Chapter Twenty-One
Exeter
Baldwin had persuaded the coroner to leave the castle for a while, and now the three men were at a quiet table in a tavern beside the east gate to the city. Edgar stood, his eyes flitting about all the others in the room, watching carefully for any sign of danger to his master — and keeping all those who might have wished to listen at bay. His was not a demeanour that would brook any argument about whether or not he had the right to prevent others from coming to a table.
Sir Peregrine was not a man whom Baldwin had ever liked. He felt sympathy for him, for he knew well that Sir Peregrine had loved three women, and all had died. Their deaths had marked him in some way. He had apparently grown more patient and sympathetic. But he was still the devoted ally of the men who had set their hearts against the king, and although Baldwin himself was growing impatient with Edward’s excesses, and his irrational devotion to the hideous, avaricious adviser Despenser, yet he was still the king and Baldwin owed him allegiance.
Despenser was the one point of mutual understanding, Baldwin now learned. Both detested him.
‘You are coroner still, then?’ he asked.
‘I fear that there is an ever-increasing need for such as me. The shire is growing yet more fractious,’ Sir Peregrine said.
‘In what way? At my home there are few signs.’
‘The first proof is the number of felons wandering in gangs. There was a time ten to twenty years ago when the trail bastons wandered with impunity. Now they have been superseded by this latest menace. There are as many wandering bands as there are malcontents with the king, or so it would seem now.’
Baldwin grunted noncommitally. ‘I do not wish to-’
Sir Peregrine interrupted him with a faint smile. ‘Sir Baldwin, I do not plot or scheme against the king. I have but one desire: to see the kingdom ruled more effectively and in the interests of the crown. I am no malcontent who would see Edward removed from his office. I have changed somewhat since our last discussion. However, it is plainly true that there are numbers of men who were once opposed to the king’s adviser, and who through him have been dispossessed of all their lands and titles. Many have seen their relations thrown into prisons, or have learned that their children have been deprived of their inheritances, their wives removed from their houses, or their lords accused of treason, executed barbarically, and their limbs hung on city walls up and down the land to feed the crows. There is a great deal of bitterness.’
‘I do not care about those who have been shown to be disloyal to the king,’ said Baldwin. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘Troubles in other parts of the realm are for others to worry about.’
‘This is not far from you, Sir Baldwin,’ Sir Peregrine countered. ‘In only the last few days I’ve had a group of nineteen slaughtered, and a matter of days later the local reeve slain while he tried to discover who was responsible.’
‘Where was this?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Over near Oakhampton. The men were slain in the woods a little north of the town, while the reeve was from Jacobstowe, and his body was discovered a short way east. That is what I mean, Sir Baldwin, when I say that the country is unsafe no matter where you travel.’
‘It is worse than only a short while ago.’
‘Yes. And now there are men of rank who are stealing and killing, men with influence, men with castles.’
Baldwin was silent as he considered. ‘This is sorely troubling,’ he said at last. ‘Simon’s daughter has disappeared, and the sheriff has arrested her husband, alleging that the fellow is guilty of some form of treason.’
‘Simon Puttock? I saw him with the king’s coroner from Lifton only two days ago.’
Baldwin looked up. ‘Where was he then?’
‘Just a little past Bow, on his way to Tavistock, I think. Why?’
‘I would like to have news taken to him about his daughter. Someone will have to go and seek him.’
‘Perhaps I can help with that,’ Sir Peregrine said. ‘I would be happy to send a man to find him and tell him.’
‘That would indeed be helpful. And then I have to try to ensure that the girl’s husband is released as well,’ Baldwin said.
‘I should speak with the lad’s father and tell him to keep an eye on his son to make sure he stays safe, then leave him to sort it out,’ Sir Peregrine said. ‘The girl is the one who must take up your efforts. Whether she is fallen from her horse or has been captured doesn’t matter. Either way, she must be found urgently. There are too many felons and outlaws who could seek to take her. I regret that I cannot assist you personally. I have some matters to work on in court. However, when I am free, I swear that I will do all in my power to see the boy released.’
‘I thank you for that. You are right, of course,’ Baldwin said. He felt as though it was a weight being lifted from his shoulders, hearing the clear-sighted Sir Peregrine voice his own feelings. ‘Edith must be found first.’
‘Good! God speed, then, Sir Baldwin.’
Baldwin nodded and gave Sir Peregrine his hand, both rising. Sir Peregrine promised to send one of his own servants to find Simon, and to send any other men he could find to aid Baldwin in the hunt for Edith, and then the two parted, Baldwin striding purposefully into the gathering dusk with Edgar along the high street.
‘Where are we going?’ Edgar asked.
‘We must speak with the husband’s father. This man has some authority in the city. Surely he must be able to do something for his son. He may not be able to get the lad released, but he can at least see to it that he gets some food.’
Jacobstowe
At the vill there were a couple of women chatting on a doorstep, and the coroner bellowed at them to fetch help.
One of the women looked at him with some alarm. The other looked as though she was about ready to run immediately for help in the form of men with billhooks, but the coroner stood and glared at them. ‘What is it, gossips? You more keen to discuss the doings of your husbands and daughters than help a neighbour? Come here, the pair of you, and tell us where we may install this poor woman. She’s your neighbour, in Christ’s name!’
‘What have you done with her?’ This was the woman in the doorway. She appeared reluctant to leave it while the coroner stood before her, and her sharp, weaselly face moved from Coroner Richard to Simon with deep suspicion.
Sir Richard stared at her. He was not yet over his initial shock at seeing this woman collapse before him, and the fact that it had been Simon who had realised what was happening, and not him, lent additional force to his voice. He took an immense breath, and then bellowed, ‘In the name of Christ, you stupid, malodorous bitch, since you haven’t the wits God gave you at birth, run and find a woman who has some! Fetch someone who knows what to do with a poor widow who’s fainted, and if you don’t do that in less time than it takes me to draw breath, I, Coroner Richard de Welles, will have you attached and amerced for your astonishing stupidity!’
She was already fleeing along the road towards the middle of the vill as he roared his last words, and as she ran there was a satisfying sound of doors being wrenched open, and even the clatter of a bowl being dropped and smashing.