The Outlaws of Ennor

Chapter Sixteen

Isok was finished, and with the tiredness of a man who had worked hard all afternoon, he rowed back to his island as the sun slipped down to the horizon.

He had taken a good haul of fish. All were gutted on the beach, the offal left behind for the gulls to eat, and now he had a much heavier boat with the weight of fish.

There was no comfort for a troubled mind like hard work, he reckoned, and he knew his task so well that he was able to squat and clean the fish with an empty mind. It was the first peace he had known for many days, and as he threw the last of the fish into the boat, he felt a fleeting regret that there was nothing more here to save him from his thoughts.

The boat needed a good shove to push it out to sea, and then he was wielding the oars, settling them between the pegs and beginning to row. He must travel around the islands and into the pass between Bechiek and the eastern islands, then on to the bay at St Nicholas, a journey which would take an age in a smaller vessel, but today he could count on the wind. His mast was stepped, and he pulled on the halyard to raise the little yard up the mast, then released the heavy linen. Pulling the sheets as the boat began to surge forward, he settled himself on the thwart at the upper part of the boat, from where he could see the way ahead.

There was a certain calm that came from hard work, and now, as he felt the wind on his cheeks and adapted his position to the gentle roll and sudden slap as the boat made its way around the first of the isles, he could sense a peace settling on him. There was no one here to laugh at him, give him difficulties or make snide comments behind his back.

Currents swirled about these islands, and many sailors would avoid the hazards of Great Guenhely and Inisvoul, but Isok was no novice. He had lived here all his life; there was probably no better seaman than him in all the islands. It was his skill as a master which regularly brought in the largest prizes. He knew the islands as only a native could. They had been his playground when he was a child, and now he was an adult, these were the waters he knew best of all. Since he was a youth he had been taking ships and boats about these islands in all weathers.

Years before, he had learned his craft from the old man they called Hamadus. He had taught Isok with a cynical eye and acerbic tongue. Hamadus had taken him on and for two months, Isok had been shouted at, cursed, and twice beaten with a rope’s end, but after those two months, Hamadus had called him into his little house and broached a barrel of wine illegally purloined from a wreck, and held out a filled mazer to Isok with a wry grin. ‘Ye’ll do, lad.’ After that, Hamadus had treated Isok as an equal. Although they had not spoken in many weeks now, Isok knew that Hamadus would have a sympathetic ear for him.

He was rounding the farthest eastern rocks of Bechiek, preparing to sail forth into the channel between it and Little Guenhely, when this thought came to him, and he was tempted to go and speak to Hamadus.

Hamadus was on Ennor, of course, down there on the main island. If Isok was to go there, he might as well dodge about the back of the Guenhellies, between them and the mass of Great Arthur, and make his way down the southern coast of Ennor. He looked at the sail, checked the wind, and made up his mind. There was time to put about. Without further ado, he released one sheet, pulled on the other, and ducked under the heavy material of the sail itself. Soon, with the great steering oar gripped under one armpit, he could feel her starting her turn, and then the hull heeled over at a slightly more acute angle, and standing with his thighs straddling the edge of his haul, he felt her taking his new course.

It was a wonderful sensation, this. He felt like a king when he was able to harness the power of wind and waves and set them to do his bidding. Not that it was quite so entirely in his command. In truth, he knew that Hamadus had been right many years before, when he had told Isok that the real skill of a mariner lay not in trying to force the vessel or the seas to do his bidding, but in seeing how the sea and his ship wanted to behave, and persuading each to permit him to go as he wished.

There was no feeling better than this, though. He felt her rise and screw around at the bow, and watched the horizon ahead as it moved up and down and across his vision, in the narrow gap between the ship’s side and the sail. Perfect, clear sea, then a snatched glimpse of an island. That was Little Arthur. The ship was soon level with the island, and then it moved on past, and he could see the long sweep of sand that made up the enormous beach.

Hearing a faint odd noise, he looked about again. The shore was far enough away with the tide this high, that he need not fear rocks in this part, and yet he heard some curious knockings, and when he glanced down at the sea, he could see some bits and pieces of broken wood. Not large timbers from a large wreck, like the one which had brought that knight to his home, but small sections of flotsam, such as a small rowing boat might be built from. There were pieces with the caulking still attached, and spread over a wide area, he saw, as though a small vessel had come to grief on one of the jutting rocks that lay so thickly about here, and then the parts had been dispersed over a wide space by the tides.

Over the years the people who lived in the islands grew accustomed to seeing wreckage, and often they would offer thanks to God for destroying another ship near to their shores. To a poor man or woman, living a harsh existence with the danger of starvation ever-present, a sudden windfall of free timbers, wine, and food or clothing was a near miracle.

Every so often a ship would founder on the rocks to the west of the islands. Usually it was a vessel which struck at Agnas or Anete, or the rocks far west, and the currents and winds would bring them into the beaches, white, bloated bodies lying in among the mess. At such times the seamen would all share in the revolting task of preparing the bodies for burial. All saw the holes in the flesh where the small fishes and crabs had nibbled or cut away with sharp pincers; all saw the empty eye-sockets. And afterwards, Isok would forego his crabs or lobsters for weeks. The thought of the meat lying in their bellies made him feel sick.

This was not the same, though. The bigger ships foundered on the rocks after being blown far from their courses, but this was a small vessel, which meant it must be from one of the islands.

Isok remained gripping his steering oar, but he crouched low now, peering ahead with the eyes of a man used to searching for small signs on the water, a feeling of sickness rising in his belly. This, he was sure, was a place where a man must have died. Too often when a man’s body was taken by the sea, it would sink and disappear for some little while, until then reappear, swollen and repellent, the veins turned blue and obscene, the flesh pale like a ghost’s, sometimes coming away from the body like a spare item of clothing. Today, he felt sure, another had been taken by the sea. It could be anywhere.

Then he saw it. A lump of huddled grey lying on the beach, a moving mass of white over and around it: squabbling seabirds fighting over morsels. He altered his course, aiming for the sand, but knew as he did so that it was too late. There was no chance that a man could have lived after striking rocks with sufficient force to destroy his boat so completely.

He allowed his boat to beach, the sail already furled, and leaped into the water. As he pulled the vessel up the beach a short way, his muscular thighs creating a great wave before him, the birds rose into the sky, screeching like devils. He made his way up to the body, every footstep crunching on broken pieces of timber and shreds of material, until he was near enough to crouch and roll the man over onto his back.

‘My Christ! Brother Luke?’

Simon returned to the castle deep in thought. There was no obvious focus to his investigation. The only things he knew from his enquiries were that Oderic had seen Thomas and David out that evening before the storm. Other than that, he had learned that the dead man was unpopular, which was hardly earth-shattering news.

He had little desire to visit Thomas and report his findings, so he went into the buttery, demanding a quart of strong ale. It was a full-flavoured brew, thick and malty, and while Simon supped at it, he wondered how to confront and question Thomas. Finishing his ale he was no nearer a conclusion, so he went to ask the gaoler where his friends were now.

‘Thomas ordered them to a cell at the hall,’ the turnkey said.

Simon felt his face pale with rage. ‘The Sergeant told me he would have them freed,’ he said at last.

The man shrugged. ‘Nothing to do with me.’

It wasn’t, of course, but now as Simon left the gaol and stood in the yard, he was struck with the reflection that accusing Thomas of involvement in the murder could be dangerous, especially while Sir Charles and Paul were still held in his power. Thomas was not a man who could be trusted. He’d given his word to have Sir Charles taken from the cell, and he had done so … but only in order to move him to a new one.

Taking a deep breath, Simon walked to Thomas’s room and rapped on it before entering.

‘Ah, Bailiff. I hope you have had a rewarding time?’ Thomas asked.

‘Where are my friends?’

‘They are safe enough.’

‘You promised to release my companions.’

‘I have had them taken to more pleasant accommodation. Bearing in mind your friend threatened my lord with a sword, I have to say I think he’s being treated leniently! Now, what of your enquiries?’

Simon bit back the words that sprang to his lips. Coldly furious, he told Thomas all he had heard that morning, except that when he mentioned Oderic, he realised that a certain care would have to be exercised; he couldn’t trust Thomas. Instead, he mentioned no name, and only said that he had heard that a man called David had not been at his vill on the night of the murder. He did not mention that he knew Thomas himself had been abroad that night.

‘Reeve David was not at the vill?’ Thomas repeated.

‘No.’

Thomas appeared to listen to little more of what Simon had to say, and when the Bailiff had completed his report, telling him about his thoughts on the wounds and that he didn’t think his new peacock-blue sword could have been responsible, Thomas merely fluttered a hand in irritable dismissal.

Outside the room, Simon felt baffled at the man’s response. As soon as Simon had mentioned David, Thomas had become distracted. Perhaps he had seen David, and realised that if someone had seen him, they might also have seen Thomas himself? Perhaps he feared being uncovered as the murderer?

Baldwin and Tedia crossed the island and made their way to the eastern edge of St Nicholas, where they could see St Elidius.

‘That’s where he lives, almost like a hermit.’

Baldwin nodded absently. ‘How do we get to the island?’

‘The usual way is a boat to cross anywhere along here,’ she said, pointing. ‘If you want to get to St Elidius, you must cross this narrow sea between St Nicholas and Arwothel, then cross Arwothel to St Elidius.’

‘I had thought we might simply step over to it,’ Baldwin said with a frown. ‘When I have heard talk about this place, I have always had the impression that there was one, maybe two islands at most. I had no idea there were so many. Where can we find a boat?’

‘I can find one — my husband has a small boat — but I don’t know where I can get one tonight,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Well, we can do nothing about it tonight, then,’ Baldwin said. ‘And, I for one am glad. My immersion has had an impact upon my ability to concentrate. I think that a walk to your home will be about as much as I can cope with.’

It was true. His feet were leaden, and his bones ached with exhaustion, as though he had aged at least ten years in the last few days. It was ironic, he thought to himself as they set off back along a little track that followed the line of the sand, then up and across a peninsula before heading southwards to Tedia’s house, that only three or four days ago he had felt so filled with energy. His journey to the south had given him a new lease of life, just because he had gone back to the lands where he had lived when he was much younger. It had made him remember things he had thought were buried for ever. Such as the women on the island of Cyprus, when he was learning his vocation. There had been such beautiful women there, slim, dark-haired girls who were keen to amuse or entertain the Templar novices. Baldwin had learned much of life while he had been there, in the unrestricted environment. Perhaps that was partly why he loved the feel of this island, too, he thought. Because he had such happy memories of that other island: Cyprus.

Then a burst of honesty made him stare at the ground. This was no affection for a lump of rock in the sea. It was the sense of pleasure which an older man felt on seeing a young, beautiful woman who was not only attainable, but deliberately available. He shot a look at Tedia, and was disconcerted to see that she was simultaneously glancing at him. Both looked away.

When they reached her house, Baldwin was about to suggest that he should remain somewhere else, when she motioned him inside, and he found that his feet took him within. He sat near the hearth, and watched while she collected a bound bundle of dried kelp and set it on the top of the old ashes. She placed a few pieces of kindling about it, then blew gently. Some tiny coals sparked. Amid the dust which she caused to fly, there were chips of orange. Soon a wisp of smoke arose. Then another, and in a moment there was a flickering as a tiny flame rose.

She ignored him. It was impossible to let her feelings show. This man, this stranger knight, had shown her more interest and compassion today than most had shown her in all her life. It was so unfair that poor Isok couldn’t do his duty to her. He was a good man, she knew. It was just that he was terribly affected by this damned weakness of his. She had no option other than to leave him, with the Church’s consent, and find another man who would give her the children she craved.

As soon as she had heard from Luke that it was possible to divorce, she had set her heart on Robert, but now he was gone, and all she knew was that, without him, her life could have little meaning. There were so few men about here who could woo her. Only this one man fascinated her, this knight.

He was a curious fellow. Calm yet easily embarrassed, from the blush she had seen so often when he looked her way; he was plainly intelligent, and had money too. He was not one of those poor, mercenary knights whose entire income and ability to earn was lost with his lord in some skirmish or other. No, he was well-endowed, from the look of him and to hear him. He had no sword or expensive jewellery, but he had the sort of manners and courtesy which spoke of his position. That showed more than anything that he was an important man.

Poor Isok. She had loved him, but without apparent proof of his own love for her, that was nothing. Gradually her love had diminished, until it had dwindled to so small a flame that it had died in the faintest whistle of the wind: the tiny gust caused by Robert’s interest. His amusement in her company had reignited her passion; and now he was dead. Two men whom she had wanted, desired, loved. Both lost to her.

Her eyes rose and studied Baldwin as she collected herbs and fish for her pottage. He was a good man, a kind man, she felt. He was older, certainly, she accepted as she saw his eyelids drooping, but that was no bad thing necessarily. He would be married, of course. Every worthwhile man was married, as she knew too well. No, she must accept her fate. She’d end up a wizened old maid here on St Nicholas, and that was that.

Poor Robert! She rubbed at her eyes, clearing the tears. He had shown a keen interest in her, and she hadn’t been able to give herself to him as she’d wished. That was all. The poor man! Dying like that, on his way to see her.

Isok had never shown himself to be so jealous that he’d try to murder a potential lover. If anything, she’d have said that he was the sort of man to accept his fate. But no one could truly know what went on in a man’s head when he was suffering like Isok. Perhaps he thought that it was revenge for betrayal. No, if it was that, he’d kill her. No, this must be a punishment, killing Robert so that Isok could keep his wife. Unless it was Luke who had killed Robert. Luke was certainly a curious fellow. She wasn’t sure that she could trust him.

She suddenly realised that the room was much darker, and she went to the door, staring out.

‘What is it, Tedia?’

She smiled, but didn’t turn. ‘My husband, Sir Baldwin. He should have been home by now. It’s growing dark and he’s usually back by this time.’

‘You fear for him?’

‘In some ways,’ she answered, still not facing him, but leaning against her doorway and staring out into the darkening night. ‘I have known him many years.’

‘Tell me about him.’

She sighed, but not unhappily as she recalled their wooing. ‘He was a good man. Always considerate, always caring. I felt like a queen when I was with him. Other men I’d known, they wanted my body, but with Isok, he seemed more interested in me because he liked me. It made him more appealing to me, I suppose. I never thought he wouldn’t be able to make me his wife.’

‘How did he marry you?’

‘I was happy with him,’ she said, returning to the room and pouring a large mazer of ale for Baldwin. Passing it to him, she said, ‘He made me laugh. What more does a woman need? So I told him I wanted him, “to have and to hold from this day, for fairer, for grimmer, from this day onwards”, and he said, “Tedia, I take you as my woman, and will want no other woman for as long as I live”. I felt so happy that day. I’d never thought I’d get the man I wanted, but he gave himself to me. It was so lovely.’

Her eyes watered again at the memory. ‘It was a beautiful day, and rather than take me as I had expected, to consummate the marriage immediately, instead I was delighted to hear him say that he wanted a priest to hear our vows. He insisted that we see William at St Mary’s, because William had been at St Elidius for many years, and Isok respected him greatly. Isok had to go to sea for a day, but when he returned, he said, he would marry me in full view of witnesses and William.

‘So two days later, Isok and I rowed over to Ennor, our little craft surrounded by a flotilla of small boats, with all the men making lewd gestures to me, while their wives howled with laughter and made bawdy comments to Isok.’

The general atmosphere of hilarity had been increased by the sudden appearance of some tuns of wine. Several had been delivered already to the port on Ennor, for the Lord of the Manor, but the rest were stored safely for the good of the community of St Nicholas — apart from the monks who, it was felt, needed no more wine.

‘William was wonderful.’

Speaking with his slightly catarrhal accent, William stood before them like an avenging angel, threatening them with hellfire if they were to fail. He silenced the crowds without a word, just an intimidating glower, and they were quietened in a moment. Afterwards, when he had bound their hands with his alb and pronounced that they be man and wife, he had grimly stared at the crowds as though daring them to make a sound until he had finished, and when the people erupted in joyful celebration, he had only then allowed a smile of satisfaction to pass over his lips.

Later the priest had taken Tedia to one side and told her that she was lucky indeed to be winning such a devoted husband. ‘He’s a good man,’ he had said, and then, ‘You should be very happy.’

It was not far from the truth of it. They had been happy. Except for this one fault. Only a little one, Mariota said to her, and in many ways a beneficial one because it saved her from the trials of childbirth, but Tedia knew that she wanted children, and Isok would or could give her none.

So terribly sad. All she wanted was a man in her bed with her. If Isok could be a stud to her, she would be content. Yet he couldn’t. So now she was forced to look elsewhere, and her one lover was dead.

She wondered where Isok was. He ought to be back by now.

During the storm, the sky had been an angry red colour, then black and lighted by flares of lightning, but now it was the normal starry sky she knew so well. Each little star stood out so brightly, she had to wonder what was behind the blackness of the sky. It looked so like small pin-pricks in a sheet of black velvet with a bright light behind to light each hole; she sometimes felt she could touch the material.

Tonight she stared out seawards, wondering where her man was. Normally he would be home by now. No one stayed out to sea too late, in case they might be thrown against a rock hidden in the dark, and although she knew full well that Isok was one of the best mariners on all the islands, she feared that he could come to grief. She was still his wife, and their lives had been shared. If he had been drowned she would regret his passing.

Unless … With a sharp pang of guilt, she realised that if he was going to be staying out for the night, she could perhaps cement her attraction to Baldwin. It was certain sure that he was as attracted to her as she was to him.

She felt her loins melting with the thought. In a moment, she decided, she would turn slowly and stare at him. Baldwin would see her lust: he would be bound to. And if he had any doubts, she would pull off her tunic and show him her whole body. Then she would walk to him slowly, her hands emphasising her womanly perfection, and by the time she reached him, he would be ready for her. She would undress him, pulling his hosen down, and kiss him there, so that he would enter her without difficulty. Yes.

It took her only a few moments to ponder the attraction of this course, and she leaned against the door frame again, rolling her body on it until she was facing the room once more. Licking her lips, she could see the form of Baldwin in the murkiness inside. She cleared her throat, said, ‘Baldwin,’ and then heard his snore.

Thomas finished checking the records of the cargo on the ship and sat back with a smile for a moment or two. Then, again, he began to frown and he glanced at the fading sunlight outside.

Where had David been?

This little haul was perfectly timed to make Ranulph’s life easier. It would all be considered salvage by most folks, but as far as Thomas was concerned, this was a wreck. The fact that it had fallen into his hands was his Lord’s good fortune, and nothing more.

It was a very good thing indeed that Thomas had been here when the ship had been discovered, because otherwise Ranulph would have taken more control of the affair, in which case there might well have been more bodies to bury, rather than the two unwelcome guests sitting in a quieter room in the castle.

Ranulph always wanted to ensure that the least expense was incurred by his manor. To his mind, the law which stated that a wreck was only a wreck if no man, no dog and no cat survived the vessel being cast upon the shore, was enough. The law must be complied with. Sometimes a ship wouldn’t make it to shore, in which case Ranulph and his men would sail out to ‘rescue’ it. Occasionally, when a ship was cast up on the shore, her survivors could be ‘lost’ so as to validate the letter of the law. That was not something Ranulph sought to do, but sometimes his staff would grow over-enthusiastic. The new law of salvage was more humane, and Ranulph was delighted to comply with it, because it saved his involvement in concealed homicides.

Here on Ennor things were more relaxed than in Cornwall. There local lords had to work hard to keep news of shipwrecks hidden, because the earldom’s men might hear of them. The Havener was a crucial member of the Earl’s household, and was targeted on claiming any wrecks, any royal fish, and all the duties owed to him. He was a pest to all ordinary folk living near the sea. Here in the Isles, the Havener had his work cut out. He tended not to bother to come here now because the journey wasn’t worth the effort. In any case, there were ongoing disputes about whether King Edward II or the earldom had the rights of royal fish, and to confuse matters still more, the earldom was now owned by the King’s wife, Isabella of France. No one was too sure who was supposed to gain now, which was why there had been disputes like the one fourteen years ago between William le Poer and Ranulph. Le Poer was the King’s Coroner at the time, and arrived just in time to snatch a whale which had been thrown up by the sea. That was too much for Ranulph, who had the mischievous devil thrown into prison, only releasing him when a hundred shillings had been paid.

Since then, Ranulph didn’t worry too much about exactly how Thomas dealt with people and got the money in. He instructed him to just go ahead and get it. It was rare that he would bother to attend a fresh vessel’s arrival. And now Ranulph had acquired the post of Coroner for himself. It certainly made life easier.

This was a magnificent ship, though. The Anne had a huge hold and plenty of tuns of wine as well as several bundles of cloth tied up into bales and some excellent Spanish metalwork. All in all, Thomas estimated her value to be in the order of one and a half thousand pounds. She would be a great prize, and there was little need to worry about an owner arriving to take the thing back. She was wrecked, and that was how her situation would be reported. The earldom would require some form of payment, but they wouldn’t know how much to claim, and there should be no risks.

His eyes narrowed again. Yes, the Anne was a magnificent catch, but who had trussed and delivered her? David was not in the vill, the Bailiff had said. Where had he been? Leading a small pirate party to attack a merchant ship?

No. Once more Thomas put the idea from him and returned to his papers. There was no point going over the same ground. If David had been out in the storm, no doubt he’d have been overwhelmed by the weather. As it was, there was no news of his death or disappearance.

Once again, the Sergeant’s thoughts turned wretchedly to his main preoccupation: the whereabouts of his own ship. The Faucon Dieu had still not made an appearance. Could that churl David have taken her?

He put the ledgers away carefully and tapped his teeth absentmindedly with a reed. To ease his mind, he pondered the problem of the new tax-gatherer. Of course he could suggest Walerand, as he had already hinted to the young fellow, and that would almost certainly bring in a shilling or two, because Walerand would understand that if he wanted the post, he would have to buy off Thomas first … but there were difficulties.

When all was said and done, Walerand was a gormless fool. He had less intelligence than the average chicken in Thomas’s opinion — and the Sergeant particularly despised chickens. Walerand’s way of ‘persuading’ a peasant to pay up would involve the use of a dagger and probably a hot brand, rather than honeyed words. That was where Robert was so useful. He could coax people into paying. They didn’t like it: no one liked paying taxes; yet they would cough up. The story of how Robert had killed the sailor in the tavern while wearing a smile of sadistic delight, had affected all who met him; but to Thomas’s certain knowledge, the gather-reeve had never had to display his brutality.

That was not Walerand’s way. He would try to scare people for the sake of it, just because it made him feel good. He would resort to actual physical violence at any opportunity. But at least Walerand was devious enough to make a good spy on the Bailiff.

What would the Bailiff make of all this, though? He would guess, probably. That was how most officers worked — they guessed at what might have happened. Someone had taken enough of a dislike to Robert to grab a knife and shove it into him. Simon would wonder what on earth Robert had been doing up there at that time of night. He should have been back in the castle by dusk, but he’d told others he’d be staying out for the night. That hinted at a woman — this woman he was supposed to have been porking in St Nicholas. If he’d been going to see her, why hadn’t she come forward to announce his disappearance? Probably because she was married.

Some men were hard enough on their women. Perhaps Simon would think Robert had chosen to take some female, and she reacted with an all-too-hasty dagger? He’d expected her to submit in return for a lower tax bill, and she’d repaid him in the only way she knew. That was quite possible.

Yes: possible, and alarming. If the locals thought that they could get away with murdering one of Ranulph’s leading men-at-arms, then they might decide to resist future demands for money and customs. It was a short step from one man being killed to the entire castle being endangered. Thomas was as sure as he could be of that.

Ranulph had sanction to hold twelve men here to maintain and protect his castle. There were some others here, mainly servants who were either weak of muscle or weak in the head, but if a man counted only the fighting strength of the place, it was actually alarmingly under-manned, compared with the number of people the castle was supposed to oversee. There were a couple of hundred men on all the islands, and most of them were strong, hardy types, used to the sea and weapons of all sorts. If it were to come to a fight between them and the men at the castle, Thomas knew that though the walls of the castle might survive, the people inside could easily be beaten. There was no hope of rescue or support. Even if a messenger could be sent to the mainland, any help must arrive too late.

The idea made him frown. Since a man in the castle had been murdered, it was up to the men of the castle to put things straight again. They needed a scapegoat: a group must be found which would carry the responsibility for the murder. Some rascals who could be believed to be thieves and murderers; some peasants who could be held up as an example of what would happen to others if they were to dare to flout the laws. An extreme example, a source of horror and fear for many years to come.

That was what the folks here needed. A definite signal that their behaviour must improve, he thought. But there were not enough men in the castle to chastise a whole vill.

Thomas sighed. Matters were already going beyond the means of simple resolution. If only he had more men at his disposal.

Feeling that he must suffocate if he remained within, Thomas stood, locked away the ledgers, and made his way to the castle’s walls. There he clambered up the steep staircase and peered out towards the sea. Still no sign of the Faucon Dieu. It was hard to believe that any of the pirates on St Nicholas would have dared to attack her. Could David …?

Thomas felt the certainty hit him like a hammer. David had led a party of the men from his vill to attack the Faucon Dieu: that was why she hadn’t appeared. They had taken what they could and sunk the ship to hide their crimes. That was it! Thomas felt himself bristling with righteous fury. That was why David wasn’t in the vill on the night of the storm, that was why Thomas’s ship wasn’t here, safe in port. Those murderous peasants in the vill on the next island had taken her.

By Christ, he would find out. Yes, Thomas would find out, and if he learned that they were guilty, he’d set such a flame under them that they’d all wish they were already in Hell!