The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) (34 page)

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I think you spend so much time worrying about her, because you wanted her lover for yourself.’

‘It’s my duty to report—’

‘And it’s
my
duty to report how you flaunted yourself before this stranger. Perhaps I ought to tell how you pulled your tunic up to tempt him?’

‘That’s
a lie!’

‘Just as your tales of Tedia teasing this shipwreck are lies.’

‘It’s true!’

‘I deny it.’

‘You can deny it all you like, old woman. I’ll make sure that everyone knows what she’s been up to!’

Brosia stomped off, angrily kicking up small clouds of sand as she went, and Mariota stood for a long while, staring after her. Then, with an air of resignation, she turned about and started toiling back up the hill towards Tedia’s house.

It
was a good day, a beautiful day. No such day had been so good in all his life. Good wasn’t the word. It was brilliant. Excellent. Walerand was on top of the world.

He walked down the road to the harbour with a whistle on his lips. Seeing a servant from the castle glance at him in surprise, Walerand sneered at him. The fool didn’t matter. Walerand was higher than him. He’d
arrived.
He was the new gather-reeve.

Thomas had drawn him aside early this morning to let him know. He said that he needed a man he could trust, and that he’d like to have someone like Walerand take over after Robert. The latter had been too
nice
, too gentle and kindly. What the islands needed was a someone who would squeeze the peasants until they shrieked. And Walerand was that man, Thomas said. He and Ranulph had been watching him, and Walerand was just the man for the job.

He reached the harbour and stared out at the ship. There was little left of the hogged vessel which had limped into port so recently. The upperworks had already been snatched away. Ranulph was happy with the immense beam which was going to form the bressemer of his new fireplace, and other pieces of wood were allocated to shipwrights and builders throughout the islands, provided they could afford to pay for them.

Thomas was Walerand’s role model. A man who had made himself into the person he wanted to become, without any help from another soul. He had arrived here when Ranulph had won his licence to crenellate the castle, and from that day forth had not looked back, from what Walerand had heard. A powerful man in his own right, Thomas was happy to serve someone like Ranulph, because it meant that his own authority was increased. And Walerand had been chosen
by him to be his right-hand man! That made Walerand one of the most important men on the islands.

He reached the port, and collected the records of the items sold from the ship. Some were personal effects of the sailors who had lived on her, while others were items of equipment which were listed for sale. So far as Thomas was concerned, the ship could be sold for the profit of the master of the islands. He might make a little himself, too, of course.

William was at the harbour, pushing his little flock away from his church with a bellowing laugh. ‘Go on, clear off! I want my breakfast. Where can I go for my ale this fine morning?’ When he saw Walerand, he stiffened noticeably. ‘What do you want?’

‘None of your business,’ Walerand said haughtily. ‘I’m engaged on business for my master.’

‘Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want to think you were here just to steal odds and sods from the ship,’ the priest said.

‘You shouldn’t joke about things like that. Some of us have important work to do.’

‘Imp—? You don’t mean they’ve put you in charge of the pigs at last?’ William said, goggle-eyed.

Walerand’s face darkened. ‘You watch your tongue, Priest; you’re not so important that I can’t take you apart. Learn respect, or others’ll beat it into you.’

‘You’ll not hurt me?’ William said with a tremulous voice, a hand on his heart. ‘You wouldn’t hit me, would you?’

‘Take that leer off your face, you fat bastard.’

He had stepped forward, a fist clenching, but William’s expression hardened as his own hand dropped away to lie at his side, leaving him apparently defenceless.

Walerand realised that the man
wanted
him to thump him, and the thought was confusing. The piss-pot priest should have retreated in fear, but he stood his ground, waiting, like a man who was happy to be clobbered.

As William had said to Simon, the thought of Walerand as gather-reeve was appalling. The fool was always swinging his fists whenever he thought that his victim was weaker than himself, and woe betide
any woman who agreed to share his bed, because all too often she’d end up with a black eye or worse. William had often had cause to curse him, when he was helping some poor girl from one of the taverns who had been beaten up by the youth. An arrogant man was always a problem, William reflected, but a fool with power was worse.

Which was why he was determined to show Walerand to be a liability before he could do any real damage to William’s flock – and the easiest way to do that was by provoking him. If the cretin attempted to lash out, he’d get what was coming to him. William knew that, out of the two of them, he was the stronger, the faster, and the heavier: and once he’d ground Walerand’s face into the dirt, he would parade him along the streets of La Val, so that the vill’s population could laugh at him and see that he wasn’t so dangerous, after all. It would take a braver man than Walerand to remain, after that. It would take a more foolish man than Ranulph to try to impose his will through such a broken reed, or to try to punish William for defending himself. Any man setting hands upon a priest was on very dangerous ground. The Bishop would have Ranulph excommunicated.

Sadly, though, he could see that his wish had become clear to the new gather-reeve – or maybe Walerand was less stupid than he thought.

Walerand stood back, his lip curling with contempt, and then he spat viciously at the ground by William’s foot.

‘Yes, Priest,
I’m
in charge now, and don’t think people will get away with what Robert used to allow,’ Walerand said curtly.

‘Then we’ll have to see to it that you’re not in charge for long, Master Walerand,’ William said under his breath as he made his way back to the church, all thoughts of ale and food gone.

Initially, hearing that she was Tedia’s aunt, Baldwin was delighted to be introduced to Mariota. He was less than happy to see how she glanced at him, as though he was a small but poisonous insect which had crawled out from beneath a stone.

‘I want to talk to my niece,’ she said as soon as she arrived.

Tedia
said, ‘I am pleased to—’

‘Not here. What if your husband should arrive? Come with me. You stay here, Sir Knight.’

Baldwin was nothing loath to remain. Here, he could see the whole sweep of the great pool of water which lay between the islands, and the sight of it all, with occasional craft sailing by, was delightful. He lay back, his hands behind his head. These islands, he told himself, were captivating.

He was still there when a monk appeared, trotting along the sands. His sandals were too small, his robes too large, for him to have been anything other than a novice, and Baldwin gave him a tolerant smile as he drew closer. ‘A pleasant day, Brother. Godspeed!’

‘My friend, are you the shipwrecked knight?’

‘I am. How may I serve you?’

‘It is not me, but my Prior. I understand that you are experienced in dealing with the dead? There is a body my Prior should appreciate your advice on. It’s the body of a priest, a man who was apparently murdered recently. Could you help us?’

‘Of course,’ Baldwin said, his eyes going to the two women. Tedia was animated, her hands and arms moving, while Mariota appeared more calm and unruffled. ‘Where is this body?’

‘It is over on the mainland. You must come now … there is a boat waiting for you.’

‘I must give my farewell to the lady who saved my life,’ Baldwin said, quietly but firmly.

‘If you are sure,’ the monk said, but the look he gave Tedia told Baldwin that he held islanders in scant regard.

That disrespect annoyed Baldwin considerably. He made a point of hurrying up the sands to the two women. To his surprise, he saw that Tedia had been weeping afresh. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, concerned.

‘Yes, yes. It’s just scandal and slander, that’s all. People can be such arses!’

‘That is certainly true,’ Baldwin said with a chuckle. ‘Tell them where to go. Tedia, I have to leave for a while. There is a body found on another island, and the Prior has asked me to view it. If I
go now, I should be back here before dark. I will return as soon as I can.’

She nodded dumbly, and only as he saw Mariota’s dark eyes turn to him did he realise that he had sounded more like a husband or lover than grateful shipwreck. The quick guilt made him flush; he had shamed Tedia before her aunt, and he had also abused the memory of his own wife. Jeanne might be many miles from here, but he had caused her an affront, whether she would ever know it or not. By taking this woman he had insulted his wife. He had forever altered the relationship that he had with her. A concealed line had been crossed, and he could never return over it.

What made the guilt still more poignant was the shame on Tedia’s face as she dropped her eyes. He had managed, with a few thoughtless words, to remind himself of his own dishonour as well as the treachery Tedia had shown to her own husband, and he had done so publicly in front of Tedia’s aunt. At that moment he swore to himself that he would never again cause her to be shown up. Nor would he perform another action which could lead to the humiliation of his wife. He couldn’t do that to either woman.

He loved them both.

With a feeling of sadness, he took his leave of the two women and walked back down to where the priest stood waiting.

Later, as he stood in the small boat as it was rowed the short distance to Ennor, he glanced back, sure that he could see Tedia, standing on a projecting rock and watching him as he went.

Cryspyn sighed as he read the document again. He closed his eyes, tapped his forehead with the parchment, and then tossed the annoying thing on to his table, and walked over to the window.

He had known that this would have to happen at some time. The problems with Tedia and Isok were so well-known that it was essential to get the issue sorted out as soon as possible. The question was, if the normal measures failed, what then?

Picking up his little bell, he rang it loudly. Soon a novice appeared in the doorway and Cryspyn commanded him to seek David. It would take a while, he reflected as the lad fled to do his bidding, and
that was no bad thing. In the meantime, he would have to think about the wiser women in the vill. Usually a Prior had the advantage of a whore or two, but in a place like this, there was no such luck. All he could do was pick on some women who were experienced in the ways of the flesh.

And now Luke’s body had been found.

Another murder. Another sin.

Baldwin found the vessel’s rocking motion a little unsettling. It was a long time since he had been in such a small craft, and there was something about the way that it moved as the oarsman moved, rowing regularly with many a snort, involuntary kick of his heel and shiver, that did not instil confidence.

The great island grew. It was a strange shape, Baldwin thought. There was a large lump on his left, all bounded by sheltered sandy beaches, then a lower, curiously shallow space, before a second, smaller hill on the right. This was very different, a rockier space with plenty of black stone tumbled about the water’s edge.

It was the lower area between the two hills to which the oarsman was conducting Baldwin. This, apparently, was near the place where the body was being kept, and it was here where Baldwin must be disembarked.

‘It’s very difficult, of course,’ Cryspyn had said. Baldwin had been taken to meet him by the novice, and they were walking in the little cloister of the priory on St Nicholas. ‘A priest dying, and the suggestion is that there was some kind of foul play … My God, I wish I had never seen the day … So if you could please go and look into it, Sir Baldwin? There is no one here who is remotely qualified. I certainly couldn’t do it. And there are so many other things for me to see to. My priory may be small, but the trials it can generate …’

‘Of course I shall go there, if you wish it,’ Baldwin said soothingly. ‘Shall I bring a report back to you here?’

‘If it is possible, yes. Poor Luke. Poor unhappy fellow. He was sent here as a punishment, but I doubt whether even Bishop Walter would have been so cruel, had he but realised …’

Baldwin
remembered another Luke, but that man had been sent to Ireland, he recalled. ‘You have many pressing troubles, Prior Cryspyn?’

‘I most certainly have. This death is merely the latest one.’ Cryspyn stood and stared at the priory church. ‘I wish God would remove me from this place,’ he said quietly.

‘But it is beautiful, surely?’ Baldwin said, surprised.

‘They say that the most treacherous and deadly things in the world are the most beautiful,’ Cryspyn said.

‘I have heard similar comments,’ Baldwin acknowledged.

‘A woman is always at the root of it,’ the Prior stated.