The Outlaws of Ennor

Chapter Four

When he had recovered sufficiently to clear his eyes, Simon found himself meeting the gaze of a powerful-looking man. From his garb, he must be a priest, and although his eyes were serious, there was a kindness in his voice as he told Simon: ‘You did well, my friend. You saved his life.’

He had rolled the lad onto his belly, his head nearest the sea so his legs were uppermost, and then pushed repeatedly on the fellow’s back. Even as he spoke to Simon he was still pumping. ‘Yes, this boy will live. You were on a ship together?’

‘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.

That discovery was wonderful. It was as though her life had suddenly begun again. The desperation and despair of the last years were wiped out as though by magic, and in their place was a new confidence. This was the proof: the problem was not hers, it was her man who was at fault. And yet she could do nothing about it. She was tied to him with indissoluble chains, witnessed by God.

Attempting to balance her feelings and desires in this way, Tedia had driven herself almost into a brain fever. For two days she felt as though she was floating on a cloud of happiness high over all her troubles, and even tried to invigorate her husband again, but then she sank into the pit of despair once more. It was while she was deep in a depression on the fourth day that she had sought out Luke, the chaplain. She needed spiritual help.

At once he had seen her misery and asked what the matter was. After a lot of snivelling and sadness, she confessed that she had no idea what to do, explaining her predicament.

‘My child, the solution is easy,’ he said with that gentle smile of his. ‘You must divorce him.’

If Isok was unable to service her, he was failing in his duty to God and to her. She must find a new husband so that she wouldn’t fail in her duty. That meant she must divorce her Isok.

She listened with her mouth agape. The idea was shameful! Terrible! But there was a certain elegant logic to it. Divorce was less bad than continuing life without sex or children. That was unbearable. It was an insult to God, Who had commanded that men and women should multiply.

When Luke explained it to her, it seemed so clear and logical, she was overwhelmed with gratitude. He told her that she must find another man. That it would only be doing God’s will, were she to find a lover; she should find a man who could satisfy her, and whom she could also satisfy, while also producing the children which God desired above all else.

Of course, she thought. That is natural. And then Luke reached forward, and kissed her so kindly, she had felt her heart leap in response. She had risen, thanked him and explained that she must return to her husband or he would wonder where she was. There was a slightly petulant expression on his face when she said that, but she hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

So she had made her choice. Her lover was to be Robert. Last night she had hoped to consummate her love for him, and then, when the divorce was granted, she would go to Robert and be his wife. They would live at the castle behind La Val and would have many children as God wished.

Except Robert had not arrived the night before. It was no surprise. He was a man of authority. His face was known across all the islands, and he could have been called away to deal with a problem somewhere else. Or maybe he was simply intimidated by the weather. He could well have rationalised that her husband might have turned back from the sea as soon as he saw the storm approach, just as Isok actually had. In which case, Robert might be coming to see her today to apologise.

With this thought in mind, she left her home and walked down to the beach.

It was smothered in driftwood and weeds. The sands which had been so clean and white the day before, were now cluttered with pebbles and dirt. Sections of the grassed banks at the top of the beach were rent asunder, the rich soil spilling out and staining the sand. When she continued along the seashore, she saw huts and houses with their thatch blown apart, and in one case a house had lost its entire roof. The peasant who lived there was standing on an unstable ladder trying to make the best of it he could. Tedia thought that she should offer to let him stay with her in her house, but then a certain rectitude told her that it might be a bad idea while her husband was away in his boat, as he had said he would be.

Isok had been acting oddly ever since she had said that she wanted a divorce. It appeared not to surprise him, but had sent him into a sulky mood that hadn’t gone away. She wanted to comfort him, but it wasn’t possible. He resented her, as though she was disloyal in desiring a divorce. She could understand that. Still, she didn’t dislike him. Perhaps her love had dwindled over the long barren years, but she was still fond of him. If they had managed to have children, she was sure that he would have made a good father. He was kind and generous, more so than many other husbands. There was only his one failing: but that was a vital and unforgivable one.

She sighed. The sooner she could proceed with the divorce, the better. She had already spoken with Prior Cryspyn and asked that he petition on her behalf. At first, the Prior had refused, saying that an oath spoken before God could not be undone even by the Bishop’s court, but then he had relented enough to agree to write to the Bishop and set out the facts on her behalf. He had said that he would hope for an answer soon, or at least some indication of how to proceed, even if a simple annulment was not possible.

Putting the thoughts away from her with a skill which she had learned from her despair, Tedia considered the view, glancing over towards the main island, Ennor. In the water she saw many pieces of wood, and she wondered whether a ship had been driven onto one of the many groups of rocks which were scattered so liberally about here.

The sea brought up many strange objects, but last night’s storm must have been more violent than any she had witnessed before, she reckoned, because there was a vast amount of flotsam and jetsam. Pieces of timber, ropes, small barrels, and bundles of rags. That must mean a large ship had gone down. With a sudden certainty, she turned and stared out towards Ennor. There, near the westernmost tip of Agnas, she saw what looked like a dismasted ship rolling on the low tide, and the sight tore at her heart. Born an islander, she knew what a wreck meant: dead men.

As though her mind suddenly appreciated the sight, she gasped, turned and bolted towards the rags. They were yellowish green, lying up near the top of the tide-mark, and as she approached, she was sure that she was too late. The cold of the sea must have killed him; if not that, then surely he had taken in too much water to live. He couldn’t have survived.

But when she came closer, she could hear the stertorous breath snoring in his throat and nose, and she ran to him to see whether she might save him, little knowing how this meeting would change her future for ever.