‘What did he do then?’
‘He stayed there, I suppose.’
Baldwin looked at Tedia, then Mariota. ‘Did he remain in your house all the night?’
‘I expect so.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I went straight to Tedia, to comfort her.’
Baldwin gave a quick frown. ‘So it is possible that he too was out and about.’
Tedia shook her head. Her man wouldn’t have done something like this. What was Baldwin doing, trying to remove him? There was no need now, her marriage was over. Anyway, Isok had denied killing Robert.
‘So we have this: a man or woman found me, left me to die but stole my sword, and took it down to Ennor. There they left it by the body of Robert as though to put the blame for the murder on me.’
‘Unless it was you,’ David said smoothly with a cynical lift of his brow. ‘Perhaps you did kill him, and only came to this island to throw all of us off your path.’
‘Half-dead, I doubt any man would have considered trying to find a treacherous path in the darkness,’ Baldwin said shortly. ‘No stranger could manage it. It would have to be local man, one who had time.’
He couldn’t help himself. His gaze went back to William, to the man whose feet had unerringly led them both here only the day before.
It was late in the afternoon when all the people had left the hall. Many were singing drunkenly, so great was the relief at the dual saving, both from the pirates, and from the men of Ennor.
Baldwin stood at the priory’s gate and stared out. Far in the distance he could see the island of Ennor, a strangely calm scene now, apparently. With the fighting over, the place wore a suspiciously quiet aspect, like an enemy concealing its strength in woods. There should have been a lowering appearance to such a dangerous location.
‘Sir Baldwin?’
It was the voice he wanted to hear; the one he most feared. She stood as though nervous, a rug thrown over her shoulders, hiding the bright green tunic beneath. ‘Are you staying here in the priory tonight?’
He gave her a gentle smile. ‘I think I should. How would the Prior treat you in future if he were to guess that you and I committed adultery? You are married, and so am I.’
‘But he couldn’t be concerned on my account,’ she said, going to his side and leaning against him. ‘I am divorced.’
‘Has your husband returned from his fishing yet?’
‘You fear talking? Can we not even talk like lovers?’ she asked sadly.
‘We are not lovers, Tedia. We enjoyed a moment in time, but it was because of your sadness and vulnerability, and my weakness and vulnerability. Both of us needed companionship, and we were lucky enough to find some comfort in each other.’
‘I thought you loved me.’
‘I did. For a moment. But I am still married. I cannot change that.’
‘He won’t return.’
‘Who?’
‘My husband. He sailed away to die. He guessed the truth about you and me. He thought I’d been unfaithful with Robert, too. Well, that’s not his fault. I would have been, had I the chance.’
‘But he died.’
‘And in his stead I thought I’d won you.’
‘Who could have killed him?’
‘Many could have’ Tedia said. In her mind’s eye she saw Mariota walking in, laughing at the wind and sea, drenched after travelling through the storm. At the time she had thought that the water was a proof of how bad the storm was, but now she wondered.
‘What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I believe you told me a story once,’ Baldwin said, ‘of an old woman from Bechiek who found a man’s body and cut the fingers from his hand to take his rings.’
‘What of it?’
‘Perhaps Mariota is formed from the same mould.’
‘No! She is a good woman.’
‘Perhaps she is, after her own lights. I merely wonder about her treatment of a corpse. Would she despoil it? Me?’
Tedia could not answer. There was only one response. Mariota was a true island woman. The sea took her husband, but provided her with all she owned. Mariota spent hours each week studying the shorelines, seeking whatever the sea might have brought her. A man with a sword on his hip would be a perfect prize.
They said no more, but Baldwin walked through the gate and glanced back at her enquiringly. Wordlessly, she followed after him.
Mariota was indoors at her fireside, kneading a heavy-looking dough. At her side was an ancient quern, and Baldwin looked at it pointedly.
‘You want to say something?’
‘The quern.’
‘Yes, old knight. It’s illegal. So what? So is almost anything an old woman tries to do,’ she cackled. ‘I ought to take my flour to the priory’s mill, but they charge so much. The miller is nothing more than a thief. Nothing more than that, the devil take him.’
‘Perhaps the devil would prefer a woman’s soul. Especially that of a woman who robs the dead and sometimes leaves a man for dead, just to take his belongings. I wondered why, when we were here before, you said that you had mended my clothes because you “owed” it to me, or something like that.’
‘You did have a goodly purse and a sword like that one could be worth a few pounds,’ she said amiably. She finished her kneading and set the loaf at the fireside on a prepared, hot stone.
Watching her, Baldwin found it hard to hate her. He should, he knew. This woman had willingly left him to die, but she was not ashamed. That alone surprised him. ‘I had anticipated some form of words to indicate regret,’ he said stiffly.
‘Ah well, I am truly contrite, Sir Knight. In fact, I went straight to the church to apologise, as soon as I learned you were alive. It was a bit of a shock, that. I hadn’t realised beforehand.’
‘You took my sword and were carrying it over to Ennor, then?’
‘Yes. Hamadus often takes little trinkets from me, things I find on the beaches. He sells them to people at the castle, sometimes to the ship that comes from the mainland once a week. He earns enough from that to pay me a goodly sum.’
‘Tell me what you saw.’
She met his gaze sadly. ‘I suppose I have to. I crossed the water after finding you and the sword. The purse, I fear, I took too. The way isn’t that hard when you’ve grown up with it all your life.
‘It was not until I got to Penn Trathen that I realised I was in trouble. That damned fool Robert was there, and he laughed to see my startled face. I said, “What are you doing hiding here?” and he said, “Preparing to deflower that wench of Isok’s.” I’m sorry, Tedia,’ she added. ‘But he wasn’t worth your time, that one. He was just after the inside of your thighs …’
‘What then?’ Baldwin rumbled as Tedia bent her head. He was frowning intently as she spoke. ‘Did you stab him to stop him?’
‘Rot his soul, no! I’m no murderer. I gave him a sharp word, but he didn’t care. He just carried on pulling off his boots. Someone,’ she said, with a sidelong glance at Tedia, ‘had told him about the path between the islands. Anyway, while he was going on, I heard shouting. I went back into the grasses to hide, and soon I saw Thomas, that Sergeant, coming. He was bellowing, calling out for someone, like he’d been arguing with someone, and they’d fought, and he was chasing after the fellow in rage. His sword was out, and he stood at the water’s edge. Robert asked him what he was doing, and “Who in God’s name is that?” Thomas yells, spinning round. I thought he would kill Robert, but no, he just curses him some and storms off.
‘I was all for hurrying to Hamadus’s house, but before I could, Luke appeared. He was fearful, and well he might have been. Robert saw him. “Hello, Luke,” he says. “Don’t worry, Tom’s gone now.” “Which way did he go?” Luke says, and Robert says, all cheery, “Back to the castle. Whatever did you say to upset him?”
‘Luke was all fretful, I could see. He says, “That madman Thomas tried to kill me! I only wanted a favour, and he tr
ied to kill me! He would have, if he’d caught me!”
‘“Why? What did you say to him?” asks Robert.
‘“I told him I knew all about his scams with the merchant ships,” says Luke.’
‘“Everyone knows about that, though,” Robert says.
‘“Yes, but I told him I’d tell Ranulph about it.”
‘Then there was a rustling, and Luke thought it must be Thomas come back. He took to his heels. There was a little boat down the beach, and he ran to it, hopped in, and was off like the coward he was.’
‘And then,’ Baldwin prompted, ‘the real murderer appeared.’
‘Then William appeared.’
‘I do not believe it,’ Baldwin said sadly. ‘He appeared such a sympathetic fellow.’
Mariota looked at him sternly. ‘It is better for all if you stop and listen without jumping to conclusions. William appeared, spoke a few words with Robert, all perfectly polite, and then left after staring after Luke for some while. Robert by now had his boots off, and had set them about his neck. He went down to the water’s side, and as he stood there, entering the water with some nervousness, I heard another man. He gave a gasp, and I heard him say, “No!” like he was in pain, and then he ran forward. Robert heard him, and turned. He walked back up the sand to talk, never knowing he was talking to his murderer.’
‘Enough suspense! Who was it?’
‘He is always so courteous, isn’t he, the Prior? He waved Robert on in front of him, and then stabbed him, once, very quickly, like it was distasteful to him to be so close to the corpse. Then he threw the man down and watched while he died. As soon as Robert was dead, Cryspyn lifted his skirts and set off after Luke. And that was that.’
‘Cryspyn!’
‘I waited a while, wondering what to do, and then William came back. He almost tripped over Robert’s body, and swore to himself, but when he looked out to sea, he could see who was there. There was no hiding Cryspyn’s figure. So, William looks down again and sort of sighs. Then he walked off home. Me, I daren’t be found with something like your sword, so I threw it a ways into the sands, and then sat down and waited. I couldn’t go straight to Tedia’s, in case Cryspyn saw me. I didn’t want that. No, I sat and bided my time, and when he was over on St Nicholas, I went off as sharp as I could. Back home.’
‘I thank you for your time,’ Baldwin said, coldly angry. When Mariota looked up at him, he turned on his heel. She repelled him: this was a reaction against her words. Cryspyn had not seemed an evil man – the tale of his crime before being sent here was damning, certainly, but Baldwin felt sure that he must have served out a penance, and subsequently he had reached the status of Prior. That meant that Abbot Robert of Tavistock and Bishop Walter both trusted him enough. Yet now Mariota’s words had damned the man.
It was with a heavy heart that Baldwin made for the door, and only after he had left the building did he hear Mariota calling out sharply. Turning, he saw Tedia’s face in the doorway.
‘I …’ she faltered, glancing over her shoulder.
‘Tedia!’ Mariota called again, and this time there was more harshness in her tone.
Baldwin recognised that tone: it was the same as that which a handler might use, calling to his dog when the beast was about to launch himself after forbidden prey. There was command, but also pleading in the voice, as though Mariota was certain that Tedia would be lost forever unless she returned. Baldwin gave her a grin, and there was a lessening of tension in her face, but there was no time for more. Baldwin had to get back to the priory. With a wrench, he left her there and made his way back to speak to the Prior.
And although he didn’t glance back, he knew that she was there, waiting in the doorway, neither a part of Mariota’s tribe nor Baldwin’s. Stuck in a strange middle ground, unsure where she would finish. Hopeful that Baldwin could represent a new beginning for her, except Baldwin knew that he couldn’t. Tedia must find a new man.
His wife Jeanne was waiting for him, and just now Baldwin felt he had never missed her so much as he did this moment, lurching his way back up the lane towards the Priory where he must confront Cryspyn.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In the hall, Simon was sitting blearily at the fireside. He looked up as Baldwin entered. ‘I was wondering where you had gone,’ he said, and held out a jug to Baldwin.
‘I have had a most interesting talk with Mariota. She saw the murder,’ Baldwin said. As he spoke he saw the figure of Cryspyn approaching them. ‘Prior.’
‘My friend. I am glad to see you have returned. I was wondering where you might have gone.’
‘I was with a most interesting person who witnessed the death of Robert,’ Baldwin said.
‘Was it William?’ Simon asked.
‘No,’ Baldwin said, looking at the Prior.
Cryspyn had jumped as though startled. His face worked as the acid rose into his throat. In the past he had been able to eat the finest of foods and wines, but not now. He was forced now to suffer the most tedious of foods, which a physician had told him would work well for his humours, but nothing seemed to work for unpleasant shocks.
‘And did this person give you a name?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘Yes.’
‘Then perhaps you’d have the goodness to tell me?’ Cryspyn asked, his voice rising with his impatience.
Baldwin said nothing, but held Cryspyn’s gaze with a serious intensity.
The Prior tutted. ‘Come, now! Won’t you tell me?’
‘I had thought you would like to say. After all, Benefit of Clergy protects a man in Holy Orders.’
‘Benefit of …’ Cryspyn’s face paled. ‘My God! You don’t mean … William?’
Baldwin snapped irritably, ‘No, I do not! I mean you!’
‘Me?’ Cryspyn’s face fell. His eyes widened, his mouth gaped, and then he hiccupped. A hand flew to his mouth, and his face drew back into its normal expression of pain. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘I think you should have the goodness to confess, Prior. You were seen there.’
‘Sir Baldwin, you are the unsuspecting victim of a joke, surely a joke in bad taste.’
‘You deny killing the man?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘You were not there on the island?’
‘No. I wasn’t!’
Baldwin was confused, but then he thought he had a glimmering of understanding. Of course! The woman Mariota was protecting someone else. She had only mentioned Cryspyn to give herself time to warn him! ‘Prior, please accept my apologies.’
‘I suppose I must accept them, but only as a matter of politeness to a guest,’ he said pointedly as he thrust past Baldwin and stalked out.
Baldwin roused Simon from his partially drunken reverie. ‘Come with me. We need to talk.’
‘I think it’s better that we find a place to sleep.’
‘Not yet, old friend.’ Baldwin had Simon’s arm in a firm grip, and he manoeuvred him through the door and out, across the courtyard and through the gate. ‘I have been speaking to a woman who stated that she saw Cryspyn stabbing Robert. Since Cryspyn has denied the murder, this means that one of them is lying. If she is lying: why? She has convicted Cryspyn for no reason.’
‘She has reasons,’ Simon said. He closed his eyes and leaned back. ‘Perhaps it’s just that she dislikes him and made it up.’
‘She knew that I’d have to confront him. That means that she knew her lie would be found out, and probably quickly. Perhaps she meant to run straight to the guilty man and warn him.’
‘Who?’
‘There are only two men whom she would try to protect. She would not wish to protect any of the men from Ennor, I am sure of that. No, I think that it comes down to two: either David or William.’
‘Why David?’
‘Because he is of her tribe. This place is astonishingly tribal. David is of her family, and more than that, he is the leader. Thus she would be willing to serve him by lying to us. That, to me, makes much sens
e.’
‘I see. What of William?’
‘There is a bond between him and the people of the islands. He loves them, and I think that they reciprocate that love. Luke, I think, he detested because of the mess he made of the church of St Elidius. William was enormously proud of that little church, and Luke ruined it for him. He murdered Robert, I suppose, because he was angry about the gather-reeve’s depredations – although any man could have seen it was Thomas, not the gather-reeve who was responsible. Why William should have suddenly killed Robert now, I do not understand.’
‘I think I know that, at least,’ Simon said. ‘I heard from Ranulph on the ship coming here that the story of Robert’s murder in a tavern had not been broadcast for some years. Perhaps it was common knowledge before William went to Ennor, and he never heard it before, or at least, he never heard who the man was whom Robert was supposed to have murdered. And then, recently, while he was living in St Mary’s, suddenly he heard the full story.’
‘What story?’ Baldwin asked.
‘William is called “William of Carkill”. The man Robert murdered was called “Jack of Carkill”, and William once told me his brother had run off to sea. When he saw me on my first day, he called me “Jan”.’
‘Another name for Jack,’ Baldwin breathed.
‘Yes. Jan is a nickname. I think he heard about Robert’s murder of his brother, and it made him lose his mind. He stabbed his brother’s murderer.’
‘Perhaps. Yet what of David? He has never made a secret of his hatred of Robert, nor his loathing for men who tried to prise apart Tedia’s legs. I think he has a particular detestation for any foreign man who attempts to win the affection of a local woman.’
Simon opened an eye. ‘That was said with feeling.’
‘No, no. I was just thinking.’
‘So if this woman would have protected either, which do you think it was?’
‘She told us of Cryspyn, knowing that he wouldn’t suffer – even if we were to accuse him, we could do little. He is a man of the Church, so he’s safe.’
‘The same goes for William,’ Simon yawned.
The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) Page 40