From there, his mind came around to the mystery at Sampford itself, and he felt annoyed at the impasse that had developed. The silversmith Terrus was adamant that Robert Longus was one of the assailants, yet the armourer denied it and had his assistant and Ralph Peverel to back it up. Even the dead Hugo had told de Wolfe to his face that Longus had been with him all that day. This posthumous evidence, coupled with that of Ralph and the other armourer, made it impossible in law to sustain the evidence of Terrus.
And what of Hugo's death? If Robert Longus was the murderer of one man, could he not also be responsible for the slaying of the other? But what possible motive could there be for killing a master of whom it appeared he was a favourite?
As Mary bustled in with a wooden tray bearing an iron pot of rabbit stew and a thick bread trencher with a wide cutlet of boiled salmon resting across it, he determined to get himself back to Sampford as soon as possible and shake a few trees to see whether anything fell out of them.
Later that day, Gwyn returned and dragged him off to view several bodies at the places where they had met their deaths. One was that of a young boy who had fallen into a mill-stream at Ide, just outside the city. Mills were dangerous places and deaths, especially of children, were common, either from drowning in the mill-race or being dragged under the turning wheels. Others, including the millers and their men, sometimes became caught in the crude but powerful cog wheels that drove the stones, and John had seen horrific injuries that had been inflicted before the machinery could be stopped by the slow process of diverting the sluices. .
The other corpse was that of a thief who had fallen from the top of the city wall, after being chased by half a dozen irate householders who had surprised him rifling a dwelling in Bartholomew Street. It was close to the twenty-foot wall that ran right round the city, and the robber had climbed up, hoping to outpace the pursuers, who were still down below. As he sped along the battlements towards the towers of the North Gate, a gate porter suddenly appeared in front of him and, losing his balance, the fugitive crashed over on to the stony footings in Northernhay and stove in the side of his head. He was still alive when the hue and cry reached him, but expired soon afterwards.
There was nothing sinister about either case, but John had to take account of them and hold inquests, partly to see whether there was anything to be gained for the King by way of 'deodands', the seizure of any object that had caused death. As he could hardly impound a section of the mill-stream or the city wall, he knew there was nothing to be gained unless he could find some breach of procedure on the part of those involved. This seemed unlikely here, but the formalities had to be gone through, and Thomas - or now, perhaps, Eustace - would have to record the tragedies on the coroner's rolls.
John told Gwyn to get the bodies moved up to Rougemont, where they used a lean-to cart shed in the inner ward as a mortuary.
'I'll hold inquests on them tomorrow morning,' he told Gwyn. 'Then we'll get ourselves away to Sampford to see what's going on there.'
As they walked back from Northernhay, the coroner told his officer about the potential friction between Thomas and their new apprentice clerk. 'I've tried to pour some oil on the troubled waters, but de Peyne's feathers have been ruffled by this lad,' explained John. 'He's afraid that he'll be eased out of his job if Eustace becomes too proficient.
Gwyn gave a deep belly-laugh. 'He can be a prickly little devil when he chooses! But the prospect of going up to Winchester, to be anointed or whatever they do to him, will soon clear his mind of anything else. '
As it was now early evening, Gwyn left his master at the corner of Martin's Lane to go on to his home in St Sidwells. He often spent the night in the city, gambling and drinking with his cronies, but after almost two weeks away, his rudimentary conscience drove him back to his small hut in the village outside the East Gate where his wife and two boys, to say nothing of his dog, were missing his company.
De Wolfe called at his house to tell Mary not to prepare any supper that evening and went straight down to the Bush, where he intended to eat, drink and spend the night with Nesta.
At the inn, they sat recalling the events of their trip to Wales, with Nesta still basking in the memories of a whole week with her kin, especially her mother. The visit had reassured her that all was well with them and that being in Exeter was not like being at the end of the world.
'You are the kindest of men, John, to have taken me back there,' she said, hugging his arm as they sat at his table, picking over the last remnants of a grilled pheasant that lay on a pewter plate between them. 'I want us to go on like this for ever - I know you can never marry me, but seeing you almost every day - and sometimes at night - is almost as good.'
He too felt contented, albeit temporarily until his wife came home. Richard de Revelle no longer plagued him in Exeter and the new sheriff was an amiable if lazy man who caused him no trouble. Even Thomas had cheered up markedly since the date of his restitution became known - the spat with Eustace was but a mere irritation that John hoped would be forgotten bythe next day. So there was little to worry the coroner, except for his unsolved cases, primarily the murders of August Scrope and Hugo Peverel. Even these faded into limbo at the prospect of climbing up the wide ladder at the back of the taproom, to Nesta's small cubicle - but much later, as he sank into a contented slumber in her arms, his last thoughts were that he must ride for Sampford the next day.
Odo and Ralph Peverel were no longer on speaking terms.
In the intervening weeks since Hugo's death, the elder brother had firmly announced his decision to assume the lordship himself as senior member of the family - and Ralph had equally forcefully disputed the claim and had ridden to Dorchester to consult an advocate to present his case to the justices at the next eyre, which was due to come to that town before it was likely to visit Exeter. He took Richard de Revelle with him - in fact, the former sheriff had insisted on accompanying him, as additional support. Until the matter was resolved, the two brothers refused to sit at table with each other and never spoke, other than through Joel or one of the senior servants, Waiter Hog or Roger Viel.
Avelina upbraided both of them for behaving like children, though her sympathies tilted in favour of Odo, who had not had another fit or fall since the time of Hugo's burial, which strengthened' his own position as master of the manor.
This antagonism between the two elder brothers made it easier for Joel to pursue the comely Beatrice, which he now did openly, courting the young widow like some love-stricken swain. When Hugo was alive, they had had to content themselves with making cow's eyes at each other and an occasional furtive kiss or fumble when her husband was away at a tournament, but now they felt free to flirt at will. Ralph and Odo were too concerned with their own feud to bother with him, but Avelina covertly disapproved of the younger woman's behaviour so soon after her bereavement, even though everyone knew that the marriage had been a sham, with only lust on Hugo's side and martyred forbearance on hers.
'The old lady wants to condemn her,' confided the steward to Walter Hog one day, when they were alone in the empty courthouse. 'But she's in a cleft stick, for she's planning to marry that Frenchman, even though Lord William's only been dead for half a year.'
'What's in it for him?' asked the bailiff curiously. 'I know she's a fairly handsome woman, but there are plenty of young beauties who would climb into bed with such a well-known tournament champion, if that's what he was after.'
Roger Viel, who knew most about the finances and deeds of the manor, shook his head. 'She's worth quite a lot, that woman. She is the daughter of a wealthy baron from Somerset, who settled a large annuity on her when she married. Then her husband William willed her a third share of all the profits of this manor for the rest of her life - and said nothing about it being forfeit if she remarried. Odo and especially Ralph were as mad as hell when they found out, for it eats into their own pockets at a time when they are not too well off themselves.'
This conversation had taken pla
ce a few days before the coroner came back to Sampford, a day when another visitor prompted the exchange between the bailiff and the steward. Riding up the track from the south came an erect figure on a black stallion, followed by a young Breton squire on a brown mare, leading a sumpter horse that carried, among other baggage, a mailed hauberk carefully wrapped in canvas, draped across the panniers. The lead rider wore a blue tunic under a black surcoat, with a hooded leather riding cape tied across the back of his saddle. Reginald de Charterai was dressed in his best, for he was coming to call upon his lady.
Only Odo saw his arrival at the hall and he pointedly walked away in the opposite direction, whilst a servant escorted the Frenchman to the upper floor. Suitably chaperoned by her maid, Reginald spent the next few hours in Avelina's quarters. Neither appeared for supper, food being taken up to the dowager's chamber, and Ralph and Joel sat at table in the hall with Beatrice and her handmaiden. When the women had retired, they set about savagely abusing the French intruder, but they could do nothing about his unwelcome visit. With the lordship in limbo until the court in Dorchester made a decision, all they could do was fume and bluster, as Odo refused to intervene - and with Avelina's legal rights in the manor equal to theirs, they were unable to forbid her to associate with her foreign suitor.
De Charterai spent the night in a spare chamber and was gone the next morning, but it was whispered by the maids that he was staying at an inn in Tiverton until he was ready to ride on to the next tournament at Wilton. Later that day, Avelina and her maid rode out in that direction, and the next morning Joel was deprived of Beatrice's company, as she went with her stepmother-in-Iaw to Tiverton, leaving a disgruntled trio of brothers to contemplate the possible break-up of the family.
Life in the unhappy manor had to go on much as before, however, as there was little alternative to a feudal routine that had been largely unchanged for centuries, even though Saxon earls had been replaced by even harsher Norman lords. The freemen and villeins tilled the same soil and herded the same animals. The cottars thatched their roofs and shoed the beasts and the miller ground their flour. In the churchyard, Hugo quietly rotted away with the others and Patrick the priest mumbled his Latin prayers and covertly swigged his wine.
In the yard behind the manor house, Robert Longus hammered new links into Ralph's coat of mail, repairing it ready for the next tournament, and his assistant Alexander ground and stropped the edges of various swords and daggers until they were sharp enough to be used for shaving. Agnes was back in the laundry hut, pounding clothes, towels and bedding in tubs of hot water with a dolly-stick and throwing them over racks outside to dry. She missed her occasional penny from the lord, but made do with the odd ha'penny from a quick tumble behind a barn with some of the wealthier villeins.
Into this scene of uneasy normality, John de Wolfe intruded once more on the Tuesday after his return from Wales. The coroner's team was augmented this time by Eustace de Relaga, trotting behind on a smart palfrey provided by his uncle, again contrasting sharply with the moth-eaten old nag ridden by Thomas de Peyne. They dismounted in front of the manor house to be confronted by Ralph Peverel, who stood at the top of the steps and seemed reluctant to move aside.
'What do you want now, Crowner?' he snapped rudely. 'I thought we'd seen the last of you.'
John climbed the few wooden steps and stood close to Ralph, looking down at him from his few extra inches in height.
'I am on the King's-business, as always. Have you any disagreement with that?'
It was an infallible door-opener, as any denial could be construed as disloyalty, if not treason. The middle brother grudgingly stood aside, but not without further protest.
'Why do you persist in persecuting our family? Don't you think we've suffered enough?'
'Your brother Hugo was murdered and his slayer is still at large. And I have strong reasons for thinking that another man here is a killer.'
'You mouth the same nonsense every time, Crowner! If the murderer of my kinsman is to be found, then we are the ones to find him - not you outsiders. And as for your delusion that Robert Longus was involved with the death of this fairground merchant, I tell you once again, he was within my sight all the time you claim him to be robbing and killing this fellow.'
John was tired of the repetitive bandying of words with this truculent man and pushed past him into the hall, beckoning Gwyn and the other pair to follow.
'I hear that this lordship is once more in dispute. Until the King's justices decide otherwise, I will assume that Sir Odo is the senior figure in this manor. Tell me where he can be found, please.'
Ralph scowled. 'Odo was disqualified months ago by your precious justices, Crowner. Thus by default I am the rightful lord of Sampford Peverel and you will deal with me!'
John slowly shook his head. 'Not so, sir. The courts gave preference to Hugo over Odo, not over you! They may come to a different judgment this time - and until then, I will accept the eldest as the inheritor.'
Ralph went red in the face. 'Then find him yourself, damn you!' he snarled, and walked out of the hall and clattered down the steps.
'Nice fellow, that!' quipped Gwyn, grinning after his retreating figure. 'His language is not fit for the ears of innocent young virgins like you, Eustace!'
The Cornishman had decided to treat the new apprentice with light-hearted baiting, not out of any malice, but to reassure Thomas that he was the old and trusted favourite.
De Wolfe had advanced into the hall and was glad to see the bailiff coming out from behind the serving screens at the far end.
Waiter Hog greeted the coroner civilly and invited them all to sit at table and partake of food and drink, calling for a servant to attend to them.
He sat with them after Eustace had been introduced and brought them up to date on the few happenings that were relevant. The main one was the arrival of Reginald de Charterai and his open courtship of Lady Avelina.
'You say he is now staying in Tiverton? I must call upon him to get news of Matilda's safe delivery to Normandy.'
'I doubt you'll need to go that far, Crowner. He's more than likely to escort the ladies back this afternoon. Beatrice has been acting as a chaperone recently - she seems to relish getting out of this place as much as possible, though usually it's with young Joel.'
When they were refreshed and had made sure that their horses were being fed and watered, John explained the reason for his visit. By now the steward, Roger Viel, had joined them, but there was no sign of any of the Peverels.
'I wanted to know if anything had transpired over the killing of Sir Hugo - and also to question Robert Longus and his assistant, about the murder near Exeter. They will have to come to the city soon when I resume the inquest. I had no time to hold it before I journeyed to Wales.'
Roger Viel shrugged. 'There's nothing new about our dead lord and master. Somehow it seems that it never happened. No one even mentions his name if they can help it - especially his widow, who seems happier than she ever was.'
'That's because she's having this great romance with young Joel,' commented the bailiff,' with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
'There was that business about the grave again,' added the steward, as an afterthought. John looked at him quizzically, but it was Walter who answered.
'You remember the scandal about the shit and the dead rat in the grave ... we all know who did that, but no one owned up to it. Well, a few days after the burial, Father Patrick went out early in the morning and found two dead crows, some stinking offal and pig's guts from the village midden draped across the grave mound.'
'He wasn't a popular man,' added Roger, superfluously.
'Do you think there was any connection between whoever desecrated the grave and the killer?' asked de Wolfe.
The bailiff and the steward looked at each other, then grimaced in doubt.
'Who can tell? I'm damned sure the rat and the turd came from either Warin Fishacre, Godwin Thatcher or Nicholas Smith,' answered Waiter.
'They had serious scores to settle with Hugo for raping Maud Fishacre and unjustly hanging Godwin's son,' added the steward. 'But it doesn't prove that any of them killed him.'
There was the sound of hoofs cantering into the bailey outside and Gwyn wandered over to the door to look out. He groaned and looked back towards de Wolfe.
'You're going to like this, Crowner! Your brother-in-law has just arrived. He's talking to brother Ralph outside and doesn't look pleased at what he's hearing!' A moment later, the dapper figure of the former sheriff stormed into the hall, his face like thunder. He was closely followed by Ralph, and the pair advanced upon de Wolfe. Gwyn stood stolidly alongside his master, but Thomas and Eustace slunk back a few paces.
'Can't you leave these people in peace, de Wolfe!' snarled Richard. 'Everywhere you go, you stir up trouble. For Christ's sake, mind your own business. Go back to Exeter where you can play at being God with that lazy oaf Furnellis, who that mad justiciar appointed in my place!'
'That mad justiciar? I must remember to give him your opinion of him when I next see the archbishop,' said John mildly. 'He is the prime agent representing the King in this country, so are you saying our sovereign is also out of his mind?"
De Revelle opened his mouth, then closed it again, defeated by John's frequent ploy of dangling the threat of sedition over him whenever he spoke out of turn.
Ralph pushed forward and glowered at the coroner. 'What do you want here? I had hoped that after this blessed respite when you stayed away, you would have forgotten us.'
'The Chief Justiciar sent me to Wales at the King's personal command - together with William Marshal, Earl of Striguil and Pembroke,' he retorted, deliberately dropping in the great names to emphasise that they should not attempt to push him aside like some petty local officer.
There was a pause while they digested this, then Ralph continued in a somewhat less belligerent tone. 'We have no more to tell you, Crowner. There has been nothing new forthcoming about my brother's death since you were last here.'
Figure of Hate Page 28
