The Death Ship of Dartmouth

Chapter Thirty-Five

Strete had never known such pain. His skull ached from the buffets it had taken, but that was nothing compared with his cods. He had been kicked so hard, it felt as though they had swollen like pigs’ bladders, and all the while his arms were strained behind his back so that he must stand on tiptoes to relieve the agony so far as he could. Naked, he shivered with the cold in this dark chamber. He knew he was still at the tavern, but in a small storage room out behind the gaming hall.

He heard steps approaching, and whimpered to himself. They stopped at the door, and it opened, letting some light into the dim interior. He had to avert his face from the sudden flare of candle-light, but not before he had heard a muttered, ‘Sweet Christ in heaven!’ and a gasp of horror.

There was a ringing of steel, and he panicked, crying out, ‘No more! No more, I beg!’

He felt his wrists being jerked, and he wept. Then the terrible strain on his arms ceased. Without the rope to support him, he collapsed, falling to his knees. There was a sudden shouting, and he heard a clash of weapons, but he was all but incapable of comprehending. His entire concentration was fixed on his shoulders and wrists. The sudden release had led to an anguish so entirely overwhelming that he was left shivering and weeping, unable to speak or even cry out.

‘You’re safe enough for now, Strete. Come with us,’ he heard, but he couldn’t respond. He was lifted gently to his feet. Another jerk at his wrists, and the ropes binding them fell away. There was a hand under each armpit, and he was helped to shamble and shuffle his way from the room. A cloak or blanket was pulled over him and wrapped about him, and he shuddered at the touch of another’s hands. All night the only contact he had received had been from fists. ‘Thank you … thank you …’ he said, over and over again.

Back at Simon’s house, they installed poor Strete in the rear parlour by the fire, and Rob, probably for the first time silenced by the sight of a figure in real distress, walked quietly to fetch water, wine and spices to make him a warming posset. Simon saw him staring in horror at the wretch huddled, shivering, on the bench.

Strete had been severely beaten. His hand looked as though it had been crushed or struck with a hammer. Certainly there was blood all over the swollen, ruined fingers. His face was unrecognisable, with his nose broken, lips mashed against teeth, an ear swollen and bleeding, and both eyes puffed and purple. They had almost completely closed, and as the men in the room talked, Strete turned his good ear to them like a permanently deaf man.

The Coroner had witnessed enough judicial beatings to be able to study Strete with a purely professional interest, but Baldwin had none of his objectivity. When he walked into the gaming hall, Baldwin had politely asked to see the clerk, and only when he had gripped a man by the throat and asked again, this time with his dagger drawn, did he begin to display his anger. When he saw the body hanging with its arms bound behind his back, his mood became black, and Simon feared that he might kill the clerk, with his bare hands. However, Baldwin merely slapped him twice about the face and thrust him away, muttering an oath. He had gently taken the terrified, blinded victim and eased him down. The wrath had not left him, though. It remained with him even now. It was in his deep brown eyes as he watched Strete.

‘Strete,’ Baldwin said, ‘I think you know why we want to speak to you.’

‘I’ve done nothing.’

‘You have lied and stolen from your master,’ Sir Richard commented happily. He had found a chicken leg from somewhere, and was chewing on it. ‘That’s enough to have a good beating in any house.’

‘Not only that, I think,’ Simon said.

‘What do you mean?’ Sir Richard asked.

‘The missing purse from the man in the road? Someone took it, and although the churlish old devil Cynegils took what he thought he was owed, he left much behind. Someone else took that. Someone who passed by that way a little later — eh, Strete?’

Strete’s head hung disconsolately. ‘I didn’t think it would matter. He didn’t need it any more, and it was enough to save me a beating from my master, so I thought.’

‘So you took his purse and took the money?’

Strete’s silence was confirmation enough.

‘Very well. And you had information which you could sell for profit too. Who to?’ Simon pressed him.

‘Master Pyckard. It was about his wife.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘It was about the night she died. I heard that she wasn’t killed when the ship was wrecked. She was already dead.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Do you recall the sailor Hawley found dead in the ship — Danny? He was drunk with me one afternoon, and he told me. He had been on the Saint Rumon when she went down, and he told me that he’d seen Mistress Pyckard as the wave broke the ship. The water washed away the master’s cabin, and she was dead in there. Blood on her legs and clothes. He just thought it was the water did that to her, but later on he realised it wasn’t that. He’d been hearing her moaning.’

‘How on earth did he suddenly know that?’

‘It was when we heard Philip Kena’s wife being attacked. She was gagged — Vincent or Odo put their hands over her mouth to stop her screaming — but we could hear her trying to cry out. It fair put the fear of God into Danny. He knew he had heard that sound somewhere before. That afternoon, he suddenly realised it was the sound of a woman in terror with a man’s hand over her mouth.’

‘That sounds like a guess,’ the Coroner said.

‘Except the two of them were talking about her, and said she was just like a “French whore”. They’d been the two who killed Madam Pyckard. That’s what Danny believed. When the ship sank, it covered up their evil deed.’

‘Why didn’t he tell his master? He worked for Pyckard, didn’t he?’

‘Yes. Paul Pyckard saved him and his brother Moses. When it happened, all those years ago, he didn’t realise what he’d seen. He was nothing but a boy. It was only much later, quite recently, that he understood what must have happened.’

‘What of Adam?’

‘Danny thought Adam was innocent; he had done nothing with them. He was never their ally, and Danny saw him about the ship fighting to save her. No, it was only Odo and Vincent who were in the cabin with Mistress Pyckard.’

‘What made Danny suddenly tell you all this?’ Baldwin snapped.

‘I was there when he heard about the woman. I don’t know exactly what it was, but I think that later on, Odo was boasting about fondling Mistress Kena, saying how ripe her body was. Danny got all upset, and he shot from the room. Outside, when I saw him and asked him what was wrong, he said that Odo and Vincent had raped Mistress Pyckard. He was in a terrible state — really shaken up.’

‘What did you do with this information?’

‘I told Danny to keep his mouth shut or Odo would kill him. If he spoke of it to anyone, he’d be killed.’

‘He took your word for that?’

The battered man winced. ‘I warned him that if he told his master, poor Master Pyckard would die all the sooner from a broken heart. It would be kinder to let him die in ignorance of the truth.’

‘Kinder indeed! While you went to tell him instead,’ Baldwin commented sourly.

‘I needed money! I knew what would happen if I didn’t replace what I’d borrowed from Hawley. He’d kill me.’

‘What did Pyckard say?’ Simon pressed.

‘He said he was thankful for the information, and that he’d see what he could do.’

‘What of Danny?’

‘I don’t know. I have no idea what happened to him, the poor lad.’

‘Who killed all the crew?’ Simon asked.

‘I don’t know! I swear it! I wasn’t on the ship. I didn’t see what happened any more than you!’

Baldwin and Simon left Peter to the care of Rob, and took the Coroner out to the road.

‘It is clear enough who killed the men on the ship, then,’ Baldwin said.

‘Beauley,’ Simon responded.

‘His ship was there, yes. He is the only one who could have brought this ghost-like Adam back to shore,’ Baldwin said.

‘Hold hard!’ the Coroner exclaimed as the other two set off for Hardness. ‘What is all this?’

‘The answer to the whole riddle of the ship lies at Beauley’s house,’ Baldwin said, but refused to answer more questions until they had reached it.

Here they were directed out to the back of the property, where they found Master Beauley talking to a shipwright about a new vessel.

‘You are increasing your shipping?’ Baldwin asked, glancing at the wright as he picked up a large scroll detailing expenses and listing requirements.

‘Yes. I have some money set by, and I want another craft. Why are you so interested in the daily workings of a mere merchant seaman?’

Baldwin eyed him closely. ‘I am not impressed with men who kill for money and then use the money for their own benefit.’

Beauley’s smile broadened, but there was an edge to his voice when he said, ‘You accuse me of killing?’

‘Aye,’ the Coroner rumbled. ‘Odo and Vincent and their crew.’

‘I deny it! On my life, my mother’s life, and the Gospels, if you want. I deny I’ve had any part in killing any man against the law.’

‘Who did, then?’ Simon asked.

‘How would I know?’

‘Because it was you who took their bodies and the rest of the crew from Pyckard’s ship, naturally,’ Baldwin stated.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Adam.’

Beauley stared at Simon for some while, trying to guess whether he was bluffing or not. The silence was lengthy, but Simon remembered Baldwin once saying that when questioning a man, it was best to ask once and then wait until the other man gave an answer. It came, at last, in the form of another question. ‘He admitted the murder?’

‘Tell us what you did. He said you killed the men on your ship, and that you threw them overboard yourself,’ Simon grated.

‘He said what?’ Beauley glared. ‘The lying shit! They were dead when we came to the ship!’

‘Tell us your side of the story, then. Otherwise we may have to arrest you as well,’ Baldwin said.

‘Very well. I was paid, and paid well, as you can see, to race to catch up with Pyckard’s little ship. It would be waiting for us in the sea, so we were told. All we had to do was take on board the crew, and leave the ship looking as though it was scuttled. That was all.’

‘This was at Master Pyckard’s request?’ Simon confirmed.

‘Of course. Who else?’

‘How many died?’

‘Ask Adam — I wasn’t there. Certainly we took off eight men, including him.’

‘Did you know anything about the men aboard? About what they had done?’

‘You don’t think I’d have got involved if I hadn’t, do you? Of course I knew what they’d done. They raped poor Amandine and told everyone she died in a storm. Odo and Vincent were always prone to violence, especially when they had drunk enough. The fools raped her, killed her, and the ship crashed into the rocks, fortunately for them. It explained her death. Otherwise they would have found that hard to get away with.’

‘So you took these eight men from the ship and set it alight?’

‘No. It was Adam who burned the ship. Only superficially — Pyckard didn’t want the Saint John to be too badly damaged.’

‘Why all this subterfuge? Why not just have them stabbed in town?’ Baldwin demanded. ‘All this effort and trouble … it seems ridiculous!’

‘Ask his steward. Moses will tell you. He knew everything about Pyckard’s business.’

The three waited in Pyckard’s hall while a young servant went to find Moses. There was a jug of wine on the sideboard, and Simon lifted the lid and sniffed the interior. He poured a mazerful and lifted it in silent toast to the dead master of the house.

Pyckard’s mark was all over the place. His body might be in the church, but his soul yet remained here. His chair was still at the fire as though waiting for him to return to it; his cloak and hat sat on top of a chest in the corner of the room as though he had walked out to his privy for a moment before leaving to go and view his ships.

For all that, the room reeked of spilled ale and wine from his wake. From the sour odour near the sideboard, Simon guessed that several of his seamen had participated overenthusiastically in the celebration of his life and thrown up before returning to the drinking.

‘Lordings.’

Moses had entered quietly, like a monk. He was clad in black in memory of his master, Simon thought, and stood surveying them with a sad but confident expression, like a man who knew his position in the world and was content. The only indication that he was not completely at ease was the twitching of his fingers: he picked continuously at the hem of his sleeve. Seeing all their eyes upon him, he crossed the floor noiselessly, to stand before them all beside his master’s chair. One hand upon it, he faced them resolutely, or, as Simon guessed, resignedly.

‘You know why we’re here,’ Simon said harshly. He waved his hand about the room, slopping the wine in his mazer. ‘Pyckard was a wealthy man, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t want to lose too much money. He couldn’t bear to lose a whole ship and the cargo too, could he?’

‘If you say so.’

‘So when he decided to punish the two who had killed his wife, he chose to do it in a way that wouldn’t damage his business.’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think he cared that much. He planned to give most of it away anyhow.’

‘Ah, of course — the salvage for Master Hawley. He’d have been shocked to learn that the good shipman did not want any part of a false salvage. Hawley must have been sickened and angry to be fooled.’

‘He was angry,’ Moses conceded. ‘He came here early today to demand to know what had happened.’

‘You told him?’

‘I have nothing to conceal.’

‘Tell us all, then.’

‘My master wanted to punish the two who had tortured and killed his wife. She was ever a kind, generous woman. All spoke of her beauty and calmness. Yet they raped her and planned to throw her overboard at dead of night. When the ship struck rocks, they thought that they had the perfect story to tell. Only two others survived that night — Adam and my brother. All the others perished.’

‘So his punishment was to take them to the middle of the sea and kill them there?’

‘Afterwards. First they prepared the ship for the sailing, and only when all was ready were they brought back here for a last talk with my master. And then he told them he knew all about their rape and murder.’

‘How did they react?’ Baldwin asked.

‘They denied it like the cowards they were. Adam and some others worked on them, and they knew what would happen to them when they reached a certain place in the sea. There Beauley was to meet the ship and take off the other crew, and put them ashore farther up the coast.’

‘So the two were hanged? Stabbed? What?’

Moses looked at Simon coolly. ‘They were taken in the ship to a place far from land and thrown into the water with a rope about their necks. They were lifted from the water and then dropped in. I think they lasted several duckings.’

Simon shuddered. Unable to breathe in the water, they must have wished for a friendly hand to pull them up, but the only help they received was from a rope at their neck. A hideous death.

‘You think me little better than a murderer?’ Moses said. ‘I would have seen them die a slower death than that if I could. My brother told me of their crime. They must have realised what he had done, so they killed him too.’

‘Your brother?’ Coroner Richard said sharply.

‘Yes, Daniel was my brother.’

‘And the man in the road? What of him?’ Simon demanded. He walked to the sideboard. Receiving a stern look from Sir Richard, he poured two mazers and took one to the Coroner.

Moses glanced away. ‘My master and I were looking for Sir Pierre, Master Pyckard’s brother-in-law, when we saw the stranger in the road. He was accosted by that repellent fellow Cynegils, and we overheard him discuss spying on a stranger.’

‘Did you hear him mention Sir Pierre by name?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No — he only asked about “the foreigner”, but that doesn’t signify. What of it? There was only one foreigner in town that night. My master was unwell already, and he said he wouldn’t see his wife’s brother killed by some foul servant of a thieving reptile like Despenser. So he took a rock and knocked the man down. He fell without a sound, and my master hit him again thrice. It was close to the hole in the road, so I removed the trestles at one side and we rolled him in to make it look as though he had come by an unhappy accident.’

‘Do you know who he was?’ Simon asked.

‘I didn’t introduce myself before my Master killed him,’ Moses said with a touch of scorn.

Coroner Richard drained his mazer. ‘He was Guy de Bouville. Sir Andrew knew him. He worked for Despenser.’

‘And Despenser wanted Sir Pierre dead because he was French and a friend of the Queen,’ Moses said. ‘That was what Sir Pierre told us.’

Baldwin frowned. ‘Although Sir Andrew denied knowing of a man here already when he arrived in town. Just as he denied piracy with Pyckard’s ship.’

‘Hah! At least that denial was true,’ the Coroner chuckled. ‘He told me that this de Bouville chappie was man-at-arms to a fellow called … what was it? Flok?’

Baldwin blinked. ‘Flok?’

‘You’ve heard of him?’

‘Flok was the man whom Hamund Chugge murdered. It was the reason for Hamund being sent here as abjurer,’ Baldwin said.

‘Good God!’ Simon said. Then: ‘You said Odo and Vincent killed your brother, but you also say that they were held before sailing. How do you know they killed him?’

‘Who else would have done it?’ Moses snapped. ‘They realised who must have told my master about his wife’s murder, and punished him for it.’

‘If that was the case, they would have fled, surely,’ Baldwin said.

‘Eh?’

‘If you were guilty of a woman’s murder, and heard that her husband, the man whom you worked for, knew of your actions, would you wait to sail on his ship, with his men aboard? Or would you flee instantly?’

‘I don’t know how evil men like them must think. I don’t pretend to understand them. They were condemned from their own mouths, anyway. They said that Madam Kena was just like the French whore, or somesuch.’

Baldwin grunted with disgust. ‘They sailed regularly for their master?’

‘Of course.’

‘How many French whores do you think they will have used in their lives?’

Moses shook his head in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, they were not guilty of the murder,’ Baldwin said more confidently. ‘Your master heard of the story your brother told, but that was entirely wrong. Just as the murder of the man in the road was wrong.’

‘He was asking about a foreigner,’ Moses began.

‘He was asking about a short fellow by the name of Hamund Chugge, who killed his master. De Bouville was here to avenge him. An abjurer will be told in public by which roads he must go to a port. I think this de Bouville was looking for Hamund to kill him. Instead your master killed him.’

‘Oh, dear heaven.’

‘And in the same way, I do not think your brother died because of Odo and Vincent. Another man killed Danny.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘The only man who could tell the truth about Mistress Pyckard’s death was your brother. Perhaps if he had noticed one more detail, he would have been aware of another man who could have killed her.’

‘Who else was in the crew of the Saint Rumon, fifteen years ago? And were any of them on the Saint John as well as Odo and Vincent?’ Simon urged. His head was hurting again, and he touched the lump where the hammer had struck.

Moses thought about it.

‘Most of them were strangers. Master Pyckard wanted as few men as possible from about Dartmouth, because it would be hard to have them reappear when their families had thought them dead, so he hired strangers from another town.’

‘But there were two men on the Saint John from here?’ Baldwin insisted.

‘Two, yes. Ed and Adam. But Ed was too young to have been working on the Saint Rumon.’

‘But Adam was on her, wasn’t he?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘Well, yes.’

‘And Adam was keen to help torture Odo and Vincent, wasn’t he?’ the Coroner rumbled. He had returned to the sideboard, and now he waved a full mazer. ‘I don’t know about these two, but I think you killed the wrong men.’

‘No … that’s not possible,’ Moses said, but he had taken a step back as though struck by a physical blow.

Baldwin was pensive. ‘I still don’t understand. When the Saint John sailed, your master had given instructions for her to be fired as though she had been raided?’

‘Yes. It was always his plan.’

Baldwin frowned. ‘And Adam knew of that?’

‘He knew the ship must be afire when Master Beauley arrived, yes. Although he didn’t realise that he was only to make a poor job of it. I know that the day they sailed, my master was keen to send me to explain that the ship was not to be burned to the waterline.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh, I think Adam said something to Odo and Vincent about leaving them in the ship to burn to nothing, and my master thought he didn’t appreciate that the two were to be thrown into the sea. The ship wasn’t to be harmed, after all. Perhaps he thought he was to destroy the whole thing, now I think of it.’

‘Where is Adam now?’ Baldwin demanded. ‘He is the final link in the chain.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Moses declared. He had paled under the onslaught, but he stood with an attitude of defiance, a hand stroking the wooden chair’s back.

‘Essay a guess,’ Sir Richard said. He drained his mazer, peered into the jug and when he saw it was empty, set it down with a sigh. Taking hold of his sword, he walked over to Moses. ‘But be quick, eh?’