'Back to Sampford early tomorrow to hold this inquest and see Hugo laid in the ground. I doubt we'll learn anything new, unless some of the villagers decide to voice their grievances.'
'Little chance of that — they still have to live under their new lord after we've left,' grunted his officer.
'Who's it going to be? I wonder.'
John rasped his fingers over his stubble. 'It sounded to me as if Odo was going to reopen his fight to inherit, though Ralph seemed confident that the justices would find for him against Odo, just as they did for Hugo.'
Will that take a long time to settle?' asked Nesta.
'They were quick enough last time. I think they took the case straight to Winchester and got some members of the curia to deal with the matter. It doesn't do for a large manor like Sampford to be left in limbo for long.'
'God knows when the justices will come to Exeter next,' said Gwyn. 'If the Peverels want another quick decision, they had better go chasing the Chief Justiciar or the Chancellor again.'
John stretched his long legs out under the table, feeling the warmth of Brutus's brown fur against his calves.
'That's their problem, I'm glad to say. Though if I find that it was one of the brothers who dispatched Hugo to get his inheritance, then there'll be yet another dispute over who gets that unhappy manor.'
The next morning was unexpectedly fine and the high road leading north-east out of the city was in as good a state as it ever would be, the mud dried yet not powdered into dust. Thomas and the coroner left by the East Gate as soon it was opened at dawn and met Gwyn at St Sidwells, the nearby village where he lived.
A couple of hours later they were trotting down the road into Sampford, this time from the Tiverton direction, and soon passed Agnes's mean cottage, which marked the start of the village. Apart from a few women and children around the dwellings and some old men tending their tofts and animals; there seemed few people about, though in the distance an ox team was ploughing one of the strip fields.
'I trust that bailiff has assembled a jury as I ordered,' muttered John. 'But these damned brothers seem to delight in being obstructive.'
'You said you'll hold the inquest in that barn they use for a manor court?' asked Gwyn.
'It seemed the best place, especially if there was to be rain. Knowing them, they'll not yet have brought the corpse from the church, so let's ride there first to see what's going on.'
They trotted along the track, which followed the ridge past the manor house and the green to the church at the far end. Outside the gate, they dismounted and Thomas held the horses while Gwyn and his master went into the churchyard. Halfway down the path to the porch Gwyn stopped and pointed to a spot a few yards to one side.
'That wasn't there on Monday. Have they had another death already?'
De Wolfe looked across and saw a mound of fresh red earth. His face darkened as suspicion flowed into his mind like a spring tide.
'The bastards wouldn't dare!' he hissed and, lengthening his stride, he hurried into the little church. Inside the door he stopped and looked down towards the altar. There was nothing there — no bier, no body.
'Perhaps they've taken it to the barn ready for the inquest,' growled Gwyn, peering over John's shoulder.
'I very much hope so, or there'll be big trouble!' rasped the coroner, but his hopes were short lived. The rotund figure of the priest emerged from the tiny sacristy, an anxious expression on his podgy features.
'Where's the corpse?' roared John, careless of the hallowed surroundings.
Father Patrick shuffled forward in his faded cassock, his hands held out in supplication.
'I told them it shouldn't be done, after what you ordered, Crowner,' he babbled in his thick Irish brogue. 'But they insisted and I have no power to resist my lords, sir. My very living is within their gift.' De Wolfe advanced until he was towering over the unfortunate priest.
'You mean he's already buried? That grave outside?' he bellowed.
The vicar nodded, cowering back from this irate knight, who looked as if he might unsheathe his sword, church or no church.
'Yesterday, Crowner. You see, his corpse was beginning to turn colour and my masters, especially Sir Ralph and Sir Joel, said it wasn't seemly.'
'Seemly! The law is the law, whether it's seemly or not!' thundered John.
Father Patrick nodded vigorously. 'Of course, Crowner! But then our neighbour, Sir Richard de Revelle, came across and recommended that we have a quick burial. As he was the sheriff until recently, we all assumed he knew that the law allowed it under those circumstances.'
De Wolfe looked at Gwyn and exhaled noisily.
'Bloody de Revelle! I might have known it.' Ignoring the disconsolate priest, he turned on his heel, strode out of the church and, with an angry glance at the pile of fresh soil, went to his horse and cantered back towards the manor house, Gwyn and Thomas following behind. On striding into the hall, he found the three brothers sitting around a table with Richard de Revelle, all drinking ale and picking from a platter of savoury pastries. Standing near by were the steward, the bailiff and the reeve, looking decidedly anxious as they saw the King's coroner bursting in like an avenging angel — or perhaps devil was nearer the mark. He marched up to the table and stood aggressively with his legs apart and his fists bunched at his waist.
'Right, which of you ordered the corpse to be buried?' he snapped, without any niceties of greeting.
'Good morning, brother-in-law!' said de Revelle, with sarcastic false civility.
'You keep out of this, de Revelle. I'll come back to you in a moment.' He glared at the three Peverels until one of them stood up. It was Ralph, and it seemed that on this occasion Odo was content to let his brother assume seniority.
'It was a family decision, Sir John. We were of the opinion that your demand to leave our relative unburied for so long was utterly unreasonable.'
'You will abide by the law, sir. I expressly forbade you to dispose of the cadaver until today.'
Ralph, though more than a decade younger than John, tried to look as if he were a master chiding a servant.
'Your opinion was considered and rejected. The weather has become unseasonably warm and it was an insult to our brother's memory to allow some petty rule to worsen the anguish already suffered by this family.' Odo thought better of his passive role and joined the argument.
'You had already examined the body yourself, Sir John — so what can be gained by leaving it above ground for two more days?'
'Because the law demands that it be before the jury at the inquest!' retorted de Wolfe. 'They have to see the corpse and confirm the wounds and cause of death with their own eyes, otherwise the proceedings are invalid.'
'Damned nonsense,' drawled the former sheriff. 'We did without coroners until last year. This country is becoming plagued by bureaucracy since Hubert Walter started playing at being king.'
'Have a care, de Revelle!' responded John in a dangerously restrained voice. 'What you say comes near sedition, as the Chief Justiciar was expressly appointed by King Richard to protect his interests in England. Though we all know that sailing near the political wind is something with which you are all too familiar!' The coroner knew that, whatever their other faults, there was no suspicion that the Peverels were anything but faithful to the Crown, and that they were not tainted by any support for the Count of Mortain. He had added this pointed comment deliberately, to warn the brothers against becoming too close to such an untrustworthy figure as Richard de Revelle.
'That body must come up again — and right away!' he snapped, returning to the main issue.
Everyone in the hall stared at him — even the serving men and maids lurking around the screens at the back were hanging on every word.