. ‘Enough! Stop this fighting,’ he roared at the top of his voice. ‘Ranulph de Blancminster has surrendered.’

More quietly, he said, ‘Get up, and order your men to stop. Otherwise, in God’s name, I swear I’ll cut your throat like a rabid dog’s.’

Blancminster staggered to his feet, both hands on the blade. He felt that he could have tried a number of ruses: perhaps a kick to Simon’s shin, or an elbow to the gut … but there was something in the man’s voice that didn’t invite gambling. Ranulph bit back a curse and commanded his men to yield, all the while swearing to himself that he would have revenge upon this upstart Bailiff. ‘You were my guest, yet you behave like this!’

‘I was your prisoner, ordered to obey your whim while you threatened my companions with death to suit your caprice. If I hadn’t stopped you, you would have killed my friend here, too.’

Baldwin stood, swallowing and feeling his neck. The men about them were beginning to draw apart, watching each other warily. Sailors and men-at-arms gripping their swords and axes on one side, while the villagers from St Nicholas fingered their own long daggers and knives on the other. Seeing William and Cryspyn standing wringing their hands, Baldwin waved to them, inviting them to join him and Simon. He had the feeling that it would take only a small spark to set off the men here again, and he had no desire to see the pleasant area erupt in an open battle once more. Perhaps having a Prior and a priest in the midst of the warring factions would prevent the sides coming together in violence again. After all, the real enemies were out there, on the sea. The pirates were probably escaping even as the castle’s men glowered at the fishermen of St Nicholas.

When he saw David lurking at the back of the group of St Nicholas men, he beckoned him with a bent finger. It was not in him to forget David’s inaction when the crowd sought Baldwin’s death, but he could wait a while before he sought to discuss his feelings, preferably using a sword to emphasise each of his verbal points with another less gentle one.

Simon had released Ranulph, but retrieved the Lord’s own sword, which he now gripped. When Baldwin glanced at him, Simon held out his own sword to him, hilt first, and Baldwin took it back with a smile. Just to hold it felt wonderful. He raised it to the sky, and it caught the sun, gleaming with an oily sheen.

‘Listen to me!’ he called, loudly enough for all the assembled men to hear. ‘This day, a ship of pirates was seen leaving the northern parts of these islands. They set off eastwards, and I doubt whether they can be caught now. They were Breton pirates. They had attacked the Anne and the Faucon Dieu. They killed our men and tried to steal our goods. Yet you here prefer to accuse each other of crimes, and try to attack each other. Ranulph de Blancminster, you are a felon for attacking Church lands and Church villeins. You have broken the law, and you will pay for your crimes. You and your men must go back to Ennor. I have no doubt that the good Bishop Walter in Exeter will make his own feelings plain.’

‘God rot his bowels!’ Ranulph declared. ‘He can make all the feelings he likes plain to me, but I-’

Simon still had Ranulph’s sword. He used it now to prod the man. ‘I should hold my tongue if I were you, Bishop Walter is the King’s friend. He is the Lord High Treasurer.’ It gave him a deal of pleasure to see how Ranulph’s eyes narrowed, first in suspicion, then in horror as Simon added, ‘And he is a personal friend of Sir Baldwin’s.’

Baldwin was talking to the Prior. ‘We should attempt to follow that ship. Is there a vessel which is swift enough to overtake her?’

David shrugged when the Prior glanced at him. ‘Many, I expect, but all too small to take a crew large enough to hope to threaten them. What sort of ship was she?’

‘A keel,’ Simon said, remembering something that Gervase had told him. ‘She had one large square sail and banks of oars.’

David looked up at the sky and wrinkled his nose. ‘No, I doubt we could catch her, then. Those things are very quick — it’s why they use them for raiding. We could try in one or two ships, but we could only carry five or six men per boat, and they’d keep us off too easily.’

‘Is there no other way to catch them?’ Baldwin demanded. Every moment that they waited here, he could feel the distance growing between the pirates and the islands. ‘There must be some means of pursuing them and bringing them to justice.’

David shrugged. ‘The only ship we have is the Faucon Dieu. She’s large enough to carry men to take the pirates’ ship, but she’s still full of wine and other merchandise.’

‘How long to empty her?’

‘Forget it. It’d take a day to empty her and prepare her for the chase. By the time we could set off, the bastards would be home. Face it: we can’t catch her.’

‘We can try,’ Baldwin said, and then he turned angrily on Ranulph. ‘You cretin! You were greedy enough to come here and try to take this island, weren’t you, but that was because you saw a means of extending your lands. You wanted the customs from St Nicholas’s Water, I suppose.’

‘I wanted to punish the pirates,’ Ranulph said. ‘These peasants are responsible for murder and piracy and the Prior wouldn’t do anything about it.’

‘You had no proof,’ Baldwin snapped. ‘Because they weren’t responsible! Those pirates out there are the men who tried to capture the Anne, not the people from this island.’

‘I wasn’t to know.’

‘Could you prepare the Faucon Dieu to sail,’ Simon asked David, ‘without emptying her? Then we could empty her while sailing. It would save time.’

‘No!’ Thomas cried with an agonised voice. ‘You can’t throw away all my-’

‘Yes,’ David said.

‘Send a man to order it,’ Baldwin said. ‘Select the best men from here and have them join us at the ship. We shall sail as soon as we can.’

‘We’ll need more water and some victuals,’ David said, frowning. He called a man over. ‘It will take a little while.’

‘How long?’ Baldwin demanded.

David gazed up at the sky. ‘If we can use the priory’s stores, we can set off before the sun is at her highest.’

‘Do so, then,’ Baldwin said. ‘And hurry.’

William sighed. He had been silent for a long while, staring pensively at Ranulph and listening to Baldwin, but now he shook his head sadly and peered at the Prior. ‘There is one thing, perhaps, Prior, which is a relief: the people who killed Luke are uncovered.’

‘What?’ Simon demanded.

‘It must have been those pirates. They were nestling there in among the islands, and they decided to kill the one man who might have seen them. Perhaps he was out seeking gulls’ eggs and spotted them, or maybe they came ashore to raid, and slew him then. Whichever was the true case, I suppose we shall never know.’

Cryspyn’s face lightened. ‘You think that this is possible? That is a marvellous relief.’

‘It would explain much.’ David nodded.

Baldwin shot him a look. ‘Such as what?’

‘I found it hard to believe that a local man would have killed him. We aren’t murderers,’ David said, nodding towards Ranulph in a gesture of comparison.

Ranulph reddened. ‘You call me murderer? My sword-’

‘Is in my hands,’ Simon reminded him harshly. ‘Shut up.’

‘What of the gather-reeve?’ Baldwin asked. ‘And the theft of my sword?’

‘Theft?’ This time Ranulph’s eyes looked like they would pop from his skull. Simon told himself that to be accused of homicide was one thing: Ranulph clearly had very definite views on suggestions that he was no better than a drawer-latch, though.

Baldwin looked at him without comment for a moment, then, ‘I was washed up on to the beach. If my sword had fallen from my body, it would have sunk. Also, it would have bruised me, were it torn from me. I am not bruised, nor is the belt damaged. See! It is being worn by my friend Simon, and there is no damage done to it. Someone must have found me and removed the sword. They carried it back to Ennor, and when they arrived there, they set it near the body of the dead man.’

‘That is mad. How can you reach that conclusion?’ Thomas had joined them, and now he stood a short way from them. ‘I could understand someone taking your sword and using it to kill, just so that his own dagger would be clean of blood, and then discarding the thing, but carrying it to another island? And that supposes that he knew to find you there in the first place.’

‘There were some people who were out that night. We know that Luke was, and we know that you were,’ Simon said. ‘You had gone out to speak to Luke, hadn’t you? Or was it to talk to Robert, to persuade him not to blackmail you?’

‘He wouldn’t have dared to blackmail me! The fool was too feeble to try it!’

‘Yet we all thought he was a murderer!’ Simon said. ‘You told everyone that he was!’

‘A murderer in my pay, though,’ said Thomas dismissively. ‘He wouldn’t threaten me. He knew I could order any of the other men at the castle to kill him.’

Ranulph cleared his throat. ‘In whose pay?’

‘He was your servant, my Lord. As I am,’ Thomas said silkily.

Ranulph nodded. ‘I see. What were you doing there, then, loyal servant? You were out until late that night. The gatekeeper told me you paid him to open the gate quietly after dark. Where had you been?’

‘I was talking to Luke. He wanted to pay me to take him away from the island.’

‘And how would you do that?’ Ranulph asked.

Simon thought that if Baldwin’s sword showed any signs of rust, that voice could be used to protect it. It was as smooth as the best oil, dripping with insincerity.

‘I was to try to win him a passage on a ship.’

‘Why should you do that for him?’ Ranulph asked.

‘He thought that I might,’ Thomas responded calmly. ‘Because he was a priest and I was known to be a religious man, he thought he might be able to persuade me for free, just as a favour to a priest. When I refused, in horror,’ he nodded to Cryspyn, ‘to think that I should be asked to carry away a man of God from his vocation, he offered me money.’

‘I didn’t realise he had any,’ Baldwin said. ‘There was none in his cell.’

‘His belongings were terribly stirred, though, were they not?’ William said. ‘Maybe the pirates broke up his belongings to find his cash, and took it with them.’

‘Or perhaps someone else paid him, and went back to steal the money away again, and killed the fellow at the same time,’ Baldwin said.

‘What are you suggesting?’ Thomas asked, but his voice was harder now.

‘I suggest that since you had a ship, and were dealing illegally, taking the customs to yourself and not reporting them, perhaps you paid Luke to hold his tongue. And then you went to his home to find the money, but managed to kill him as well,’ Baldwin said.

‘Or,’ Simon considered, ‘there was no money. He attempted to blackmail you, and you simply murdered him for his efforts.’

‘This is fascinating,’ Thomas said sarcastically, ‘but surely it was more likely that the pirates killed him.’

‘What of Robert, though? Did he learn of your venture and ask for money as well?’

‘My friend, I have no such ventures,’ Thomas said, but he was looking paler, grey about the mouth, Baldwin thought. It could have been righteous indignation at wrongful accusations, or it might have been fear at the correct accusation.

He nodded. ‘So you deny these allegations?’

‘Of course.’

‘I believe the accusations,’ Ranulph snorted. He hawked and spat. ‘Walerand? Come here.’

Simon cast a nervous look over his shoulder. The new gather-reeve stalked forward, still wiping his eyes, and giving Simon a look of concentrated hatred. If he was lucky and cautious, Walerand reckoned that he could slip a knife between the Bailiff’s shoulder-blades if only he could get a moment alone with him. Simon deserved it, the bastard.

Then he realised how Ranulph was talking. Ranulph obviously trusted him. That much was clear from the way that he had given him so many missions. Perhaps he could be the next Sergeant? ‘Sergeant Walerand’, he decided, had a distinct ring to it. ‘Sir?’

‘What did I tell you to do yesterday?’

‘You asked me to check the wines stored down by the harbour.’ Walerand had not noticed how Simon was gripping Ranulph’s sword. ‘And I saw the Bailiff there releasing Sir Charles and his man when I came back.’

‘And didn’t see fit to tell me?’ Ranulph took a deep breath. ‘We’ll talk about this later, Walerand. Meantime, you counted the wines?’

‘Yes, and there were three missing,’ Walerand said. There was a sinking feeling in his belly. Ranulph had looked happy until he reported the Bailiff’s actions last night, and suddenly Walerand felt considerably less comfortable. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned that.

Ranulph said, ‘Three were missing. Yet there were three more on the Faucon Dieu this morning. I know because I had the ship checked. Someone had ordered them to be moved. I may not be able to read, but I can count. I have heard rumours that customs of many ships have not been registered. Including the Faucon Dieu.’

‘I was going to add it in,’ Thomas protested.

‘Really? But now I hear that you have a part in the ship yourself. Is this true?’

‘I …’

‘Perhaps we should merely ask the master of the ship who owns his cargoes. That would be easiest, would it not?’

‘It was mine,’ Thomas said quietly. Then he looked up. ‘But I did not kill Luke or Robert, I swear. Prior, I claim sanctuary, and I swear on the cross that I have not murdered either of those two.’