No Law in the Land

Chapter Twenty-Three

Agnes’s house, Jacobstowe

She began to come around only a short time after the bailiff and his companions had left, but in the midst of the noise in her chamber she didn’t open her eyes.

Agnes knew what was happening about her. It was the same as when a woman went into labour. The rest of the women of the vill, friends and others alike, would congregate in the woman’s home and drink and gossip, offering some useful advice amid the general hubbub, enjoying the opportunity to have time with their own sex and no men about to cause trouble or arguments.

But Agnes wanted only peace. She could recall the sick headache beginning, and she remembered vaguely being picked up and carried here, but the reason for her sudden collapse was still a mystery. Men always said that women were weaker because of the womb. It was a strange organ that would move about the body in a predatory manner, giving rise to the odd emotions that assailed even the most intelligent of women.

This was nothing to do with organs, though. She knew that this was the result of her rage at the world and her husband. He should not have left her in that way. He had deserted her. His death had left her desolate. Her life now was barren.

Except it wasn’t his choice, was it? He wouldn’t have voluntarily killed himself. The poor man had loved her, and loved Ant too. He was a good man, a good, kind, gentle husband and father.

She would avenge him.

Exeter

Baldwin beat upon the door with his fist, paused, and then pounded again. ‘Open the door!’

There was a shout from further up the lane, and Edgar touched Baldwin’s shoulder. ‘Sir.’

Turning, Baldwin saw that there were two watchmen striding down the lane towards them. ‘Oh, in Christ’s name,’ he muttered, and slammed his open hand against the door once more. There was still no answer.

‘You are late to be banging on doors, masters,’ said the first watchman.

Baldwin stared at him. ‘Do I not know you? Did you not help me and my friends find our way to his daughter’s house?’

The watchman peered at him. His friend had a filthy cloth wrapped about his head, and Baldwin had a sudden flash of memory. ‘Your name is Gil, and this must be your friend Phil, who was hurt while walking at night.’

‘You were with the men who wanted the son of Charles the Merchant.’ Gil nodded. ‘But this isn’t their house.’

‘It is his parents’ house. I need to speak with them about their son — he’s been arrested. And his wife is missing too. But they will not open the door.’

‘Maybe they’re not there,’ Gil said.

Phil shook his head. ‘There’s someone behind that shutter up there,’ he said, pointing. ‘I can see a face.’

Gil looked up. ‘Well, they don’t have to open their door to you, sir. Not if they don’t want to.’

‘Perhaps so, but I am Keeper of the King’s Peace, and I do not want to gain a reputation by breaking it myself,’ Baldwin said suavely.

‘No. Can’t have that,’ Gil said. He hesitated, reluctant to annoy a senior member of the city’s hierarchy, but also unhappy at the thought of upsetting a King’s Keeper.

Phil grunted. ‘Oh, in Christ’s name, Gil. Just kick at the door. They’ll open it.’

‘You bleeding kick it. That thing’ll break your foot, you fool.’

‘Then use your staff. If you want, I can try your head instead. It’s thick enough, your skull should open the sodding thing.’

‘Oh, ha, ha,’ Gil said humourlessly. But he held his staff up and beat upon the door’s timbers heavily, three times. ‘If you don’t mind, sir, I’ll tell him you said you needed to speak with him,’ he added quietly, before bellowing, ‘Open the door in the name of the king!’

There was a muted rattling of bolts, then the lengthy rasp of the door’s lock being turned, and the door opened to show a furious-looking Charles, his steward just behind him with a face that looked sickly with anxiety.

Baldwin made a point of giving the curtest of nods to the two watchmen. ‘You may wait here,’ he said before marching inside, his shoulder clipping the merchant’s.

Charles began to bluster. ‘Who do you think you are to beat upon my door and walk into my house without …’

As he spoke, he became aware of Edgar, who was standing extremely close, right behind him. Charles drew back from Edgar’s smiling features, and Edgar gave an appreciative nod, reaching for the door and pushing it quietly closed.

Baldwin was already in the hall. ‘I would speak with you, Master Charles.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t want to speak to you! State your business, and be gone.’

Baldwin’s face did not alter, but Charles grew ever more conscious of how close Edgar was to him.

‘Master,’ Baldwin said, ‘I am aware that you must be concerned about affairs here, but I am trying to help. I am keen to help your son, and his wife too.’

‘Then go! In Christ’s name, just leave us! Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage? You and Edith’s father.’

‘What do you mean?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘The fact that you are here ruins all!’ Charles said despairingly. He walked to his chair and dropped into it. ‘To think that yesterday I woke and the sun still rose in the east. All was normal and without trouble; and now all is turned to ruin and disaster! My son lies in gaol. My only son!’

‘What have you done to try to have him released?’ Baldwin asked.

‘I have done everything I can, of course! What do you think I’ve done?’ Charles spat. ‘I’ve begged that horse’s arse the sheriff to release him, I’ve spoken to the city’s mayor, I’ve even gone to the receiver of the city to see if he can help, but no! All of them say that if it’s a matter of treason, they can do nothing. Poor Peter lies in that foul place while all the men in the city tell me that he cannot be freed. Why? What else could I have done?’

‘Nothing, my friend,’ Baldwin said, attempting to soothe the man. ‘I have been to the sheriff myself, and I will be speaking with Bishop Walter too. To hold the fellow is plainly wrong. He is innocent of this charge. I will ensure that he is released as soon as may be, but have you had a thought to easing the wheels of justice?’

He was reluctant to mention bribes, but there was no escaping the fact that many sheriffs were particularly venal, no matter what county they hailed from.

‘It was the first thing we thought of,’ said Jan as she walked into the room. Her eyes were glittering with misery, and Baldwin bowed to her in deference to her fears. ‘We offered him money, gold, even shares in my husband’s ventures, but the man would listen to no reason. He refused all we could give, and then he laughed at us.’

‘Have you given him cause to persecute your family?’ Baldwin asked the merchant. ‘I can see no reason why he would behave in this manner.’

‘No. I have had no dealings with him at all,’ Charles said.

‘He owns land near to you?’

‘Yes, but he’s never visited that I know of. I doubt this has anything to do with that.’

‘Your son said he had contacts in the king’s court?’

Charles’s face was in his hands now, and he left it there as he spoke. ‘All I know of him is that he is a close ally of Sir Hugh le Despenser.’

Baldwin felt the blood freeze in his veins.

‘That is all we know,’ Mistress Jan said. She took a shuddering breath, then gave a grimace. ‘If only I thought that there was some reason behind it.’

Her husband slowly withdrew his hands. ‘There is a reason. There is some cause for Despenser to detest Edith’s father. It is all his fault. The sheriff is acting on Despenser’s orders, you mark my words! The fool has brought all this upon our heads.’

‘It is not Simon’s fault if Despenser has grown bitter towards him,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘Simon cannot be blamed for attempting to uphold the rule of the law.’

‘I can blame him!’ Charles spat. ‘I can blame him and anyone else for bringing this disaster upon our house. The bastard should have kept quiet and not threatened the livelihood of his own daughter and son-in-law like this!’

‘It is his daughter I am most concerned about,’ Baldwin said. ‘She is missing now. Have you seen her since last afternoon?’

‘No. She left here in the morning yesterday, and we haven’t seen her since,’ Jan said. She had an earnest expression, as though to confirm that she was indeed keen to help.

‘She stayed at my house, but tried to ride back here first thing in the morning,’ Baldwin admitted. ‘We had no idea she would try such a thing, but I saw she was gone as soon as I rose.’

‘Good!’ Charles said. ‘Perhaps if she is gone, the sheriff will release my boy and let us return to normal!’

‘Husband, good husband,’ Jan murmured. She walked across the floor to his side. ‘Don’t be cruel to her. She is our family now, and this is not her making.’

‘She sprang from the cods of that fool her father,’ Charles said. ‘I rue the day I first saw her.’

Baldwin grunted impatiently. ‘Well, if you will take that attitude, there is little more to be said. I will wish you God speed. However, if you have a brain left in your head, you will try to bring food and wine to your son. He will be in sore need of good food and drink. Also, bribe the guards to look after him and tell you when anything untoward is threatened to him. In that way, you may do him good.’

He turned to leave, but suddenly there was a scraping on the floor and he realised that Charles was flying towards him. Baldwin made no move, but suddenly Edgar was at his side, and with a swift rasp of steel his sword flashed out. The point came to rest on Charles’s throat.

‘Call your dog off me!’ Charles snarled.

Baldwin stepped back, pulling on his gloves. He lifted the sword up and away, but continued walking towards Charles, who took a pace or two backwards at the sight of Baldwin’s face.

‘First, Master Charles, you are lucky to be alive. Most men who try to hurt me while my servant is at my side only ever have the opportunity to make one attempt. Second, my friend Simon is a good, honourable, upright man who would walk over fire to help you and your son. You would do well to attempt similar loyalty in return. Third, his daughter is one of the kindest, most delightful young women in the city. You forget yourself when you do nothing to find her now when she could be lying in a ditch at the side of the road. It is one thing to think only of yourself, but when that means deserting your own daughter-in-law, your behaviour sinks below the level of the meanest felon in the city.’

‘I seek to protect my son.’

‘You should also seek to protect the others who are now in your care,’ Baldwin said. ‘Reflect on that.’

He strode from the room, unable to trust himself to say more. The behaviour of the man struck him as so dishonourable, so demeaning, he would have expected to see it in the actions of a mere tanner or scavenger, not in a man of position and importance.

But perhaps he was being unreasonable. The man was a merchant, not a knight. He was no warrior, but a man of numbers and money. He had no experience of coping with threats and the power of a man with money and men behind him.

Baldwin was still musing on Charles and his problems when he found himself confronted by the watchman again. Gil was frowning and chewing his inner lips.

‘You wanted me?’ Baldwin asked mildly.

‘Sir Baldwin, I don’t know whether it matters or anything, but there’s a man saw Mistress Edith earlier today.’

Baldwin was listening, but after a day of travelling, of being browbeaten by the sheriff, and now with his mind full of thoughts of the man he had just left, it took a moment before he comprehended what Gil had said.

‘What? Are you sure he said today?’

‘Yes. It was old Arthur. I met him at the gate earlier. He said he was sure that he saw the mistress heading back west on the Crediton road. She didn’t look happy, he said, but the man with her was enough to make anyone look unhappy.’

Baldwin felt at last as though he was getting somewhere, and there was a wash of relief that flooded his body as he smiled at Gil, but then he realised what he had said. ‘Edgar, quick! Someone has taken Edith and has forced her to ride west from here. We must hurry and follow.’

‘We will not be able to leave the city now,’ Edgar said. ‘The gates will be shut.’

Baldwin nodded, but he looked at Gil. ‘This lady has been captured, you understand me? She has been taken against her will, and even now she may be lying injured at the side of a road — or suffering much worse at the hands of her captors. Will you aid us?’

‘Any way I can, Sir Baldwin,’ Gil said.

‘I need to leave the city. Now!’

Fourth Tuesday after the Feast of the Archangel Michael^*

Nymet Traci

Edith woke with a sore head and the feeling that all was not well. As soon as she opened her eyes, her mouth fell open in a silent scream as the events of the last days came flooding back. She scrabbled away from the bed, falling to the floor and pushing herself backwards to the corner of the wall, where she sat, back jammed hard against it, panting hard like a trapped mouse.

Her hands were sore, but not so bad as she had feared the night before. Her neck was rough too, where the rope had abraded the skin, but generally she did not feel as though she had been too severely treated. In large part, she knew, that was due to the caution of her captor.

Looking about her, the room was a comfortable enough little chamber. She recalled last night seeing that it was in the solar of the hall. Where the knight Sir Robert had one end of the roof space for himself, this room at the opposite end of the hall had been allocated for her. It was warm up here in the eaves, but that was no cause for pleasure on her part. She was aware of an overwhelming rage at her treatment. Stolen away from the road, when she was trying to return to her home and her husband.

Her husband! In her fit of anger at being taken, she had forgotten all about poor Peter, and yet he was still there in the gaol in Exeter, no doubt. He would be terrified, sitting there in the gloom, without companionship or comfort of any sort. Just the thought of his suffering was enough to make the tears well up in her eyes again.

There was a window in the far wall, and she crossed to it, letting the shutter fall down and peering out. The view was to the west, but if she craned her neck she could see the huge rounded mass of Cawsand Beacon over to the south and west. It was enough to make her feel just a little soothed. There were few enough sights that could help her, but the knowledge that Dartmoor was close was itself balm to her soul. She had been so happy there with her parents at Lydford, at their old house.

While she stared, she heard the door open behind her. Instantly she whirled about, keeping to the wall. ‘What do you want?’

The man who had entered was only a little older than her. He had a beard already, which was thick and black, and his eyes were a strange pale grey colour. His body was slim, but powerful. He gave the impression of whipcord instead of muscles. ‘Awake? Good.’

‘Who are you?’

‘You can call me Basil of Nymet Traci, wench.’

She was suddenly aware of his power as he allowed his eyes to slip down her figure. He made her feel as though she was naked, as though he could see through her thin shift, and his gaze passed lingeringly over her breasts and her rounding stomach, down her legs, and back to her face again. ‘It is good to see that the daughter of the troublemaker is so handsome,’ he said. ‘It’ll make the whole process more interesting.’

‘Who are you? What do you want with me?’

‘What I would like with you would be a good roll in the hay, mistress. You look as though you’d be a bawdy wench. Do you know how to waggle your tail? But what you mean to ask is, why are you here, isn’t it? And that is easier to answer. You are being held here to make sure that your father behaves himself.’

‘What does that mean?’ Edith demanded. ‘He will behave honourably at all times.’

‘Oh, you’d best hope not,’ the man chuckled. He stood aside, and a small, frightened woman entered with a trencher holding some pottage and a wooden spoon, with a jug of ale in the other hand. She set them on the floor near Edith, and hurried from the room again. The man looked her over once more, with a smile of appreciation, and then closed the door quietly behind him.

She heard the bolt slide across, and then sat on her mattress, staring down at the food and drink.

It made her feel like throwing up.