‘Where is my wine?’ he roared at the top of his voice. ‘If that lazy, mother-swyving son of a whore and a churl doesn’t bring my wine soon, I’ll have him hanged from the tower!’
The steward was already hurrying to bring a big pewter jug and a mazer, and Sir Robert watched him unblinking until the jug and mazer were in front of him. Only then did he slam his fist into the man’s belly hard enough to make him retch and collapse to the floor.
‘In future, I want it here when I get up,’ he said. He pushed the man away with his booted foot, looking around at the men in the hall. None appeared to take any notice as the steward crawled to the wall, sobbing silently, and Sir Robert took a long draught of wine.
The only man who looked shocked was the messenger.
Yes, Sir Robert told himself. He would have to remove that horse’s arse before he could report to the king. He was a threat. ‘Os? Go and find my son. I would speak with him and you. Alone.’
Road outside Bow
Simon had swallowed a hunk of bread and some dried meats while he watched the jury. There was not much that could be said, in fairness. The man was dead, killed from the stab to the throat. However, some members were talking of the fact that he had been on his way to the market, and many wanted to know what had happened to his goods. A robbery was always alarming in a small community, because if a robber dared attack one man, he would as likely attack another, and that meant no one was safe.
‘I find he was murdered, a dagger used to stab him, and I estimate the value of the dagger was a shilling,’ the coroner declared. He ran through the other details, and as he was finishing, glanced with an air of suspicion down at the clerk busily scribbling, for he never entirely trusted scribes to put down on paper what he had told them to.
Simon listened with half an ear while he chewed some more meat, but then he looked around at the sound of hoofs trotting. ‘Dear heaven,’ he muttered. Then, louder, ‘Sir Richard! I think you have a visitor.’
‘Eh? What do you mean?’ the coroner thundered, peering past Simon at the newcomer. ‘Who’s that?’
‘It’s the coroner for the area,’ Simon explained. ‘Do you know Sir Peregrine de Barnstaple?’
‘Hell’s teeth! Sir Peregrine? Of course I know him,’ the coroner roared, shouting, ‘Sir Peregrine! God speed to you!’
Sir Peregrine was soon with them. Simon thought he looked drawn and pale, but then he supposed that Sir Peregrine would think the same, looking at him.
‘God speed, Sir Richard. Bailiff Puttock, I am glad to see you again,’ Sir Peregrine said.
‘And I am glad to see you too,’ Simon replied.
‘Is Sir Baldwin with you?’
‘No, he is at his home, I think,’ Simon said. He held out a little of the remaining bread and meat, jerking his head towards a skin of wine. ‘Will you break your journey with us?’
Sir Peregrine accepted happily. Soon he was sitting at the side of the road on an old fallen trunk, chewing. Nodding at the corpse as the men of the jury bundled it up and began to lift it to the sumpter horse brought for the purpose, he said, ‘So you haven’t enough murders of your own, eh, Sir Richard? You have decided to come here and look into mine as well?’
‘I wouldn’t, my dear Sir Peregrine, but we were passing by here, and I could hardly just leave the body lying,’ Sir Richard said. ‘The fellows here had sent a man to fetch you, but I sought to save you the journey.’
Sir Peregrine nodded and asked who the victim was. When he had glanced through the clerk’s notes, he looked up at Simon. ‘There seem to be so many murders just lately. I am returning to Exeter from Jacobstowe and another death even now. You know, I thought four years ago that the country was in a state of confusion and turmoil, but that was nothing compared to the present.’
‘There are so many who were dispossessed after the battle,’ Simon said.
‘Boroughbridge saw the end of much that was good and stable,’ Sir Peregrine agreed. ‘So many families with the head of the house killed. So many arrested and executed, so many heirs who lost all …’
‘Aye, and too many who forgot their vows,’ Simon was forced to mention. He hated Sir Hugh le Despenser with a passion, but that could not blind him to the fact that the king was devoted to him. And those who opposed Despenser at Boroughbridge were forced to choose to rebel against their lawful anointed king as well.
‘No excuse,’ Sir Richard said uncompromisingly. ‘Can’t have just anyone runnin’ round the place killing and taking whatever they want. That’s no way to run a country. No, we have our duties — as do the sheriffs and keepers of the king’s peace and so on.’
‘Have you experience of our new sheriff?’ Sir Peregrine enquired mildly.
‘No. Who is he?’
‘A repellent worm called Sir James de Cockington. Nasty little man. He came into office only a very short while ago, at the beginning of the month, and I think he’s one of Despenser’s men.’
Sir Richard did not know Sir Peregrine well. As a fellow knight, Sir Peregrine was familiar to him, but no more than that. The coroner was surprised to hear such a frank opinion. ‘You say so, sir?’
‘I do. The man would sell his mother for a farthing, and probably complain at the meanness of the sale,’ Sir Peregrine said drily. ‘In my years, I have known many sheriffs — some honourable men, some corrupt — and yet I find it hard to do justice to this fool and knave. The English language lacks sufficient emphasis for my contempt.’
Simon was grinning. ‘What form does this man’s dishonourable conduct take?’
Sir Peregrine looked over at him pensively. Simon had expected a light-hearted response, and thought that the coroner was merely thinking of a sarcastic word or two, but then Sir Peregrine looked up at the sky overhead.
‘Simon, I can only think of one recent incident. It is indicative, I think, and instructive, too. A man’s daughter was captured by a youth, who made play with her. You know my meaning, I am sure. The poor child was distraught at her treatment, and almost lost her mind. Now we three are all men of the law, but men of the world as well. We have all seen accusations of rape, and we all know, I am sure, that many are conceived as cheaper methods of ensnaring a fellow into wedlock. I do not dispute that sometimes there are less amiable motives behind such acts, but we all know these things happen. Once the girl has been ravished, she will have no other husband, whether she wishes it or no. Well, in this case, the sheriff listened to the pleas in his court, and decided that there was no case to answer. The boy’s father had paid for his decision, and it was, if there was genuine offence given, that the girl must marry the boy.’
‘It is one resolution, as you say,’ Sir Richard said, lifting a wineskin and draining it. ‘Usually has the desired effect. Child has a father, mother a husband. Good solution to the embarrassment.’
‘Less good when the girl’s family has already been told that their daughter will be given to the boy’s servants to do with as they will if she demands marriage of him. Not that there was any need. The lad was at no risk. He had done too good a job of terrifying the poor child already. She dared not ask for his hand.’
‘So what happened?’ Simon asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer.
‘The boy got off scot free, naturally. His father bit his thumb at the girl’s father in open court. I saw him. Her father tried to leap at him, but some fellows about him held him back, and the family watched as their persecutors walked free. And then she was open to punishment for making a false accusation. She knew that she would either be punished herself, or exposed to ridicule by the man who had already raped her. She pulled out a knife, shrieked that the man was guilty, and stabbed herself in the breast.’ He looked at Sir Richard. ‘You’ve seen such things, I am sure. She died instantly.’