The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

Chapter Thirty-Eight

He found Simon sitting on a barrel near the mill, disconsolately throwing stones into the mill-leat. ‘Roger was a good man.’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘I shall take his body to his widow as soon as I can make arrangements.’

Simon nodded and threw another stone into the river. ‘It seems as though the whole of my life has been turned upside down in the last few months. First my Lord Abbot’s decision that I should move to Dartmouth to live, then the news that my daughter has found herself a lover, and now poor Roger is dead. A friend who died trying to save us.’

‘I know. And the hardest knock is that I doubt whether we would have been in any danger if he and his men had not arrived when they did.’

‘That did surprise me. What made Brian take over the castle just then?’

‘I doubt he would have rebelled if it was not for the show of force at the gate. It made him feel insecure and he chose to protect himself as he knew how – by taking the place. If the rear wall had been secure, he might have held out for weeks.’

‘If he’d not bothered to fight, he’d still be alive now, and so would many others. Coroner Roger would only have arrested Sir Ralph and his son.’

‘Yes. Instead many died. And we still have an investigation to complete.’

‘Wylkyn?’

‘Yes. I know where his body lies.’

‘Under the pile of stones, of course. Then let’s fetch it.’

‘We cannot report it to Roger now. There is no one else here to whom we can give it.’

‘There is another Coroner who lives in Exeter, isn’t there?’

Baldwin sighed. ‘Yes. But think of it in this way, Simon. How much easier would it be, should this body be added to the toll from yesterday? Will it help any man to learn that the vill aided the concealment of a body? Or that an old man and a fool hid Wylkyn on the orders of Esmon of Gidleigh?’

‘No, of course not. But justice demands something.’

‘You talk to me of justice today?’

Simon saw a picture of Roger in his mind’s eye, the dark features, the piratical grin, the cynical leer when he doubted a witness’s words, and slowly shook his head. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘Find Piers and Elias and Roger Scut. With them we can fetch the body.’

It took no time to gather the men and soon they were on their way, Hugh leading a small farm cart, Piers and Elias walking alongside, and Roger Scut, Baldwin and Simon on horseback. Their route took them back along the path where the girl had died, and Baldwin asked exactly where she had been found. Elias pointed out the position.

‘I see. And you were in that field with Ben?’

‘No. That ’un.’

Baldwin stared at the freshly ploughed soil. He could see over the hedge, but no one on the road would have been visible. On the opposite side, a hedge had been recently laid, the long branches set down horizontally and kept in place with pegs and grasses to form a strong, living barrier to the sheep and cattle that would next year graze here. ‘That’s where Osbert was?’

‘Aye.’

Baldwin nodded, but then looked nearer. ‘And this must be where Sampson and Surval were.’

Elias shot him a look, but it was Piers who said, ‘Surval never told me he was here.’

‘Perhaps you forgot to ask him?’ Baldwin said mildly, but then he met Elias’s look before urging his mount onwards.

At the wall, Hugh let his pony wander without taking the cart from its back. Baldwin and Simon’s horses were loosely hobbled so that they could nibble at the grass while the men climbed over the fence and took the track Baldwin had found before.

‘Are you sure he’s here?’ Piers said doubtfully. ‘This isn’t the easiest place to hide a man, is it?’

‘When I was here the other day, I found small drops of blood on the way,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘They led me to the pit here, as though someone was going to throw in something, and yet all there was, was a dead calf. Ah yes. There it is.’

They had reached the pit now.

‘Maybe someone from the farm put it here?’ Piers said helpfully.

‘But as I said, there was blood on the way here,’ Baldwin said as he led them to the pile of stones. ‘And you will find him in there. Please get him out. There should be no need to tell anyone else of this. If we keep silent ourselves, we can remove him, put him with the dead in the churchyard and make an addition to the records to show that Wylkyn died trying to help us storm the castle.’

Roger Scut’s head shot up. ‘You expect me to add this man’s name to the list? I can be no part of that! I should be perjuring myself!’

‘Scut, if you do not, I shall tell the Dean about your efforts: seeking to accuse an innocent monk of a murder he didn’t commit, releasing him from gaol so that he could be hunted down and killed, and all so that you could take more wealth to yourself. Would you like that?’ Baldwin asked with silky sarcasm.

‘I didn’t release him. Sir Ralph did.’

‘But you tried, didn’t you?’ Simon said. ‘And Dean Peter is an old friend of mine and Sir Baldwin’s. He would trust us.’

‘Very well. I suppose I shall have to agree under the threat of your blackmail,’ Roger Scut said with a show of reluctance. ‘If that is all…’

‘No, it is not. You also have a farmer, Jack, whom you have forced to give up lands he himself acquired. You will give them back to him in their entirety.’

‘What? I can’t do that! What would my other peasants say?’

Baldwin reached out almost lazily, and grabbed a handful of his tunic. He pulled Scut to him. ‘Arse that you are, by name and behaviour, I swear this to you: if you do not release Jack from your intolerable service, I shall see you ruined in the Church. You wanted this little chapel so that you could take the money from it, didn’t you? Well, if you do not agree to my demand, Scut, I shall make it my job to tell the good Dean that you are so keen on it, and I will ensure, Scut, that you have it and it alone. You will take Mark’s place here, without a Lord, now that Sir Ralph is dead, without a patron, and without any income. I can do this, Scut, if you do not release Jack and return to him all the lands you have recently taken from him.’

‘I shall release him,’ Scut said sulkily. ‘Although he is a lazy devil, and why on earth you want to assist someone like that is beyond me.’

Piers gave a cry of revulsion. ‘We have him!’

Baldwin released Scut and nodded slowly while the man patted down his habit and tried not to look embarrassed. He walked over with Simon to view the corpse as it was exposed, Baldwin in their wake.

The discovery of the body was no great surprise to Baldwin because he had known that Wylkyn was here as soon as he had come to look at the spot with Simon and the Coroner. He could have kicked himself for not investigating properly on the previous occasion, but then he had not enjoyed the luxury of time, and it was only when he had a little pause for reflection that he had been able to see what he had first missed.

‘It is sad to see a man like him brought down,’ he observed to Elias.

‘At least he died quickly, didn’t he?’

‘How can you tell?’

‘All those wounds.’

‘But he could have suffered a great deal while receiving them!’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Like that poor girl Mary.’

‘Her?’ Elias nodded sadly. ‘Ruined, poor chit.’

‘I heard your own daughter was raped.’

‘Yes,’ he sighed.

‘You miss her. She was how old?’

‘About fifteen.’

‘That must have been a terrible loss to you.’

‘It was.’

‘And her death was not so kindly as this man’s?’

‘No. She bled to death, poor child.’

Baldwin drew him away from the others a few paces. ‘But Mary was not raped, Elias.’

‘So?’

‘She willingly gave herself. It was wrong to kill her.’

‘Who says I killed her?’

‘You found her lying by the way, you saw the blood, and you thought she was dead, so you sent her brother to fetch help. You thought someone had raped and murdered her, just as they killed your own child. Except when you went to her, once Ben was gone, you realised she wasn’t dead, but she had collapsed because of the bleeding, just like your girl’s.’

‘The Coroner reckoned my daughter died because the man kicked her and broke something inside her. There was lots of blood, all running down her thighs and legs. My poor lass. It was terrible!’

‘So she was already dead when she was found?’ Baldwin asked gently.

‘No. It took her an age to die. And when I saw young Mary lying there like that, all the blood down her legs, and all, I thought it was happening all over again.’ His eyes were glistening now, and he sniffed as he continued. ‘I sat with her, and then I touched her, and her head just flopped down. Her neck was broken.’

‘You found her alive, didn’t you? You concealed her from Ben’s view so you could kill her.’

‘No. She was dead already.’

‘You took her head and snapped her neck like a rabbit.’

Elias shook his head. ‘No, Sir Baldwin. I swear she was already dead. Ask Surval. He saw me.’

‘You saw Surval there? You didn’t mention that before.’

‘No, well. Not much point telling of others there, is there? It’d only get him fined as well. The vill can do without more fines.’

Baldwin studied him. He hadn’t mentioned Surval, so far as he could remember. ‘Where was Surval?’

Elias scowled. ‘I saw him over there, leaning on that great stick of his, as I came out of the field. He was up beyond Mary’s body.’

‘So you came out into the road, saw her, sent Ben to fetch help, and sat down patiently to wait?’ Baldwin said.

‘There’s no need for sarcasm. I saw her and shielded Ben from the sight, yes, and then, once he’d gone, I dipped back into the hedge to puke up. It was so like my own little girl’s death. I thought Mary had been raped at the time, but now… well, I reckon she just lost her child.’

‘And then someone broke her neck for her,’ Baldwin added sharply.

‘Yes. But not me.’

When they arrived at the hermit’s hut, he was sitting outside, staring at the bridge.

‘You have spoken to Elias?’ he said.

Baldwin nodded. ‘And I believe him.’

‘No one believes a hermit, do they?’

‘Not always, no. You were the man who killed Mary, weren’t you?’

‘Why do you think so?’

‘Because you were there. We spent so much time thinking that others must be involved, but you were there, and you had the same motive as any others. You wanted to halt her pain, didn’t you? Not because you’d seen your daughter die, but because you’d seen your own woman miscarry and bleed to death after you lost control and beat her up. You couldn’t bear to see another girl die like that.’

Surval nodded. ‘Yes. It’s true. But I only killed her to save her pain. That was all. Only to save her pain.’

Simon could see that Baldwin was inclined to believe the old hermit – and yet there was something that tugged at his mind. He remembered hearing something before – something about this hermit.

‘What will you do with me?’ Surval asked serenely.

Baldwin’s voice was tired. ‘There have been too many deaths. I do not honestly care what happens to you. I think you meant to do her a service, and for that, perhaps, you should be congratulated.’

‘I am grateful, Sir Knight. Not that I can disagree with you, of course.’ Surval smiled and leaned back. ‘It is a grand day, friends. A beautiful day.’

‘It must feel like you’re reprieved from a terrible fate,’ Simon said without thinking.

‘Hmm? Aye, I suppose so.’

‘It was a shame that you did not feel it necessary to defend Mark, though.’

‘True. But how could I reject other men’s accusations against him without betraying my own role?’

‘Poor Mark. And he was related to you, we find.’

‘Yes. He was my nephew. So many are my nephews or nieces!’

‘You once told me you have a child,’ Baldwin said.

‘You know him – Osbert. He is a good fellow. He doesn’t know he is my boy, though. His mother told everyone it was Ralph. I didn’t want to get into trouble with the Bishop, and it was all too easy to believe stories about my late, unlamented brother!’

Seeing him sitting back in the sun, absorbing the warmth, Simon suddenly remembered what he had heard and when, and he felt a cold premonition. It was during the ride here from Lydford. They had got lost and had to cross over the bridge, and Osbert, after they met Surval, had mentioned that Sir Richard had disliked the hermit. ‘How did you like Sir Richard?’ he asked now.

‘He was a good enough man.’

‘Did he support you and your bridge?’

‘Of course. Why shouldn’t he?’

Baldwin was watching the Bailiff as though wondering whether he might have been clubbed on the head during the fighting yesterday, but Simon felt like a harrier which sees its fox starting to flag. ‘I heard he was trying to throw you off here because he thought you were no more than a felon escaping justice.’

‘He had heard of me, I think, from my brother or nephew. They couldn’t keep their mouths shut.’

‘He died quickly.’

‘Fairly, yes.’

‘How did he die?’

‘He had a seizure. Horrible.’

‘You saw him?’

‘I was there for much of the time, yes. I wasn’t there when he actually expired.’

‘No. There was no need, was there?’ Simon said. ‘Baldwin, we have been very stupid. There was only ever one murderer. The same man killed Sir Richard and the girl. Sir Richard because he threatened Surval’s home…’

‘He wanted to report me to the Bishop and have me removed. It wasn’t anything to do with me, though. He simply wished to get back at my brother!’ Surval looked from one man to the other, and saw incomprehension in their eyes. ‘Very well, masters, you don’t understand. I’ll try to explain. I have a home here, a pleasing house, and I have my own altar, at which I abase myself. It is a part of me, this home. It is all I have now. In some ways, it is me! It defines me. My life, my soul, all that I am, is here. And Sir Richard wanted to throw me from the place. He intended sending me back to the Bishop. Not because of anything I had done, but because he thought any man related to my brother must be my brother’s ally. Well, I wasn’t.’

Baldwin asked, ‘How did he know you were brother to Sir Ralph? It was seemingly well enough hidden to others about here?’

Surval gazed at him with surprise. ‘We grew up here, and so did Sir Richard; even if he was younger than us, he knew us as close peers as well as neighbours. Our families hunted and dined together. But that meant nothing last year when that damned moneylender died in Exeter.’

He chewed his lip. ‘You remember what things were like. The whole country on tenterhooks, armies massing to fight the enemies of the King, the Despensers called back from their exile and pardoned… and the Despensers – damn them! – came back and once more had the ear of the King to the detriment of the realm. Well, my brother had thrown in his lot with the Despensers some little while before. But Sir Richard hadn’t.

‘Sir Richard had borrowed a sum from a moneylender, and when that man was murdered, Sir Richard found people demanding repayment. The debt was taken by the King, and because of Sir Ralph’s friendship with the Despensers, they persuaded the King to let my brother take over the castle. Sir Richard fought back in the only way he knew. He employed clerks to argue, he sought another moneylender, and then he tried to slander my brother through me.’

Surval grunted to himself. ‘It wasn’t the act of a kind or generous soul. He sought to ruin my brother’s reputation by first ruining mine. Perhaps once he had removed me, he thought he could slander Ralph and thereby gain a little time to find more money and keep his castle. That it would have destroyed my reputation meant nothing to him.

‘I have rebuilt my life here. The thought of leaving – especially in order to satisfy another man’s spite against a brother I detest – seemed terribly unfair. So I sought to protect myself.’

‘By killing again.’ Baldwin’s face was set like moorstone.

‘Yes. He was going to destroy me, so I sought to destroy him first,’ Surval said with a fierce defiance. ‘When Sir Richard was forced to take to his bed with his gout, I went to visit the castle. I offered him peace, and tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen, and while I was there, I saw Wylkyn mix medicine for his master. When I asked what it was, he told me it was henbane. I knew where Wylkyn kept his stock of herbs, and I looked in there. I confess, I hadn’t realised henbane could be used to ease the gout, but when I heard Wylkyn say that, I added more and mixed it with Sir Richard’s wine. Within a day he was complaining about his sight and some giddiness. Soon he fell to lethargy, and within a day or two, he was in a delirium, and then he died.’ The hermit gave a long sigh.

‘You poisoned him over several days?’

‘The priest from the church only saw him on the first day or two. After that, the monk from the chapel and I remained with him. We prayed together for his soul.’

‘Even though you were killing him?’ Simon burst out.

‘Bailiff, a man’s soul is more important than any petty disputes on earth,’ the hermit said sententiously.

‘You killed him to keep your place here,’ Baldwin stated.

‘It is everything to me!’

‘What of the girl?’ Baldwin asked, a sadness gradually overtaking him on hearing this confession. Surval was clearly an intelligent man, and he had sought to protect himself as best he might, but in so doing he had caused the deaths of too many others: Sir Richard, Mary and Wylkyn at first, but now Mark, Esmon, Sir Ralph, Ben, Huward and all the others, because if he had not committed those first crimes, Sir Ralph’s affair might not have become known, his men might not have rebelled, and many would now be alive who had died.

Surval shook his head, staring down at the ground. ‘I knew of the affair between Mark and her. Who didn’t? In a vill, there are never any secrets. No matter what, lovers will be seen. And these two were. It was terrible. The appalling sin of incest in the first degree.’

‘But they had no idea that they were guilty of such a sin!’

‘They knew he was a monk, sworn to celibacy,’ Surval shot out. ‘He was supposed to have dedicated himself to God, but instead he enjoyed the girl’s body.’

‘She was pregnant,’ Simon said quietly.

‘I didn’t realise that at first, but then she began to moan and cry.’

‘In the road? You were there with her?’ Baldwin confirmed.

‘Yes. I went to speak to her after the others had passed by. She looked unhappy, troubled. Of course, she had just lost her child.’

‘The blow,’ Baldwin mused.

‘Yes, I think her shock and horror at Mark’s violence made her miscarry. I tried to soothe her, explained that it was for the best because it was her brother’s child, but she wouldn’t listen. She screamed at me, really loudly, and I… well, I saw that the anguish and morbid terror were gripping her, so I killed her. It was kinder. She was in terrible pain, and bleeding heavily.’

‘You murdered her just as you did your own woman.’

‘No, Sir Baldwin. I protected her from her shame. Imagine how she could have lived, knowing that her child was repellent to God Himself? It was better to spare her that. I was being kind.’

‘And you were willing to allow Mark to hang for your crime.’

‘Ach! There was no risk he’d hang. He was young. He could soon rebuild his life. Perhaps he’d be protected by the Bishop. But me, what could I do? If I was accused again, I’d die. This place is all I have. Without it, I am dead.’

A week later, Simon and Baldwin returned to Gidleigh with Coroner Roger’s body. Baldwin was in a filthy mood, because he had ridden all the way to Exeter with Thomas, delivering Surval to the Bishop, and all during that long journey, Thomas had done nothing but complain about Godwen’s behaviour, how he was insulting Thomas’s family and Thomas himself, making sneering jibes about Thomas’s brother-in-law and others.

‘In God’s name,’ Baldwin exploded after ten miles, ‘I begin to wish you had not bothered to save his damned life, if you loathe the man so much!’

Thomas had stared at him, quite appalled. ‘Sir Baldwin! You can’t choose who should live or die just because you like them or not!’

‘I believe you saved him because life without your feuding partner would be insufferable.’

‘That is a terrible accusation!’ Thomas said with hurt in his voice, and he was silent. Then he flashed a grin at Baldwin. ‘Mind, it does add spice to have an enemy!’

Baldwin had given a longsuffering grunt. Now, with Coroner Roger’s widow at his side, walking to the church in Gidleigh, he could not recall any humour. It felt as though in the midst of her grief, she had sucked all the levity from people about her. Not surprising, Baldwin told himself; not after the shock of loss which she had suffered.

‘He always adored this area,’ Roger’s widow said. She was a large woman, her face ravaged with tears, and she leaned heavily on her maidservant as she walked behind the sheeted body of her husband.

Simon nodded. ‘He was born here, wasn’t he?’

‘And now he has died here and can be buried here,’ she agreed. ‘Daft old fool that he was, he’d probably be glad to think that although he lived most of his life in Exeter, he still came back here in the end.’

‘I am so sorry,’ Baldwin said sincerely. ‘If I could have done anything to save him, I would.’

‘I know that,’ she said.

She moved on behind the body being carried by the four bearers, all of whom were servants from his home in Exeter. The weather was foul, which was nothing new, merely a return to normal conditions, Baldwin thought to himself. Grey skies hurled chilly gobbets of rain like slingshots at the people standing by the grave. It was an old-fashioned grave, like those of many in this area, so that Roger would be buried kneeling as though in prayer. He would have liked that, his wife had said. He had not been as religious as he should have been during life, so it was best that he had a head start in death. Surely a man praying would win God’s attention faster than a lazy fool lying on his back.

After the short ceremony, Baldwin and Simon walked together to the entrance of Gidleigh Castle. The gate stood wide still, and servants bustled about as enthusiastically as they ever had.

‘You can hardly tell anything happened, can you?’ Simon said.

‘No. But the memories are here nonetheless,’ Baldwin said, tapping his breast.

‘You still feel the pain, don’t you?’

‘Yes. I murdered that poor devil when all he wanted was to stop the pain.’

‘He was mad, Baldwin. You wouldn’t hesitate if it were a rabid dog, would you?’

‘No. Yet Mark’s offence was, he wanted to learn more about his real father. Since he had learned who his father was, he wanted to come and be accepted. Instead, he found himself being made the convenient scapegoat of another’s crimes.’

‘He did hit poor Mary. From what Surval said, he made her miscarry.’

‘True – but I doubt he intended to. And I do not think he would have wanted her to lose their child, either. Yet when he saw her dead body, he bolted. He thought his careless blow had killed her, so he hared off in the hope that he could make it to the Bishop’s palace where he would be safe. And he would have been, had I not insisted on bringing him back, partly because of Scut and my loathing for him. Only then did he hear of her broken neck and realise he was innocent.’

‘You aren’t to blame for his death,’ Simon tried again.

‘I think I am. I brought him back here, I surrendered him to his father’s tender care, I had him exposed in court, and I actually ended his life.’

‘Because he was attempting a murder!’

‘The murder of a man who probably deserved it. Some men do, because there is no other means by which their crimes can be resolved or justice dealt. Yet I executed poor Mark, the final terrible act in his pathetic life. And I must carry the guilt of that with me for ever.’

‘You should not carry guilt, Sir Knight, but exorcise it,’ said a fussy voice.

‘Scut. I should have expected you to appear at some point,’ Baldwin said, but without warmth.

‘People have been coming here to see where the battle was fought,’ the cleric said. ‘They call it the “Battle of the Mad Monk of Gidleigh” now, and folk have come all the way from Moretonhampstead to see where it took place.’

‘You will remain here?’ Baldwin asked, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice.

‘No, I shall return to Crediton. I wish nothing more to do with this area. I shall return to the church and forget.’

‘You are fortunate.’

‘What you should do is serve a penance. Travel, Sir Knight! Go on a pilgrimage, to Canterbury or further afield. It would salve your conscience.’

‘A pilgrimage – me? Perhaps,’ Baldwin smiled.

‘How is Flora?’ Simon asked.

‘Not good. She appears to be suffering a slow, lingering death. She wastes away, but there is no apparent cure, no matter what the leaches prescribe.’

‘She has not recovered from her horrors? It is not surprising,’ Baldwin said. ‘Women are the weaker sex.’

‘Weaker be damned,’ Scut said with surprising force. ‘There’s something else at bottom. Can you think of anything that should have upset her so strongly?’

‘I heard,’ Simon said, ‘that she and Osbert were to marry, but he has not spoken to her since the fire.’

‘Oh. The oldest reason in the world,’ Baldwin sighed. ‘I wish we could cure it.’

Roger Scut sniffed and peered along his nose at the stolid figure of Osbert in the distance. ‘Leave it to me,’ he grunted. ‘If he has strung that girl along, I shall put the fear of Hellfire into him!’