‘May I see your dagger?’ he said, holding out his hand.
Hamadus reached to his belt, hesitated, and then pulled his dagger free and passed it to Baldwin.
It was a good little knife, with a blade of eight inches. It was possible that it could have killed Robert, but the man’s wound was a shallow one which had not managed to puncture both breast and back. A hard blow of the sort which had killed Robert would have gone through and out the other side with a knife-blade this long.
Baldwin nodded and passed it back to the old man. He was even less able to believe in Hamadus’s criminality after feeling the muzzle of Uther. In his experience, the harsher and more brutal the man, the more unsettled and dangerous the dog. Yet Uther appeared calm and biddable, while Hamadus gave no impression of being mad or evil. If anything, he appeared perfectly sane and intelligent.
‘I thank you. Your hound is a good brute. I used to have a dog by the same name. A mastiff,’ he said, stroking Uther. ‘Why did you give him that name?’
‘These islands. You know that some say Arthur is buried here? Uther was Arthur’s father.’
‘Ah, of course. Now, that night, I do not care what you were doing out there, but did you see anyone else?’
‘I saw Luke.’ Hamadus’s paused.
‘Luke? Where did you see him?’
‘On the beach,’ Hamadus said. ‘He had been over to the castle, I think. He was with Thomas, anyway.’
‘What would Thomas have had to discuss with him?’ Baldwin frowned.
‘That is why we’re here,’ William said. ‘Ham, can you tell Sir Baldwin about Thomas’s business?’
Hamadus looked seriously at Baldwin. ‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly.
‘It will go no further,’ Baldwin promised.
‘Thomas smuggles some stuff, just for the money, but that’s not his real game. What he does is, he collects customs from all ships coming into the port here, and then takes a large amount of the money for himself.’
‘Does not his master realise?’
‘Doesn’t seem to. Thomas has been playing this game for many years now. He’s made himself rich. Now he can afford his own ship to bring over more legal cargoes, although I think he still brings some illegal stuff, just because he thinks he’s indestructible.’
‘And you saw Luke on the night Robert died, talking to the gather-reeve?’
‘Yes. Just after I saw Robert and Thomas. The Sergeant was threatening Robert.’
‘Why?’
‘The gather-reeve had learned of Thomas thieving from Ranulph, and wanted him to stop. He said he’d have to tell Ranulph if Thomas didn’t swear to give over.’
‘I assume the good Sergeant was not enamoured of this course?’
‘He told Robert to go to hell. I didn’t listen to any more.’
‘Did you see anyone else?’
‘Only that streak of piss from a poxed tarse, the one they say’ll replace Robert. He’s an evil bugger, that Walerand. I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.’
As he spoke, Uther stiffened again, this time, his head turning away from the door to the small, leather-curtained window. A low rumble started deep in his throat.
Without speaking, Hamadus crossed the floor to the doorway and threw it open. Instantly Uther bolted from the room and out into the late afternoon sun. There was a muffled cry, then a scatter of gravel hit the wall like bullets from a sling. For an instant there was absolute silence, as though the men in the house could see the man drawing breath for his scream of terror, yet none could make a sound to allay his fears or withhold the panic that must soon overtake him. They were themselves held by the same expectation, knowing that there was soon to be a finale, and after a pregnant moment there came a wailing squeal – rather, Baldwin felt, like a pig when the knife has opened its throat and it has begun its last desperate race before dying, its meat drained and clean.
Chapter Twenty-Four
William crossed himself. ‘Hamadus, what have you done?’ he demanded, his face a pale disc in the dark room.
‘Nowt, Priest. My dog’s done a bit to help a man’s bowels, though.’
‘Your dog’s bloody killed him, you vicious son of a Sutton Water whore!’ William exploded.
Baldwin was more sanguine. ‘Shall we see what has happened to the fellow?’
He walked out with Hamadus, and it took them little time to find the figure, lying recumbent beneath the form of the great hound.
‘My Christ in Heaven!’ William whispered. ‘The brute’s eaten his throat! The poor devil’s dead.’
There was a whimpering gasp, followed instantly by a rasping snarl, and Baldwin found it difficult to control his delight. ‘I think not. The good Uther has simply caught a felon in the act of attempting an attack on Hamadus’s life, and has held him ready for us to capture.’
‘Of course,’ Hamadus agreed blandly. ‘I wouldn’t teach a dog to harm a man unnecessarily. He’s taught to hold a thief until I arrive.’ He whistled sharply. ‘Uther, here!’
Baldwin stepped forward to stand at the side of the petrified Walerand. ‘What do you want here? Who are you?’
‘He’s Walerand, the new tax-gatherer, if his master’s to be believed,’ William said, repugnance making his voice harsher than a steel rasp.
‘What were you doing here?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Were you spying on this fellow?’
‘No. I wasn’t,’ Walerand declared. ‘I wouldn’t spy on him!’
His voice was very positive on that score, Baldwin noted, and told himself that he would have to consider William’s allegations in a more careful light. ‘Then who were you following? The Brother here? Or me?’
‘No one! I just saw you all here, and, and …’
‘And thought that we might be getting up to no good, eh?’ Hamadus grated. ‘I ought to call my dog back.’
‘No!’ Walerand cried, and made an effort to get up. That hound was a beast fresh from Hell! The thing had appeared from nowhere, and before he knew what was happening, it had slammed into him, just as he was about to listen at the open window. His legs collapsed, his feet slipping on the pebbles as he went, and he was bleating in fear as he wondered what the monster was which had knocked him to the ground; his fearful wonderings were soon to be answered. As he lay on his back, before he could rise to his elbows preparatory to climbing back onto his feet, there was a low rumbling snarl, and then a massive weight hit his breast.
Stunned and now winded, Walerand could only gaze in horror at the jaws that opened just below his chin. He was held in place by the monster’s weight, and when he attempted to move a hand to grasp his dagger, the lips drew back and the fangs moved perceptibly nearer his throat, the rumbling snarl echoing in the hound’s ribcage … and Walerand let his hand fall back.
Now, the mere thought of the dog returning to him was enough to make him try to clamber to his feet. Before he could, Uther, who looked upon him as a threat to his master, growled warningly, and Walerand’s hand whipped to his dagger. Baldwin kicked his hand away, reached down and snatched the weapon before Walerand could try to regain it, and held it.
‘That’s my dagger!’
‘You don’t need a weapon among friends, Friend,’ Baldwin said calmly as he turned the knife in the dimming twilight. As far as he could see, the blade was clean. Although it was only six inches long, the blade had only one edge. Baldwin recalled the body and shook his head. To his knowledge the knife which killed Robert must have had two edges.
Not that it let Walerand off the hook necessarily. He could have a second knife.
Walerand sank back on his elbows as Baldwin leaned down, smiling pleasantly in a manner that scared Walerand somehow more than the hound. ‘And you are among friends, aren’t you? Now, friends don’t spy on each other, so you weren’t spying, were you? No. You were just interested in us. Tell me, who was so interested in us that he sent you to find out what we discussed?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I just wondered�
�’
‘I know what you wondered,’ William said. ‘You wanted to know what the Keeper and I were doing here with Ham, weren’t you?’
‘I just came down here to see whether this was where you’d gone.’
His sulky voice irritated Baldwin. ‘I think he needs to meet your hound again, Hamadus.’
‘No! No, I’ll tell you. I was told to come here by Ranulph. He wanted to know where you were going, what you were doing. That’s all.’
‘And why should he send a child like you when all he had to do was ask me?’ Baldwin wondered aloud.
‘You haven’t presented yourself to him, have you? He doesn’t like strangers on his island when they don’t ask permission to be here. Why should he trust a man who comes here like a draw-latch in the night?’
‘You call me a draw-latch?’ Baldwin asked silkily, leaning closer. ‘I am worse than a draw-latch, boy; I am a King’s Officer. I can arrest felons no matter where they are. Do you understand me? I can come here and deal with people like you.’
‘I’ve done nothing.’
‘That I doubt. Where were you on the night of the storm? The night that Robert was killed?’
‘I was in the castle. I’m no fool, I wasn’t going to stay out in that weather.’
‘Someone else was out of the castle, though. Who was it?’
As the hound rumbled deep in his throat, Walerand said hastily, ‘The castle’s Sergeant – he was out. But I don’t know what he was doing.’
‘Luke too is dead. Did Sergeant Thomas hate the priest on the island as well?’
‘I …’
Hamadus hissed and his dog began to growl, his head dropping lower again as though preparing to pounce.
Walerand spoke quickly. ‘Luke had learned about Thomas’s ship and demanded a ride to Cornwall the next time his ship sailed.’
‘What ship?’ Baldwin asked with a frown. It seemed too coincidental, if William was right: Thomas had murdered Robert because the gather-reeve had threatened to talk of his business. Now Walerand alleged that Luke died because he tried a similar blackmail.
‘The Faucon Dieu, the ship in the harbour.’
Baldwin glanced at William, who was now nodding with satisfaction. ‘Sir Baldwin, I wanted you to hear that from Ham here, but Walerand is a more informed expert, isn’t he? That was what I was telling you: Thomas is involved in stealing the customs for himself. He arranges for his own cargoes to be brought here, then pays himself the customs, without a penny going to Ranulph or the earldom.’
‘He does better than that, doesn’t he?’ Hamadus cackled at Walerand. ‘He steals parts of cargoes which Ranulph himself owns.’
‘I know nothing about that.’
‘Oh yes, you do,’ Hamadus said, facing Baldwin. ‘Thomas takes part of the cargoes like yours off the Anne, and puts them in his own little storehouse. Then, when his ship arrives, he puts the bits and pieces onto his own ship and smuggles it to the mainland. It all lines his purse.’
‘So he had to kill Robert to prevent him from reporting this to Ranulph?’ Baldwin asked. He assumed this was William’s belief, but wanted Hamadus to confirm it.
‘That’s what I think, yes.’
‘And what of this sword which was found nearby?’
‘I expect he just thought that was a gift. He used it and threw it away.’
Baldwin nodded, but he was unconvinced. He was suddenly aware of a hunted feeling, as though someone was cautiously making their way towards him in order to accuse him. The loss of his sword was itself suspicious: it was extraordinary, too, that it should turn up near a corpse on a different island. Had someone found him and stolen his sword? They had not used the sword to kill Robert, which was peculiar, but the fact that the sword was there, near his body, was incriminating. Especially since the sword had that emblem on the blade: the mark of the Templars.
There was no point in holding on to Walerand, so Baldwin told him to go.
‘What of my knife? I want it back!’ the youth said truculently.
‘You have no need of a weapon,’ Baldwin said smoothly. ‘And if you do, you can ask your master for a new one.’
‘I want it back!’
Hamadus muttered a low instruction and his dog stalked forward. Immediately Walerand blenched and bolted.
As he scurried off, Baldwin wondered again why Ranulph had bothered to send a spy after him and had not merely sent for him to respond to his questions. It would have been faster, and easier. And it was his man, Thomas, who had been out on the night of the storm. He had been in the same area as Robert.
Baldwin sighed. There were too many problems and not enough solutions.
Now he had another problem. He made it clear to William that he wished to leave, and before long the two men were walking along the roadway which led north from Hamadus’s house to the top of the island.
‘William, I should not have allowed that fellow to go before I had joined Isok. The way he will tell the story is bound to reflect badly upon us – me in particular. If they have any sense, they will see to it that Isok’s boat is prevented from sailing until they are sure that I am not on it.’
‘I think you could be right. Whether it’s because of the ship and the salvage, or simply the discovery of your sword, I don’t know. The fact that your sword was found near the dead man’s body certainly seems to imply that you had a part in his death.’
‘Do you really believe that a murderer could be so stupid as to leave the weapon like that? Just throw it away casually after using it to kill a man? The idea is nonsensical.’
‘Perhaps it is, but the fact that they sent a man to follow you shows that you are under suspicion.’
‘Unless they were seeking to have you followed, William,’ Baldwin noted.
‘Me!’ William laughed, and then his smile froze.
‘Yes. If they thought that I was a potential killer of the local taxman, then they would naturally consider you askance, realising that you were showing me around the island. After all, it is plain that you look with little favour upon them.’
‘It is one thing to look on them with little favour and quite another to suggest that I had any part in the murder of …’
‘I didn’t say that you did. I merely pointed out that they have as much reason to doubt you as to doubt me.’
‘But it’s preposterous! I am a priest.’
‘Aye: a priest who could be looked upon as harbouring a known killer,’ Baldwin said drily.
‘Those maggot-ridden cretins! God rot their cods! Of all the—’
‘The most important thing for us right now is to get away from this island,’ Baldwin said firmly. ‘When Walerand tells Ranulph what happened to him, the latter will be after us. He can accuse us of roughing up his man now.’
‘What of Hamadus?’
‘I am sure that Walerand will treat him with caution. It could be embarrassing for him to admit that he was bested by a hound,’ Baldwin said grimly. The old sexton had impressed him, and he liked to think that his first impressions were generally accurate – as were his judgements on dogs. ‘We cannot get to Isok. Is there another man who can assist us by taking us to St Nicholas?’
‘No,’ William said, and then he cast Baldwin a curious, shifty look. ‘But it may not be entirely necessary to find a boat.’
Simon had felt out of sorts all day since his talks with Sir Charles and then Hamo. It had made him feel unsettled and anxious, as though he had in truth been hoodwinked. So he spent the afternoon idly, sitting under the castle’s walls and watching the sea, then crossing over to the great lump of rock that stood at the westernmost point of the island, and keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon.
There was surprisingly little shipping. Every so often he would see a small boat set off from Porth Ennor, and then he might catch a glimpse of a sail far off on the horizon, but that was all. The only life appeared to be in Porth Ennor, about the Faucon Dieu, where men scrambled like ants on a disturbed nest. Late in the aftern
oon, he saw them setting new sails to her mast, and then there was a fresh life to the decks as a boat arrived at its side filled with ropes of different types. While Simon watched, men climbed up the ratlines and began replacing all the ropes that made up the complex cobweb of the mast’s supports. If Simon had been involved in that work, he would have made a dog’s breakfast of it, he thought.
A small boat had been moored to the quay, and Simon saw that the owner was furious to be hindered when he attempted to leave. As Simon watched, the man threw his hands in the air, and then a guard or two came over to see what all the fuss was about. While they were there, two men climbed on board and appeared to search it. They were soon finished, and the man climbed into the vessel, at last pushing off and rowing away from the island. Once out at sea, he let his sail fall, and in a few moments it was filled and twisting with the gusts. The man settled back with the steering oar and the boat moved away, rounding the point until it was out of sight.
That sight made Simon feel terribly sad. Whenever he saw something of note, he wanted to turn and mention it to Baldwin; if there was an odd hump of ground like this, he wanted to point it out; they were close companions, perhaps still more so because of their many investigations into murders. In Simon’s heart there was a space that could not be filled, and out here, in this strange island environment, he was even more aware of the curiousness of his own position.
Here he was, a Bailiff of the Stannaries, and now the representative of the Warden of Dartmouth, and yet here in Ennor he had no position, no rights or responsibilities. He was a displaced pilgrim with no pilgrimage, for that was completed. Out of his own element, which he knew was Dartmoor itself, he was lost. There was nothing here for him. He was close to the mainland, yet he felt as though it might as well have been a thousand miles away. So near to his wife and family, and yet he might as well have been a thousand miles away. So near to his wife and family, and yet he might as well have been in Arabia, the journey was so difficult. All Simon wanted to do was return to his home, and hug his woman, but he might as well have wished to walk to the moon.
The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) Page 31
