‘No, I have been considering a murder, that is all,’ he laughed. ‘Jeanne is fine, if tired, and young Richalda is loud. Good lungs! How is Edith?’
Hugh stood at Margaret’s shoulder. Taciturn, narrow-featured, and with the slim build of a moorman, his gaze remained fixed upon the ground, his thin mouth drawn into a prim line. ‘Edith’s fine,’ he said sulkily.
As he spoke, Edith herself appeared from behind him and pushed past him to Baldwin. ‘Out of the way, Hugh. Just because you’ve been enjoying yourself lazing about in the north is no reason to hide me. Hello, Sir Baldwin,’ she said, and curtseyed graciously. ‘I am well, I thank you.’
He eyed her with amusement. She might only be thirteen or fourteen years old but she already had the carriage of a lady. Like her mother her hair was of fine gold and she had been graced by Margaret Puttock’s expression of gentle calmness. Baldwin thought her features would not have looked out of place on an angel, but having heard so many stories of her disruptive behaviour from Simon over the last years, he knew that appearances could be deceptive.
‘I hear you’re setting the hearts of all the young men about Lydford and Tavistock a-flutter.’
‘Me?’ she enquired as if startled, her blue eyes widening. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t think so. They must all think me very dull. A young maid who isn’t allowed to visit or ride with her friends or–’
Margaret hurriedly cleared her throat and put a hand in front of her daughter. ‘I am sure she is setting as many hearts alight as she could wish, Sir Baldwin. Sadly she has no desire to do so with her own parents.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Edith declared and in a moment her gentle expression became a glower. ‘If only you were reasonable, I’d not have to complain and–’
‘I am sure the good knight has many other things to consider without listening to your ranting, Edith,’ Margaret said tiredly.
‘I think he would be more interested to hear how my mother treats me than listen to your tales of sowing seeds and lambing,’ Edith said scornfully. ‘Your conversation is, I fear, rather dull to educated people, Mother.’
Baldwin glanced away. He couldn’t bear the look of hurt and sadness that sprang into Margaret’s eyes.
Simon breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be at a loose end for a few moments. Now, he reckoned, was as good a time as any to find himself a pot of ale and swill the grit from his mouth.
Accordingly he steered his path to the market area. There was a brewer there who was known to him, and he grudgingly passed Simon a quart of ale free. Simon leaned against a post while he drank. It tasted good; very good.
The show had taken weeks to prepare and Simon would be pleased when it was all over. He dreaded telling Lord Hugh about the carpenter’s murder, although he was glad that Sir Roger was there to take responsibility for the investigation. Lord Hugh would arrive later that day, but there was nothing Simon could do to make the news any more palatable and he was essentially a pragmatist. If something couldn’t be changed, he wouldn’t keep fretting about it.
He had come to the conclusion that since the first quart had gone down so well a second might be an improvement, and had turned to ask for another pot, when a large man appeared at his side.
‘Are you the Bailiff?’
Simon groaned inwardly, but nodded.
‘I am Sir John of Crukerne. My son tells me you questioned him about where he was last night. Well, he was with other squires. All right? There are plenty of people to confirm his alibi.’
‘And if I need more, you will pay for extra witnesses, eh?’
‘You catch on quickly. I congratulate you.’
Simon smiled thinly as the knight gave him a quick look up and down, but his smile hardened as the knight spun on his heel and made to walk away. ‘Sir John?’
Pausing, the knight turned his head. ‘What?’ he snapped rudely.
The sight of the man’s back made Simon’s hackles rise. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. ‘Sir John, I wouldn’t like to think that you could be bribing people to perjure themselves. If I was to think that, I’d have to inform the Coroner.’
Sir John slowly turned to face him.
Simon continued, ‘And if I find that your son was not telling the truth, Sir John, I will see to it that he is arrested and questioned. I hope that is equally clear.’
The knight said nothing, merely sniffed and turned on his heel.
Simon said sharply, ‘I’m not finished!’
Sir John turned and gritted his teeth. ‘You are trying my patience, Bailiff. You have no jurisdiction over me.’
‘This land is Lord Hugh’s. I am his representative here.’
‘I don’t give a shit who you are.’
‘I want to know what you were doing last night after dark.’
‘Me?’ Sir John burst out. ‘You think I had something to do with Wymond’s death?’
Simon held his stare, but then he was disconcerted to see a smile breaking out on the knight’s face.
‘Well, Bailiff. If you must know, I went to my tent and slept there. Alone.’
‘So you have no one to confirm you were there?’
‘Yes, I have. My ward, Lady Alice. She was there when I returned from the meal. She can confirm that I arrived shortly after dark. I gave her a good night.’
Sir Peregrine of Barnstaple rode proudly at his lord’s side, sitting easily on his great bay stallion. The weather was fine and dry. He could feel the sun on his dark crimson velvet tunic and the dust rose in choking clouds, tickling his nostrils and throat.
At his side his standard bearer carried his square banner on its long shaft and the sight of the cloth fluttering in the breeze warmed his heart. Barnacles on a yellow background, a play on the link between his family and Barnstaple, always made him happy, but today he felt honoured, for his arms were being displayed beside Lord Hugh’s.
His lord was not of a mind to chat and their journey had been quiet, Lord Hugh speaking rarely except during their occasional breaks to rest the horses. Sir Peregrine knew that his master had much on his mind; also, with so many men-at-arms about them, he couldn’t talk because a man could never be too certain who might be willing to accept a fee for information about a magnate’s thinking – and the King’s friends had weighty purses filled with gold for those who helped them. The men were neccessary, because Lord Hugh’s household was travelling with him and he had need of protection for the carts with the chests filled with plate ready to be pawned to buy cloth, pay retainers, reward knights who showed particular prowess, and generally impress all who came to see his tournament. A knight needed to display many qualities: courtesy, humility, loyalty, hardiness, a love for the truth, but not least among them was largesse – spending freely to show his own disdain for cash.
Not, Sir Peregrine noted, that many knights eschewed money. They couldn’t, not when their lives depended upon good armour, good horses and good weapons – none of which came cheaply. They must look to their manors to provide them with enough funds to maintain their lifestyles, yet it was not easy to squeeze the last pennies from reluctant and recalcitrant peasants.
Lord Hugh with his household could devastate an area. They were forever in the saddle travelling from one manor to another, and it took little time for the meagre stores at each point to be consumed. Sir Peregrine was often involved in assessing the stores at different places, especially within Lord Hugh’s forts, and knew exactly how much the men needed. It was no surprise that many of the farm peasants looked upon the arrival of the lord and his retinue as a form of purgatory to be endured, rather than a cause for excitement and pleasure.