They found him in his chamber, sitting behind his table, his rolls and parchments lying neglected in front of him. When they marched in unannounced, the sheriff jumped up in alarm, white-faced and convinced that this deputation of Lionheart’s supporters had come to arrest him.
This was the first time that de Wolfe had seen him since the débâcle in the Shire Hall and Richard had difficulty in looking him in the eye. He began a half-hearted explanation of how he had been misled by de Braose and the woman, but the coroner cut him short and, without directly accusing him of complicity in the plot, set out their proposals for ambushing the leaders.
The sheriff tried to evade the issue and claimed that he had no knowledge of Pomeroy’s or de Nonant’s involvement and that he would have no influence upon them. Exasperated, as time was passing, de Wolfe turned to Ferrars and de Courcy.
‘I think I should explain the situation to my brother-in-law in private,’ he said acidly. ‘As you might guess, there are family considerations in this, relating to my wife.’ Then he almost dragged his brother-in-law into the adjacent bedchamber and shut the door firmly.
‘Understand this and understand it quickly, Richard!’ he grated. ‘If you want to keep your life – and possibly your sheriffdom – you will do exactly as we ask, without question.’
Richard tried a last-ditch attempt at indignation. ‘A few hours ago, John, you were in danger of your own life. After all, I have only Matilda’s word on this and she may be inventing the whole scene to protect you, as de Braose suggested.’
De Wolfe restrained himself from punching the idiot on the nose. ‘Your sister is distraught, not so much at the peril I was in – she cares little for me – but for your betrayal of her. Love turns quickly to hate, Richard, and you hang by a slender thread held by Matilda. She heard de Braose implicate you as a rebel. She has pleaded with me to give you a chance to save yourself. If you fail to grasp it in both hands, she will add her denunciation to mine. The end of the track has come for you, man. You have no choice, if you want to keep your eyes, your testicles and your head. So choose now!’
He ground out the words with brutal urgency and the sheriff nodded miserably, his spirit broken. They went back into the outer chamber and began to make practical arrangements. Within the hour, Sergeant Gabriel galloped off alone for Berry Pomeroy on the best horse available, hoping to cover most of the journey before nightfall.
Whatever the next day might bring, John de Wolfe had a very good evening and night. Shaking off the concern, tinged with guilt, that he had for Matilda, he went down to the Bush to eat, and did not return home until after breakfast. In the tavern, he was again besieged by well-wishers and was bought enough ale and cider to fill the famous horse trough outside. Eventually, he was able to settle down by the fire with Nesta at his side and enjoy a whole duckling fried in lard, followed by bread and honeycomb. After he had told his mistress all the events of that eventful day, she snuggled up against him, the terrors of seeing him accused of a felony and facing execution gradually receding.
‘Would you have been in any danger if Matilda hadn’t spoken for you?’ she asked.
‘It would have been a damned sight more dangerous,’ he grunted. ‘I had only Gwyn’s pilgrimage to other supporters of the King to rely on – and they didn’t get here until this afternoon. I’d certainly have been convicted by that slippery charlatan in the castle. Whether they’d have got me to Magdalen Street by the end of the week is another matter.’ One of the roads out of the city to the east, Magdalen Street was where the gallows tree was planted.
The Welsh woman was quiet for a moment, trying to crush the image of her pinioned lover twitching at the end of a rope, as the oxcart tumbril was driven from under his feet. She shuddered, though she had seen it many times because the twice-weekly hangings were a source of public entertainment in every town.
He dipped his fingers in a bowl of water that Edwin had placed on the table and wiped the duck fat from them with a cloth. Then he slid a hand under the table and ran it up her thigh, feeling the warm flesh through her linen kirtle. She prodded him playfully with her elbow. ‘You’ve had quite a week for women, you old rake,’ she murmured. ‘First Hilda, damn you, then fair Rosamunde of Rye!’ She leaned nearer and whispered in his ear, ‘You didn’t do it, did you?’
His caressing hand gave her a hearty pinch. ‘No, madam, I did not! Though I’ll admit she’s a very bedworthy girl. But I like my women to be co-operative. I don’t think rape would be to my liking.’
An hour later, he gave her a demonstration of what he meant in her little room upstairs, from which they could hear the paying guests snoring and muttering on their straw pallets.
Chapter Fourteen
In which Crowner John congratulates his clerk
The message that Gabriel took to Henry de la Pomeroy was for an urgent meeting with Richard de Revelle at noon next day. The spot chosen was the ford across the river Teign near the village of Kingsteignton, about half-way between Exeter and Totnes. The sergeant was deliberately vague about the reason for the meeting, claiming that the sheriff told him nothing more. However, he let it drop that it concerned the coroner, whom he said had been convicted of rape and thrown back into gaol to await sentence. Pomeroy, with ill-grace, agreed to send a message to Henri de Nonant at Totnes and to Bernard Cheever early next morning and to bring them to Kingsteignton at the appointed time.
Although Gabriel had expected to escort them to the meeting, he was sent back to Exeter after being fed at daybreak – but he went no further than the ford over the river to await events. The river was narrow there, above the tidal reach, and trees came down almost to the banks on either side. An hour before noon, as far as he could judge from the grey, sunless sky, he heard a whistle from the eastern side and, on going into the woods, he found a large force of his own men arriving, together with his constable, the coroner and his officer, and the nobles that had assembled in Exeter the previous afternoon.
The sergeant confirmed that Pomeroy and his accomplices had taken the bait and immediately Ralph Morin began to set his ambush. A score of mounted men-at-arms were sent over the river to hide on each side of the track, having been ordered to keep well hidden in the trees. Others fanned out along both banks and again melted into the forest edge, together with all those from Exeter except Richard de Revelle and one escorting soldier, who sat on their horses in full view on the eastern edge of the Teign.
After an hour’s wait, a group of helmeted riders appeared on the opposite bank and stopped in the shadow of the trees. Four were obviously guards; the three others wore richly coloured cloaks over their tunics. They waved to the sheriff, who waved back, and both groups moved down the banks into the water of the ford.
There was a sudden blast of a horn and the pounding of hoofs as Morin’s soldiers raced down the track behind the new arrivals. A host of other armed riders appeared from between the trees and all converged on the visitors. They pulled their horses round in consternation, but found no way out as yet more troops appeared behind the sheriff, cutting off any escape across the river.
There was no fighting. The ambush force slowly closed in to a wide circle around the seven men, none of whom had even unsheathed his sword in the patently hopeless situation.
De Revelle splashed his horse across towards them with de Wolfe, Guy Ferrars and the others coming behind.
As the sheriff neared the ambushed riders, he stopped suddenly. ‘These are not the ones!’ he shouted. ‘We’ve been tricked!’