‘Have you any idea who could have released Mark?’
‘Yes. I think it was Sir Ralph’s son, Esmon. The fellow knew that his father would be enraged to hear that Mark had escaped, and would seek him with a fury unsurpassed by the hounds of Hell. Esmon sought to ensure that his father would kill Mark for escaping his cell, and to do so, Esmon made certain that Mark was released. Whether it was Esmon himself or one of his many disreputable men who let Mark out, I do not know.’
‘You are sure of this?’ Baldwin asked.
‘As sure as I can be without hearing Esmon confess, yes.’ Roger Scut looked out at the doorway and dropped his voice. ‘Do you know what he has done now? He asked me a little while ago whether I would help him to depose his father. I truly believe that lad has no conception of good and evil. He asked me to write a letter confirming that Sir Ralph was too ancient and infirm to be able to continue as Lord of Gidleigh. As though I should do any such thing!’
Baldwin glanced at Simon. He doubted the entire truth of Roger Scut’s comments, although their general thrust he thought was probably accurate enough. ‘As though,’ he repeated drily.
Roger had the grace to look away.
‘Do you know what
I
think, Scut?’ Baldwin asked. ‘I think you came here wanting to brain a guard and release Mark.’
‘Yes.’
‘Because you thought that then he would be hunted down and killed. You knew Sir Ralph would slaughter him under any pretext. The Bishop would punish Sir Ralph, but so what? You would be here to take over the chapel and all its revenues.’
‘Nonsense, that had–’
‘You actively sought the death of Mark to fill your own pocket.’
Roger shook his head, but his voice was quieter, as though he scarcely dared deny the charge. ‘No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Simon had listened with contempt. Now he deliberately turned his back on the monk and ignored him. ‘Hugh, this Esmon has captured more men today. He took a carter and two of Coroner Roger’s men captive. Did you see them arrive, or hear them?’
‘I heard someone – over in the gatehouse area.’
‘That is where Sir Ralph and his son tend to keep their prisoners ready for ransom,’ Roger Scut said helpfully.
‘Show me where this room is,’ Simon said, speaking to Hugh.
Chapter Thirty
Osbert sat in the shelter of Piers’s barn and wrapped his arms about himself. It was not cold, but the ideas that milled in his brain were stifling him, and he felt as though his head were about to explode with the things that evil shit Ben had told him with such amused glee in his voice. Truly, Ben was foul. He deserved to be murdered. It was said that a man’s evil could be reflected in his sons, that a man who was sexually incontinent could give birth to a leper, and if that was so, all the sins of Sir Ralph had been stored and concentrated in Ben’s voice. He enjoyed using his snake’s charm and insinuations to bedevil others.
There were so many things Os wanted to do but he felt enfeebled. As soon as Ben had told him, he had wanted to go to Flora and apologise, to cradle her in his arms. More, he wanted to lie with her, feel her naked body next to his, make love to her like a man should – except he couldn’t, not now! Christ Jesus, not ever!
His desires were impossible. Cursed. He must accept that. If he couldn’t, he might go mad. God would see to it. For a man like Os to touch Flora with thoughts of passion was
obscene
! She was his
sister
!
He wanted to go to the castle and tear it apart stone by stone; he wanted to feel Sir Ralph’s flesh beneath his hands and rend his body to wolf-bait; he wanted to stamp all over Esmon’s corpse; he wanted to stab and slash at them just as Esmon had stabbed and slashed at Wylkyn. He wanted to kill, and go on killing, to destroy this terrible injustice. The first woman he had loved was dead, buried and rotting; her sister, whom he now adored in Mary’s place, whom he felt the duty to protect with his life, was now ineradicably removed from him. He could no more hope to be her husband than he might hope to marry the Queen. She was removed from him, and with her removal, it felt as though his heart had been plucked from his breast. Life held no pleasure. All that remained was hard, cruel toil, made the more painful by the constant presence of Flora.
‘They’ve gone. Buggered off, the lot of them.’ Piers entered, threw his stick against the wall, and crouched leaning with his back against the stone wall. ‘But Esmon’ll be back. You know that. He’ll return, and when he does, he’ll want your head.’
‘He can have it. What is there for me now?’
Piers shrugged. ‘I don’t know what your problem is, other than the obvious little things, like trying to kill Sir Ralph’s son. Now, if I’d done that, I’d be guilty of
petit treason
and I’d get killed, but you won’t. You’re safe – you’re a freeman. All you have to worry about is getting away from here before Esmon catches you. At least right now, with a murderous monk on the road, you should be safe enough. People have more to worry about than a miserable-looking miller’s helper. Unless you meet said monk, of course,’ he added thoughtfully.
‘I love Flora.’
‘Hmm. That’s not a huge problem,’ Piers said, head cocked on one side. ‘What does she think about it?’
‘She feels the same. Promised to marry me.’
Piers nodded his head slowly. ‘Right. So she loves you too, but you feel bad? Not good? Not glad?’
‘I can’t do it. I can’t ask her to marry me.’
‘I… You don’t have much, no, but you’d make her a good enough husband, wouldn’t you? You’re not cruel or stupid – at least, I wouldn’t have said so until just now. What’s the matter?’
Osbert sat back, curled his arms about his legs and rested his chin on his knees. He remained there for some while, staring into the distance, and then gave Piers a disconcertingly straight stare. ‘You mean you don’t know?’
Piers held his hands out, palms up. ‘Don’t know what?’
‘My mother. She was never ashamed of me, of my bastardy. She always said, any man born like me shouldn’t regret his birth. The fact was, I was free, after all.’
Piers shrugged. He knew the rule of the law: a freeman who fathered a son conferred his freedom on the child, and a bastard must be assumed to be free. ‘So?’
‘Ben told me. I always loved Mary, and then, when she was gone, I fell in love with Flora. At least Ben saved us.’
‘What?’ Piers asked, confused.
‘I never knew my father. Mother always said it was because he’d married some prune-faced whore.’
‘Yes, well. These things happen,’ Piers said.
‘I always wondered why Mother didn’t tell me who it was. I thought it was because she was ashamed. Didn’t want to tell my father that she’d given birth.’
‘It’s common enough.’
‘You don’t understand, do you?’
Piers didn’t, nor did he particularly care. He had spent the whole day riding about the countryside seeking Mark, and now he was going to help Osbert escape, a man who had hurt his master’s son. It didn’t bear thinking about. ‘Neither of us have time for this, Os. Come on.’ He was brushing the twigs and straws from his backside when he heard the steps outside. Slow, thoughtful steps, Piers considered, not the sharp, swift footfalls of a man who rushed to a barn with a sword in his hand ready to kill or capture the men inside. Rather they were the reluctant steps of a man who was setting off on a long journey without knowing his destination.
Peering around the doorframe, Piers saw a familiar shape. ‘Oh, thank God!’
Osbert was not of a mood to notice a newcomer. ‘After he’d shoved his pork sword into my mother and got her with child, he fell in love properly.’
‘He married,’ Piers said without thinking, and opened his mouth to welcome his new guest, when Osbert spoke again.
‘No. The bastard fell in love with Huward’s wife. All those children of the miller’s? They’re Sir Ralph’s. Mary, Flora, Ben, and me too. We’re all Sir Ralph’s children.’
Hearing the sharp intake of breath, he looked up, just in time to see the ravaged face of Huward at the doorway.
‘I thought you’d soon be here.’
Esmon stood with a pair of his men-at-arms behind him in the main gatehouse guard room. His hand was still painful, but he found that clenching and unclenching it eased the pain a little, and he was sure that it would only marginally limit his ability to fight if he was forced to draw his sword. Not that there should be any need for that, he thought as he observed Roger Scut at the back of the little band. ‘What, a wounded servant, two watchmen, a cleric, a Keeper and a Bailiff? All to come and speak to me? This is quite a party. What do you want? More wine?’
Simon smiled calmly. ‘You have a reputation, Master Esmon. Men say that you raid and kill on the moors.’
‘Who accuses me? I’ll show my innocence,’ Esmon said offhandedly.
‘You will learn at the next county court. You will be attached.’
‘By you, Bailiff? Oh, I don’t think you have the power.’
‘I think I do, and so does the Coroner and this good Keeper. And since the murder concerns a man going about his business on the moors, a man who mined tin, I have every right to arrest you now and take you to my own court.’
‘I don’t think I’ll submit to that. And what would you want to achieve, anyway? I am a friend of the Despensers. Touch me, and you’ll regret it! Copy that Keeper. He seems content to maintain his dignity with silence. Perhaps you should learn from him, Bailiff.’
Baldwin looked up at that. ‘You think I was keeping quiet? I was only waiting to hear what the good Bailiff had to say.’
‘You’ve heard him.’
‘And I say that you are to be arrested and will be judged by me in my court for breaking the King’s Peace, robbing and ransoming to the detriment of the King’s subjects.’
‘What, nothing of murder?’ Esmon sneered.
‘That was a crime committed outside my jurisdiction, but the good Bailiff has accused you already.’
‘So do you intend to steal me away even now?’ Esmon demanded, and his anger was unfeigned. These people had come here and taken advantage of his father’s hospitality, and now they dared to accuse him! It was against all the rules of chivalry to behave so rudely. ‘I suppose you would like me to put on sackcloth and ashes?’
‘No, but I would like to hear you apologise for trying to ride me down in the road,’ Simon said.
‘What?’
‘It was you who rode at me and struck my servant here instead because he tried to save me.’
‘I was riding on a road – if your servant got in my way, that’s not my concern.’
Baldwin, who was watching Simon, saw the Bailiff’s smile subtly alter. Now only Simon’s bottom teeth showed, and that, as Baldwin knew, was an infallible sign that Simon’s temper was about to snap. He interrupted quickly. ‘Esmon, you knocked Hugh here aside and could have killed him. If it was an accident, it should be no trouble to apologise.’
‘I certainly think it was a shame I hit
him
,’ Esmon said, eyeing Simon with cold anger.
‘Good,’ Baldwin said hastily. ‘And now we can see the carter and Coroner Roger’s men released.’
‘No. They were found near a farmhouse where someone had robbed a woman. Until my father speaks to them and determines their innocence or guilt, they have to remain here, I fear.’
‘They shall be released,’ Simon said, slapping his sword hilt. Baldwin caught his elbow to stop him marching forward.
‘They stay here, Bailiff, and they’ll only be released when my father says so,’ Esmon replied. ‘I don’t know why you think you can claim authority over my father’s court, but he takes such arrogance badly.’
Baldwin heard a noise, and glancing over his shoulder, saw more men walking in through the doorway and fanning out to encircle Simon and him. ‘So you refuse?’
‘Certainly I do. These three were found near a theft. What would you do, Keeper? Let them run wild?’
‘Will you surrender to our safekeeping for the murder of the man Wylkyn?’
A woman’s voice called sharply, ‘What is all this about?’
Esmon could have sworn aloud. ‘Mother, please leave us.’
‘I asked what this was all about. Why are our guests in here surrounded like felons?’
‘These guests, as you call them, want to arrest me.’
‘Because of Wylkyn?’ Lady Annicia walked in like a lady, but her deportment was not quite as smooth as when she was completely sober. Baldwin could smell the wine on her breath. She glanced at Baldwin and Simon with a perturbed frown. ‘He was a terrible man, though. He killed Sir Richard Prouse, you know, and then he drew a knife against poor Esmon too. Last week he tried to hurt my son when he met him on the road, and Esmon defended himself. That is all.’
‘It would be, perhaps, if Esmon had not led a raiding party to rob the carters and kill Wylkyn, and it would be easier to believe if the body of Wylkyn hadn’t disappeared afterwards,’ Simon said. His attention was still fixed on Esmon, keeping an eye on the youth’s hands in case he tried to draw a sword.
‘I would like to offer you wine, will you come to the hall?’ Lady Annicia said. ‘I am sure that we can discuss this more sensibly without the need for raised voices.’
‘Not until we have seen the men being held,’ Baldwin said firmly. ‘My Lady, please command your men to open that door.’
‘Very well.’
‘Mother, I…’
‘Esmon, you may go to the hall and arrange for wine to be served while we await your father’s return.’
‘I…’
‘Go.
Now!
’
He reluctantly submitted and pushed his way through all the men in the room. Outside, he let out his breath in an angry gust. It was infuriating that she had arrived just then. There was no telling what she might do to calm the Bailiff. Esmon had hoped that he might be able to taunt the man into an indiscreet action, pulling a knife or sword. With all the men there, he wouldn’t have got two feet before falling under all their blows, and the rest would have been cowed and fearful after such an outburst, but now he didn’t know what would happen.