‘But you think that a future abbot should not indulge his whimsy by consulting a man like Langatre?’
Simon set his jaw, but he was no hypocrite. ‘I do not suppose to understand the use of a man like him.’
Busse’s brows rose. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A necromancer. A man who …’ Simon’s hand lifted, and he wriggled his fingers as he sought for the correct word. ‘Whoconjures demons to do his bidding. I’ll have nothing to do with such things, and I don’t understand why anyone else would. I fear such things too much to …’
‘Simon … oh, Bailif! Do you think I would ask him to produce a black demon to go to Tavistock and carry away my brotherde Courtenay?’ Busse suddenly chuckled aloud. ‘Oh, Bailiff — would that it were that easy! No, all Langatre can do is foretella little of the future. Not that accurately, I dare say, but he is a useful man to speak to. It seems to clear any confusion. And I had much before I made this journey. I wanted to think more deeply about whether I wanted to be the abbot. I was notsure. In my humility, I wondered whether de Courtenay might not be a better man for the job than me. And that made me fear.’
‘And Langatre put your mind at rest?’
Busse nodded, his eyes shining in the firelight. ‘He pointed out to me that a man who was anxious about the awesome responsibilitiesof power would perhaps be better for our community than one who was utterly convinced of his fitness for the duty.’
‘So a man who thinks he is right for a job is necessarily the worst man for it, eh?’ Simon ventured.
‘Unless it is a mason taking on a building, or a herdsman asking to look after the cattle!’
Simon nodded to himself. ‘Or,’ he added, ‘a good stannary bailiff who finds himself promoted to a new post in a differenttown.’
‘As I said on the way to Exeter, my friend, if you wish to leave that post and become a bailiff once more, I should be pleasedto confirm it. What did de Courtenay offer you?’
Simon shrugged. ‘What does it matter what he suggested?’
‘Well, if he had asked you to watch me at every moment, and report back to him, then there could be some trouble for me. Ifyou preferred him to me, that is.’
‘You knew?’
‘From the first moment after we arrived in Exeter when I turned and noticed that excellent servant of yours behind me. Hisstern visage is hardly inconspicuous even in a large gathering. So what will you do?’
‘I cannot lie to him,’ Simon said, aiming an idle kick at his snoring servant.
‘No — but if you do not embellish, I will be content.’
Simon eyed him, and gave a slow grin. ‘All right.’
Busse raised his mazer. ‘A toast, then: to brother de Courtenay, and his patience, for I hope to be in post for many longyears to come. And another toast, my friend: to the good stannary bailiff, and long may he endure on the moors with the tinnershe administers!’
Chapter Forty-Seven
Monday, Christmas Eve
Exeter City
And as they drank into the long night, Will closed the door on his wife’s petulant complaints, hunched his shoulders against thecold, and set off once more on his nightly route, up the great street from the South Gate, and right along the way to the Palace Gate. He passed down the alley, and when he reached the burned remains of his house he stopped for a long time andstood, staring, at the place where his children had lain.
His body was found the next morning, huddled in a corner of the path, not far from where Mucheton had been murdered. Therewas no sign of pain on his face, and no apparent wound when Coroner Richard had him stripped and rolled over.
‘So what in God’s name was there for him to smile about when he died, then, eh?’ the coroner muttered to himself.
‘Peace, Coroner,’ Baldwin said. ‘Just peace.’
Dartmoor
Maurice found a shelter as he walked down past Scorhill. For a man used to constructing little shelters, it was always easy to find a place. Always look for a fallen tree, look away from the wind, and imagine how someone else would make a refuge. This one was hardly the picture of comfort, and some of the covering had blown away, but it took little time to gather upmore fallen leaves from about the place and replenish the roof of the little shelter, and for one man there was space to spreadout inside.
This was not the direction the sheriff would have expected him to go, and he was moderately certain that he was safe herefor a while if he wanted. After a few days he could leave and make his way to the coast, pick up a ride with a sailor there. There were no fishermen or traders who had much respect for the king. They deprecated his customs and tolls on all their efforts.
Soon he would be able to escape and make his way to France. And once there, he would find Lord Roger Mortimer and join hisforce.
There was nothing left for this country but war and death. And to the victor there would be a great spoiclass="underline" England.
Maurice broke twigs and gave a hawkish smile. Yes. He would like to be with Mortimer when the lord returned. The rewards wouldbe great.
But his levity was short-lived. The last weeks in Exeter had been sad. To have to say farewell to his sister had wrenchedat his heart — and then there were all the strange events and the murders.
He was glad that the girl had been safe, although it had shocked him to see that the man who went to the hayloft to rescueher had been the same man who had killed the fellow in the undercroft that day. As old Will had lifted the latch on the hayloft, Maurice had grabbed his sword-hilt, ready to go and protect the child, but then he saw how kindly the old fellow had helped her down, and passed her his own old cloak, a dreadful, worn and threadbare one compared with the newer,but bloody one he had discarded in the alley after the killing, and Maurice had felt easier in his mind.
Trailing after the two, he was still bitter that the girl had been left in the loft all night. He’d returned to the placeearly in the morning to make sure that she had been released, and when he saw that the doors were still locked, he’d almostgone to open them and see whether she had escaped, but Will’s appearance had saved him the effort. Typical, he thought, thata priest should leave the poor girl up there all night — but then she was probably warm enough, and safe enough from mostdangers.
There would be more danger to come. He hoped she would be safe … and that his sister too would be safe from the risksof the war which was surely coming now.
He had taken his leave of her two days ago. At the time she had said that her husband was well enough protected because ofhis alliances with the king’s advisors. And it was that which worried him most, because if she depended on Despenser, Mauricewas sure that her husband would be viewed as an enemy by those who would come to seek Despenser’s destruction. Like thesemadmen who proposed to remove him by means of mommets made of wax.
Fools! The only secure way to remove a man like Despenser was with a steel blade in the ribs, not some nonsense with a littlelead or horn pin.
Still, provided he could return here to protect his sister before anything went wrong, the coming war should give him a chanceto renew his fortune.
War could not come soon enough.
Marshalsea, Easter Term in the nineteenth year of the reign of King Edward II12
He shivered uncontrollably now. His unkempt beard was alive with creatures that bit and scuttled, making him scratch and rubuntil sores formed. After so long in gaols, he had the prisoner’s contant cough, the bowed back and anxious, fretful expression,knowing that any day could be his last.
When he first came here, he tried to keep a tally of the days by scratching into the stonework of the walls with a rock, butthat had soon failed him when winter arrived and day followed night without light. It was impossible to tell what was happeningoutside, and soon all seemed irrelevant. What was the point of reflecting on the world outside when all that mattered wasin here?