Rodney too was thinking of the heat that a fire could give him as he rode into the little town of North Tawton. Frozen and miserable, he knew that he needed to sit in front of flames and thaw himself out. At the same time, his horse needed a dry place and fresh hay, a place to rest the night. The small hamlet was little more than a street with fifteen houses, one of which was an inn, and it was here that the knight reined in. There was a stable block at the back, reached by a low gateway, so he dismounted and led the mare in before walking through to the inn’s main room.
The next morning was chill and damp. A thick mist lay all around, with no breeze to disperse it, and the men all rose stiff and cold from their sleep.
Tanner had periodically thrown more branches on the fire and kept it going through the night, so they all huddled round it and tried to absorb a little of the heat. The constable walked up and down as they sat and crouched, hunched against the cold, and only when they all seemed fully awake did he gently shake Simon by the shoulder.
“Come on, sir. Let’s find these bastards!”
Simon woke slowly, and when he did he still seemed dazed, as if he was still half asleep, the shock of the previous day lying heavily on him as if the sleep had not relaxed him at all. Tanner brought him some cured meat where he sat and stood over him while he ate, like a guard protecting his lord. He would not let Simon get up until he had finished the food, which he did with a wry grin, and then led him over to the men.
“Right. The bailiff here found the body of the abbot in the woods yesterday-”
“Let me, Stephen,” interrupted Simon quietly. He faced the men and continued softly, talking slowly and carefully. “The abbot was taken hostage by two men and taken into the woods. His companions thought he was being taken for money, and they raised the alarm. But the men tied him to a tree and killed him – they killed him by burning him at the stake. We have to find the men who did it. While they’re free, all of us are in danger, because if they can do this to an abbot they can do it to anyone. Who’s the best hunter here?”
“That’d be John Black,” said one of the men and, following his gaze, Simon saw him, his short, wiry figure sitting close to the fire as he held his hands out to the flames. He did not even look up as Tanner continued.
“John? Do you think you can track a horse through the woods?”
“Yes,” said Black calmly.
Simon looked him over. The man exuded a quiet confidence and seemed certain of his ability.
“Alright. We’ll need someone to go over to Buckland as well to let the monks know what’s happened. Paul, could you do that?” said Tanner. Paul, old Cottey’s son, a slim youth of some sixteen years, nodded with evident relief, clearly glad not to have to follow the tracks. He had a fast horse and should be able to get to Buckland more quickly than any of the others.
They split up and caught their horses. Swiftly, now that dawn had broken, they all packed up and loaded their baggage on to their animals, then, when they were all ready, Simon motioned to Black and he led the way into the forest, pulling his horse gently by the reins. Simon went next and the others followed on behind.
Simon was surprised to find that the trees seemed to have lost their feeling of lowering malevolence in the fresh green light that filtered through the leaves. Perhaps it was the other men behind him, maybe it was the fact that he already knew what lay in the clearing, but, whatever the reason, he felt none of the trepidation of the previous evening, just the slow burning glow of his anger. The other men all seemed to be nervous, walking quietly and without speaking as they led their horses into the trees. They seemed aware that this was no ordinary murder, that until the killers were caught they would all be forced to live in fear. Perhaps they were aware that even when they were caught and had been punished, their lives could not be the same, because even when the murderers had been destroyed, their lives would still be marked permanently by the killers’ actions in these woods, as if the killing of the abbot had scarred each of them by its viciousness.
There was another factor as well, which Simon was only too well aware of. The abbot was a wealthy and important man, of noble blood – for no one else would be given the position of abbot. That meant that he, as bailiff, must catch his murderers, no matter what. Brewer’s death must wait, he was merely a villein and it was not even certain that he had been murdered, whereas this abbot… He twitched, as if he felt the responsibility as a physical burden, then sighed as he stumbled on. If he could catch the men responsible, it would enhance his position – but if he failed?
It took them over an hour to reach the first clearing. They all stood among the trees while Black scrutinised the ground all round, then studied the droppings. Shrugging, he rose from his crouch and followed Simon’s pointing finger to the clearing where the body stood. As he followed Black, Simon could feel his legs become heavier. It was almost as if he was unconsciously trying to keep himself away from the sight of the body, but he forced himself on, walking steadily behind the tracker.
As he came through the line of trees, Black stopped suddenly and Simon could hear his quick intake of breath as he took in the surroundings. Then, as if he had given himself a swift rebuke for allowing himself to be distracted, he concentrated on the ground again .
He looked over his shoulder at Simon, his brow furrowed with the effort of his hunt and his dark eyes troubled, and tossed the reins of his horse over to him before slowly walking over the ground and studying it intently. He paced around the small clearing, walking all round the perimeter until he came to the opposite edge, and stood there staring at the trees for a few minutes. Then he continued pacing the circumference until he arrived back with Simon.
“Not much to tell, sir,” he said, his brow still wrinkled with the effort of his search. “Three men came in the first clearing, all on horseback. One left his horse there. Other horses were tethered nearby. The dead man was dragged here and tied to the tree, you can see where his feet dragged on the ground. Then the others piled up brushwood round him and made a fire. Looks like they waited until the prisoner was dead, you can see where they sat down over there to watch.” He pointed. “When he was dead, they led their horses away through the trees at the other end of the clearing, over there. The last horse ran off at some point, obviously before the others left the place. They didn’t bother to chase it.”
“Can you follow the trail?”
“I reckon. One was a big horse, heavy. The tracks are quite deep and they’ve not been washed away or anything. Just one thing -I reckon he’s lost a nail on the back right hoof and it’s been some time since the horse was last shod. May be useful. The other horse was smaller, lighter.” He paused and glanced quickly back at the trees opposite. “We can’t go too fast in these woods. We’ll have to do the same as them, I reckon, and lead the horses from here. Maybe we can mount further on. I don’t know, never been in the woods this far west myself.”
Simon nodded and called to Tanner: “Get two men to cut the body down and take it back to Greenfield’s farm, give it to the monks there and wait for us to send a message.” Tanner immediately started to organise the men while Simon looked over at the monk, brother David. “Do you want to go back with them? I don’t think you can help us with the chase. It may be better for you to go back with them to the Greenfield farm and get some rest.” David nodded, staring at the body of his abbot, the shock and horror plain on his face. Simon sighed and nodded at the hunter. “Come on, then. Let’s get on and find these bastards.”