‘We won’t tell him, then. Let him think the man remains incarcerated. And if this information about Lynmouth turns out to be true, maybe he will soon have some better villains to hang!’
Early next morning, the billeted knights rose from their pallets around the embers of the fire in the hall and, after seeing to their men and beasts outside, came back to a breakfast served by de Grenville’s servants. De Wolfe related what he had learned from the solitary prisoner taken from Lundy, omitting to mention that the man had slipped away into the morning mists. ‘Now that we are here in the north, it seems obvious that we should see if there is any substance in this tale of pirates working out of Lynmouth,’ he suggested to the sheriff.
Richard de Revelle muttered about a wild-goose chase, but after the fiasco at Lundy, he was easily persuaded that it would save their faces if they achieved something elsewhere. ‘This need not concern you, Sir Roland,’ said the sheriff, to the leader of the Templars. ‘You have no stake in this matter. It concerns local crimes only. Maybe you would wish to travel straight back to Exeter today, and perhaps act as escort to the good Abbot here?’
The senior Templar looked at his two companions and they shook their heads. ‘Thank you, but we can go directly back to London via Taunton, which would take us near your possible nest of pirates. Having come this far, we would like to stay with you – and maybe our swords will be of some help if it comes to another fight like yesterday.’
The Italian priest, hunched at the table in his dark robe, also seemed keen to stay with the Exeter contingent. ‘I will be glad of the company and added protection of these Knights of Christ, as my destination is Winchester. Like them, there is no point in my returning the long way round through Exeter.’
Though their reasons seemed sound, de Wolfe felt instinctively that they still did not trust him to have lost track of Bernardus de Blanchefort, which was so obviously the raison d’être for both parties to be in Devon. He wondered if it was safe for him to keep his rendezvous with Thomas at the bridge in an hour’s time and decided to take precautions in case they set a spy on him.
When he had eaten, he wandered out into the bailey, saying that he wanted to check his horse’s legs before the day’s ride. Finding Gwyn, he went through the motions of examining Odin, whilst he gave his officer instructions. ‘When I go to meet Thomas, follow me at a distance and keep a strict look-out for anyone from our party. It would likely be one of the Templar squires or one of Cosimo’s brutes. Give me a signal if they appear and I’ll keep clear of our clerk and de Blanchefort.’
Soon afterwards, he wandered casually out of the castle gate and strolled up the riverbank to the marketplace, which was busy with early morning traders selling their goods to the folk of Bideford. He kept an eye on Gwyn, who loitered along the water’s edge, then made his way to the bridge. This was a long, rather spidery timber construction. As at Exeter, there were plans to replace it in stone, but nothing had yet been started. He saw two figures, one tall, one short, leaning on the wooden parapet where it abutted the bank. Checking that the distant Gwyn still seemed unconcerned, de Wolfe beckoned them down to the muddy grass on the further side of the abutment. Here they were out of sight of the marketplace and the castle, but he could still see Gwyn by looking under the bridge.
De Blanchefort, in his bulky mantle and large hat, looked anxiously at the coroner. ‘Have you managed to arrange anything yet? It seems impossible to get a passage from this place. They have only coastal vessels berthed here.’
De Wolfe explained the situation and said that they would have to move on to Lynmouth that day. ‘There may be a better chance of a ship straight across to Wales from there. The channel is narrow and several ports lie on the other side where there will certainly be vessels going on to Ireland. And you would be safer there whilst waiting than on this side of the channel where your presence is well known.’
‘And if there is no passage from this Lynmouth?’ persisted Bernardus.
‘Then you will have to make your way back here or to one of the southern ports.’
De Blanchefort still looked unhappy, yet he had no choice but to agree. De Wolfe studied him as Thomas asked about the practicalities of the onward journey. The former Templar looked drawn and haggard, compared with his appearance when he first arrived in Exeter. It seemed that the life of a fugitive was wearing him down and de Wolfe fervently hoped that he could board a ship out of Lynmouth – and out of his life. Bernardus stared under the worn timbers at the marketplace, bustling with people. The stage used for the miracle plays was still there and he pointed at it. ‘Perhaps I should abandon this craven desire to escape and get up there.’
De Wolfe’s eyes followed his finger. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I should mount that platform and tell the people the truth. My life is nothing, but for how long can I carry this burden of the secret? Let me stay and be done with it, Crowner!’
Thomas crossed himself and de Wolfe sighed. ‘We have been through all this before, de Blanchefort. What use would it be for you to speak for five minutes to a few dumb townsfolk, who would understand little and care even less? Before you could explain or impress even that poor audience, you would have half a dozen Templars and a mad abbot leading a troop of soldiers to seize you and silence you for ever. For God’s sake – if you still believe in Him – get yourself somewhere where you can plan in safety, whatever it is you feel obliged to do.’ He grasped the man’s arm and shook it. ‘You know better than I what would happen if either de Ver or Cosimo dragged you away to London or Paris. Is self-destruction what you desire?’
De Blanchefort seemed to sag like a pricked bladder. His hands came up to his face in an agony of indecision. De Wolfe looked at them and prayed that the palms would not end with jagged stabs like de Ridefort’s.
He heard Thomas speaking to him urgently and pulled his mind back to his clerk. ‘Where do we next meet, Crowner, and when?’
‘We leave the castle within the hour and should be at Lynmouth this evening. It is something approaching twenty-five miles distant. Follow well behind us and meet me at Lynton church at noon tomorrow.’
‘I know nothing of these places. How will I find the church?’
‘It’s in the village on the hill above the valley that shelters Lynmouth. But be alert for any signs of the others, though I hope by then all our business will be completed, one way or the other.’
With a last look at de Blanchefort, who was still staring fixedly at the marketplace, de Wolfe shrugged in exasperation and, after checking that the distant Gwyn was still making no warning signs, he climbed the riverbank and made his way back to Bideford Castle.
The party that left Bideford was now smaller, as the hospitable Richard de Grenville and his men remained behind. The sheriff’s expedition was four fewer than when they had left Exeter – two had been left dead on the beach at Lundy and two others, slightly wounded, would remain in Bideford until they were fit to travel home.
With the sheriff and Templars in the vanguard of the column, Cosimo and his silent minions in the centre and Ralph Morin, John and his officer bringing up the rear, they left Bideford by the long bridge and travelled across the well-beaten track to Barnstaple. They did not enter the town, but continued north-east through the wooded valleys then on to the higher, more bare ground sloping up to Exmoor. They passed the villages of Shirwell and Arlington, then crossed the moor to Parracombe, the smell of the sea reaching them as they turned north to Martinhoe. One of Gabriel’s men had been born in this area and was able to guide them as the settlements became sparse on the lonely stretches of heathland.