The Devil's Acolyte aktm-13 Read online

  The Devil's Acolyte

  ( A Knights Templar Mystery - 13 )

  Michael JECKS

  Amidst the myth and folklore of Tavistock in 1322, one tale above all others strikes fear into the hearts of the town's inhabitants - that of the murders on the Abbot's Way.

  One cold winter, many years ago, a young acolyte eager for distraction led a group of fellow novices in the theft of their abbot's wine store. Later, crippled with guilt and fear of discovery, Milbrosa was driven to commit still more crimes in an effort to disguise his sins. But his soul had been destroyed with his first sip of illicit wine, and, as legend has it, the devil himself appeared to mete out his punishment, leading the unwitting Milbrosa and his cohorts to their deaths on the treacherous Devon moors.

  Now, in the autumn of 1322, it looks as though history may be repeating itself. Abbot Robert has found his wine barrel empty, and a body has been discovered on the moors. Bailiff Simon Puttock, in Tavistock for the coining, is called upon to investigate, but the case seems only to get more complicated with time. It soon becomes apparent that it's not just wine that's gone missing from the abbey, and the body on the moor isn't the last. With the arrival of Sir Baldwin Furnshill, Keeper of the King's Peace, the townspeople hope the mystery will finally be solved - but do the terrors of the past provide the key to their present turmoil?

  Michael Jecks

  THE DEVIL'S ACOLYTE

  2002

  For Janice and Jim –

  the good and not-so-good fairies!

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Glossary

  Abbot’s Lodging

  A separate building in the western wall of Tavistock’s monastic plot.

  Acolyte

  The term denoting an inferior church officer, usually an assistant or sometimes a novice.

  Alms

  Donations of food, or money, or clothing to the poor and needy, for example beggars at the Abbey’s gates or the lepers living at the Maudlin.

  Almoner

  The monk whose duty it was to distribute alms to the poor.

  Calefactory

  A room in the convent set aside for relaxation. Here, the monks could sit with a mug of ale and let their aches and pains drift away.

  Centenar

  In the King’s Host, the officer in charge of a hundred men.

  Coining

  This was the process by which tin was assayed or tested. It was taken to a coinage town (e.g. Tavistock), where it was weighed, a corner was chipped off and checked, and the amount of tax due was called out and paid before the ingot was stamped ready for sale to one of the waiting pewterers. We know that there were five such coinings per annum at Tavistock in 1303.

  Commission of Array

  The feudal Host was available to the King for his wars. As a matter of duty, all able-bodied males aged between sixteen and sixty were inspected by the Commissioners of Array, and the best taken, in theory.

  In practice, like so much of medieval life, corruption was rife.

  Dorter

  Monks’ dormitory.

  Frankpledge

  Every boy over the age of twelve was expected to swear an oath that he would keep the peace himself, but he also had a duty to prevent others from being fractious. By the terms of this pledge, if a crime was committed, the whole community was penalised.

  ‘Gardy Loo!’

  This was the cry of ‘Gardez l’eau!’ or ‘Watch out! Water!’ which housekeepers roared before emptying their chamber pots into the street. See kennel below!

  Host

  Under ancient feudal law each man in the kingdom must arm himself with those weapons suitable for his status, and present himself whenever called. These men, whose attendance was based upon their loyalty to their master, whether it be the knight, his lord, or the King himself, had to serve a set number of days, usually living off the land, and then might return home.

  Indentures

  Because the Host was growing unwieldy and insufficient for a task such as the defence of assets in France, for example, indentures were gradually introduced. An indentured man could expect board and lodging, pay while fighting, a uniform and other perks. A contract was written and then torn in two, one half kept by the lord, one by the serving warrior. The indentures were the tear-marks in both halves which could later be matched to prove the validity of either half.

  Kennel

  This was the large gutter which ran down the middle of a street.

  Layrwyta

  In the days when all peasants were slaves, their owners were reluctant to see too much breeding. Children were an expensive overhead. One way to prevent expense was to fine women who were sexually incontinent; thus the layrwyta was a tax on children born out of wedlock.

  Medarius

  The Abbey’s monk who purveyed mead, ales and wines for the community.

  Morning Star

  A simple but deadly weapon, consisting of a club with nails hammered into the top.

  Receiver

  Towns with their own markets raised considerable sums of money. Receivers were responsible for collecting up all the money owed to the town, and for keeping a true and accurate accounts. As with so many offices in medieval times, this post was widely open to corruption.

  Reivers

  An old term for the thieves, blackmailers and murderers who commonly raided on either side of the Scottish Marches. Often, little wars were begun as a direct result of their predations.

  Reredorter

  Behind the dorter, the communal toilets.

  Salsarius

  The monk who was responsible for looking after the monastery’s stock of salted meats and fish, so important during the winter months.

  Shavaldour

  During Edward II’s turbulent reign many men decided to take what they could without reference to the law. Shavaldours were marauders who raided and robbed all over Durham and the area of the Marches. Many knightly outlaws proliferated at this time, and weren’t to be brought to heel until Edward III launched the Hundred Years’ War and gave them a new, and more profitable, focus for their energies.

  Stannaries

  The name given to the districts where tin was mined and smelted. Men living there were exempt from local laws because they were the King’s own. They answered only to the Stannary Courts and the Stannary Parliament.

  Undercroft

  The name given to the vaulted cellars beneath the Abbey’s buildings; used for storage.

  Vintenar

  A commander of twenty men-at-arms in the King’s host.

  Cast of Characters

  Sir Baldwin de Furnshill

  Once a Knight Templar, Sir Baldwin is Keeper of the King’s Peace in Crediton. He is known to be an astute investigator of crimes.

  Simon Puttock

  The Bailiff of Lydford, Simon is responsible for law and order on the moors, under the watchful eye of the Warden of the Stannaries, Abbot Robert Champeaux of Tavistock.

  Hugh

  Simon’s servant. Hugh is a moorman and understands Dartmoor and its folk.

  Sir Roger de Gidleigh

  The Coroner of Exeter, responsible for investigating cases of sudden death over a substantial area of Devonshire.

  Abbot Robert Champeaux

  Of all Tavistock Abbey’s Abbots, Abbot Robert was probably the most influential in his day. Taking on his post with a debt of some £200 in 1285, he soon made the Abbey profitable. One of his inspired ideas was to buy the Wardenship of the Stannaries.

  Augerus


  Steward to the Abbot himself, Augerus is responsible for the Abbot’s stores and seeing to his master’s private needs.

  Gerard

  New to the Abbey, Gerard has been tempted into thefts by older, unscrupulous men.

  Mark

  This monk is salsarius at the Abbey (see Glossary).

  Peter

  Once a monk in a northern Priory, Peter came south after being attacked by Scottish marauders, and was grateful for Abbot Robert allowing him to live in Tavistock as Almoner.

  Sir Tristram de Cokkesmoor

  The King’s Commissioner of Array, Sir Tristram has the responsibility of recruiting men for the King’s army.

  Joce Blakemoor

  Receiver of the tin at the five coinings held at Tavistock, Joce is an important local man within the Burgh.

  Walwynus

  Also known as Wally. An unsuccessful miner, Walwynus has spent the last few years eking a living from his smallholding while trying to locate another seam of tin.

  Ellis

  A barber. Monks are not allowed to bleed themselves, and all abbeys need a barber to open veins, as well as removing teeth and ensuring that cheeks and tonsures are neatly shaved.

  Nob

  Originally from the north of England, Nob runs a local pie-shop with his wife, Cissy.

  Cissy

  Wife to Nob, Cissy is also the unofficial aunt to all those young women who need help with their social lives or children.

  Sara

  Widowed while young, Ellis’s sister has recently become pregnant and is in need of a comforting shoulder to lean on.

  Hamelin

  The miner who took over Walwynus’ works, Hamelin is sorely troubled by his lack of success. His wife and family are in dire straits, but he can’t find the tin he needs.

  Emma

  Hamelin’s wife is desperately worried about her youngest son, Joel, who is showing signs of malnutrition.

  Rudolf von Grindelwald

  A Free Swiss from the Forest Cantons, Rudolf has come to Dartmoor with his wife Anna and family to buy tin, for he is a master pewterer.

  Anna

  Rudolf’s wife.

  Welf and Henry

  Two sons of Rudolf who have joined him on his trip to Devonshire.

  Hal Raddych

  One of the old school of Dartmoor miners, Hal is a near neighbour to Wally and Hamelin.

  Author’s Note

  The story of the Abbot’s Way is one of those ancient tales which are all but impossible to validate. It’s true that many of the books which include the tale make the legend sound almost feasible… but not to a truly cynical mind. For one example, look at the little booklet Dartmoor Legends Retold – vol. II by T.H. Gant and W.L. Copley, published by Baron Jay.

  I picked this story as the start point for my novel because it offers an attractive amount of detail – the name of the Abbot of Tavistock of the time (Walter), the fact that there was a dispute with the monks of Plymstock Abbey (I changed this to Buckfast because I can find no record of an abbey in Plymstock) and the name of the leading protagonist, Milbrosa. However, lest there be any doubt, I personally do not believe that the legend as retold here has any historical validity. It is a curiosity, nothing more.

  In some ways this story shows the extreme difficulty of being accurate when you are writing historical works. While it is possible that somewhere amongst the old Abbey papers a record of the event exists, I seriously doubt it. If such a record was there, the keen eye of Professor H.P. R. Finberg would have spotted it years ago, and he would have gleefully reported it in his superb history Tavistock Abbey (Cambridge University Press, 1951).

  The way that history, or much of it, has been passed down through the centuries is not by means of researched and authenticated material, but by word of mouth. Stories which once bore a shred of truth are now so embellished and distorted that the man behind the myth of Robin Hood, for example, would be hard put to recognise himself, just as the Dark Ages warlord King Arthur (if he ever existed) would be astonished to hear about Camelot and his Knights of the Round Table. Word-of-mouth stories were subsequently written down, of course, and then were copied out by others and used as ‘historical’ documents. In this way we learn of the flight of Brutus (not the assassin) from Troy and his eventual landing in Devonshire, where he wrestled with and beat the indigenous population of giants, thereby taking over the entire kingdom of England, Wales and Scotland. That story, originally invented by Virgil, appeared in many monastic histories after Geoffrey of Monmouth first penned it. Subsequently, when King Edward I needed a justification to lay claim to Scotland, his spin-doctors hit upon the idea of following up this Roman concept. If the original men to arrive on Albion found a single, discrete political unit which they conquered, the logic said, the island always had been one entity, and still should be; thus the King of England was obviously the King of Scotland and Wales.

  The Scots disputed this. Then, as now, they distrusted the ‘spin’ or propaganda emanating from Westminster. This claim, and the Scottish rejection of it, was to bedevil Anglo-Scots relations for hundreds of years, until the Scots agreed to let the English share their Royal Family in 1603 (James VI of Scotland; James I of England).

  So what of the Abbot’s Way itself?

  We know that hundreds of years ago a series of stone crosses was erected in southern Dartmoor. At some point it was given the name of the Abbot’s Way. This could have been because the Victorians noticed that it ran from the Abbey at Buckland to the Abbey at Buckfast – but others have disputed this. R. Hansford Worth points out that many tracks across the moors were well-defined long before the monasteries were built. The path from Buckfast to Nun’s Cross is unmarked by crosses – although they could have been stolen, of course. In his book Worth’s Dartmoor (1967) he proposes that if the Abbot of Buckfast did sponsor a new path, it would have gone by Holne over the Holne Ridge to Horn’s Cross. From there it went over Horse Ford on the O Brook to Down Ridge (where there are two crosses), on to Ter Hill, and then to Childes Tomb via Mount Misery. After a cross west of Fox Tor Mire, it led to Nun’s, or Siward’s, Cross. After this section, the route follows more closely the way marked on modern Ordnance Survey maps.

  Now, I cannot claim any great knowledge of this part of the moor, but I rather like Worth’s methodology: seeking out and following the line of all the crosses – and, of course, there were more of them in his time. And those which had gone in Worth’s day were still sometimes remembered by his contemporaries (who had themselves dug them up to use as gateposts), so for the purposes of this book I have assumed that Worth was correct. If you look at the map of the area, it is very noticeable that on the route suggested above, between Buckfast and Nun’s Cross, you pass nine stone crosses; by following the route marked as the ‘Abbot’s Way’ on the map, you pass two. If the Abbot’s Way was marked by crosses, which route is more likely?

  If you wish to follow in the footprints of the story, I would recommend Eric Hemery’s excellent Walking Dartmoor’s Ancient Tracks (Robert Hale, 1986). Like me, Hemery prefers Worth’s route rather than the curious one given on the OS maps. And don’t forget to buy the Dartmoor Rescue Group’s book on walks in Dartmoor, because it gives excellent advice on all aspects of walking. Most of all, enjoy the feel of the moors. There are few places in our crowded little island where we can really see how things would have been, hundreds of years ago. Dartmoor has changed in many ways, but as you stand at Siward’s Cross and gaze south and east, it is easy to sense the millions of people who have tramped past here over the centuries, through rain and sleet, frozen to the marrow, undernourished and desperate, and weighed down by overwork.

  I only hope you don’t feel the same as them!

  Michael Jecks

  Dartmoor

  July 2001

  Prologue

  When they sat down in the old man’s room on that Tuesday evening, it was the scar that initially held them all spellbound, rather than his storie
s.

  The room was only small, the fire resting in a slight hollow in the middle of the floor, and the novices seated around it. The Almoner hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head moving from side to side as he studied each boy. Gerard the young acolyte felt a shudder of revulsion pass through his frame as Brother Peter’s gaze passed over him. In this dim light, the Almoner looked like a demon viewing his prey. Gerard almost expected to see him sprout wings.

  Away from the fire there was no light at this time of night, and the wind was gusting in the court outside, making a curious thumping as it caught ill-fitting doors and rattled them in their frames. This dismal sound was accompanied by the constant rumble and clatter of the corn mill next door; its low grumbling made itself felt through Gerard’s bony buttocks as he sat on the floor.

  Gerard gawped at the Almoner’s terrible wound, knowing he shouldn’t, fearing that at any moment, the man would look up and catch him at it.

  Old Peter was aloof mostly, far above the novices in his supreme authority, yet most of them rather liked him. He rarely had to raise his voice to command their respect, rarely had to offer them the strap; he could keep them obedient and quiet through the mere force of his will. Yet Gerard didn’t much care for Brother Peter. Not now. And the lad was incapable of averting his eyes. Even as the Almoner turned his gaze from them to the fire, his thin head nodding, his lip curled ever so slightly at the sight of the novices, as though it was hard to imagine that so pathetic a bunch of young males could have been selected from the length and breadth of Devon, Gerard fixed on that hideous mark, wondering anew how painful it had been.