The French knight took a sip of his drink and tried not to wince, then set his mug down on the trestle table and looked sternly at the coroner.
'Forgive my intrusion, but I felt that you were the best person with whom to discuss certain matters.'
Though his Norman French was John's own language, the inflexions betrayed his Continental origins, as he came from the Champagne country east of Paris and technically was an enemy, a subject of the French king, Philip Augustus.
Reginald's long face was finely featured and his whole appearance spoke of an aristocratic, rather cold personality. He stared gravely at the coroner as he sat stiffly erect on his stool.
'I rode from Tiverton to Bridport yesterday, intending to take ship to Barfleur,' he began. Bridport was in the next county, about twenty miles away in Dorset, and had considerable sea traffic with Barfleur, near Cherbourg on the Normandy coast. It was infamous for being the port from where many years ago the tragic White Ship had sailed, the sinking of which led to the death of the first King Henry's son and so to the long civil war between Stephen and the Empress Matilda. John failed to see what this had to do with him and waited patiently for de Charterai to elaborate.
'Owing to contrary winds, no vessel had arrived and I was recommended to try Topsham.'
John nodded and tried to look as if he understood where this was leading.
'I am attending a tournament in Fougéres and will not return from Normandy for some weeks, for a grand mélée at the battleground near Salisbury. I thought that as this Topsham is very near Exeter, I would call upon you and unburden some concerns that I have borne for a considerable time.'
John began to wonder whether the French nobleman had been taking lessons in long-windedness from Gwyn of Polruan.
'Are these concerns a matter for a coroner?' he asked politely.
Reginald inclined his head. 'They may well be — and that is why I seek your advice, as I consider you to be another man of honour, a rare thing these days.'
John cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment at an unexpected compliment, as de Charterai continued.
'You may know that I have a considerable respect indeed affection — for Avelina, the widow of the late William, lord of Sampford Peverel. Both something that she has imparted to me and also knowledge which I myself possess make me most concerned about the manner of her husband's death.'
At last he was getting to the point of his visit, thought John, who sat up at this hint of a suspicious death.
'Tell me what doubts you have, sir,' he prompted.
'I was there at the tourney field in Wilton last spring when Sir William died — in fact, I was the opponent he struck just before he died. He unhorsed me, but fell from his mount himself a moment later and was killed. In some ways, I might be looked upon as a factor in his death, for the force of his lance's impact upon my shield broke his saddle girth and he fell to the ground.' De Wolfe's dark eyes held the other's blue orbs in a direct stare.
'So why do you have concerns? Your conscience must surely be clear at being a factor in his death. That is what tourneys are all about — striking at each other!'
De Charterai shook his head emphatically.
'No, no, there was much else to consider! William Peverel fell from his horse just as I did — a common occurrence in jousts, as you well know from your own experience. We all learn to accept it, unless we are unlucky enough to break our necks. But he was killed by being trampled by another horse — one ridden by his son, Hugo Peverel.'
The coroner nodded. 'I had heard something to that effect. But surely you are not claiming that this was deliberate… how could Hugo foresee that his father would fall in front of him?'
Reginald rapped the edge of the table with his long lingers, the first time he had been anything other than impassive.
'Because he may have foreseen it, Sir John! As soon as I saw my opponent beneath the hoofs of another destrier, I picked myself up and ran forward to offer assistance, as did several others. I grabbed the reins of his stallion, which was prancing about and threatening to run wild. It was then I saw that the saddle was almost off its back, as the girth under its belly was hanging free.'
De Wolfe wondered where this was leading. 'This is also common knowledge,' he said doubtfully. 'Though rare, a broken girth is well known to occur from time to time.'
The French knight shook his head. 'This one was not broken. As I held the horse once it had steadied, I looked at the leather strap where it hung loose, instead of passing around the stem of the buckle. The treble rows of stitching that secured it had all almost been cut through, so that its strength was but a fraction of what was required.'
John's black eyebrows lifted. 'That is a serious accusation! How could you be sure?'
'I spend my life with horses and their harness, Crowner. I know that no stitching could be so sharply snipped in such a regular fashion as that, from wear and tear. It had been deliberately tampered with.'
De Wolfe pondered for a moment. 'Did you draw the attention of anyone to this?'
Reginald shook his head. 'All was confusion at that time. Peverel's squire came running to take the horse, as well as some grooms and officials from the tourney.
I left the beast with them and went to see if I could aid the fallen man, but it was obvious that he was dying as his chest and skull had been crushed by the hoofs of his son's horse.'
He sighed, as if once again replaying the drama his mind.
'When I went back to the recet to take a closer at the damaged harness, it had vanished, though stallion was there in charge of some of the retainers. I had no proof nor even any further chance of confirming what I had seen.'
'You said you have some other evidence which you concern?' prompted the coroner.
'Lady Avelina, she had firm ideas as to what happened,' continued De Charteral. Though, like me, she has no proof, she is convinced that Hugo plotted his father's death. The sabotaged girth and the fact that Hugo conveniently managed to run his fallen father down with his own horse seem strong evidence that this was no accident.'
'But why should Hugo Peverel wish to commit the awful sin of patricide?' demanded John.
'He was in dire need of money, having lost a deal at the tournaments the previous year, both in forfeiture of horse and arms and injudicious wagers on other fighters. Avelina and I are convinced that he wished to displace his father from the lordship and claim the manor for himself, as a means to clearing his substantial debts."
'But his elder brother was next in succession, so how could he have gained?' objected de Wolfe.
The lean Frenchman fixed him with a sardonic stare.
'You well know what happened next! Hugo took his brother to law and had him displaced on the grounds of incapacity, due to his falling sickness. This must have been planned in advance — his stepmother is utterly convinced that her husband was murdered by his son.'
De Wolfe grunted. 'Well, he has paid for his sins now — stabbed in the back!'
'But by whom?' demanded de Charterai. 'Has recent history repeated itself? Who is now contesting the lordship of the Peverel' estates?'
John nodded slowly. 'That had occurred to me, sir. But there are a number of candidates for the dispatch of Hugo, apart from his brother Ralph.'
'And what do you intend to do about it, Crowner?' demanded Reginald. 'Both father and son slain and no one brought to account.'
De Wolfe slowly shook his head. 'As to the father, I have no jurisdiction whatsoever. This occurred in Wiltshire and is the business of its sheriff and coroner.
Did you not think to report it to them at the time?'
Reginald de Charterai's austere features took on an almost contemptuous look. 'What, with no proof? The harness vanished immediately — a suspicious thing in itself. And I would remind you that I am a Frenchman, not overly loved by many on this side of the Channel, especially as my relationship with the Peverels was not too cordial at previous tournaments. Then that disgraceful affair here in Exeter would make any accusation of mine appear spiteful mischief-making. It was only when I recognised you as a man of integrity that I decided to speak out privately to you.'