No Law in the Land

Chapter Thirty-One

Tavistock Abbey

In the cloisters, Brother Robert Busse was strolling thoughtfully when he heard his voice called.

Behind him, angrily stalking towards him, his black robes flying so great was his speed, came Brother John de Courtenay.

‘I suppose you think you are mighty clever!’ Brother John hissed.

‘Brother, I think nothing of the sort. However, I have done all I think I need to do to protect myself.’

‘Pah! Protect my arse! You think you’ll be safe from my fellows? You forget who you’re talking to, churl!’

‘Brother John, please, let us be calm.’

‘Calm? I’ve just spent an hour or more in the company of the precious cretin from the pope. You know what he said to me?’

‘He accused you of plotting my murder, I suppose.’

‘Yes … You gave him my notes?’

‘They were found on the messenger, and opened before it was realised quite what they were.’

‘I will not tolerate this, Robert. My family is the most important in the shire, and I swear, I’ll have the post here whether you’ll accept me or not, you understand? If you stand in my way, I’ll-’

‘Kill me? Oh, Brother John,’ Robert said. ‘If you do that now, you will never have this abbey. You don’t understand? We are both in the same position, my friend. If I take any more money or try to do anything else to win the seat, I will be barred from it.’

‘Good!’

‘And conversely, if I die, for whatever reason, whether it be a sudden apoplexy or an accidental fall down the night stairs to the choir, my friend, you will also never win the seat. We are both blocked.’

‘Ballocks!’

‘Quite. Yes, I think I can agree with that sentiment. For now, Brother, I think that we must resort to the expedient of merely accepting whatever fate throws at us.’

Brother Robert watched as the furious Brother John kicked at a stone on the ground, and then made off towards the calefactory.

It was a pleasant thought that the other monk was as bitter and resentful as he himself, he reflected.

Bow

As soon as they arrived in the town, Baldwin sent Mark to seek out the reeve.

‘But I don’t know where he will be!’

‘Nor do I — but you can be sure that he will either be in the tavern or over in the market somewhere. Go and find him. Tell him we have these men and needs must have them held securely somewhere. Do you go! Now!’

It took the monk little time to find the reeve, and in a short while the men were all held in the gaol, which was by no means large enough to accommodate them all, but there being nowhere else for them to be placed, Baldwin advised them to make the best of their situation. He was more concerned about his old friend Simon.

Simon would not look at him, but instead spent his time with his arm about Edith’s shoulder, his whole attention fixed upon her. Even when Baldwin quietly called his name, Simon did not respond.

There were several men who had been wounded, not only Basil. Most of the others were suffering from the fire or from the terrified horses, rather than from the weapons of Simon or Sir Richard.

The boys sent to look after the horses, whom they had seen as they rode hell-for-leather to the castle, had all clearly taken the view that they would be better served by making themselves scarce than by waiting, and Baldwin had a shrewd idea that the animals would be discovered in one of the many horse-trading markets about Exeter before long. The boys would be long gone, though, and he was not overly worried about them. With luck, some of them might discover a talent for avoiding crime in future. But when he mentioned them to Sir Richard, he had another interest.

‘Not bothered about those little scrotes. It was the other bastard with the face like an axe had gone through it that worried me. Where did he get to?’

Baldwin suddenly recalled the one-eyed man who had been holding on to Wattere as they arrived. ‘I didn’t see him.’

‘No, nor I, but I had me hands a little full with those other arses. Still, it’d be a shame if the knight’s sergeant escaped us.’

Baldwin agreed. He bellowed to a lone watchman, who stood looking confused at the door, and told him to see if he could organise a posse to go and track down the one-eyed man.

They were sitting now in an inn that lay at the southern side of the road, a strange little building on top of steps that had been carved from the hillside, which was here steep. For all that the accommodation was peculiar, it was a comfortable chamber, with a cheery fire roaring in the hearth in the middle of the floor, and an amiable young wench to serve them, while her father, the host, held a wary eye on them to ensure that his little strumpet was not harmed by this sudden infusion of strangers. For Baldwin’s part, he was alarmed to see that his own servant was demonstrating his old amorous skills with the girl. He resolved to speak with Edgar later and remind him of his wife back home at Furnshill.

For now, though, as trenchers were brought to them filled with slices of good bacon and some thickened pease pudding, Baldwin was happy to eat and not remonstrate. He noticed the wandering sailor as he ate, though, and soon beckoned the man across.

Looking Roger all over, he nodded. ‘So you assuredly are a sailor. I’ve only ever seen such rough hands on men who spend their lives hauling ropes.’

‘I am. Although I confess I haven’t always been one. In the past I was a fighter. But the French put an end to all that.’

‘You were there when they invaded?’

‘Yes. I was in a little town there.’

‘Which?’

‘Have you heard of a place called Montpezat?’

Baldwin considered. ‘It was the town held against the French last year, was it not?’

‘Yes. And when they took it, they razed it to the ground. It was all over that little bastide at Saint-Sardos.’

Brother Mark frowned. ‘What happened there? I never understood.’

Baldwin explained. ‘The Abbot of Sarlat in France wanted to build his new little town, because he knew it would make him money, but also because he knew it would embarrass our king. Although Sarlat was in France, Saint-Sardos is in English territory. But the abbot claimed that any territory owned by his abbey, because his abbey was in France, could be viewed as privileged. In other words, if he had a daughter house of his abbey or some manors within English jurisdiction, he thought he should be able to build fortress towns there. So he decided with Saint-Sardos, even though the seneschal of Guyenne had said already that such construction was illegal. When the abbot went ahead and began building, Raymond Bernard of Montpezat and Ralph Basset the seneschal went to stop the works. Tempers grew heated, and the French official in charge at the site was hanged from his own flagpole where he’d been flying the French flag. That is why we went to war with France.’

‘And it’s why all the French lands have been taken,’ Roger finished. ‘The French overran the duchy when Raymond and Ralph refused to surrender to French justice, and utterly destroyed Montpezat. I was lucky to escape with my life.’

‘And you came back to England,’ Baldwin said.

‘Where else would I go? I thought that the best thing to do was to return here and find employment. But that failed, so I thought to find work on ships, and I’ve been working on them for some little while. I was raised near Brixham, and much of my childhood was spent on the water, so it was no hardship to turn to sailing again. But there are few places on ships for a man like me. And although I’ve been up to Barnstaple and all over the north and south, I’ve found no work. It is hard.’

‘Why are you still about here?’ Sir Richard said.

‘I told you. I saw a man killed. It was the one-eyed man and that young cub you captured up there when your friend’s daughter stabbed his eye.’

Simon was at a nearby bench with Edith, and he shot a look at them as Roger spoke. Baldwin saw his look, but did not allow Simon’s anger to distract him. ‘So you say you saw one murder, but did not report it or go to escape — instead you remained up here and discovered for yourself where the men came from. Why?’

‘Because if I could show who the men were who’d killed, I thought they might be captured.’

‘There is much here, my friend, that you aren’t tellin’ us,’ the coroner grunted. He rested his elbows on the table and studied Roger fixedly.

‘Sir, I do not know how I might convince you,’ Roger said.

‘Begin by telling the truth,’ Baldwin said flatly.

Roger sucked his teeth. The man before him had dark, intense eyes, with the look of someone who had seen enough of the world, perhaps, to understand the strange gusts and currents that could drive a man on to the shoals of ruin. That was how he viewed his own life, certainly. He had known fabulous wealth for some months, but they had been followed by disaster and the anguish of ignominy and humiliation. He had drunk the bitter dregs of existence, and although he had returned here to England, yet there seemed little respite. Every opportunity he had attempted, he had failed. No seaman would allow him on his vessel, no peasant would accept his assistance, no lord his service. His life was already at its lowest ebb.

He took a deep breath. ‘While in France, after Montpezat, I became a wanderer. It was dangerous to be English and alone.’

‘Yes, I can imagine that,’ Sir Richard said. ‘What of it?’

Baldwin put a restraining hand on his arm as Roger continued.

‘I joined a gang of men who had been with Raymond. We escaped before the castle was surrounded, and made off, living from the land as we might.’

Sir Richard and Baldwin said nothing. They had both been involved in warfare. Both knew to what he alluded: the inevitable concomitant of warfare was living off the land, which meant killing and robbing the local peasantry. Some wandering bands of mercenaries made a lot of money, occasionally winning small castles for themselves.

‘I did not enjoy that life.’

Roger was silent for a short while. It was not easy to explain his feelings. ‘Sirs, I was used to ships, as I said. The life of the sea is hard, but at least a man can feel free. While I was in France, I found a little dog that was being played with by some lads. They were tying sticks to her tail and beating her to make her run, dragging these sticks behind her. And …’

Unaccountably, his eyes began to well with the memory of that little bitch. A white mutt, with only a short tail, but when she was happy, a man could look into her eyes and see only love and joy. How anyone could hurt such a lovely little beast, he didn’t understand.

‘I saved her, and when I came back here to England, I brought her with me.’

Coroner Richard grunted and shifted on his seat. ‘When you get to the point, let me know,’ he muttered.

‘Sir, I will be brief. I made friends with that little dog in France. She came home here with me, and I gave her to a man for a good home. Or so I thought. He was a priest who was going to be leaving the area shortly, he said. I gave her to him because I thought, when all was said and done, that a life on ship was no life for a dog unused to it. Especially a little dog who had just had puppies. She stopped when I was at Tavistock and had a small litter. Only one survived. He and his mother I gave to Brother Anselm, from Tavistock Abbey.’

His tale had attracted even Simon’s attention. He was still with Edith, but Baldwin was glad to see that he was now listening. ‘That was the man travelling with the abbey’s money for the king,’ Simon called. ‘Cardinal de Fargis had the two men: his servant, Peter … no, Pietro de Torrino, and Brother Anselm. They were in the group that was slaughtered.’

‘Yes. That is the man. I heard that Pietro de Torrino and Brother Anselm were to be with the group that was going to London. But Brother Anselm was not with the men when they were killed,’ Roger said, and now his voice had subtly altered.

Baldwin, looking at him, was struck by the way he had changed. His eyes were more fixed, his gaze unwavering. Even his breathing seemed to have slowed. It was like watching a man who was suddenly calmed after a long exertion. ‘What are you saying? You saw the men in the woods that day?’

‘I found them early in the morning,’ Roger admitted.

‘Do you say that you found all those dead fellows and did not report them?’ Coroner Richard demanded, aghast. He gaped, forgetting even to bellow for more wine. The idea that a man would not perform this most simple of duties when such a mass killing had been committed was utterly beyond his understanding.

To Baldwin, Sir Richard’s shock was endearing. At a time when most coroners knew full well that almost every murder went intentionally undiscovered, because to report one would immediately incur a fine to ensure that the first finder would attend court to give evidence, it was pleasing to find one man who could still be appalled by someone who confessed to such an action.

Roger was unrepentant. ‘Yes. I came across those poor devils early that morning. I didn’t see the attack, but I found the bodies shortly afterwards. And I found the poor monk, Pietro. They made him suffer before they killed him. Why? They killed all the people with him too, even the children. Well — I suppose that was necessary, because they wanted no witnesses. But they killed my little bitch, and her pup. And there was no need for that.’

He snorted, shook his head, and then leaned back. ‘So no, Coroner, I didn’t wait. I left. Because I thought that if any stranger to the area was found within ten leagues of the murders, he’d be considered the obvious suspect, and if anyone heard that I knew Brother Anselm, it might be thought that I was an accomplice to the killers.’

‘Why would anyone think you an accomplice?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Sir Baldwin, in Tavistock everyone was talking about the great sum being sent to the king, the paucity of the guards, the huge prize for the man who was prepared to risk his life, and the marvellous riches a man could expect after winning it. As soon as I was discovered there, and a representative of the abbey arrived to investigate the theft, they would learn that I had been to Tavistock. What hope for me then? It would mean gaol immediately, and as a foreigner to the area, I would be sure to be found guilty.’

‘You said that Anselm was not there?’ Simon asked. His interest had been sparked now, and he had left Edith and was standing behind Roger. ‘Are you sure? Could his body have been concealed? There were so many there …’

‘What makes you think that his body was concealed?’ Roger said. ‘If I knew that the men were transporting all that money, don’t you think others would too?’

Simon nodded. ‘It was my own first thought: that someone would have had to have told the thieves that the money was being moved. And someone within the household of the Cardinal de Fargis would have news of that before anyone else.’

‘But how would this Anselm have got to learn of Sir Robert de Traci?’ Baldwin wondered.

‘The same way that a man would have heard of any dangerous felon in the shire,’ Sir Richard said. ‘The stories about these devils are rife. And a man like this one, who can apparently claim the friendship of the highest in the land, is plainly a man who had a reputation of some sort.’

Simon nodded slowly. ‘And Sir Robert had contacts with the abbey at Tavistock, didn’t he? He said so; he said that Edith was taken in order that Despenser could try to force Busse to surrender to John de Courtenay’s bid to take the abbacy.’

‘So he was in contact somehow with de Courtenay’s companions,’ Baldwin said. ‘I wonder if this Anselm was the go-between.’

‘It is certainly possible,’ Sir Richard considered. ‘Although how he would have got messages to Sir Robert is anyone’s guess. Anyhow, why’d the other one get his eyes popped?’

Baldwin looked up at Simon. ‘Sir Robert said that there was no money, didn’t he? He denied stealing. But if it had been there, he would have had it as soon as blink. So perhaps he was trying to torture the poor monk to learn where it might be.’

‘But the monk would have told him,’ Simon pointed out. ‘No one would be able to suffer both eyes being put out without telling where it was.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘But if it was already taken, so Sir Robert couldn’t find it, and the poor monk didn’t know where it was, the torture would achieve nothing. He could not tell them anything.’

‘You mean some fellow had already stolen it?’ Sir Richard said. ‘And then they put the blame on the poor monk and let him take the medicine intended for them, eh?’

‘That is how I would read it,’ Baldwin agreed. He nodded to Roger and stood. ‘I think we should return to Jacobstowe and take another look at the woods.’

‘There is one other thing,’ Simon said quietly, throwing a look over his shoulder at Agnes. ‘If this is all correct, and someone else stole the money, that still doesn’t explain the reeve being murdered over towards Hoppon’s house.’

‘No. Not unless this Hoppon was himself involved,’ Baldwin agreed tersely.

Near Nymet Traci

Osbert lay on his belly and shook his head at the sight of the smoke rising from the castle.

There was no point in returning to the place, not now that the main house had been destroyed by fire. He could see how the blaze from the stable blocks had reached over to the roof of the hall, and now that was almost entirely gone. It was enough to make a man weep, to think of the sweet profits this place had brought in in the past. So much money they had made, in only a few months. And now the whole lot was gone. Up in smoke.

He couldn’t have planned it better himself.

As he stood and dusted the dirt from his tunic and hose, he was already plotting. He had enough money now to go to London if he wanted. He could buy a house and live in style. But that wasn’t his desire. A man who was content to take a bit of money and rest was ready for his grave, in Osbert’s opinion. No, he wanted more. More excitement, more pleasure, more money, more fun. Perhaps he ought to see whether he could go to the king’s French territories. There were big profits to be made there, so they said, so long as the English recovered all their lands. Here in England there was too much interference all the time. Over there, a man with muscle and a sword might just make some money. All those French peasants were so weakly that a bold man should be able to live well.

It was a thought.

He pulled his cloak about him and set off homewards. It would take him some little while to get there, but at least he knew all these roads. And then tomorrow he would be able to start to plan.

After all, now that his old life at Nymet Traci was gone, it left him with some decisions to make. And although these would have had to have been taken before long, he hadn’t expected them to be forced upon him so soon. He had expected a few more months at the castle.

No matter. He would hurry home, and make up his mind about the rest of his life.