The Last Templar

by Michael Jecks

  Even at Hugh’s shambling pace they were not long in getting to the road to the manor. For once Simon was quite pleased to meander along slowly - it gave his mind more time to wander over his new responsibilities and he found himself planning for the inevitable visits he would soon have to make. First there were the other bailiffs- he would have to go and see them all, his new peers, and see what the state of the lands around Lydford was. He wanted to visit the constables in each of the hundreds, the subdivisions of the shire, as well and make sure that they were ready with their allocation of men in case of war. It did not seem very likely, but a bailiff should be ready at all times in case his lord needed him and his men. He was not too concerned with the other responsibilities of the constables - if there was a hue and cry, the constables should be able to cope, calling up the men and forming a posse to catch the offenders.

  In a society where most men were living in a state of poverty, it was inevitable that there were often robberies. Burglars, draw-latches, thieves, cut-purses and poachers were a constant problem, but all men living within the law were expected to be ready to fight for their lord at a moment’s notice and could be called up by the constables quickly to chase criminals. After all, the king himself wanted the folk ready for the defence of the realm, and everyone was expected to be able to arm themselves quickly to defend their homes. The people living within Simon’s new area were all hardened countryfolk and were well used to using their weapons for hunting. God help any man who tried to commit a crime. He would be chased like a wolf by some of the best hunters in the kingdom until he was caught. It would not be difficult; few people needed to travel, so any stranger in a district would always be questioned by the locals, and news of travellers would always filter back to Simon’s friend Peter Clifford, the priest at Crediton. If there was a hue and cry shortly after a newcomer had arrived it would be obvious who would be the main suspect.

  He was just thinking this when he was surprised to see, a little beyond the lane to Furnshill manor and travelling from Cadbury on the road to Crediton, a small group of monks. Wondering who they were and where they were going, he coaxed his horse into a trot and left Hugh behind to catch up with them. Since his schooling with the priests at Crediton, where he had met many monks as they travelled on their way to Buckland Abbey and beyond down into Cornwall, Simon had enjoyed meeting these godly men who had exchanged worldly sins for lives of poverty, helping the people and dedicating their years to God.

  There were five men in the group, four walking slowly, one of them leading a pack-mule, another on horseback.

  From their habits they must be Cistercians, the same as the monks of Buckland.

  As he came closer, he slowed his pace to a walk and greeted them. “Good morning, brothers, where are you travelling to?” At the sound of his voice, the man on the horse whirled suddenly and Simon was shocked to see the fear on his face.

  He was a large man, running to fat, with flabbiness around his heavy features and showing in his jowls and chin, but for all that he looked muscular and rode like a knight, sure and steady, if a little hunched. He looked as though he had been a strong and sturdy man in his past, but had now developed too keen an interest in good food and drink.

  “Who are you, sir?” he asked, in an almost petulant voice with a heavy accent in which Simon recognised the tones of France - but that was normal with many monks now that the pope lived in Avignon.

  “Simon Puttock, sir. I am the bailiff of Lydford,” he answered, smiling to put the man at his ease. It did not seem to help. The man was plainly terrified of strangers, and his eyes flitted over Simon as he rode alongside. Unconcernedly, Simon looked at the other men in the group. The eldest, a jovial-looking man with almost white hair and a cheeky smile, grinned at him as if in mute apology for the rude introduction, then turned his eyes to stare fixedly at the road ahead, the remains of the smile showing as a slight grin that played around his lips. The others simply walked on quietly and ignored him, to his faint surprise, because usually monks, like other travellers, would be happy for any diversion on the road.

  “You are a long way from Lydford, bailiff.”

  Simon laughed briefly. “I’ve only just become bailiff, sir. I’m on my way back to my home in Sandford to collect my wife and tell her, then I will be going to Lydford to take up my new responsibilities. So where are you going? To Buckland?”

  “Yes.” The man seemed to pause. “Yes. we are going there. I am to become the new abbot of our monastery.” His eyes quickly darted from Simon to the road behind.

  Catching the glance, Simon smiled again. “That is my servant, abbot. You need not worry on your journey in these parts. I’ve not heard of trail bastons this far south, they all seem to be near Taunton and Bristol. Your journey should be safe.”

  “Good, good,” the abbot said absently, his brow furrowed, then glanced over to the bailiff with a calculating stare. “Tell me, my friend, which is the best way to Buckland from Crediton, do you think?”

  Simon drew his mouth down as he thought. “There are two main ways, either west to Oakhampton, then south through Lydford. I know that way - the roads are good and there are places for you to rest overnight. The other would be to go to the east of the moors and down that way. I’ve never been that far, although I did go to Exeter once. The Oakhampton route would be my choice.”

  “Good. Then we shall take that road.” He seemed to think a moment, staring at the road ahead, then turned back to Simon. “Would you travel with us? I would be grateful for the protection of the bailiff on the road.”

  Looking at him, faint surprise on his face, Simon said, “But, as I say, there’s no need to fear robbers. The country is quiet here.”

  “Maybe, maybe, but your company would be added protection and desirable, sir.” When Simon looked over at him, he was shocked to see the expression on the man’s face - he seemed to be trying to smile, but he could not hide the anxiety on his face. His eyes were wide and staring, almost as if he was pleading with the young bailiff, and Simon found himself wondering what could have created such fear. He almost asked, but decided not to - he might cause offence.

  “I’m afraid that I’m going to visit a friend not far from here, Sir Baldwin Furnshill at Furnshill Manor. Why don’t you join me? We can go on later,” he said, and, although he could not be sure, he felt that the older monk nearby shot him a sharp glance on hearing the name ‘Furnshill’.

  “No, no. We must get to Buckland as soon as we can. You must come with us now.”

  Simon found himself repelled by this man, who was so obviously scared for no reason. It seemed almost obscene to be so fearful in such a quiet part of the country. Of course travel was dangerous, no matter where the destination, but to be so terror-stricken here in Devon… He thought a moment. “No, I must go to the manor, I gave my word. But I will not stay there for long, so perhaps I shall overtake you on the road later. At least I can go with you as far as Crediton.”

  “But why can’t you come with us to Buckland?”

  “I must go to my wife first and take her with me to Lydford.”

  “Could you not collect her after coming with us to Buckland?” his voice was whining, like a child begging for a sweet.

  Simon almost laughed, but then he saw that the abbot was serious and checked himself. “That would mean I would be delayed for seven or eight days, abbot. No, I can’t do that. I must get to Lydford with my wife.”

  “Oh, very well,” said the monk petulantly.

  They rode along in silence for a few minutes, until Simon said mildly, “So you are sure you will not join me and visit the manor? It will at least break your journey a little, and I’m sure your companions would like some refreshment.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the oldest monk nod his head in approval at the suggestion and then wink, as if he knew Simon could see him but the abbot could not.

  “No, we are all well. There is no need.”

  “In that case, I will wish you a good and safe journey,�
� Simon sighed. “I must go back to the manor. I hope I shall see you soon, abbot. For now, goodbye.”

  The abbot grunted and, annoyed at his demeanour, Simon wheeled his horse to gallop back to the lane to the manor. As he turned he caught a brief smile on the face of the older monk, as if in gratitude for his offer. The bailiff nodded to him and urged his horse into a gallop.

  At the lane, he found Hugh moodily sitting on his horse and waiting.

  “I thought you must’ve forgotten me, riding off like that.”

  “Oh, shut up,” said Simon, having had more than enough sulkiness for one day, and led the way down the lane to the manor.

  Chapter Two

  It was getting close to noon when they finally clattered their way up to the front of the old manor.

  The house had been built by the Furnshill family over a hundred years before when they had first arrived in Devon to serve their lords, the de Courtenays. It stood high on the side of a hill, almost hidden from the sides by the thick woodland all around. It was a long, whitewashed cob building, with black timber to reinforce the single-storey walls. It looked much like the farmhouses of the area, and sat as if peering over the lane that led to its door. Small windows were set into the walls just below the thatch and the door was almost in the middle of the building, giving it a cheerful and pleasant aspect. This was not a fortified manor built in fear, a place constructed for defence. It was a family home, a strong and welcoming house.

  Behind and to the right were the stables. They were a group of large buildings, similar to the main house, surrounding the trodden dirt of the yard. Here, as Simon knew, were areas for the horses and the oxen. There was even one large shed for the farm implements. Simon and Hugh ignored the entrance to the yard and rode up to the front of the house before dismounting, whereupon a pair of stablemen appeared from nowhere, making the bailiff smile to himself. Obviously the whole household was trying to put on a good show for the new master.

  After Simon had got off his horse and handed it to the waiting hostler, he stood and took in the view. From here he could see for miles, over the tops of the tree-covered hills to the moors, lowering in blue-grey malevolence in the far distance. Tugging off his gloves, he turned to the door as Baldwin came out to welcome them.

  “I think I was right to come on ahead,” he said, smiling as he shook the bailiff’s hand. “You have taken an age to get here, Simon. Can you not teach your servant to ride a little faster?”

  Simon felt Hugh stiffen behind him, but smiled in return. “It was my fault, sir, I stopped to talk to the monks.”

  “What monks?” asked the knight absently as he led them in through the thick wooden door.

  “Didn’t you see them? We came upon them at the end of your lane here. Four monks and an abbot; they’re on their way to the monastery at Buckland.”

  Baldwin frowned slightly. “No, I didn’t see them,” he said with disinterest, and shrugged, seeming to put them out of his mind as he smiled again. “Wine? Or would you prefer some beer?”

  The manor did not seem to have suffered the privations of so many other parts of the county during the rains. Simon and Hugh were given a hearty meal of mutton stew with fresh bread, all the while having to answer a stream of questions from their inquisitive host, who seemed to want to know everything about his new estates, how they had changed in his absence and how the people had fared while he had been away. At last, as they all pushed themselves away from the table and sat closer to the fire, he smiled and apologised.

  “I’m sorry if you had to pay for your food so dearly, but I want to be a good master to the people here. I have seen too many lords who treated their people badly and taxed them heavily. I want to be known to be fair to them, and to do that I must know all I can.”

  “I think you have a good and strong estate, sir—‘ Simon began, but the knight interrupted him.

  “As bailiff to knight, I think we can talk to each other as equals.”

  Recognising the honour, Simon smiled and inclined his head. It was not his imagination - he could feel that already there was some kind of bond between him and this grave knight. The man seemed to be seeking his friendship and Simon found it flattering, even though he knew that it was likely to be only the interest of a lonely newcomer seeking the acquaintance of an important neighbour. He continued, “Thank you. So, Baldwin, your estate has not been so badly affected as some others. The rains have been very bad this year, but Furnshill is high enough to have missed the worst of the damage. The lower-lying areas were badly flooded, but your crops were not too badly affected, not as badly as some. In other shires the people are starving, but I think your people haven’t suffered much.”

  “Certainly all I have seen and heard shows that the people of Guyenne and France are without food. And I saw that the people in Kent were suffering when I passed through.” He seemed to be thinking, drawing in on himself with a frown of concentration.

  “When was that?”

  “What?”

  “When did you pass through Kent? Was it recently? I just wondered whether things are still that bad or whether they’re getting better.”

  “Oh. Well, it would have been about nine months ago, I suppose. But I have spoken to many travellers since then and things do not seem to have improved.” He sighed. “It sometimes seems unfair that so many people have to suffer so much to survive, does it not?”

  “Yes,” agreed Simon, staring reflectively into his mug. “But it is the natural way. We all have to serve, whether it is our master or our God, and the people must work to serve us, although some are more harshly treated than is needed.”

  “In what way?”

  “As you say, it can seem unfair sometimes. When you see men being taxed too heavily, or the sheriffs taking money from the taxes to put in their own purses, or when you see robbers taking all the profit from a fanner who will have to try some other way to feed his children. It’s not only the weather that causes problems when you are a farmer.”

  “No. No, of course not,” said the knight reflectively. “But, tell me, why do you mention the sheriffs? Is there a problem with the man in Exeter?”

  “No, we’re lucky here. He seems a good and honest man. No, he’s alright, but you must know about the others, surely? Only a couple of years ago almost all of them throughout the country were changed because of their corruption.”

  “I hadn’t heard that, no. But I was out of the country at the time, so…‘

  “Well, as I say, most were changed. There were many cases of false indictments, and you can guess who benefited. I think it’s beginning again. And, as usual, it’s the poor that are hit hardest.”

  “You seem to feel strongly about it, Simon.”

  “I do, I do. I want to be known to be fair to the people in my area and known to be their protector. I don’t want to be thought of as a heavy and unfair taxer, as being interested in lining my own purse at the expense of others. And I want to make sure that the people here can travel safely. Thank God we are not yet plagued with outlaws here!”

  “Yes. We seem to be lucky in that.”

  “We are, none have come this far west yet, although they are moving closer. Apparently there are some outside Bristol, and another group at North Petherton. We can only hope that they fade away before coming down here.”

  Baldwin stared musingly at the flames for a moment, I wonder why people join the trail bastons? They must know that they’ll never be able to find peace. On our way here we heard of a number of farmers and merchants attacked - even one knight, I believe, but he managed to save himself. I think the outlaws are getting more desperate.“ Why?”

  “Even if they manage to steal, it can hardly ever be enough to support the large gangs we have now.” His voice drifted, his face pensive as he seemed to consider his words. Catching a glimpse of his frowning concentration, Simon nodded.

  “Good! There’s no excuse for them. The sooner they’re all arrested or killed the better.”

  Baldwin
stared into the flames and with a sad grin lifting the corner of his mouth, twisting his moustache. “I know. We can’t have the peace of the shire ruined by a few, and the highways have to be kept clear. But what else can the villeins do? There’s no food for them, and what there is costs too much. If they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to get work - some lords have even thrown out their retainers. There’s a rumour that some knights are resorting to banditry because they can’t afford food. How can villeins survive?”