The Death Ship of Dartmouth

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘Come, we should return to the ship, or at the least find Gil and he’ll tell us when we can,’ Pierre said.

There was nothing to be learned from the house. The two had loitered cautiously outside, but from the street there was nothing to be heard, and when they tried to wander down the alley at the side, there was no access to the house from there either, or at least, none that appeared to help them.

He led the way back up the street, and the two of them were in time to see the Coroner and Sir Andrew leave Simon’s house and make their way along the street down towards the mill.

‘Should we follow them?’ Hamund asked as Pierre stopped and stared after them.

It was tempting; in God’s name, it was tempting. To see Sir Andrew swaggering happily away in the company of the Coroner — it was intolerable! The man deserved to have his mouth silenced for ever for what he had said about Pierre, dishonouring him just when he was trying to reestablish some modicum of honour. He wanted to draw steel and stab the liar and traitor in the back for what he had done.

But if he did, it would cost him his life, and it would mean the messages must become known, and that must itself harm his lady. Dear God, what a man must do to remain loyal!

He said quietly, swallowing his pride, ‘For what purpose? If we go across that bridge and they hear us, they may see us. You have been behind that man almost half day, and if he sees me, he will remember me, I am sure. No, I think we should forget them and get back to safety. At least I achieved what I needed to this day: I paid my respects to Master Pyckard.’

‘I wonder where Gil will be now?’

‘In the tavern if he is not already at the ship,’ Pierre guessed. He stared over towards the haven. ‘I only hope he hasn’t decided to leave without us.’

‘He can’t without more sailors,’ Hamund said with confidence he didn’t feel. ‘He needs us.’

Pierre did not respond to that. So far as he was concerned, the shipmaster would be happy to leave without embarrassing supercargo like them, and now that the reason for Pierre’s berth had been removed, because surely it was only Pyckard’s insistence which had persuaded Gil to take him in the first place, Pierre was uncertain of his reception at the ship.

He led the way hurriedly after Sir Andrew as soon as he and the Coroner had disappeared at the bottom of the hill and had started to cross the mill’s dam. From here he could see the ship still sitting out in the haven, which was some relief, but he and Hamund still had to find a means of reaching it, and although he could see several small boats at the shore, he could not simply take one. That would bring yet more attention to him, and it was bad enough, so he felt, to be walking about in broad daylight like this. No, better by far that he should find a man who would be prepared to row them to the cog and then …

His ruminations were interrupted by a cheery call at his side. When he looked down at the scruffy man there, the first thing that caught his notice was the short dagger poised near his belly.

‘Now, Sir Whoever you are, me and my friend here would appreciate a few moments of your time.’

Pierre was within a twitch of pulling his sword from its scabbard, but as he stood momentarily stunned, he was astonished to see the blade taken away and sheathed.

‘We saved you once, friend. Now we’d like to know whether we were right to do so.’

Master Hawley had watched as the men from the Gudyer were brought back slowly in the boats, their guards watching over them all the way. When they reached the shore, he went down and eyed them suspiciously as they were pushed from the boats. Several stumbled, three fell, one at his feet, and when the man was grabbed by the arm and pulled up, there was a blotch of blood on the ground where stones had mashed his nose and lips. He still looked dazed as he was taken, lurching away.

Hawley felt no sympathy for them. Why should he? The fools had tried to overrun a private ship. Christ’s bones, if he’d been on the Saint Denis he’d have had every one of the bastards strung up from his mainmast as soon as blink. They were filth! Felons every one of them, they deserved to be killed for trying to steal a ship.

Cynric was with him, and as his master stood staring down at the blood, Cynric tentatively said, ‘What do you think about Strete?’

‘You saw him in the tavern, didn’t you? I don’t think you’re a liar, Cyn. You’ve been with me as long as I can remember. No, it was him who lied. In truth, if he hasn’t lost me money, it doesn’t matter if he plays at gaming. What he does with his own cash is his concern. It’s only if he takes mine that I worry. And if you’re right and he is a laughing stock for his losses, I don’t see how he can afford to pay his debts on his own. So either he took my money and hid the theft, or …’

‘He replaced it.’

‘How could he do that?’ Hawley took his mind back to the hall. In there was his sideboard, with a profusion of plate on display. ‘No, if he’d stolen from me and pawned a plate or two, I’d notice. It can’t be that. How else could he hope to gain money, though?’

Cynric grunted. He wasn’t a great creative thinker. That sort of business he left to Hawley himself.

And with good reason. Hawley’s wrinkled brow suddenly cleared. ‘The bastard could have been telling someone else about the business. Except who would pay for untested information? That would be mad. I can’t see Kena or Beauley coughing up. Pyckard would have done if it was juicy enough, but what information could Strete have sold him about me? There’s nothing that would have interested the old goat.’

While he considered the matter further, he sent Cynric to see whether anything was known of the reason for the attack on the cog.

‘They came from the new ship up there, the Gudyer,’ his man said when he’d asked on Hawley’s behalf.

‘Really? What would they be doing, trying to steal a ship like this in harbour?’

‘They said they were seeking this Frenchman who had raped a kinswoman of the Queen. He wasn’t there, though. They’ve been pulled off the ship with their tails between their legs.’

Hawley nodded absently, but his eyes were thoughtful. ‘Could they have taken the Saint John, do you think?’

‘There’s enough of them, that’s certain. But who’d know?’

‘Yeah,’ Hawley murmured. It was an interesting idea, though. ‘So they say that they’re here for the Frenchie. If he’d raped someone, though … they sent a ship that size just for one man?’

Cynric pulled a face and shrugged. ‘Hardly likely.’

‘No, not at all. Unless he’d raped the Queen herself.’ His face darkened and he stood silent for a long moment.

‘You don’t think he’d dare do that, master?’

Hawley made an attempt to shake his head, but could not quite manage it convincingly. ‘Anything is possible, but surely the Queen would have enough men-at-arms about her at all times to protect her from that.’

‘If she wanted to be.’

‘You can’t believe that the Queen would succumb to lusts like some draggle-tail from Sutton harbour,’ Hawley scoffed, but the thought did linger. A man who had dared to bed the Queen, willingly or no, was someone to be respected. ‘No, that’s hardly likely. It must be something else.’

‘If he was from her household,’ Cynric said slowly, ‘he could have tried to take one of her ladies-in-waiting?’

‘Shit! Yes, that’s more like it! And when his offence became known, this knight Andrew was sent to cut his balls off. That makes more sense.’ He shook his head. ‘Or it’s nothing to do with rape and we’re completely wrong. Maybe he’s a spy? Who cares? There is probably money on his head. Right! You make sure that all the fellows under our control are aware: if they see this fellow, or any other man who looks like a Frenchie, I want to know. If they can, they should take him and bring him to me. Clear?’

‘Sir.’

As Cynric trotted off to do his bidding, John Hawley made his way back to his hall. The Frenchman, the great ship in the haven and the curious matter of Strete’s money exercised his mind all the way up the hill to his front door, and when he reached it, he stood a moment, his hand on the latch, head to one side, considering.

‘What could he have sold about me?’ he wondered again. Or was it information about someone else that his clerk had been selling?

‘He gamed at the tavern,’ he whispered. ‘The sailors all drink there.’

And he had a sudden intuition. He knew what information Pyckard would pay for, and suddenly he felt sick to think of what his man must have done.

It was quiet in the storeroom, and Pierre stood in the darkness, from where he could keep an eye on the doorway. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘Just to know that you shouldn’t be in gaol and we sprang you to safety would be good,’ Bill said. ‘Ach, I’m not used to this shite. Where’s Alred when you need him, eh, Law?’

‘Law? It is a curious name.’

‘It’s just short for Lawrence.’

Pierre inclined his head. ‘You English — you have to give a nickname to all, do you not? What is wrong with your full name, my friend? Surely it would be easier for all if you stuck to that?’

‘I like it shorter.’

Hamund was frowning. ‘Look, we have to get off to the ship, right? If they sail without us, we’re dead.’

‘If you had been on Pyckard’s boat today you’d be dead. Come to that, if you were on his last ship, you would be too,’ Bill said. ‘Looks like you’re a very lucky fellow.’

Pierre set his jaw, but his reserves were beginning to fail him. ‘I was not here to catch the earlier ship,’ he said. ‘I only arrived in this town after the ship had sailed.’

‘Still makes you pretty fortunate, though,’ Bill said.

‘Yeah, I’d say he was lucky,’ Law said. ‘Look at him! Rich clothes, fine sword … and he’s still alive and breathing.’

‘You think this is lucky? Being held here by two fools who think they can guess my style of life just by looking at my clothing?’

‘You reckon you’re so high above us, that it?’ Law spat.

‘Who broke your nose?’ Pierre asked. ‘Perhaps I should treat with him instead of you, heh?’

‘You prefer we should call the Watch to talk to you?’ Bill threatened.

‘You look at me,’ Pierre said, his frustration overwhelming his limited patience. ‘You see a knight, yes? A noble knight, with power and men at his command? But all I am is a man like you, boy. Just like you. Except I have no household to serve, as my mistress cannot allow me to return to her. My friends have deserted me, except for one down here in this town, and he is dead. I had a passage on a ship, that one out there, but you are delaying me so I may miss her. If I do not miss her, I may be captured here by an enemy who wished to harm my lady, and he will torture me to get any information he can! You call me lucky? I am without friends, without hope, in a foreign land where all seek to kill me. This is lucky? I wish you much luck of the same sort!’

Bill sucked at his tooth. There was a hole in it that hurt like the devil every so often, and especially when cold air got to it. He eyed the Frenchman speculatively. ‘How do we know you’re not lying to us?’

‘All this talk about me raping a woman — it is a lie! I have not molested a woman in my life. And as for a noblewoman — I could not. I fell in love with a lady, it is true, and I now travel to France to return to my home because I could not touch her. That is all.’

‘What if you did rape some woman?’ Law said with suspicion unabated. He wasn’t at all sure about this foreigner.

‘Oh, if you believe I did, then call the Watch and have done with me. But let my companion here go to the ship. He is paying for his crime already.’ He slumped down by the wall. After losing woman, master and ship, there was nothing else for him. There was an English expression — ‘fed up’. Well, he was fed up with this land, its people, and with life on the run.

‘Law, trust me on this,’ Bill said at last. ‘All right, friend. I reckon you deserve a little better fortune. How about we help you down to the shore and take you to the ship. What then?’

‘You’d let him go?’

Pierre ignored the lad’s strangled cry. ‘You mean this? If you take me to the ship, I swear I will-’

‘No — on second thoughts, no promises,’ Bill winced. ‘Let’s just say I’ll feel better in myself if I don’t judge another man’s guilt or innocence. It’d make me feel I’ve done something useful with my life. All right?’

In the church the body of the dead man from the roadway was still lying next to the coffin of Paul Pyckard. Danny had been buried as soon as the inquest was done with him.

In stark contrast to the fresh-planed boards of the coffin for the merchant, the unknown man’s corpse was loosely wrapped in a linen winding sheet, through which noisome fluids leaked. The priest was already setting fresh herbs about it to conceal the worst of the odours before it was installed in its own coffin.

‘Oh, good, Coroner. I was planning to get this body put away this afternoon. We heard it wasn’t the man Sir Baldwin thought, so my fossor’s been over the cemetery, and he should have a grave ready. It’s a shame, I know, to set a man down in an unmarked grave, but there are times when you can do no more, eh?’

‘And I am glad to say that there are times when you can do more, eh, Sir Andrew?’ the Coroner boomed as he nudged the knight at his side.

‘Quite,’ Sir Andrew said. He sniffed, then motioned to one of his men, who began to unwrap the head of the corpse. ‘Ah, yes. I know him.’

‘Who is he?’

‘His name is Guy de Bouville. He was a man-at-arms in the service of my lord Despenser. I knew him quite well.’ Sir Andrew frowned. ‘He was with one of my lord Despenser’s bailiffs, a man called Flok. A bookish, studious knight, he was competent to help with accounts and affairs of law, so he was very useful to my lord. What he was doing here, I do not know. He ought to be up north of the moors, I believe.’

‘Well, I am glad. So you are a friend of his?’ the priest asked.

‘No. I knew him.’

Coroner Richard smiled broadly, his beard moving alarmingly. ‘And the good knight here who “knew him” quite well will be delighted to pay for the burial of the body, I am sure. Otherwise Lord Despenser may wish to learn why it was that one of his men-at-arms was not properly treated after death when one of his own servants was here in the area and perfectly ready to do so. Isn’t that so, Sir Andrew?’

‘I have better things to be doing with my time, you understand?’ Sir Andrew said stiffly as he pulled some coins from his purse.

‘So have I, Sir Andrew. Just now I think I ought to be searching for the bodies from that cog, don’t you?’

‘They were all killed far from shore, Coroner. You have no authority in that, do you?’

‘Strange how many people keep saying that to me. Reminds me of a joke I once heard. About a terrible story being told in a church in a sermon, and the whole congregation listening burst into weeping and lamentations. All that sort of nonsense. But there was one fellow who was untouched, and the priest turned to him, and said, “Aren’t you affected by this terrible tale of woe?” and the churl responded, “Bless you, Father, no.” “And why not?” the priest thundered. “Well, sir, I’m not from this parish,” the man replied. As though it matters whether you’re from the same parish or not to be saddened by a story of despair and misery.’

‘What does that have to do with all this?’ Sir Andrew asked.

‘I am not from this parish either, you see. I grow anxious when I learn that a ship’s complement is taken and slaughtered, whether it’s legally my jurisdiction or not.’ The Coroner smiled, his teeth showing brightly amongst the thatch of his beard. And he leaned towards Sir Andrew slightly as he added, ‘In fact, Sir Andrew, I can grow more than simply anxious, I can grow downright choleric. And when I tend to hot, dry humours like that, I don’t give up. Not when threatened, not even when ordered.’

‘You would do well to remember that my master is Lord Hugh Despenser,’ Sir Andrew hissed. ‘He would not like to hear that a rural knight has taken it into his head to command one of his own knights, let alone that this knight dared to threaten a man of his household.’

Sir Richard looked down at that, suitably chastened. Or so Sir Andrew thought at first. When he looked up again and met Sir Andrew’s gaze, there was no fear. His eyes were fixed and unwavering, unblinking in their conviction. ‘I say to you, Sir Andrew, that I am a King’s Officer and cannot be made to turn aside because of your threats. I believe that there has been evil work here in this town and on the seas about it, and I will find the men guilty and bring them to justice. If you do not like my statement, so much the worse for you. But be you the Despenser’s man or the devil himself’s, I care not a whit. I serve the King. You would do well to remember that.’

‘Oh, I shall, Sir Richard,’ Sir Andrew said smoothly. ‘I promise you I shall not forget that in a hurry.’