Then, as a vague fear of him started to make itself felt, as she began to think about going and leaving the procession to carry on its way, he glanced at her and winked. It was so unexpected that she felt her mouth fall open, and she gaped at him, so obviously astounded that he almost bellowed with laughter, appearing to stop himself with an effort, but then, as he continued on his way, he winked again and the grin stayed on his face, she was sure, until he had quite passed out of sight.
This stern but gentle knight struck her in the same way. His was a similar dark and almost forbidding visage, but today, in his welcome, there was the same preparedness to give himself over to humour and enjoyment that she had noticed about the leader of the pilgrims so many years before. She could see the lines of pain that Simon had described, but they seemed not so pronounced as she had expected from what her husband had said.
She smiled again, graciously accepting the knight’s look of frank approval and Simon was pleased to see that his wife was obviously as taken with Baldwin as he was.
“My lady, your husband does you no credit when he describes you. Let’s leave him here and go in ourselves.” And so saying he took her by the arm and led the way into the house, roaring for his servants to come and take care of their horses.
They all went in, Hugh following with an expression of frowning distrust, to the main hall, where they found the table almost hidden by plates of food. The mastiff wandered over to lie hopefully in front of the fire. It was not quite dark yet, and the room was lit by the sun streaming in through the westernmost windows and the fire, which was surrounded by a wide range of pots. A small lamb was roasting in front on a spit, tended by his sullen and watchful servant Edgar. Before they sat, Baldwin poured them all mugs of mulled ale and insisted on drinking a toast to their new life in Lydford. Even Hugh slowly began to unbend a little in the face of the enthusiastic hospitality of their host.
“It would seem that you are settling in well in your new home, Baldwin,” said Simon at last when they were all seated.
Baldwin waved at the food, then patted his dog on the head as she sat beside him, smiling at her briefly. “Yes, it’s marvellous to be back, and it does already feel like home.”
“Even after travelling so much?”
“Oh, I’ve seen many other countries and I’ve stayed in a number, but there’s nowhere like the place you were born in, and for me the best country to live in is this.”
“So where have you been, sir?” asked Margaret, “and what have you done?”
“I have been all over the known world, lady. I have been through France, Spain, and even to Rome. But you must remember, I have been travelling for many years. I left my home here over twenty-five years ago, and I have been travelling ever since.”
“You must have seen many strange sights.”
“Oh yes, but nothing as strange as some of the sights you see here in Devonshire. There is little quite as unique as the moors – all through my travels I have been surprised by that. Dartmoor really is astonishing. It has so many different parts – the moors themselves, the forests, the farm land, the quicksands. I went for a ride yesterday and went down through to Moretonhampstead. I had forgotten how beautiful the land is down there.”
Simon leaned forward slightly. “But surely in some of the countries you have visited there were more magnificent sights?” he asked innocently, trying to get the knight to speak more about his journeying.
“Oh, I suppose to many there were, but, for me, to be able to stand on the hills above Drewsteignton and look out over the moors with the wind in my hair is worth any number of foreign sights. Margaret, would you like a little more lamb? Or perhaps some rabbit?”
The bailiff sighed inwardly. It was clear that the knight was still keen to avoid any further discussion of his travels, and that he would be happier if he could change the subject.
“So have you heard about the murder, Baldwin?” Margaret said when she had taken more food. Simon looked up quickly.
“Yes, of course. I was there at Blackway with Simon to-”
“But what of the killing of the abbot.”
“Abbot?” asked the knight, looking at Simon questioningly. “Oh, that was why you weren’t around, of course, you sent me a message.”
“Simon is in charge of the hunt for the men. They took an abbot hostage from the road, he was travelling down to Buckland Abbey with some monks, and they burned him at the stake only a few miles from Copplestone.”
“Really? Well, no doubt Simon will catch the men responsible,” said Baldwin, turning an expressionless face to the bailiff. Simon was sure he could see a glitter in his eyes for a moment, but then it passed and the knight seemed uninterested. In an obvious attempt at changing the subject he passed a roasted rabbit to the bailiff and said, “So have you any more about the death of Brewer?”
“Yes, I went and spoke to the warrener.” Simon sighed; he did not really want to get involved in discussions about the deaths tonight – just for the evening it would be pleasant to be able to relax. “He reckons he saw someone on the night that Brewer died, in the woods over on the other side of the road from his house, but he couldn’t say who it was or when he saw him. Oh, and I went to see Ulton’s woman. She says he left her early that night, so it seems he could have been back at Brewer’s in time.”
Baldwin fidgeted, his mouth a thin line, his brows puckered tight as he thought. “Why would Ulton have used her as an excuse for not being there if he knew she would not support him? Does that mean he thought she would lie to protect him?”
“Surely,” said Margaret, elegantly dismembering a chicken and sucking her fingers, “surely he would have made sure of her support?” She glanced at the knight.
“Yes. He would, if he had realised that he was going to kill Brewer that night. If he was going to kill the man, he would have made sure his woman would agree to protect him, wouldn’t he. What did you think about this Cenred, Simon?”
Swallowing a hunk of meat, the bailiff wiped the grease from his mouth, his knife in his hand. “I thought he seemed honest. He didn’t seem to have any secrets, he even admitted that he saw a figure – but did nothing because he was scared.”
“Scared?”
“You know, the stories. Old Crockern.”
“Oh. Yes, I see. So we’re left with this Ulton, anyway. I’ll have to think about that. Why do you think he-”
“Baldwin,” said Simon patiently, “I’m going to have my work cut out dealing with the death of the abbot. I don’t have time to worry about a fanner like Brewer.”
“But if he was murdered, his killer should be sought,” said Baldwin with a small frown. “He may not have been high born, but he still deserves to be avenged.”
“Yes, but I am an officer. I must find the killers of the abbot before anything else. The abbot’s murderers must take priority.”
“I see. Yes, of course,” said Baldwin, then airily waved his knife. “Anyway, for now let’s forget all about death and murder. Margaret, may I interest you in some lamb?”
Simon felt vaguely pleased; he did not want to have the evening spoiled by talking about the murder. He had no desire to discuss the hunt for the killer, he wanted to enjoy himself, not bring the miserable death of the abbot into the room, and he was relieved that the knight expressed no more interest in the murder.