The Traitor of St Giles
( A Knights Templar Mystery - 9 )
Michael JECKS
It is 1321 and the King's favourite, Hugh Despenser, is corruptly using his position to steal lands and wealth from other lords. His rapacity has divided the nation and civil war looms.
In Tiverton rape and murder have unsettled the folk preparing for St Giles' feast. Philip Dyne has confessed and claimed sanctuary in St Peter's church, but he must leave the country. If he doesn't, he'll be declared an outlaw, his life forfeit.
Sir Baldwin Furnshill, Keeper of the King's Peace, and his friend, Bailiff Simon Puttock, arrive at Lord Hugh de Courtenay's castle at Tiverton for the feast. When a messenger arrives calling for the Coroner, Baldwin and Simon accompany him to view the body of Sir Gilbert of Carlisle, Despenser's ambassador to Lord Hugh. Not far off lies a second corpse: the decapitated figure of Dyne. The Coroner is satisfied that Dyne killed the knight and was then murdered: Dyne was an outlaw, so he doesn't merit the law's attention, but Sir Baldwin feels too many questions are left unanswered. How could a weak, unarmed peasant kill a trained warrior? And if he did, what happened to Sir Gilbert's horse – and his money?
When Baldwin and Simon are themselves viciously attacked, they know that there must be another explanation. A more sinister enemy is at large, someone with a powerful motive to kill. But there are so many suspects…
Michael Jecks
THE TRAITOR OF ST GILES
2000
For Jane Conway-Gordon, because without her help, advice, and occasional criticism, I would not be a writer. Many thanks!
Cast of Characters
Sir Baldwin de Furnshill
The Keeper of the King’s Peace in Crediton, who is known as a shrewd investigator of crimes in his jurisdiction. He has a reputation for helping those who have been persecuted.
Jeanne
The widow of Ralph de Liddinstone has now married Baldwin. She has the nagging fear that her husband may be sent to fight for his Lord.
Edgar
Baldwin’s servant, formerly his man-at-arms, and for several years now his loyal companion.
Bailiff Simon Puttock
The long-standing friend of Sir Baldwin. With his own legal experience as a Stannary Bailiff, Simon has often joined forces with Baldwin to investigate murders.
Lord Hugh de Courtenay
The head of one of the country’s important families, Lord Hugh is worried by rumours of impending war and seeks to consult his most loyal men as to which faction to support.
Sir Gilbertde Carlisle
A renegade Templar, one of the many who escaped the vindictive persecution of the French King. Now he is being used by the Despensers as a messenger. He hopes to regain a little of his dignity by joining a Lord’s retinue.
William the Small
Man-at-arms to Sir Gilbert. William was with Despenser as a sailor, but he left the ship when he saw that Sir Gilbert needed help
Joan Carter
The raped and murdered daughter of Matilda Carter.
Matilda Carter
Married to Andrew Carter, Matilda is sister to Nicholas Lovecok. She came down to Devon with Nicholas when he had to leave his old home in Lincolnshire.
Nicholas Lovecok
A wealthy and powerful merchant in Exeter, he built up his business from nothing. He is visiting Tiverton to help with the provisions for the feast at Lord Hugh’s castle.
Andrew Carter
Husband to Matilda and step-father to Joan, he has been Nicholas’s close friend for several years. Their wealth has grown as a result of their shared business interests.
Philip Dyne
An apprentice spicer who was Joan Carter’s lover. He has confessed to killing Joan but managed to escape capture by gaining a place of sanctuary. Now he must leave the country.
Harlewin le Poter
The Coroner of Tiverton – a bluff, vain womaniser who has Lancastrian sympathies.
Father Abraham
The local priest in Tiverton who has a loathing bordering on hysterical fear of heretics in general and the Knights Templar in particular.
Father Benedict
The old Templar priest for Templeton. He refused to leave the area and desert the small parish flock when the Templar manor was closed.
Avicia Dyne
Sister to Philip. She never believed that her brother could have killed the girl he loved.
Sir Peregrine of Barnstaple
A bannaret and trusted follower of Lord Hugh, he is the Keeper of Tiverton Castle.
Felicity
A well-known whore who works in Tiverton.
Author’s Note
I have always had a fondness for Tiverton. It’s one of those old market towns which has been altered almost out of recognition in recent years: one-way systems and, more recently, pedestrianisation make it a difficult place to get to – it’s even worse finding a parking space – but local councils and central government haven’t managed to entirely destroy its atmosphere. My own ties with the town extend to my being married in Tiverton’s Register Office – and I can recommend it as a venue!
It was while on honeymoon in Devon that my wife and I visited Tiverton Castle, Bickleigh Castle and Fursdon House, the three places which inspired The Last Templar and subsequent stories. For some time recently I had been promising myself that I would return north of Crediton to base another story in Tiverton itself. This book is the result.
Tiverton was founded under the Saxons; the name comes from Twyfyrde, or ‘Two Fords’ because it lies between two rivers, the Exe and the Lowman. In 1106 King Henry I gave it to Richard de Redvers and it was Richard’s son Baldwin who became the first Earl of Devon. The castle was built by the de Redvers family, but they died out in 1293 and the castle then passed to Hugh de Courtenay, who became Earl himself in 1335, a mere five years before his death.
Little remains of the early castle buildings, but there is enough to give you a good feel for the place. It was held by Royalists in the Civil War, and when Fairfax and his Roundheads captured it they ‘slighted’ it (i.e. destroyed it as a defensible fortress) to prevent its being held against Parliament again: the curtain walls to west and north were blown up or pulled down. A huge southeastern tower survives, there are fragments of a hall visible and some of the 14th-century solar block remains but there is little else from the 1300s.
Although Tiverton Castle has been badly knocked about over the years it is well worth a visit. Its museum holds a fascinating collection of Civil War arms and armour. Equally interesting are Bickleigh Castle a few miles to the south, and Fursdon House near Cadbury. I can also recommend a visit to Templeton, a beautiful little village to the west of Tiverton.
Lord Hugh de Courtenay was an interesting character. The early 1300s were dangerous times to live in and yet he managed to survive in a world of richer and more powerful magnates.
King Edward II was very fond of his favourites. The first was Piers Gaveston, the younger son of a Béarnaise knight, who compounded the jealousy that better-born men felt for him by giving them disrespectful nicknames. For example, he referred to the Earl of Warwick as ‘the black dog of Arden’ and the Earl of Gloucester as ‘a cuckold’s bird’. During the reign of King Edward I, Gaveston was banished from the realm, but as soon as Edward I died, his son recalled his companion (and, most believe, homosexual lover) from exile. He smothered Gaveston with titles and lavish presents, giving him the Earldom of Cornwall and the honour and castle of Berkhamstead among others, and arranging for Gaveston’s marriage to Margaret de Clare, the King’s niece.
Gaveston was thrown from the kingdom when Parliament selected Ordainers – among them Lord H
ugh de Courtenay – to control the realm better and stop the King’s spendthrift habits from ruining the country. During the Parliament of 1311 they forced the King to accept new counsellors, but their success was short-lived since the King soon invited Gaveston back. Certainly the barons and earls believed that Gaveston had returned because, that same November, Lord Hugh was one of two men ordered to seek him in the West Country.
The end of Gaveston came the next year, when he was executed by lords sick of his greed and fearful – or jealous – of his hold over the King. However, this wasn’t the end of the King’s troublesome selection of his friends, because now he chose young Hugh Despenser as his favourite; Despenser being the greediest and most corrupt baron the King could have fixed upon as advisor – and again, probably, lover.
Hugh Despenser the Younger, as he is now known, was if anything more ambitious than Gaveston. His marriage to Eleanor de Clare (arranged by the King) ensured his wealth when, at Bannockburn, her brother Gilbert de Clare died without an heir. The Clare estates were subsequently split up and divided between his sisters and their husbands, and Despenser, being favoured by the King, was able to extort those pieces of land he wanted. He was arrogant, determined, and prepared to use violence whenever it suited him.
The Despenser War of 1321, which was precipitated by Despenser’s blatant avarice and during which the Despenser lands were wasted by a loose confederation of Marcher Lords determined to remove this threat to their properties, marked a turning point in King Edward II’s reign. Afterwards the Despensers returned to rule the nation with an iron hand, but for a short time – again – it appeared that wiser counsel would prevail and the King might be better advised.
In 1321, the year of this story, the Despensers were exiled. As with Gaveston it was only a short time before the King allowed them back, and the result was the Despenser tyranny, which lasted for four years before the two Despensers, Older and Younger, were overthrown and executed as traitors.
The Young Despenser is said to have stated that he wanted to be rich. When Gilbert de Clare died, the Younger’s share of the Clare inheritance was some £1,507 each year, mostly from Welsh property; by the time he died in 1326, Despenser was worth more than £7,500 each year, as well as holding over £3,000 worth of moveable goods and, at one time, having nearly £6,000 on deposit with Italian bankers. One can only guess at the level of corruption involved in his government.
However, through all of the madness and mayhem of the civil wars, through the arguments with the King, the disputes between the barons and eventually the war between King Edward II and his Queen, Lord Hugh survived. There is little in any book about someone who was ever on the fringes of power and never made himself hugely rich, but I hope that if he were to read my description of him, Lord Hugh would not be overly upset. I think he has to have been shrewd and capable, to have lived to die of old age!
Other characters have been entirely invented. There was no Sir Gilbert of Carlisle to my knowledge, nor was there a Sir Peregrine of Barnstaple. My merchants, breadmakers, whores, men-at-arms, ratcatchers and others are also the result of my imagination.
For those who wish to learn more of the history of the period, I can recommend Mary Saaler’s book Edward II and May McKisack’s The Fourteenth Century. For more about the Templars, look at John J. Robinson’s Dungeon, Fire and Sword and Edward Burman’s Supremely Abominable Crimes, while for a marvellous summary of the persecution itself, Norman Cohn’s superb book Europe’s Inner Demons shows how the Order was destroyed through malicious propaganda – and how such persecution continues down the ages.
There are some terms and concepts in these pages which might cause readers to think I have not checked my proofs or that my copy-editor missed whole pieces of text. Life was considerably more simple in those days. Justice was more a means of ensuring that revenues to the Crown were protected, rather than ensuring that villeins and other subjects had their interests protected.
It was the duty of the jury in the first instance to report to the justices what crimes had been committed and who they thought was responsible. This was the jury of presentment. They reported by issuing their veredicta, which were their charges, and the miserable felon would then be hauled off to wait for the trial of gaol delivery, which was when he would be tried by the visiting justices. Here again the jurors would present the facts and the justices would make their decision.
As well as the jury presenting their indictments, other folk could appeal a man’s offence. This was a formal accusation of felony which was laid by the victim against the criminal and meant that a jury’s indictment wasn’t necessary – although there were risks. If a felon was found to be innocent, he could then immediately accuse anyone who had appealed against him of ‘conspiracy’ and demand damages.
For those who wish to learn more about criminal trials and the processes, look at J. G. Bellamy’s The Criminal Trial in Later Medieval England.
One last topic may arouse interest and that is the subject of fighting. Throughout history the English have exercised a series of martial arts. At times practitioners have been lauded and given approval by governments and kings; at others they have scared those in authority and have had their rights to practise curtailed.
That does not change the fact that experts in fighting have existed for centuries. The Liber Albus (c. 1180) mentions them, King Edward I tried to ban the teaching of fencing in London (unsuccessfully) and it was King Henry VIII who finally gave a Royal Warrant to ‘Maisters of Defence’, effectively a martial arts commission. This put the group on a professional footing, like lawyers, and gave them monopolistic rights over controlling all aspects of training men in fighting.
The sole remaining sport which provides evidence of those days is boxing. Hundreds of people flock to watch boxers demonstrating their skill, stamina and speed; in the past there were similar exhibitions, but our forbears were rather more sanguine in their approach to life. Their fights were conducted by men with swords, knives, cudgels, or bare fists – and their weapons were not blunted. Savage wounds were inflicted or received, and one must assume that many of the contestants must have died.
In the twentieth century it is hard to imagine anyone being prepared to fight in this way, but that is because we are conditioned to think differently. To gain an insight into how our ancestors’ minds worked, I cannot recommend Terry Jones’s thoroughly accessible book Chaucer’s Knight strongly enough. For evidence of the fighting arts you need look no further than Samuel Pepys’s Diary for 1 June 1663, 9 September 1667 and 12 April 1669. On each of these dates he mentions watching bouts. Other letter-writers and diarists also give us tantalising glimpses into the way professional fighting was organised. And of course there were female fencers, dagger-fighters and bare-knuckle fighters as well; this was not a male preserve.
The British have exercised with a wide variety of weapons over the centuries. Bows and arrows gave way to swords and sabres, pistols and rifles. However, one type of deadly weapon which has been in constant use for defence in this country is the simple stick. Films show us Little John fighting with Robin Hood, both using staffs, but up to the turn of the last century men protected themselves about town with weighted walking sticks. And back in history, we read in Piers the Ploughman that a man would go to protect his wife with his ‘cudgels’, beating off the crowd that beset her.
If you are interested in the history of the English fighting arts, you should read Terry Brown’s English Martial Arts. This shows many methods of fighting which have been painstakingly researched by Terry as well as giving the best history of the ‘Maisters of Defence’ I have read.
For my other readers whose interest lies in the stories themselves, I can only hope that this book will be an enjoyable diversion. I had great fun writing it and I sincerely hope you get as much pleasure out of reading it.
Michael Jecks
Dartmoor
July 1999
Chapter One
In the servant’s hall of he
r father’s house in Tiverton, Joan Carter yawned and stretched. She had been working hard removing the old rushes and strewing fresh ones, but now the light was fading she had to stop. Soon the servants would be finishing their own work for the day and returning out here to the hall where they ate, drank and slept each night.
This room was always dim, set as it was at the back of the house and overshadowed by the merchants’ houses at either side, but Joan was used to the gloom. She had spent much of her young life in this place, here at the back with the servants instead of in the main house with her mother. Not that she slept here with them. Even that comfort was denied her.
She went to the door and peered out. Earlier there had been a thin mizzle falling but it had cleared and the air was dry, with thick clouds hanging apparently motionless in a clear sky. Although it was late and the church bells had already rung for Vespers, she could hear the people in the streets trying to divest themselves of the few remaining goods they had to sell. That meant there were still some four hours until dark, and Joan was determined to enjoy them. She had been cooped up indoors all day, and felt she deserved a rest.
Pulling on a loose-fitting coat she strolled out into the busy cobbled thoroughfare; a quiet, contemplative young woman not yet in her twentieth year. In the lanes it was dim and intimidating, and the smell from the open sewer was foul, mingling with the scent of decomposing flesh from the tanners to create a doubly unwholesome stench. Joan hardly noticed it, however. The alleys and lanes were always fetid in summer, and the people who lived in Tiverton were used to it.
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