A Friar's bloodfeud

Chapter Ten

Adcock was awake early the next day, and as he prepared himself for an expedition over to the eastern edge of the manor to look at the pastures and assess their quality, he could hear bellowing from inside as Sir Geoffrey readied himself for his ride. It served to make the sergeant’s desire to leave the place all the more urgent, hearing that hoarse shouting.

He was still shocked at the way the messenger had appeared yesterday. He’d entered haughtily proud, walking straight down the hall, round the fire, until he stood in front of Sir Geoffrey. All the while Sir Geoffrey sat with a shoulder of mutton in his hands, tearing at it with his small, square teeth until only the bone remained. This he held in his hand and studied. Meanwhile the other men in the hall were laughing and calling the messenger names. At first they had been quiet, but as they grew in belligerence some started to shout obscene suggestions at the man, one even throwing a piece of food at him.

At last Geoffrey had stood and lifted his hand. ‘Will you all be silent, please, for our guest?’ he cried with mock seriousness. ‘This poor fellow has ridden many miles to be with us tonight. He is tired. Would you like some wine, fellow?’

‘I am well enough, Sir Geoffrey. I have a message for you from Sir Odo.’

‘Oho! Have you!’ a man shouted from a bench. Adcock glanced up. It was Nick le Poter again. Always trying to foment trouble, Nick was. He scared Adcock, because he was the sort of man who might kill to settle a dispute, and he was undeniably ambitious. He wanted power for himself here in the manor, and if he ever took over from Sir Geoffrey the whole place would grow even worse, as far as Adcock could see. He only seemed to understand brute force and bullying, nothing else.

Geoffrey leaned slightly to get a clearer view of the man who had called out. He pointed with his chin, and Adcock saw two men from the doorway nod. They walked towards Nick.

‘Well, sir? What message does Sir Odo wish me to receive?’

‘He sends you his best wishes. He heard that you enjoyed your ride on Saturday, and hopes you enjoyed the hospitality of his manor, but would remind you that it is the custom of visitors and guests to leave a room in the manner in which they found it. He is disturbed that you appear to have broken down the walls, slaughtered cattle and sheep, and threatened the bailiff. He would like you to make restitution. Naturally, he would like an apology too. He will inform Sir John Sully of the offence given to his estates, and will appeal to Lord de Courtenay for support if necessary.’

‘He will, will he?’ Sir Geoffrey chuckled. Then he glanced to the side.

The man who had shouted abuse was gripped by the two men now, one at each arm. Sir Geoffrey nodded to him. ‘Lordings, this fellow was rude to our guest. We can’t have that, now can we? How should we punish him?’

Adcock frowned. This was peculiar behaviour even from the little he had seen of Sir Geoffrey. The man, Nick, now held by the two guards, suddenly gave a convulsive heave, and managed to throw off one of them, but in a moment he was grabbed again, and he could only stand mouthing futile imprecations while others gloated and laughed at his predicament.

‘What will we do with him?’ Sir Geoffrey asked again. ‘Well, if no one else will help me, I’ll have to think of a suitable punishment myself. You! Fetch me a lash.’

At his command, a fellow from the far table hurried from the room, returning a few moments later with a thin lash. Sir Geoffrey took it and swung it a few times, listening to its sharp hissing. ‘I don’t want my men being disobedient,’ he said lazily, and then walked to the culprit. ‘What exactly did you say again?’

Nick said nothing, but only spat on the ground between them. Sir Geoffrey said not a word, but his face paled with rage. He nodded to the two guards, and the unwilling victim was taken to the top table. While Adcock watched in horror, the man was thrust over the board in front of him, scattering bowls and trenchers, until his bearded face was a scant foot from his own. The guards sprang over the table, still holding his arms, and stood gripping his wrists, pulling his arms outstretched. Sir Geoffrey drew his dagger and ran it up Nick’s shirt from his arse to his neck, incidentally snagging the man’s back a couple of times, and pulled the shirt from him.

He looked straight at Adcock as he pronounced, ‘I will not tolerate disobedience in my manor. Not from any man.’ And then he began to whip the fellow’s back until it was raw with blood.

Simon had reached his home before the third hour of the morning, and he clattered loudly down the roadway to his house at an easy walk, anticipating his breakfast.

It was always good to ride along the ridge here towards Lydford in good, clear weather. The little town had been a centre of tin-mining for many years, since before the Normans arrived even. The old houses could most of them do with being knocked down and rebuilt, but for Simon there was some charm in the fact that this old outpost seemed to be unchanging. It was a part of the delight of the place.

His house was towards the town’s heart, not far from the prison that had been his place of work for so long. He meandered along the road, and then stopped outside the long Devon house that had been his home since he’d been given the job here eight years ago.

Little around here had altered greatly in those eight years. They were lucky indeed that the wars that had so scarred the kingdom had not reached this far west. The fighting had all been on the Welsh March, or farther north at York, Boroughbridge and beyond. There the slaughter had been terrible after the Scottish invasions, so he’d heard.

Here, though, life had continued as it had for decades. His house stood solid and comforting, and beyond it, in the clear morning’s air, he could see for miles to the north-west, over sporadic grey wastes of low-lying mist. He swung from his horse and led it round to the back of the house, removing the saddle and bridle himself before slapping the beast on the rump to send him running. Before long the rounsey was pulling at the grasses and chewing contentedly as though he’d never left this place.

Simon left him there and made his way inside. The ceiling was low and he had to stoop as he entered. He met a serving-girl, who gaped to see him. Winking at her he pointed upwards, and she nodded emphatically, so he stepped quietly to the stairs and mounted them as quietly as he might.

In the solar upstairs, he could see that his daughter was still asleep, while his wife was kneeling with her back to him, playing with his young son. Simon stood a moment staring at them, his heart feeling as though it had swollen to twice its normal size. Peterkin was growing so quickly now, Simon felt as though he was missing too much that was important. But there was little to be done about it. He had to work.

‘Dadad!’

He saw his wife’s startled expression as Peterkin ran past her and into Simon’s arms, and then she was with him too, her mouth on his.

‘You have a strange idea of a place to meet,’ Sir Geoffrey said as he kicked his mount forward. ‘This is too much in the open.’

‘It was hard to pick somewhere in a hurry, sir,’ Sir Odo said calmly.

The two were at the bend in the Torridge river just below Brimblecombe. Neither was in a position to entirely trust the other, and both remained on their horses, speaking low and quiet.

Sir Odo glanced about him as he asked, ‘You came alone?’

‘Of course! You think I want others to know we discuss things like this?’ Sir Geoffrey snapped.

Sir Odo considered him. ‘It’s as dangerous for me as it is for you, Sir Geoffrey. I can’t afford for my master to know that I’m here any more than you can.’

‘Then let’s stop pissing in the wind and get to business!’ Sir Geoffrey retorted.

‘Very well. The attacks must stop. It’s getting out of control. It’s one thing to burn the bailiff from his place, but the killings up at Iddesleigh won’t be so easy to cover over.’

‘Very funny.’

‘What?’

Sir Geoffrey said nothing for a moment. His eyes narrowed, and his face coloured, and then he faced the other knight. ‘Is that a joke? If it is, I think it’s in poor taste.’

‘Those were your men, weren’t they? It’s the talk of the whole area. The man and his woman and child, so I heard. All murdered, their holding burned, the livestock stolen … everyone is saying it was you and your men, that you rode to Iddesleigh immediately after the work you did to Robert’s place. Do you mean it wasn’t you?’

‘What possible interest could I have had in attacking some peasant in his dwelling?’ Sir Geoffrey tore his gaze away from Sir Odo, and he stared along the line of the river northwards. ‘I assumed it was you and your men.’

‘If I was going to retaliate, I’d do it with an assault on one of your manors,’ Sir Odo said reasonably. ‘I’d hardly attack Iddesleigh, on my own lands, would I?’

‘It had occurred to me and my men that you were thinking of blaming us for a second attack. That was why we arranged for a good alibi after we heard about it,’ Sir Geoffrey said musingly. ‘So if you wanted to make a point of putting the blame on me, it would be a good place for you to attack — somewhere that looks like yours, but which wouldn’t upset your master at all.’

‘It wasn’t me or my men,’ Sir Odo said flatly, and now he too was frowning at the view. ‘But if it wasn’t either of us, who could it have been? Is there a band of outlaws that you’re aware of? I’ve heard nothing.’

‘No, nor I. But if there were a small band, they might be keen to avoid upsetting either of us. Perhaps this was merely a short incursion by felons and they took what they could and fled?’

‘Perhaps,’ Sir Odo said, unconvinced. ‘But I should go cautiously for a while. We don’t want the balance we hold here to be disturbed. If there is trouble, it will escalate to our lords, and there is no point in that. Your master and mine must baulk at the thought of war over such a tiny piece of land. Provided we continue to niggle at it, they’ll be happy. But we don’t want actual battle. Besides, it is not in our interests to have the land disputed seriously.’

‘Not while it is in our hands and we can profit from it,’ Sir Geoffrey agreed. ‘We can leave matters as they are for a while. Let the peasants think that we have a truce, and then occasional little attacks to satisfy my master.’

‘Good,’ Sir Odo said.

He extended his hand. Sir Geoffrey hesitated, and then the pair sealed their pact with a handshake.

Then Sir Odo asked, ‘By the way — did you ever learn who it was who killed your sergeant?’

‘No. That is still a mystery to us. No doubt we shall learn, though.’

‘Have you heard that the widow, young Lucy of Meeth, has disappeared too?’ Sir Odo asked keenly.

‘No — I’d heard nothing about her. I have enough on my plate just looking to my own affairs without worrying about other people’s.’

Sir Odo nodded. ‘True enough. Godspeed!’ He wheeled his horse about, and set off at a canter southwards.

Sir Geoffrey considered him as he rode out of sight, and then he shook his head and touched his beast with the spur, and set off at a gentle trot. It was a shame he had to destroy Sir Odo. When his master declared that he wanted a new piece of land, it was best to obey him. Those who disobeyed the Despenser tended to have their lives shortened.

When the hammering came at the door, Simon heard the maid going to answer it, and idly ran his hand down his wife’s naked flank, then leaned forward and kissed the curve of her waist. ‘I could lie here all day just making love to you,’ he whispered.

‘You have done before now,’ she chuckled throatily. She reached out to him and pulled his face to hers, kissing his lips. ‘I miss you so much,’ she said seriously.

‘I miss you too. Hopefully it won’t be long. How is Edith?’

‘She is in love with him, Simon. She says she won’t leave Lydford unless it’s as his wife.’

Simon looked away. It was too painful to accept that his daughter was already a woman and ready for marriage. ‘She seems so young.’

‘I doubt not that I seemed too young to my parents when you wooed me.’

‘Perhaps,’ he sighed.

She smiled and rolled over on to her back, pulling him on top of her. ‘Do you remember how we used to make love all afternoon?’

‘Master?’

The shout up the stairs came just as he was preparing to demonstrate that he could indeed recall those not-so-far-off days, and he frowned at his wife as she attempted to suppress her giggling at his frustration. ‘Shall I go and send them away, Simon?’

He snapped over his shoulder, ‘What is it?’

‘A boy has come … a messenger, a man from Sir Baldwin, bailiff. It’s very important, he says. Urgent.’

Simon kissed Meg a last time, then grunted as he left her body. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Dressed, he found the messenger warming his hands before his fire.

‘Wat?’

‘Sir … I am so sorry, sir,’ Wat burst out. ‘It’s Hugh. I am sorry, we’ve heard he’s dead, sir.’

‘No!’

‘Will you go to help Sir Baldwin at Hugh’s house?’

Simon did not bother to answer, but hurried up to tell his wife.

Robert Crokers was still weeping as the pups were born.

Someone had tried to kill his poor old bitch and she might never work again. The poor thing was ruined. She had a long cut along her flank, where someone had plainly slashed at her as she ran past, and she must have spent the last few days in terror, not daring to return to her home. God only knew what she had managed to eat, although from the look of her it wasn’t much.

As soon as he saw her he picked her up in his arms, buried his face in her neck, and carried her gently back to the house. He laid her by the fire and gave her a little of the meaty soup he had made for himself, watching anxiously as she wolfed it down. She was terribly weak, and her eyes were haunted like a child’s who had lost a parent. Whenever there was a noise she didn’t recognise, she started and stared fixedly at the door. When Walter walked in, she was petrified, growling low and rising painfully on her haunches at the sight of the stranger.

‘Easy, girl. Easy,’ Robert said, stroking her. At the first touch, she flashed her head round, and he saw that she was panting, as though she had run a great distance. Her teeth were ready, and her open mouth enclosed his hand. He didn’t move, but spoke to her softly, until at last her rolling eyes were calmed, and she released him. His skin wasn’t broken, and he gently scratched her under the chin, where she always liked it. She held his gaze for a long while, and then lay down again, too exhausted to maintain even her fear.

‘Poor girl,’ he said.

‘Found her, then?’ Walter said. He had collected more wood and threw it down near the fire. ‘Won’t last long, from the look of her.’

‘She’s strong inside,’ Robert said.

‘She’ll need to be!’ Walter chuckled, and walked out again.

Robert returned to his faggots later, and brought all the spare wood to the house. He stacked it with Walter’s pile over at the far side of the room, then dropped a bundle on to the glowing embers, blowing gently until he had fanned it into flames. He set his bowl over it to heat through, and settled back to wait while the flames warmed his face. As he squatted there, he heard the steps of Walter return, and soon the older man was inside again, throwing another few faggots to join the pile.

‘Keep us going for the night, anyway,’ he commented.

‘Why did you say that before you fetched them?’

‘What?’

‘I said she was strong inside, and you said she’d have to be.’

Walter looked at him, then stuck a small twig in his mouth and rubbed it over his teeth to clean them. ‘Look, I don’t know what Sir Odo said to you, but he reckons those bastards’ll be back. Won’t be immediate, but they’ll be back, and next time they’ll plan on making sure no one can live here. He’s set a boy to watch over us here, and if there’s any sign of horses coming that lad will run fast as he can to Sir Odo, day or night, and day or night Sir Odo will come with his men.’

‘Why, though? The land isn’t worth all that much.’

Walter chuckled aloud. ‘Not in terms of peasants or crops, no; but it’s good for a lord to tie up his lands, and Sir Geoffrey’s lords own most of the land this side of the river. They’ll be looking to add more, and that means he wants to clear you and all our men off this part so he can put his own in here.’

‘How long?’

Walter looked at him, shrugged and lay down on the ground. He grunted to himself, resting his head on a pillow of rolled-up scraps of cloth, pulled up a blanket, and finally set his old felt hat over his eyes. ‘I’d get that bitch well as soon as you can. Won’t be all that long. Sir Geoffrey isn’t a patient man.’

Soon he was snoring, but not Robert. He could see again the bitter, scornful faces as they trampled his lands, setting their mounts plunging all over his vegetables, tossing torches into his thatch, enjoying the bullying of a man weaker than they were.

It made him furious — and petrified to think that soon they might be back.