De Wolfe fumed at this, but he knew that they had the dispensation they claimed. Even his beloved monarch, Richard, was a staunch ally of the Templars and would hear nothing ill said against them. He said, more pacifically, ‘Surely, sirs, you would be concerned to aid in the unmasking of whatever villain killed one who, at least in the past, had an honourable record in your Order. I know, from my own experience of de Ridefort in Palestine, that he fought long and valiantly in the Crusade.’
Flushed with anger, Brian de Falaise slammed a big hand against his bench. ‘Both I and de Ver also fought in Outremer, as did you. Yet we stayed steadfast in our faith afterwards, not having the perverted blood of the de Rideforts in our veins!’
John stood his ground in the face of this trio of furious men. ‘I am a law officer in this county and I have a slain man to deal with. I must ask you, why are you in Exeter? And where were you all two days ago? I know you were absent from these lodgings.’ He expected a storm of abuse at this, but he was met with silence. Two of the Templars looked at their leader, de Ver.
The thin, almost haggard Knight of Christ addressed the coroner coldly. ‘We will not deign to answer your insulting questions, Crowner. You have no authority to question anything we do – nor even enquire as to our mission. I know that your superior law officer, Sheriff Richard, has more respect for the Templars and we will complain forthwith to him about your behaviour, so that he may forbid you to pester us again.’
Hunched like a great black crow, de Wolfe wagged a finger at the three knights. ‘The sheriff is by no means my superior. He has no authority to govern my investigations. I defer only to the king!’
De Ver waved a hand indifferently. ‘I care not, man. If it pleases you better, I will complain to the king about you when I return to France.’ His voice hardened to a sibilant hiss. ‘But you will no doubt allow that the authority of the Pope is paramount over any petty official such as yourself. Now, get yourself gone, Sir Crowner, and don’t bother us again. You are dabbling in great matters that you cannot conceive of.’
De Wolfe, insulted and exasperated, could not resist one last verbal thrust as he moved to the open door. ‘Perhaps one of these great matters concerned the “awful secret” of which Gilbert de Ridefort spoke to me.’
That brought them all to their feet and the pugnacious de Falaise felt impotently for the hilt of his sword, only to find that he had left it in his cell whilst they were taking their ease in the common room.
‘What do you know of that? What did de Ridefort tell you?’ It was de Ver who snapped out the question.
The coroner stepped out into the grey daylight. ‘Like you, gentlemen, I do not answer questions. I am a law officer and I only ask them.’
‘Have a care, John de Wolfe,’ snarled Godfrey Capra. ‘You are an insignificant servant in a godforsaken part of a remote island. But the long arm of Rome can reach anywhere and squash you like a beetle.’
De Wolfe ignored his threat and left one last message with them as he left. ‘If you have any sympathy or respect for the passing of one of your number, he is to buried in the cathedral Close tomorrow morning.’ Then, fuming internally but keeping a stony outward appearance, he walked back to the archway of the priory to join Gwyn and out into the lane beyond.
Chapter Ten
In which Crowner John is furious
It was now late afternoon, and on leaving the Priory of St Nicholas, de Wolfe thought it politic to tell the sheriff of the murder of a Norman knight in his territory – and to discover his attitude to these arrogant Templars. At the gatehouse of Rougemont, he sent Gwyn up to their chamber to tell Thomas de Peyne to get himself down to St James’s Priory on the river to see if he could discover anything new about the movements of Abbot Cosimo and his sinister henchmen, especially their whereabouts during the past two days.
Then he went on to the keep and marched in on his brother-in-law, who was deep in discussion with two of his tax-collectors. The sheriff had soon to make his twice-yearly journey to Winchester for his accounting of the taxes raised in Devon during the past six months. This ‘farm’, as it was called, was a sum fixed in advance by the king’s exchequer and if a sheriff could screw more out of the population he could keep the balance for himself. This explained why the office of sheriff was greatly coveted and competed for. In Richard’s reign, a ‘shrievalty’ – the post of sheriff – was sold by the king for a huge sum, most of the purchasers being barons and even bishops. Some even managed to become sheriffs of three counties simultaneously.
De Wolfe waited impatiently while de Revelle harangued the taxmen from Tavistock and Totnes for being late with their collections, threatening them with dire penalties if they did not come up with the loot by the end of the month. Eventually, the chastened men escaped and John left his seat in the window embrasure to hover over his brother-in-law as he sat at his parchment-cluttered table.
‘We have a murdered Norman knight to deal with, Sheriff,’ he began, and was gratified to see that those words ensured the other man’s immediate attention.
As de Revelle presumably knew nothing of Gilbert de Ridefort’s presence in his county, he had to explain the whole story from start to finish, and by the end, the sheriff had become quite agitated. Rising from his chair, he paced up and down before his fireplace. ‘A Templar heretic! What next, by God’s bones? And what was this secret he claimed to possess?’
The coroner shrugged. ‘I don’t know – and I don’t care. It died with him, presumably, so it’s quite safe. But, as the chief law officers in this county, we are keepers of the king’s peace, so our task is to discover the culprit. It was a foul killing, an ambush, a blow on the head and then a ritual stabbing.’
The sheriff was not concerned with the details or the need to make an arrest. He was more worried about his standing with certain parties of great influence. ‘You say there is a papal nuncio in the city, and three senior Templars?’
De Wolfe looked at him with contempt. ‘Come on, Richard, don’t act the innocent with me. You know damned well they are here – you went to a meeting with the bishop a few days ago to meet this Cosimo of Modena. And I don’t believe that the spies you have planted all over the city and county would not have told you of the arrival of three Knights of Christ, even if they had failed to tell you themselves, which now seems unlikely.’
The sheriff stopped his pacing and looked out of the window slit. ‘I had heard something about them, yes,’ he admitted shiftily.
‘So what are they doing here? For I know why Cosimo is here! He has a writ from the Vatican to seek out heretics.’
De Revelle ignored this last, but seized upon the matter of the Templars to upbraid John. ‘Those three important knights are in the county to purchase properties for their Order,’ he snapped. ‘They have the Chancellor’s blessing to treat with any baron – or the bishop – for the purchase of profitable lands from any honour that wishes to sell.’ He marched back to his folding chair and dropped into it. ‘They already have estates at Templeton, near my own manor at Tiverton, but desire something further west, perhaps near Torbay or Plympton. Again, my other manor at Revelstoke lies in that direction and I might be able to help them find land nearby.’
‘That’s what they told you, was it? Strange that they should arrive just as one of their renegade members, pursued by an emissary of the Pope, is found slain in the county!’
De Revelle glared at his sister’s husband, regretting for the thousandth time that she had ever married this persistent meddler who was wrecking his comfortable life. ‘They are here to reconnoitre for new Templar lands, I tell you! You are well aware of the great wealth they possess, and they need to invest it in the land, to the benefit of all of us.’