The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16)

by Michael Jecks

  ‘So now you think it might have something to do with his death after all?’ Walerand smiled nastily as he led Simon up another sand dune. ‘It was here.’

  Simon glanced from the dune back towards the sea. ‘This is not on the way to the road and it is a long way from the water.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Wake up, man! If a killer was here, where did he go after the murder? Did he go back, like your men, towards La Val, or did he head in a different direction completely?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Yet the people here believe that Robert had a woman on St Nicholas – the isle which is so near. Was there a boat nearby?’

  ‘Not when I got here.’

  ‘So perhaps someone stole it, or took back a boat that he was borrowing,’ Simon guessed. ‘Anyway, what was your gather-reeve doing up here? There was no money to collect, was there? If there was, from whom? Was he here to collect money from someone who promised to bring it here to him, and who then decided to execute him?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You know very little, don’t you? What was he doing up here?’

  ‘Rumours …’

  ‘What sort of rumours?’

  Walerand replied, ‘Like you said: that he fancied some woman.’

  ‘On St Nicholas.’

  ‘Yes. But Thomas had something against him prodding her.’

  ‘Maybe Thomas didn’t like his men-at-arms taking advantage of women on the islands?’

  Walerand laughed sarcastically. ‘He doesn’t mind that, no.’

  ‘But you said Thomas didn’t like Robert meeting this woman?’

  ‘He certainly had something against Robert just recently. I assume it was her. Maybe Thomas was jealous.’

  ‘Perhaps we should find out who it was?’

  ‘She was only a piece of—’

  ‘Whatever you think she was,’ Simon interrupted, ‘Robert thought she was worth visiting and Thomas had something against Robert, which means he might have held some desire for her too. Jealousy can be a strange temper.’

  ‘You think to accuse Thomas of killing him?’ Walerand sniggered. ‘You’re mad!’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘And you reckon you can find out all about it?’

  ‘I can probably do better than others,’ Simon said with a confidence he didn’t feel.

  Only a little over a mile away, on St Nicholas, Brosia was at the well when she saw the tall figure walking towards her with the slighter shape of Tedia at his side. The sight of the two striding towards her with what looked like a degree of purposefulness made her stand up straight, wiping her hands on the belly of her tunic. She knew that doing so would emphasise her breasts, and she was pleased to wonder how they would impress this stranger knight. Looking at Tedia, she was sure that she, Brosia, would be better able to ensnare him. She had the build, and no one had ever complained about her looks. Nor had she ever failed to make a lover rise for her.

  ‘This is her,’ Tedia said, her tone dismissive.

  ‘You are Brosia? Good.’

  ‘Sir Knight, I am so pleased,’ Brosia said in her best, most breathy, voice, ‘to see you’re all better now. I’d reckoned you’d be laid up in bed for an age, you were so badly harmed. Tell me, are you feeling quite right? I have a small cot in the house, if you wish to settle a while, and maybe I could bring you something while you lie there?’

  Baldwin guessed at the sort of ‘thing’ she would bring. ‘No, but I thank you. You have heard that a man was killed on the night of the storm? Do you know anything about this?’

  ‘Me? What could I know?’ she asked. With a sweet smile, she glanced at Tedia. ‘Have you something you want to say to me?’

  ‘You know about it, don’t you, slut?’ Tedia snarled, and would have leaped forward had Baldwin not grasped her shoulder and forearm.

  ‘You call me a slut?’ Brosia demanded, outraged. ‘I wasn’t seeking to bury Robert’s tarse in my—’

  ‘Be silent! I would prefer not to witness a fight,’ Baldwin said. ‘I simply want to learn what happened, not report two women to the Prior. Brosia, what do you know about this? What are you implying?’

  ‘It’s common enough knowledge,’ Brosia said, and tossed her head. ‘Most folks on St Nicholas are fully aware of Tedia’s little infatuation with Robert. Not many of us were very impressed, though. If you have to fall in love with a man, Tedia, you should have picked a better one. Look at you! First you find a man who can’t service you, and then you find a man who is so devoted to money, he collects the customs for the Lord of Ennor. Someone who is reviled by everyone on the islands. It’s no surprise he’s dead now,’ she said spitefully. ‘David told me something like this might happen.’

  ‘So your husband knew about Tedia and Robert?’ Baldwin demanded.

  ‘Of course! My husband is a competent officer! He knows everything that goes on over all the islands; he told me only a few days ago that Tedia was throwing herself at the gather-reeve.’

  Baldwin did not like this woman, and her snide comments about Tedia were setting his teeth on edge. It was useful to listen, though. He noted that Brosia’s words implied that David himself could have had a motive to kill the gather-reeve; like all the others, he would dislike paying too much in customs or fees. Also, David had surely said that he didn’t know about Tedia’s affair when Baldwin had asked. Now his wife was contradicting him.

  ‘How did David learn about Robert? Did you tell him about Tedia’s affair?’ Baldwin asked harshly.

  ‘Do you expect me to keep secrets from my husband?’ Brosia asked sweetly.

  She had already realised that this fellow was not interested in her: he was already smitten by Tedia. Christ’s wounds, it was weird to think that any man could prefer that little harlot to herself, but some men had peculiar tastes. If he was the sort to be taken in by a little strumpet with less sense than a rabbit, that was his look-out. It was a shame, because this Sir Baldwin had a glint in his eye that would be fun to investigate; he looked the sort of man who would be a demanding but active and enthusiastic lover. A bit like a more experienced Robert, in fact.

  Robert was a prat in the end, though. When Brosia had flaunted her hips and tits at him, he’d gone all embarrassed and anxious, like he thought her husband would be back any moment, and hadn’t dared do anything to – or with – her. And then Brosia heard from one of the men at La Val that he had formed a passionate association with Tedia. Or it would have been passionate, had either of them dared. Brosia could have spat. She’d have had him in her house naked and ready in moments, if she’d had a chance. All she’d needed was the right weather so that David and the men would all have been out at sea, and then Robert would have had to look out for himself!

  But no. He wanted dear, sweet, mousy Tedia. Bless! He was no better than a mouse himself. Scared off by Brosia, no doubt. Or perhaps he was just scared of her man. David was capable of violence, and it was possible that someone warned Robert. Mind, Isok would have thrashed any fellow who cuckolded him. Suddenly Brosia realised what she was thinking: that Isok had murdered Robert. Well, it wasn’t impossible, that was certain.

  Baldwin was speaking, and she had to concentrate. ‘What?’

  ‘I said, “I expect no woman to hide things from her man”, but spreading gossip is a different matter, woman!’

  ‘In a small vill like this, everyone knows everyone else’s business,’ Brosia said huffly, ‘and David is an important man, so he probably learned about Robert and his women before most others.’

  ‘He didn’t have any “women”,’ Tedia asserted sharply. ‘What, do you say that he was a lubricious man with an eye for any leg or well-shaped breast?’

  ‘If he was after a well-shaped breast, he fared poorly, didn’t he?’ Brosia said.

  ‘He didn’t want flapping great bladders about him, it’s true!’

  ‘Flapping great … ! Better comfortable breasts than a pair of flat pancakes!’

  ‘Yes,
I suppose you think all men want something inelegant and floppy rather than pert and sensitive.’

  ‘Sens—? I would have thought,’ Brosia said with poisonous sweetness, ‘that most men would prefer a woman whom they could cover with comfort, rather than a bony body that felt like a sack of bones with an occasional lump.’

  ‘Perhaps he preferred one lump to a mass of them!’ Tedia shrieked, and would have jumped at her again, if Baldwin hadn’t gripped her hard about the wrists.

  ‘Enough! I shall hear no more of this! You, Brosia, can rest content that you might well have helped precipitate a murder! If you learn nothing more in your life, learn how to keep your mouth shut!’

  Baldwin was relieved to see that both women suddenly stopped. Brosia’s reaction had intrigued him, though. If he didn’t know better, he would say that she was jealous of Tedia, as though she herself had tried to entrap Robert, only to be bested by her rival. Jealousy was a terrible emotion, Baldwin knew. It could lead to all kinds of upset – especially if it had driven her to tell others, hoping that they would then inform Tedia’s husband. A jealous woman was capable of anything. In fairness, a jealous man was equally capable of causing untold problems – even murder. Isok, for example: he could have heard the rumours about his wife with Robert and chosen to execute her lover.

  ‘Me?’ Brosia said, affronted. ‘If I had held my tongue, what then? Do you think that this slattern’s affair would have remained a secret? Are you saying that my David went straight to Isok and said, “Look, old friend, your wife is lifting her skirts for any man from La Val – aren’t you going to do something about it?” Do you think my husband is such a fool? Someone else went to her precious husband. Anyway, my David hardly saw Isok before that murder. Isok was supposed to be going out in his boat, although he didn’t. My man didn’t talk to him, though. Why should he? Isok’s only a pathetic fisherman. David is the reeve, much more important. He doesn’t bother himself with the likes of Isok.’

  ‘Still your tongue, woman,’ Baldwin said. ‘You sound like a viper!’

  He was feeling his anger rise. There was no need for this woman to be so vicious, but she seemed to take an unholy delight in Tedia’s pain. He pulled Tedia away, thrusting her behind him, while holding Brosia’s gaze. Her face had taken on a sullen expression, and Baldwin saw that she was a little ashamed.

  ‘So, Sir Knight. You find my wife to be a little upsetting? What has she been saying?’ David asked. He walked forward from behind Baldwin, white-faced with rage. ‘I leave you, a visitor to our island, saved by my people from death, and come here to find you hectoring my wife. I don’t reckon I like your attitude, Sir Knight.’

  Simon walked slowly back towards the area of La Val, keeping close into the sea, Walerand strolling along behind him.

  As usual, Simon was reluctant to view the body, but he knew that he must have a closer look at Robert if he was to make any sense of the man’s murder. If it was murder, of course. Until he personally examined the corpse, he couldn’t tell. The unfortunate fellow may have got hit on the head by a lump of wood when he was out, and a scratch had torn the flesh of his breast, making people think that he had been murdered in complete denial of the true facts.

  It was the sort of matter which Baldwin would have revelled in, he thought sadly. Every few moments he would forget that Baldwin was dead, and know a short period of ease, but then he would recall that he had lost his friend and his eyes would fog once more.

  Now and again, he would think he heard a familiar step behind him. Or there was a bird in the sky, and he wondered if Baldwin would know what it was. A sudden slanting of light from a cloud would remind him of a time when he and Baldwin were in Dartmoor, and he would all but turn his head to ask his friend whether he recalled that instant … So many memories, so many moments. And then the full force of the loss would strike him once more and he would know anew the misery of bereavement.

  The presence of the abysmal Walerand was no comfort. The fellow walked along in Simon’s wake like a reminder of doom to come: scowling and kicking at stones in their path. When they came across other people he was invariably rude, unless he ignored them completely.

  With relief Simon saw William at the top of a moorstone outcrop that projected well into the sea. The chaplain carried a long rod and string, and was evidently on his way to catch as many fish as he could. Hurrying forward, Simon left the morose Walerand behind as he joined William.

  ‘Out investigating one death while your friends languish, Bailiff?’

  Simon smiled gently. There was still a certain blackness over his soul with the most recent reminder of Baldwin’s death. ‘Yes. But my friends will be free soon, and it appeared the best thing to do, seeing if this man was murdered.’

  ‘Robert? You won’t lack for men who wanted him dead.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Simon asked.

  ‘He was not a very pleasant fellow, Bailiff. When a farmer was in trouble, it was Robert’s habit still to go along and take what he could for taxes. Such men aren’t popular even when they are polite and generous – and Robert was neither. No one will mourn his passing here on Ennor. Not even me.’

  ‘I think that they are shortsighted, then.’

  ‘Why so, Bailiff?’

  Simon glanced back at Walerand. ‘Because I get the impression that the replacement could be much worse.’

  ‘Christ in Heaven! You don’t mean …’ William gazed at Walerand with dismay. ‘That ignorant dollop of shit? True, he’s got the same enthusiasm for bullying any man who is weaker than him. How could Ranulph de Blancminster think of a man like him for the post? Ah well, I suppose that’s obvious. The nastier, the better; that’s what you want in a tax-man. And there are few nastier than him.’

  Simon nodded, shooting a look over his shoulder. As he did so, up on the beach of St Nicholas, he saw a group of figures. One looked familiar – the set of the head, an impression of his features … but no, it was too far away, and anyway, he was only torturing himself by hoping that his comrade had survived. Baldwin was dead.

  ‘The man who died,’ he said huskily. ‘How unpleasant was he?’

  ‘He was one of those who gave you the feeling that he was in the job against his wishes and better judgement, but that since he had the job, he’d do it to the best of his ability. Mean though his abilities were, he exercised them strenuously. He gave every man who owed money two opportunities to pay, but if they didn’t on the second visit, he had the castle’s men-at-arms visit and remove an animal or some stores. No one escaped without paying. He remembered all the debts.’

  ‘So any of the villeins or tenants here would be happy to see him dead?’

  ‘Of course. Even mild-mannered Hamadus hated him, because Robert was terrified of his hound and threatened to have it killed if Hamadus didn’t keep it away from him. No one liked him.’

  ‘Always the same with a gather-reeve,’ Simon noted gloomily.

  William set his rod down on the ground. ‘There’s not that many people live here on the island, but Robert had managed to upset most of them. He was about to upset all the folks of St Nicholas, too, by asking for money from them for customs. It didn’t go down very well, because the Prior already claims their tithes and rents, but Robert thought they should be paying him as well.’

  ‘What of Hamadus: do you honestly think he could have decided to murder a man because of the threat to his hound?’ Simon asked, but he already knew the answer. The man was devoted to his brute.

  William merely looked at him with a faint smile. ‘And don’t forget Oderic. He hated Robert because the man went on to his land recently, and rode through the middle of his fields. He scared some sheep which were in lamb, and caused three to miscarry. Oderic was enraged. He swore he’d cut Robert’s ballocks off with a blunt knife, sawing slowly to make the pain last.’

  Simon didn’t blame him. To his mind, riding through a field in which sheep were grazing was bad enough; to do so when they were lambing was criminal. I
t could have caused great loss to the farmer.

  ‘I have heard that a man was seen here – David, the reeve of the vill on St Nicholas. Do you know whether he had a cause to kill Robert?’

  ‘Quite possibly. David has been caught by the customs, I expect, just as all the other sailors have. The castle demands a high cut of anything the folk of St Nicholas want to bring to sell, or to buy. And everything has to be brought here and sold at the market. Yes, I daresay David would hold a grudge against the man who made him pay … as would almost everyone else on these islands.’

  ‘No one liked the man,’ Simon said, adding to himself, ‘apart from this woman.’

  ‘No, that Robert was a nasty piece of festering vomit, if you ask me,’ William said, cheerfully. ‘He was an evil bastard who deserved a more unpleasant death than the one he got. I’d imagine he’s gone straight to Hell, and he’s already being tormented by demons with long prods, so that they can force him into the never-quenching fires without hurting themselves. That’s what has happened to him – and the same will be most fervently desired for his successor. Whoever takes on his job will be damned. Damned to Hell, and to eternal torment. Best thing you can do is run around a bit, make lots of noise about finding his murderer, and discover nothing. Just let the affair die down and get forgotten. He will be soon enough!’

  His tone was lighter, and when Simon glanced behind him, he saw that Walerand had edged nearer and was listening unashamedly; seeing that both had noticed him, he curled his lip and wandered away a few yards.

  ‘He’d be a splendid choice to replace Robert, don’t you think?’ William continued more seriously. ‘Someone like him would make Robert look like the soul of gentleness and conciliation.’

  ‘You think so?’

  William shot him a look. ‘You reckon he could have desired to hasten Robert’s end just to get his post?’

  ‘Yes,’ Simon said, and he was thinking of Hamadus’s words. The killer must be an assassin by nature, or a coward. That described Walerand perfectly. ‘What of you? Did you want him to die so badly that you could have killed him?’