'You mean … desecrate our brother even further? Never, sir, this is something we will not countenance!' Ralph's voice was almost a shriek.
There was a babble of protest from the others, even the steward and the bailiff joining in, though Gwyn noticed that the reeve, Warin Fishacre, was silent. John stood stolidly until the noise settled, then he folded his arms and addressed them in a voice that invited no contradiction.
'This manor has deliberately flouted an instruction by the King's coroner and will be amerced in the sum of five marks, to be confirmed by the justices at the next eyre in Exeter. If you claim to be the current lord, Sir Ralph, then I hold you personally responsible, and am attaching you in a recognisance of another five marks to appear at that court to answer to the judges for your actions.'
Ralph stared at the coroner as if the latter had just descended from the moon. 'This is outrageous, sir! You cannot fine me and drag me to court like any common villein. I am a knight of the realm!'
'And so am I — but I abide by the law, which you do not' snapped de Wolfe. 'Furthermore, I will be holding an inquest in two hours' time, to inquire where, when and by what means your brother came to his death against the King's peace. For that, I require his body to be produced and I now command you, in the name of the King, to open that fresh grave and have the body brought to the building you use for your manor court. I trust that my previous instruction has been carried out — to get the men of the village there to act as a jury.'
Gwyn was standing just inside the door of the hall, with Thomas peering rather fearfully from under his arm. The big man grinned as he saw the mixture of astonishment and outrage on the faces of the Peverel brothers and their steward. The bailiff managed a deadpan expression and the reeve suddenly found that he need to rub a hand over his mouth to conceal his feelings.
Joel, the fresh-faced young man who had yet to learn that authority was not something to be trifled with, struck a pose and spoke with an attempted hauteur that Gwyn felt made him sound ridiculous.
'And what if we ignore your totally unreasonable demands, Coroner? May I remind you that we have friends in high places.'
John looked at the speaker as if he were some errant schoolboy before his pedagogue.
'Then your friends must include the Pope and the Almighty, for they are the only ones who are more powerful than King Richard and his justiciar!' he said sarcastically. 'If you obstruct me further, then I will have to go back to Exeter and return with men-at-arms in a posse comitatus dispatched by the sheriff … the real sheriff!' he added, with a scathing look at his brother-in-law, who had so far remained silent.
The eldest brother decided that conciliation was the only possible course.
'Sir John, much as this situation distresses all of us, I see that you are determined and therefore we cannot hold out against you,' said Odo. 'All I ask is that we now get this painful matter over as quickly as possible and with the least ill feeling.' He looked agitated, and his big face was flushed with emotion as he turned to the bailiff to give his orders. 'Walter, send that man who acts as sexton to find others and retrieve the coffin at once. Reeve, get yourself about the village and tell every man to be at the courthouse by mid-morning.' And then he collapsed to the floor unconscious, all his limbs twitching slightly for a moment until he lay deathly still.
No one seemed too concerned by Odo's spasms, though the smirk on Ralph's face suggested that this was another confirmation of his right to assume the lordship. The steward and two of the house servants picked up the eldest brother and laid him on one of the tables, the same two servants remaining alongside to ensure that he did not roll off when he recovered.
John, feeling slightly discomfited by the thought that he may have been the instrument of Odo's fit, was concerned for his well-being.
'How long will he be like this?' he asked Walter Hog.
'Usually only a few minutes,' replied the bailiff in a low voice. 'He'll wake up and then he always rubs his face with both hands. Then he'll stride up and down the chamber like a sleepwalker, before sitting down.
Then he'll slumber for an hour and wake up in his normal frame of mind. It's always the same, his behaviour is identical every time.'
Ralph came across from where he had been looking at his elder brother and told the bailiff to get about his business.
'Do what Sir Odo told you, Walter. We have to please the coroner, don't we!' he sneered.
Turning to de Wolfe, he jerked his head towards the still figure on the trestle. 'You want me to come to your court, Crowner? Then I'll probably get you to mine as a witness, if I need to contest my poor brother's claim to the manor. You've seen how he reacts to a crisis.
Can such a man be allowed to direct the lives of more than seven score people? I think not!' With that, he turned on his heel with a flourish and made for the staircase to the upper floor.
'You certainly know how to make enemies, John,' said a voice behind him. Turning, he found Richard de Revelle smiling sardonically at him. In token acknowledgement of the bereavement in the manor, he had left off his usual bright garments and wore a long tunic of black linen, but with ornate silver threadwork around the neck, hem and sleeves. Over this was a full cloak of dark grey serge, not unlike John's usual attire, giving him a funereal appearance.
'You had a hand in advising them to bury this body, against my express orders,' de Wolfe snapped.
'When the orders are foolish, unreasonable and unkind, then that is the right counsel to offer,' retorted the former sheriff.
'Always the glib answer, Richard. Why are you interfering in the affairs of this manor? There must be something in it for you, you never do anything for nothing.'
'I am a good neighbour, John! My land runs along the Peverel boundary to the north and west. It is only right that I try to help friends in their hour of need.'
'Huh! Who needs enemies when they can have friends like you, eh?'
Turning his back on his brother-in-law, de Wolfe marched to the door and, with a jerk of the head at his clerk and officer, made his way back to the church.
Determined that there would be no evasion or duplicity this time, John stood near the grave to make sure that his Orders were carried out. With Gwyn and Thomas at his side, he watched while Walter Hog supervised his men as they reopened the pit. Again a group of onlookers was gathered along the dry-stone wall around the churchyard, mostly wives and old men too infirm to work in the fields.
Two villeins were waist deep in the hole, throwing the rich red soil out with flat wooden shovels tipped with iron strips. As the earth had only been put in place the previous day, it was soft and light, so the work went ahead quickly and a large pile was soon heaped along each side.
'The box is not lap down, Crowner,' the bailiff reassured them. 'It's on top of his father's remains, put there not six months ago.'
'Not a very fancy memorial for two lords of the manorl' grunted Gwyn. Td have thought they'd have done better than this.'
'Most gentry are buried within the church itself, near the altar,' commented Thomas, automatically making the sign of the cross.
'That's the very point,' answered Walter. 'The old man, William, was planning to rebuild the church in stone to ensure that his immortal soul got a clear passage into heaven. This old wooden place has been here since Saxon times. But the Lord beat him to it, I'm afraid — and he's done the same to Hugo, who also claimed he was going to carry out his father's plan.'
'Then presumably the family will now build a new church and put William and Hugo under its floor?' asked Thomas hopefully.
The bailiff looked around and lowered his voice.
'Maybe, but I hear that money is short. Both Hugo and his father lost heavily in the tournaments these past couple of years — that's why Hugo was so incensed when that Frenchie beat him last week. According to what the steward tells me, there'll not be much money left for church-building, unless Sir Ralph can do better with lance and sword than his brother.'