Figure of Hate (36 page)

'My brother and his wife have now accepted that he will not train for holy orders, nor does he wish to follow his father into the tin trade. But they agree with his desire to enter the public service in some capacity and hopefully work his way up to some useful position of trust and authority - maybe, in the fullness of time, even into government service in London or Winchester. '
 

The coroner still failed to see what this had to do with him, and rather bluntly said as much to his friend. The tubby portreeve took no offence.
 

'Eustace speaks, reads and writes Latin, French and English and is conversant with all modern learning, thanks to an excellent education. What he lacks, quite naturally at his tender age, is practical experience and a knowledge of the everyday world. I and his parents would dearly like to attach him to you as a sort of apprentice in the coroner's service - a kind of assistant to Thomas here, who might welcome some help in his copying of documents and suchlike.'
 

John's black brows came together as he thought about this sudden proposition. Hugh may have taken this for rejection, as he hurriedly went on to reassure his friend.
 

'There would naturally be no salary required - indeed, I would be happy to reimburse any expenses that might be entailed. It would be but for a trial period, to see if you could put up with him! And now that Thomas is to become actively involved again in ecclesiastical affairs, perhaps with a parish or prebend of his own, you may in the future be seeking a new clerk.'
 

The coroner looked across at Thomas, who was listening intently to this exchange.
 

'What do you think of this notion, Thomas? Would you like an acolyte to sit at your feet and help you with your quills and inks?'
 

The little clerk, until then euphoric at the prospect of his return to his beloved Church, abruptly seemed more sober.
 

'If it is your wish, Crowner, I see no reason why he should not follow us to learn something of the clerk's trade,' he said rather stiffly. 'But I have assured you that I have no intention of leaving your service, even though I am returned to the priesthood. I owe you much, even my very life, and I would never abandon my duties 'until I was sure my services were no longer required.'
 

De Wolfe read this as a warning shot against any move to displace Thomas in the short or long term, and he suspected that Hugh and his nephew got the same message from the tone of Thomas's voice.
 

'What about you, Gwyn? What do you think of having an addition to our little team?'
 

The big Cornishman shrugged. 'It's all one to me, Crowner! If the young fellow can ride a horse and drink ale, he's welcome to tag along.'
 

John turned back to the portreeve and his nephew, whose fresh, almost girlish face was tense with anticipation.
 

'We'll give it a try, Hugh, for a few weeks at least. Eustace, you can join us at our visitations to all the legal incidents that concern us and attend the inquests and various courts in which we are involved. You will take your instructions from Thomas de Peyne here, and help him in any way in which he directs you. Is that agreed?'
 

The young man nodded enthusiastically and thanked the coroner in his too-perfect English. His uncle added his own effusive thanks and ordered a flask of Nesta's most expensive wine as a final celebratory drink for everyone. After everyone had toasted Thomas's good news for the last time, the portreeve added another salute, this time to the addition of his nephew Eustace to the ranks of those who upheld the law in Devonshire.
 

As he downed the dregs in his cup, John glanced at Thomas's face and hoped to God that he had done the right thing by the little clerk.
 

As he strode home alone though the darkened lanes, John's thoughts slid away from the relatively minor problem of Thomas and Eustace and returned to the more portentous news of the day, his trip to Wales. There was much to be done in the time before he departed, especially another effort to resolve the death of the silversmith and the mystery at Sampford Peverel, which he was convinced were connected. As he tramped past the first street light, a guttering pitchbrand stuck above the Beargate leading into the cathedral close, he wondered how the coroner's business would survive without him for at least two weeks, which was an optimistic estimate of the time it would take to get into the hinterland of Wales and back again. His counterpart in North Devon, who had been appointed a few months back, could cover for some of the major cases in the centre of the county, but he could not be expected to ride down to the south coast, except in exceptional circumstances. John shrugged in the darkness - Hubert WaIter could not have his loaf and eat it. If he wanted John in Wales, then he would have to accept that his new coroner system would be overstretched for a time. It was already almost impossible for only two officers to cover every death in the huge county, and he knew that many cases went by default. The original Article of Assize from the King's justices in Kent, a year last September, had decreed that three coroners were to be elected in each county. That was all very well, but where were they to be found? Few active men had the time or inclination to take on a demanding and often distasteful job for no recompense at all.
 

Two weeks away from home! At least he would have a respite from Matilda's gloom and despondency, which were as bad as her usual carping and nagging.
 

As he reached the narrow entrance into Martin's Lane from the Close, where there was another flickering torch stuck in an iron ring above the arch, de Wolfe suddenly stopped dead. He had been struck by the glimmerings of an idea. If he was going away, so was Reginald de Charterai. And he was going to Normandy ... and Matilda was always pining for another visit to her relatives! His mind raced ahead, like a horse suddenly released from a stall. If she went away, why could Nesta not go with him to Wales, at least as far as Gwent, where she too had her family?
 

He slammed a fist into his palm, suddenly exultant at these interlocking ideas, which had tumbled down upon him like an avalanche.
 

Jauntily, he strode into the darkened lane and made for his front door.
 

Chapter Eleven

In which Crowner John visits a prince
 

A small group of people stood on a rough quay a few yards long, set in the bank of a small inlet, where a stream came down to the vast mud banks of the Severn estuary. It was a grey, overcast day, and across the wide river the distant hills of Wales were partly hidden by rain.

'Always bloody pouring down over there,' muttered Gwyn. 'Never been in the damn country but it was pissing down.'
 

The patriotic Nesta gave him a playful kick on the ankle at this slur against her native land, but she was in high spirits at being able to see it only a couple of miles away, even if it was through a rain cloud.
 

They were waiting for a boat to pick them up and Lake them across to Chepstow. This was a Saxon name, the Welsh calling it Cas-gwent - and the Norrnans knew it as Striguil, from which the lordship took its name. The small ferry was already in sight, now that the tide was fast coming in across the huge expanse of muddy rock that was exposed for half the day.
 

John de Wolfe was a few yards away, with Sergeant Gabriel and the two men-at-arms that the sheriff had insisted on sending as an extra escort as far as Chepstow. They were negotiating the passage money with the owner of the ferry, a villainous-looking
 
Fleming who John strongly suspected of having a sideline as a channel pirate.
 

The group had made good progress from Exeter, as Nesta was an excellent rider, having spent much of her youth on the bare back of a Welsh cob. After one night's stay at the castle in Taunton, claimed by John as an emissary of the King, and another at an inn at Wedmore near the Mendips, they had reached the tiny hamlet of Aust on the southern shore of the Severn the previous evening. From here, small craft plied the dangerous tidal streams of the river, ferrying both goods and passengers. Some went across to Beachley on the peninsula east of the mouth of the Wye, others west to the Norman strongholds at Newport or Cardiff. The destination that the coroner was bargaining for was Chepstow Castle itself, a couple of miles up the River Wye, almost directly opposite where they were now standing, shivering in the cold breeze of a murky dawn.
 

Gwyn, brought up on the cliffs of Cornwall, was fascinated by the speed at which the tide flowed in and covered the miles of mud and stones. Squeezed by the funnel shape of the estuary, the mass of the Western Ocean seethed in as fast as a man could walk. A Polruan fisherman in his youth, Gwyn looked with interest at the tiny boat that was coming towards them, with a ragged sail and four men at long oars keeping it straight in the turbulent water. '
 

They were leaving their horses in Aust, in the care of the two soldiers until they returned, as new mounts would be found for them in Chepstow. John had left Odin in the farrier's stables in Exeter, for a large and ponderous warhorse was hardly suitable for long, fast journeys. Instead, he had hired a strong mare for the ride to Aust.
 

Nesta, enveloped in a Welsh plaid blanket as a cloak, stood close_against Gwyn for sheIter from the wind, which was constant and penetrating along this dead flat shore, only a couple of feet above the high-water mark. Away to their right, the ground rose into a cliff of banded red rock at a bottleneck in the estuary, but here there was no place for a boat to land. The miserable village of Aust owed its existence to the ferry, though all it consisted of was a few huts and two dismal inns for travellers waiting for tide and weather.
 

The landlady of the Bush still only half believed that she was here, going home for more than a week to her beloved family. When John had turned up at the Bush the day after Thomas's celebration, to say that she was going with him to Gwent, she had supposed it was some ill-considered joke. Yet he was adamant, and all her feeble protests about having no one to run the inn had been overruled by him in a peremptory fashion. He explained that he was sending Matilda to France and that such a chance would never come again - so her capitulation was not difficult to achieve. After a day or two of frenzied preparation, she left the Bush in the confident hands of Edwin and her two maids and, spurning the offer of a side saddle, borrowed a pair of boy's breeches and rode off astride the horse that John had hired for her.
 

Now, as the small boat clawed the last few yards into the muddy creek below them, she looked again at the river and the land beyond and thought of the last time she had seen them. Then, she had been coming with her husband Meredydd to start a new life in Devon. Even that had been at least partly due to John de Wolfe, as he had extolled the opportunities of Exeter to his archer comrade and had even helped find a vacant tavern for them, when both men gave up campaigning. Now Meredydd was long dead and John had taken his place - but Nesta still loved them both.
 

Her reverie was ended by the arrival of the little craft, small enough to fit into the taproom of the Bush. Minutes later, they were adrift on the choppy waters, aiming diagonally upstream to take advantage of the last of the flood tide to get into the centre of the estuary. Nesta feIt that they would end up in Gloucester, but as soon as the short period of slack water arrived, the ship-master - a leather-faced man without a single tooth in his head - dropped the tattered sail and hauled the steering oar about, and the men started to row directly across the stream, until the ebb tide began carrying them back down, close to the other bank.
 

'We'll not be long now,
cariad
,' said John comfortingly. He was afraid that his mistress would be sea sick, as Gabriel was looking decidedly green in the face from the slight pitching and rolling of the flat-bottomed craft. But Nesta was enjoying every moment and hugged his. arm as they sat close together on the planks that served as seats in the stern of the boat.
 

John watched as they approached a little island set near the mouth of the Wye, the river that came down here to join the Severn, after its long journey from the mountains of central Wales. Now that they had the Wye to contend with, the four oarsmen began to earn their wages, and though the master hoisted the sail again to catch the southerly wind, most of their progress was due to muscle power. '
 

As they crawled past the flat banks towards Chepstow, a mile upriver, John had time to think over the events of the past few days. Though not a vain man, he feIt that it had been a stroke of genius for him to think of moving the characters in his life around, like pieces on a chessboard. After that night at the Bush, when he had had his first tentative thoughts oftaking Nesta with him to Wales, he had spent a day in a flurry of diplomatic manoeuvring. Although Matilda had readily jumped at the idea of visiting her family, he had to track down de Charterai and beseech him to chaperone his wife to Normandy.
 

After two days of hectic preparation, he accompanied Matilda to Topsham, she riding side-saddle on a palfrey and Lucille walking behind. A sumpter horse was piled with her luggage for at least a month's stay with her distant cousins near St-Lô, which was convenient for Reginald de Charterai, as it was on the route from Barfleur to Fougéres. What her relatives would say when she turned up on their doorstep, John preferred not to think about. And for the return journey, she would have to find some escort to the port herself, as Reginald was returning to England within a few weeks, to fight again at Salisbury.