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Sir Geoffrey considered him as he rode out of sight, and then he shook his head and touched his beast with the spur, and set off at a gentle trot. It was a shame he had to destroy Sir Odo. When his master declared that he wanted a new piece of land, it was best to obey him. Those who disobeyed the Despenser tended to have their lives shortened.

When the hammering came at the door, Simon heard the maid going to answer it, and idly ran his hand down his wife’s naked flank, then leaned forward and kissed the curve of her waist. ‘I could lie here all day just making love to you,’ he whispered.

‘You have done before now,’ she chuckled throatily. She reached out to him and pulled his face to hers, kissing his lips. ‘I miss you so much,’ she said seriously.

‘I miss you too. Hopefully it won’t be long. How is Edith?’

‘She is in love with him, Simon. She says she won’t leave Lydford unless it’s as his wife.’

Simon looked away. It was too painful to accept that his daughter was already a woman and ready for marriage. ‘She seems so young.’

‘I doubt not that I seemed too young to my parents when you wooed me.’

‘Perhaps,’ he sighed.

She smiled and rolled over on to her back, pulling him on top of her. ‘Do you remember how we used to make love all afternoon?’

‘Master?’

The shout up the stairs came just as he was preparing to demonstrate that he could indeed recall those not-so-far-off days, and he frowned at his wife as she attempted to suppress her giggling at his frustration. ‘Shall I go and send them away, Simon?’

He snapped over his shoulder, ‘What is it?’

‘A boy has come … a messenger, a man from Sir Baldwin, bailiff. It’s very important, he says. Urgent.’

Simon kissed Meg a last time, then grunted as he left her body. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

Dressed, he found the messenger warming his hands before his fire.

‘Wat?’

‘Sir … I am so sorry, sir,’ Wat burst out. ‘It’s Hugh. I am sorry, we’ve heard he’s dead, sir.’

‘No!’

‘Will you go to help Sir Baldwin at Hugh’s house?’

Simon did not bother to answer, but hurried up to tell his wife.

Robert Crokers was still weeping as the pups were born.

Someone had tried to kill his poor old bitch and she might never work again. The poor thing was ruined. She had a long cut along her flank, where someone had plainly slashed at her as she ran past, and she must have spent the last few days in terror, not daring to return to her home. God only knew what she had managed to eat, although from the look of her it wasn’t much.

As soon as he saw her he picked her up in his arms, buried his face in her neck, and carried her gently back to the house. He laid her by the fire and gave her a little of the meaty soup he had made for himself, watching anxiously as she wolfed it down. She was terribly weak, and her eyes were haunted like a child’s who had lost a parent. Whenever there was a noise she didn’t recognise, she started and stared fixedly at the door. When Walter walked in, she was petrified, growling low and rising painfully on her haunches at the sight of the stranger.

‘Easy, girl. Easy,’ Robert said, stroking her. At the first touch, she flashed her head round, and he saw that she was panting, as though she had run a great distance. Her teeth were ready, and her open mouth enclosed his hand. He didn’t move, but spoke to her softly, until at last her rolling eyes were calmed, and she released him. His skin wasn’t broken, and he gently scratched her under the chin, where she always liked it. She held his gaze for a long while, and then lay down again, too exhausted to maintain even her fear.

‘Poor girl,’ he said.

‘Found her, then?’ Walter said. He had collected more wood and threw it down near the fire. ‘Won’t last long, from the look of her.’

‘She’s strong inside,’ Robert said.

‘She’ll need to be!’ Walter chuckled, and walked out again.

Robert returned to his faggots later, and brought all the spare wood to the house. He stacked it with Walter’s pile over at the far side of the room, then dropped a bundle on to the glowing embers, blowing gently until he had fanned it into flames. He set his bowl over it to heat through, and settled back to wait while the flames warmed his face. As he squatted there, he heard the steps of Walter return, and soon the older man was inside again, throwing another few faggots to join the pile.

‘Keep us going for the night, anyway,’ he commented.

‘Why did you say that before you fetched them?’

‘What?’

‘I said she was strong inside, and you said she’d have to be.’

Walter looked at him, then stuck a small twig in his mouth and rubbed it over his teeth to clean them. ‘Look, I don’t know what Sir Odo said to you, but he reckons those bastards’ll be back. Won’t be immediate, but they’ll be back, and next time they’ll plan on making sure no one can live here. He’s set a boy to watch over us here, and if there’s any sign of horses coming that lad will run fast as he can to Sir Odo, day or night, and day or night Sir Odo will come with his men.’

‘Why, though? The land isn’t worth all that much.’

Walter chuckled aloud. ‘Not in terms of peasants or crops, no; but it’s good for a lord to tie up his lands, and Sir Geoffrey’s lords own most of the land this side of the river. They’ll be looking to add more, and that means he wants to clear you and all our men off this part so he can put his own in here.’

‘How long?’

Walter looked at him, shrugged and lay down on the ground. He grunted to himself, resting his head on a pillow of rolled-up scraps of cloth, pulled up a blanket, and finally set his old felt hat over his eyes. ‘I’d get that bitch well as soon as you can. Won’t be all that long. Sir Geoffrey isn’t a patient man.’

Soon he was snoring, but not Robert. He could see again the bitter, scornful faces as they trampled his lands, setting their mounts plunging all over his vegetables, tossing torches into his thatch, enjoying the bullying of a man weaker than they were.

It made him furious — and petrified to think that soon they might be back.

Chapter Eleven

On the way to Iddesleigh, Baldwin had to stop to ask for guidance several times. This was not a part of Devon with which he was particularly well acquainted, and although he was fairly sure of the direction, his concern for Hugh, as well as his fear for his wife on the journey, was getting in the way of his planning a decent route.

‘How much further is it, Sir Knight? My arse is worn thin with all this plodding along!’

There were many times when he felt he could — or indeed should — have taken a dagger to the foul wench’s throat, but he restrained himself with difficulty, and forced himself to speak with patient calmness. ‘Emma, I can do nothing to bring us there any more speedily.’

‘If you ask me, this is the worst sort of dullness. If the man’s dead, so be it. There are people up there to look into it if it truly was a murder,’ she said. ‘The messenger probably got the wrong idea about it all. He wasn’t the brightest coin in the purse.’

‘Wat is considerably more intelligent than …’ Baldwin stopped before the comparison was out. It could only lead to another argument and more embarrassment for Jeanne. In God’s name, he must make her see how disruptive Emma was. She had to go, somehow. ‘Than most,’ he finished bitterly.

‘So you say. And what of this Hugh himself? Wasn’t he the silent fool who used to glare at everyone and everything? A miserable churl if ever I saw one. And only a peasant, when all’s said and done. What on earth is the point of coming all this way just to see his body?’

Baldwin turned and said with poisonous sweetness, ‘Emma, he was a friend’s man, and I esteemed him. That, for me, is enough to spend a little time and some discomfort in seeking his murderer. You were not commanded to join us. If you wish, you may return at once to Liddinstone. I will not stop you.’