The Outlaws of Ennor

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sir Charles stood at the edge of the island and stared out in dismay. ‘Paul, he did say the north-western island, didn’t he?’

Paul nodded. They had arrived here with only one mishap when they had nearly rowed into a rock, but apart from that all was well. They had walked to the north of the castle, swinging around to the east of the marshes, and then northwards again until they reached the coast. By then the sun was already fairly high. When they had found a small beach, they searched but could find no boats. They had been forced to walk eastwards until they discovered this small rowing boat, and then they had set off for the nearest large island.

Their journey had been difficult. When they tried to row about the northern tip of the island, they found their way blocked by a substantial patch of sand just beneath the water. Nothing loath, they set off along the side of this bar, unknowingly following Baldwin’s steps to Bechiek.

Neither man was experienced at rowing. It was surprising to Sir Charles to find out how tiring it could be, merely pulling on a pair of oars, using brute force to haul the things along, and then trying not to make the sea fly on the return stroke. Quite extraordinary. Still worse was missing the sea when he leaned backwards. He did it three times, each time scraping the surface of the water and tumbling backwards into the front bit of the boat. Damn thing. The third time, Paul had sniggered so loudly that Sir Charles forced him to take a turn on the things.

‘God’s feet!’

‘No — your feet! Keep them on the floor and the oars in the water,’ Sir Charles said unsympathetically.

It had taken them an age to cover so short a distance. At least they were now here, safe and well. They landed the boat, and set off to find the priory. There was no need to ask anyone, Sir Charles knew, because even a small priory was an obvious building. Surely they would soon come across the place. They walked around the eastern edge of the island, and then carried on up the northern shores, but there was no sign of it.

‘Damn it, do you think Simon was having fun with us?’ Sir Charles demanded. ‘We shall climb to a higher point and see if we can seen it from there.’

They did so, and found themselves on a long ridge. The island had a spine of higher land which ran almost east-west, and from this the land dropped away shallowly to the south, towards Ennor.

‘There is no sign of a priory,’ Paul noted glumly.

‘No! I shall look forward to having words with that Bailiff when next we meet.’

‘There looks to be a number of people over there, though,’ Paul noted, pointing.

‘I wonder what they are doing?’

Paul shrugged. While Sir Charles stood staring at the group of men and women gathering near the beach, he sat on a nearby rock and picked up a stone or two, throwing them at another larger pebble a short distance away. Picking up another few stones, he threw them harder. One bounced back, almost hitting his face, but he ducked aside quickly, and bent to pick it up from where it fell behind him. It was as he took hold of it that he saw the ship.

‘Christ’s ballocks!’

Isok went into the house with Mariota comfortingly holding his hand.

He knew what he was supposed to do, and he set his jaw as he entered. Inside was Brosia, sitting at a table with an amused look on her face. Mariota unrolled a palliasse and beckoned to him, and when he went to her, she gently removed his belt, then untied the laces which held up his hosen and slipped them down his legs. She stood and pulled his tunic from him, so that he was left with only his shirt on.

There was nothing he could do but submit. Lying down, he closed his eyes, and tried to think of nothing. It didn’t help. If his wife couldn’t make his tarse work, he was sure these two women couldn’t. No matter how hard they tried.

Simon stood out of the way as the rest of the men piled aboard the ship. He was anxious, lest there should be the discovery of his plot the previous night, some form of accusation that he had been guilty of releasing Sir Charles, but no one seemed remotely interested in him. Hamo wandered onto the ship innocently enough, and soon concealed himself behind Simon, and then, while more men were gathering ready to join the ship, Simon reached behind him and patted Hamo’s shoulder.

So long as Sir Charles had reached the place, all was well. He should go straight to the priory and warn the Prior, and then all these men would achieve nothing. They would land, but find the island protected. Soon, after a negotiation, the men of Ennor would inevitably decide to leave, and when they did, Simon and Hamo would refuse, claiming sanctuary with the Prior and remaining on the island, safe.

As the deck began to move, the sail dropping and rippling in the wind with a dry clattering, he felt a nervous anticipation growing in him. With luck, he would soon be able to leave this fearsome group of men and return to normal life with the Abbot of Tavistock’s own brethren. That was his most fervent wish. Now all he had to hope was that the Prior was prepared to receive them all, including Hamo. The boy must find sanctuary there.

The sea was flat calm, and the ship set off to the west of the island, rounding the little hump of land that looked so much like a separate island connected to Ennor itself by accident. Then they were tacking slowly, almost against the wind, heading for the eastern edge of St Nicholas Isle and the harbour.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Simon muttered to Hamo, for he could feel the boy shaking from fear. ‘Don’t worry. Just wait until we’ve all jumped from the ship, then follow us a short way until you can hide. Then go to the Priory. It can’t be hard to find.’

Strange, he mused, how the lad could appear so strong and self-reliant on occasions, so childlike on others. It must just be because he was so young, surely not yet eleven summers old. No wonder he was petrified at being in among so many violent men. The last ship he’d been on hadn’t given cause for confidence, after all.

Hamo’s terror made Simon want to turn and hug the lad, just as he would have comforted his own son, but today he daren’t. The master or Ranulph could realise that Hamo was there, and Simon had no desire to see that. Instead he stood stolidly, hoping that the lad was shielded by his body.

Thomas had already briefed them. There was to be a meeting of the vill’s men up on the north-eastern shore. Thomas and his band of men would run into the harbour, and then hurry to the meeting, attacking as soon as they could.

‘So, Bailiff! Are you looking forward to the chance of destroying the men who almost killed you and drove you into the storm that brought you here?’

It was Ranulph. He stood nearby, a broad smile on his face, both hands set in his belt, rolling with the sea like a sailor.

‘Yes. If I find the pirates, I should enjoy attacking them.’

‘You speak so carefully, Bailiff. Yet I believe you are a fighter. You are like so many of my men here. You enjoy fighting. Even my last gather-reeve liked a scrap. That was why he was here. Thomas carefully sought him out, of course. A man with a reputation as a killer is less likely to be killed.’

‘His reputation was striking.’

‘He murdered a man in cold blood. Thomas told people of his crime to protect him — and he told how Robert enjoyed killing. That was the main thing, you see. He actually enjoyed inflicting pain on people. It was why he was so safe as a collector.’

‘It didn’t work very well then, did it? He was murdered.’

‘He lasted a while. His mistake, as it is for so many, was to trust a woman. The bitch probably sold him to her friends.’

‘Why? Would he have been carrying money on him?’

‘No! But scum like them think that killing one rent collector will stop any others going after them. They don’t understand men like you and me, Bailiff. They think that there is no law other than what they want to obey. They don’t agree to pay the King’s due, they don’t accept the laws of ownership, and they certainly don’t hesitate to commit murder. These folks are pirates, nothing more. And the women are as bad as the men! They will kill half-drowned sailors just to steal a ring. Don’t show them any mercy.’

‘I still don’t understand why they should have attacked the gather-reeve on that particular night. They could have killed him at any time.’

‘They didn’t dare attack in broad daylight. Whoever killed him was a coward — but I shall find the man.’

‘But you aren’t imposing a new tax on your peasants, are you, and you didn’t hear of Robert extorting extra money from islanders, did you? Can you think of any reason why he should be killed now?’

‘No. It was a spur of the moment thing, I expect. Someone saw him and decided to take revenge for the taxes he collected last year.’

‘I see,’ Simon said thoughtfully. ‘But your taxes have risen?’

‘Of course. The famine years hurt us, and recently we’ve had only a few wrecks to help support the islands.’

‘I recall Thomas saying that the peasants were growing restive.’

‘Yes. Thomas started spreading tales about the violence of our men-at-arms just to remind them how they might be treated, were they to become more fractious.’

‘Stories such as that of Robert himself?’ Simon asked.

‘Yes,’ Ranulph said absently. He was growing bored with the questions. ‘Did you find a good weapon yesterday? You spent some while in my armoury.’

Simon felt the deck lurch, but it was the movement of the ship, not his heart. ‘I saw many weapons, but nothing appealed,’ he said eventually.

‘Interesting. I thought you must have picked a dagger to match the sword, but then I realised that there was already a dagger on that sword belt,’ Ranulph said. He nodded to himself, and then wandered along the sloping deck to talk to the helmsman.

Simon let out his breath in a gust of relief. Yet he could not lose the feeling of being hunted. He glanced down behind him at the pale face of Hamo and gave him a reassuring smile, but when Simon faced the front again, he saw those terrible dark eyes of the Lord of the manor upon him.

Cryspyn sat at his table, his grim expression reflecting his mood.

Isok had gone in like a lamb to the slaughter, he had heard, and now he must wait until the poor man came out. It wouldn’t take very long, surely. The examination per aspectum corporis was a formality, really. They all knew that Isok didn’t want to be divorced.

There was a noisy gang of men gathered near the hut, most of them drunk, all enjoying the occasion. There was something unbearably revolting about an Englishman in at the destruction of another man. They would turn out in hundreds to see a man hanged, and today they would wait an age in order to see poor Isok shamed before them all. Cryspyn felt sick. The thought of Isok being led away from that place like a felon, when his only crime was that God had decided that he had married the wrong woman, was horrible.

Cryspyn took a deep breath and beckoned his servant for a sip of wine from his mazer. He had need of it today. The last few days had been appalling. First there was the gather-reeve’s death, then Luke’s, and now Isok was being slowly destroyed and there was nothing Cryspyn could do to help him.

There were few things he was sure of now, but he felt certain that his time here on the islands must soon be over. He must petition the Abbot and the Bishop to be released from his duties. He should find a quiet hermitage or priory where he could go as an ordinary Brother, somewhere he could leave all this death and blood far behind.

‘Prior!’

The cry came from near his hall’s main door, and he rose stiffly to his feet. Emptying his mazer, he passed it to his servant before walking slowly to the door. When he was no more than halfway there, it was thrown open, and William pelted in, his face red and sweating. ‘Pirates! We must have a ship to catch them!’

Baldwin had told William to go straight to the priory, while he himself ran along the path which led to Tedia’s home. When he saw it was empty, Baldwin carried on up the roadway, until near the middle of the vill he saw a large crowd standing about. Clearly this was where the trial was being held.

Even as he drew closer, the door opened, and Isok stalked out, followed by two women. Baldwin recognised Brosia and Mariota.

‘Well? Come on, women, how was he?’ shouted a voice.

‘Did you get his tower to rise?’

‘Or has it been undermined?’

The laughter which greeted each weak sally was uproarious, and Baldwin suddenly found his path obstructed by men and women moving forward to speak to Isok or the women. Brosia refused to talk, but marched giggling to her husband, whom she clutched with a firm embrace and kissed more passionately than Baldwin thought entirely natural. He shoved men from his path and tried to reach David, but the press was growing. ‘Let me through!’ he roared. ‘Let me through, you festering, fly-blown cakes of bull’s shit! Let me pass!’

It was so unsettling, having no sword. At least he had the flimsy dagger which he had taken from Walerand yesterday. That was something.

‘Baldwin!’

Suddenly he was aware of Tedia. She stood nearby, her eyes gleaming, a smile on her face. ‘Poor Isok,’ she said.

‘Damn him!’ Baldwin cried. ‘There are pirates here. They’ve been sheltering in a harbour north of St Elidius, and now they’re making good their escape.’

‘What do you want us to do about them, love?’ she asked.

‘All who have ships must chase them! They are the ones who attacked the Anne. While they live, no vessels are safe about here.’

‘That’s the one!’

Baldwin suddenly found his arm being gripped, and he snatched it away. It was taken again, less gently, and he turned to glower at a thick-set villager with gnarled skin and a bush of gingerish beard. ‘What?’

‘It’s you took his wife, isn’t it? You took Tedia. Now he’s like this, and it’s all because of you.’

Baldwin was stunned. He shot a look at Tedia. Her face had fallen, and she shook her head. ‘He only got here three days ago!’ she protested. ‘Isok’s not made himself my husband since we married …’

‘But this is the man you wanted, wasn’t he?’ the man said.

Already a small crowd was gathering about them; Baldwin looked around to see David, but the faces all about them were too thick for him to see past them. ‘Let me go, I have to speak to David.’

‘Yes, of course you do!’ the man sneered.

Another one said, ‘He’s an adulterer, let’s take him out to the felon’s rock.’

The suggestion seemed to meet with general approval. There were several offers of a boat to carry him, then more said that they’d prefer to hang him. One was all for castrating him first, a proposition which appeared to meet with general approval.

All at once Baldwin found his arms grabbed. He managed to free his left arm, and reached for the dagger, but he could only touch the hilt before his hand was pulled away and the knife removed from its sheath. He was lifted, his feet off the ground, as men took hold of his limbs, and he was taken inexorably down the path towards the beaches.

Over the heads Baldwin could see David, and he bellowed for help as loudly as he could, but then he saw that the reeve was watching with a small smile on his face, as though this development was the greatest delight. In that moment Baldwin knew what it was to hate.

‘Release that man at once!’

The voice was so ferocious, the bellow seemed to reach beyond mere ears to the souls of the men carrying Sir Baldwin. They released him so swiftly, he was all but hurled to the ground.

He clambered to his feet, aware of Tedia behind him. She was one complication without which he could have lived happily, but he was glad to feel her hand in his as the white-faced figure of Cryspyn appeared, shaking with rage. Baldwin thrust Tedia to safety behind him when he saw the man with the ginger beard glowering, but Cryspyn’s roar stilled them all.

‘How dare you manhandle this knight! How dare you lay hands upon him! He is here as our guest, and you threaten to kill him? Any man who touches so much as a hair from his head shall know the full depths of my ire!’

‘Yes, stand back, you churls,’ David yelled. He was close now, and he marched swiftly to the Prior’s side. ‘You shouldn’t treat an honoured guest like a felon.’

‘Baldwin!’ he heard whispered, and felt the hilt of a dagger being pressed into his hand. Tedia trusted David as little as he did.

He took it, and squeezed her hand again, then shoved it into his belt as he stepped forward to Cryspyn.

The Prior was not waiting for him. ‘David, you must ready your boats instantly! There is a ship over there. William and this knight saw it as it set sail. It had been harbouring there, up at An-Voth, behind the rocks, and now it’s heading away.’

‘What of it?’ David said. ‘Let them go.’

Baldwin grated, ‘They were the pirates who attacked my ship.’

‘Then you go after them,’ David said loftily.

Baldwin was tempted to pull out his dagger, but even as he considered punching this arrogant reeve to the ground, he heard more shouting: war cries!

‘Blancminster! Blancminster!’

Simon felt the ship thud into the harbour piles and then the men began to leap over the side and race up to the vill.

They had circled around the northern edge of St Nicholas, out of sight of the Priory and the vill, and now the sailors and men-at-arms were in a state of excited tension as they poured from the vessel. Simon waited until most had already gone, then reached back, grabbed Hamo by the shoulder, and jumped over the side.

For some strange reason, Simon felt the tension leave him as he pelted off with the others. There was no shouting or singing, only the slap of bare feet or boots on the dusty track, the rattle and clatter of the weapons, and the hiss of men breathing through clenched teeth.

They ran on, Ranulph and Thomas towards the front, while Simon remained nearer the rear. Hamo was running lightly like a nervous sheepdog, constantly on the lookout for a fox or wolf, his feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground. In comparison Simon felt heavy and flat-footed. Seeing a bush, Simon all but hurled the lad at it. Hamo landed heavily, but as Simon watched, he squirmed and disappeared.

They passed by a great sweep of sandy beach, then on down, faster all the way, the blood up and rushing in their ears as they went, until at last they saw the cluster of men and women ahead of them.

Still on they rushed, silently, men pulling their lips back and baring their teeth. Simon could feel the concentration here: some wanted money, some wanted women, but most wanted revenge against the pirates who had plagued them. All the sailors had experienced their predations, and the men-at-arms were content to be able to join in a legal fight. They had no interest in the deeper issues at hand.

Walerand was one of the few who appeared less eager to be in at the start, Simon noticed. He was dropping back a little, glancing about him as he did so, as though he was looking for someone. And then he caught Simon’s eye and stopped falling back. Simon allowed him to draw nearer. They were at the rear of the whole host now. Suddenly Simon dropped to his knees, head hanging as though winded. As he looked up, he could see the shadow of Walerand standing over him.

‘So what were you doing last night, Bailiff? Letting your friends go free?’ Walerand hissed. ‘I think that’s worth a shilling or two.’

‘What?’ Simon gasped.

‘You give me your purse and I won’t tell Thomas that you released Sir Charles last night.’

Simon had time to wonder. The damned fool could have ruined everything and seen to Simon’s destruction, but like the adder he was, he wanted profit before he divulged anything. It made Simon shake his head as he collected a handful of sand. ‘Very well,’ he wheezed, and hurled the sand upwards.

There was no need for a sword. He reached out and yanked Walerand’s ankle away. The man fell clumsily, and Simon chopped him quickly across the windpipe, then while he choked, Simon bunched his fist and hit him as hard as he could behind the ear. Walerand started to snore, mouth gaping wide.

It was one thing to have to watch the man in front in a fight, but quite another to have to worry about your comrades on either side or behind you, Simon reflected as he tore off after the others.