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  CITY OF FIENDS

  Also by Michael Jecks

  The Last Templar

  The Merchant’s Partner

  A Moorland Hanging

  The Crediton Killings

  The Abbot’s Gibbet

  The Leper’s Return

  Squire Throwleigh’s Heir

  Belladonna at Belstone

  The Traitor of St Giles

  The Boy Bishop’s Glovemaker

  The Tournament of Blood

  The Sticklepath Strangler

  The Devil’s Acolyte

  The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

  The Templar’s Penance

  The Outlaws of Ennor

  The Tolls of Death

  The Chapel of Bones

  The Butcher of St Peter’s

  A Friar’s Bloodfeud

  The Death Ship of Dartmouth

  The Malice of Unnatural Death

  Dispensation of Death

  The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

  The Prophecy of Death

  The King of Thieves

  The Bishop Must Die

  The Oath

  King’s Gold

  First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2012

  A CBS Company

  Copyright © Michael Jecks, 2012

  This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.

  No reproduction without permission.

  ® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc. All rights reserved.

  The right of Michael Jecks to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  Simon & Schuster UK Ltd

  1st Floor

  222 Gray’s Inn Road

  London WC1X 8HB

  www.simonandschuster.co.uk

  Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney

  Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN HB: 978-0-85720-521-6

  TPB: 978-0-85720-522-3

  Ebook: 978-0-85720-524-7

  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.

  Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd,

  Croydon, CR0 4YY

  This book is for Andy, Jenny,

  and all the BERTS Frangles,

  for ales, for Morris dancing, for cycling,

  and for all the fun.

  You are the best of neighbours.

  Bratchet

  a diminutive form of ‘brat’.

  Coffin

  a pie-case of pastry.

  Deodand

  the fine exacted for the value of a thing that occasioned death. Deodand finally disappeared after a train killed a man in the nineteenth century, and the full value of engine and train was charged to the company.

  Deofol and Foumart

  two terms of opprobrium.

  Gegge

  term of contempt for man or woman.

  Leman

  lover or sweetheart.

  Lurdan

  sluggard, vagabond, rascal – also implying dimness.

  Misericord

  small wooden projection set into choir stalls for monks and canons to rest upon to ease their legs during long services; also a long, narrow-bladed dagger for the coup de grâce. Both implying compassion, pity, or mercy.

  Parnel

  wanton young woman, harlot.

  Recusant

  one who refuses to submit to authority.

  Scanthing

  very small, insignificant in size.

  Strummel patch

  term of contempt.

  Villeiny-saying

  speaking slander of a person.

  Sir Baldwin de Furnshill

  Keeper of the King’s Peace and keen investigator of felonies.

  Edgar

  Sir Baldwin’s loyal Sergeant.

  Simon Puttock

  once a bailiff of Dartmoor, now a farmer near Crediton and friend to Sir Baldwin.

  Edith

  Simon’s daughter.

  Peter

  Edith’s husband.

  Henry

  Edith and Peter’s baby.

  Hugh

  Simon’s servant.

  Sir Richard de Welles

  Coroner in Lifton.

  Sir Reginald

  Coroner in Exeter.

  Sir James de Cockington

  Sheriff of Exeter.

  Luke Chepman

  a successful merchant and member of the Freedom of Exeter

  Sir Charles of Lancaster

  the loyal servant of the Lancaster family, he has become a committed supporter of the former King, Edward II.

  Ulric of Exeter

  servant to Sir Charles.

  Cathedral & Religious

  Adam Murimuth

  Precentor and Canon at Exeter Cathedral.

  Fr Laurence Coscumbe

  Vicar within the Cathedral.

  Fr Paul

  Vicar of Holy Trinity at the South Gate.

  Janekyn Beyvyn

  porter responsible for all the gates to the Cathedral Close.

  Paffards

  Henry Paffard

  a wealthy merchant in Exeter.

  Claricia Paffard

  Henry’s long suffering wife.

  Gregory Paffard

  eldest son of Henry and Claricia.

  Agatha

  the second child, with the most business acumen.

  Thomas

  the third child, a boy of six years.

  John

  old bottler to the family.

  Benjamin

  Henry Paffard’s apprentice.

  Alice

  maid to the Paffards.

  Joan

  younger maid.

  De Coyntes

  Bydaud de Coyntes

  Gascon merchant.

  Emma de Coyntes

  Bydaud’s wife.

  Anastasia

  Bydaud’s eldest daughter.

  Sabina

  Bydaud’s younger daughter.

  Peg

  maid to the de Coyntes family.

  Avices

  Roger Avice

  a dealer in good wines, who has suffered from debts.

  Helewisia Avice

  Roger’s wife; a determined woman from farming stock.

  Katherine

  their daughter of sixteen.

  Piers

  their son, who died two years before.

  Marsilles

  Juliana Marsille

  a widow, who struggles to survive.

  Philip

  her eldest son, who is trying to build up his family’s business again.

  William

  aged sixteen, he is determined to help his brother and mother.

  The idea for this book came to me while I was researching what I had intended to be a very parochial little story about four families in Exeter. Why is it that, when sitting in a darkened library, so many curious little diversions always occur to me?

  This one came about because I was looking into that strange period after the capture, and escape from captivity, of King Edward II.

  The kingdom must have been in complete turmoil. Many men were keen to try to spring Edward from his prisons, first at Kenilworth, then at Berkeley, while others were more than happy to see him languish in gaol, letting his son rule in his stead.

  Despenser, at last, had been removed. But in his place was the ever more avari
cious Mortimer, who took every advantage. Some believe he was hoping to take the throne for one of his sons. I don’t believe that myself, but there is no doubt that he grabbed all the money, lands and authority he could lay his hands on.

  And in the middle of all this, poor Bishop Berkeley suddenly died.

  The facts are few and far between. We know that the good Bishop was elected, and confirmed on 8 January 1327. He left no Register, or other record, apparently. About the only document we have from him was a letter to Adam Murimuth, on 12 January, appointing him his Official-Principal.

  It is thought that he was enthroned soon after 25 March, and then, following the precedent of his immediate predecessors, he went on a tour of the ecclesiastical estates. Proof of his determination to be a good administrator, I suppose.

  But his journey was cut short by his death.

  It is Murimuth’s chronicle that tells us that he died at Petreshayes, in Yarcombe, on 24 June. A shockingly sudden death.

  What could have led to such a brief episcopate? Was he merely unwell?

  I suspect not.

  Generally, it is true that men, whether bishops or lords, could die while travelling from one manor to another. Their entourages generally used up all the resources of a manor quite quickly, after which they would move on to the next. However, if there was even a hint of ill-health, they would stay put, since there was no point in hastening a man’s demise by forcing him to cover twenty miles on horseback.

  Be that as it may, there is other evidence that must be looked at.

  Berkeley’s successor was Grandisson, one of Exeter’s greatest bishops. According to Wikipedia there was mention in Coulton’s Social Life in Britain of a section from Grandisson’s Register that said Berkeley had been murdered and his estates despoiled.

  I am not convinced. This is the only mention I have seen (in Wikipedia, I mean) of this murder and despoilation. Looking in Coulton’s book, which was published in 1918, there is a footnote on page 27 that reads: Grandisson succeeded (after a very brief episcopate of John (sic) de Berkeley) to that Bishop Stapeldon whose murder is recounted in the French Chronicle of London (Camden Soc. 1844), P.52.

  I do wonder whether the mention of murder and the vision of rampaging hordes which it brings to mind are due to someone’s misreading Coulton’s book when they put the comment up on Wikipedia.

  Don’t get me started on inaccurate quotations on Wikipedia!

  However, although this researcher may have had a problem, there is no doubt that Berkeley’s contemporaries did view his death in an especial light. For several years after his demise (and to the disgust of Bishop Grandisson, according to Professor Nicholas Orme in his Death and Burial in Medieval Exeter, Devon & Cornwall Record Society, 2003), pilgrims went to pray at his tomb. This cult lasted until the 1340s, after which it dwindled.

  So, I was left with the idea of a bishop who was revered by his people, even to the extent that they would travel to visit his tomb under the disapproving eye of his successor. A man who had died suddenly – and a man with the magical name of Berkeley – just at the time that King Edward II was being held by Berkeley’s brother at the castle that still holds their name. And also, of course, at the time when certain men were trying to free their King from that castle. And when the Dunheved brothers had succeeded in doing so.

  Is it any wonder that a fiction writer would be attracted to this story?

  As always, my gratitude goes to my copy editor, Joan Deitch; to my marvellous editor, Jessica Leeke; my agent Eddie Bell; and the many people who have contributed (knowingly or not) to the story: Jules Frusher, Kathryn Warner, the excellent Ian Mortimer, and all the many others whose research I have shamelessly pinched!

  My greatest thanks must go to my wife and kids for their patience and fortitude during the writing and editing of yet another book. Love you all.

  And as ever, any errors are my own.

  Unless they were caused by my mislaying an important note after being called out to liberate a cricket ball from the barn roof . . .

  Michael Jecks

  North Dartmoor

  July 2011

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Relationships are always changing. Sometimes their adjustments are so gradual, we hardly notice them; occasionally they are shattered by shocks that devastate all concerned, but whether they alter with glacial or lightning speed, the effect can be profound.

  In a family, in a village, in a city, the connections that matter most are those with our nearest family and friends, yet they are the ones which are tested daily. These are the people whom we can most easily upset – and yet they are the very ones upon whom we most depend.

  Disputes can occur at the drop of a hat: a misinterpreted expression, a careless word, a hand held too long – all can lead to sharp words, bitterness and rancour.

  Reconciliation may be straightforward if attempted with speed, but it is less certain when allowed to fester. It is better, so they say, not to sleep on a quarrel. But all too often men and women lie weeping into the night over cruel words. Words which were uttered in the heat of the moment and which were never intended to have a lasting impact; or worse, words which were precisely considered – and all the more vicious as a result.

  In the year 1327, all over the kingdom people went about their business in a state of constant worry because they feared what the future might bring.

  Their King, Edward II, had been forced to abdicate.

  The uncertain political situation affected everyone: the merchants and traders of Exeter, just as much as elsewhere in the realm. In such a climate, even mild-mannered people became uncharacteristically quick to take offence; disagreements abounded and could grow into outright feuds, petty disputes into fist-fights. Even murder.

  In one street in Exeter that June, an argument that arose from an ill-considered reckless threat grew to dominate the lives of all about and escalated into a disaster that would overwhelm them all with hideous acts of violence. All for love, for loyalty, or for honour.

  And none of those who were intimate with the victims or protagonists would be untouched by the consequences.

  Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist1, first year of the reign of King Edward III

  Petreshayes Manor, Yarcombe, East Devon

  The smoke could be seen clearly from half a mile away. In the still air of the summer’s evening, the columns
rose from the manor’s fires like pillars supporting the sky.

  ‘Hold!’ commanded Sir Charles of Lancaster, peering ahead. There was no sign of alarm. A wood on their left offered some protection, while to the right there were some fields, pasture, common land. All ideal for pursuing their victims, should they escape.

  ‘Here we are, boys,’ he breathed.

  His men stared. There was a heightened tension, the awareness of an imminent fight. Breath rasped, and he heard the soft hiss of a blade being drawn, the jangle of bit, the squeak of leather, the hollow clop of a hoof.

  ‘That’s the manor,’ his guide said. Wat Bakere was a rotund, smiling man, but he wore a scowl today. ‘You’ll find it easy to overrun. Kill them all.’ He was pointing at the church and manorial buildings over at the other side of the dirt road. It curled about the line of the manor, which was a prominent landmark.

  ‘You’re sure they are there?’

  ‘Ulric told you, didn’t he? He said they would be,’ Bakere said, jerking a thumb at the lad behind him.

  Sir Charles nodded.

  He was a tall man, fair and handsome as a Viking, and ruthless as a berserker. During the last civil war he had fought against the King for his lord, Thomas of Lancaster, and when Earl Lancaster was executed, Sir Charles had been exiled. That was five years ago, and when he begged for a pardon for his offences, his King had been gracious. He was rewarded with positions of trust, and given a living once more.

  He asked for no more; he had given his word and his hand to his King, so when Edward II was captured by his enemies, Sir Charles became a recusant knight. He would not renege on the new oaths he had given his King. Instead he left the comfortable billet in the King’s manor at Eltham where he had lived for the last months, and rode into the twilight to take up arms on the King’s behalf.

  Now the King’s son had taken the throne, Sir Charles was a renegade. A felon. Because he would hold to his vow.

  Today, with his band of warriors committed to the King, he would begin the fight to return Sir Edward of Caernarfon, as he was now labelled, to his natural place on the throne of England.

  Sir Charles looked at Ulric of Exeter. He was more trustworthy than Wat Bakere. Bakere had been given to him by Stephen Dunheved, a man who appreciated the value of good information, but it was Ulric, the merchant’s fellow, who had brought the details. Returning his gaze to Bakere, he nodded.