The Death Ship of Dartmouth: (Knights Templar 21) Read online

  Hamo clouted Ivo over the shoulder, and in a few moments, his horn was sounding, and with it, men began to gather. Hamo explained what he had seen, and the sailors immediately grasped the seriousness of the situation. Axes, knives, cudgels and hammers appeared, and there was a general movement down towards the water’s edge.

  Every boat in the area was grabbed and thrust into the river, and men tumbled into them, oars being shoved out and lustily pulled. In a few minutes there were almost fifty men in the river, pulling strongly for the cog.

  On the Saint Denis there was a cry, then a couple of snapped orders. Hamo could hear them distinctly over the rush and hiss of water at the boat’s keel. He had his axe ready, and as the boats approached the three which were already tethered to the cog, he prepared himself to leap. His boat thudded heavily into one of them, and he sprang out and into it. There was a stout line running up the side of the ship, and he grasped it a few moments after another man, who shinned up it with natural agility, as though running across flat, level ground, Hamo holding it taut as the man went. Then he shoved his axe into his belt and climbed.

  ‘Hey, who are you!’

  He heard shouting and then a scream, cut short, and then he was over the sheer and on the deck. Over to his left, he saw Dicken, who lay with his throat cut, rolling in the scuppers. Another man was sitting beside his body, his arm savagely wounded with a slash that began near his shoulder and finished a scant two inches above his elbow. He was trying to hold this immense flap of ruined flesh in place with his left hand, glaring balefully at the men before him, while beside him Cynegils stood with an expression of hatred twisting his features.

  There were twenty or more of the intruders about the ship, and it looked as though they were searching for something or someone. None of them noticed Hamo or the first four others to arrive. Then a man stumbled and fell, dropping his sword with a clatter, and they were seen.

  Their leader, a heavyset man in mail coat and wearing a steel cap, bellowed an order. Immediately eight of the men took up their swords and approached Hamo, one wearing a fixed, sneering grin, the others eyeing Hamo and the men with wary expressions. These changed to surprise, then alarm, as more and more men piled over the ship’s side to defend it.

  Another order, and now the men rushed forward to drive Hamo and the townspeople over the side, swords waving wildly as though they could intimidate free-born Dartmouth sailors. As the first reached Hamo, he swung his axe, the heavy blade shearing through the man’s cheap mail at his shoulder, and burying itself in his neck and collar bone, and Hamo grabbed his wrist, snatching the sword from him as the dying man sank to his knees. Hamo placed his foot on his chest and pushed him away, keeping the sword in his left, the axe in his right.

  ‘Remember the Saint John!’ he bellowed, and the cry was taken up by the others as they reached the deck. ‘Saint John! Saint John!’

  There was another order, and the enemy began to withdraw into a huddle about the mast in the face of this terrible threat. As the Dartmouth men approached, weighing their weapons in their hands, Hamo stood determinedly in front of them, his axe bloody, tapping the head against the sword’s blade.

  As though aware that they were to blame for the bloodshed and could expect no mercy, the attackers looked nervous. Pirates could only expect the rope. At least they were not contesting the recapture of the Saint Denis. Hamo was glad to see that all fight seemed to have left them.

  By the time Ivo arrived, they were thoroughly chastened. The sergeant pointed at them. ‘You – put down your weapons. You’re all arrested for trying to take this ship.’

  It was the sneering man who spoke now. ‘We were only obeying our orders. We are here on the command of the King.’ He was scowling, as though wondering whether to run for the ship’s side and leap over. His neck was so short his chin seemed to rest on his chest, and Hamo told himself that if he fell headfirst onto one of the boats that lay bound to the cog, it could hardly make his neck shorter.

  ‘You tried to capture a vessel here in the haven of Dartmouth. That’s piracy,’ Ivo said nastily. ‘Drop your weapons, or we’ll take them from you and you’ll join your dead friends.’

  ‘We’re only here to arrest the felon. The Frenchman.’

  ‘What Frenchman?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘He doesn’t seem to be here,’ the man admitted at last.

  ‘Doesn’t seem to be here?’ Ivo bawled. ‘And you’ve committed murder to learn that, eh? You’re all arrested. Put up your weapons.’

  There was a short discussion among the men, then the first weapon rattled to the deck. Soon there was a low pile of knives and heavy-bladed swords at their feet. As Ivo ordered them all to be collected and the men to be bound at the wrist, Hamo gazed about him and pondered on the spokesman’s words. If they didn’t find him here, where was the Frenchman? he asked himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Simon was glad to find a boat in short order. ‘Take me to the ship,’ he commanded to the old fisherman who sat on it, a bone needle in hand as he mended a net. He was short, with a round face as brown as the boat’s timbers he sat on, and his beard was a thick, grizzled mass that spread from ear to ear and entirely obscured his mouth.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard me! Take me to that ship.’

  The sailor looked him up and down, lingering on his smart new boots. ‘Go piss yourself. I take orders from no one.’

  ‘You’ll bloody take this one, man,’ Simon spat, and put his hand to his sword.

  Instantly the old fisherman whipped out a short, ugly knife and flicked it up. It stayed in his hand, poised to throw. ‘You try it, you’ll be marked right where it hurts.’

  Baldwin already had his hand near his hilt, and the old man shot him a look and said, ‘I can hit you too, just as easy.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I was reaching for this,’ Baldwin said, opening the draw-strings of his purse. He withdrew a penny. ‘For your trouble, Master Fisherman.’

  ‘Ah. That’s different!’ the old man said and spat. ‘Give it me. Jump in, then. Look lively!’

  The three men stepped in, Baldwin with alacrity, Sir Richard with a stern look about him as though gauging the quality of both boat and shipmaster, and Simon with a wary expression. He had been sick too often in ships of all sizes to be enthusiastic about setting off in so small a craft.

  To his surprise, the journey was easier than he had expected. The little boat’s mast was soon stepped, and the old sailor fitted a sail to a rope, pulled on one end, and the little spread of canvas rose, snapped taut as the wind caught it, and in a few moments they were moving through the water, the river hissing and sucking at the boat’s planking as they went. As the craft rose and fell, Simon felt none of the usual queasiness, and he could even think to himself at one point that this was quite an enjoyable method of travelling. They were at the cog in a few minutes, and it was only as they approached to within a few yards that Simon began to take notice of the men up on the Saint Denis deck. There was a group talking animatedly at the prow, their faces turned to the approaching boat.

  Simon grabbed at the side as the boat thumped the others already tied up, and then he swallowed unhappily as he felt the boat sway and wobble. The sail was soon down, and the fisherman leaped about his craft like a great hound, completely at ease and unconcerned by any fears about his safety. Meanwhile the thing bobbed about until Simon felt like a demented frog on a lilypad that was too small for his weight. With that thought came an urgent desire to be off it, and he hurriedly rose to follow Baldwin and Sir Richard.

  ‘Dear God in heaven, man! Stop wobbling or you’ll have the boat over,’ the Coroner snarled as he grabbed Simon’s wrist from the safety of the next boat.

  Simon felt himself half pulled, half toppling into the boat with them, and took a deep breath. At least he would be safe once he was aboard the cog, he told himself, and began to clamber into the next vessel. It was deeply unpleasant, but soon he was at the si
de of the cog and staring at the hull towering above him. He grabbed a rope and a few moments later he was up on her deck, blowing out his cheeks with relief as he took in the mess.

  ‘Who is in charge here?’ he called as Baldwin and Sir Richard climbed over the ship’s sheer. He took in the sight of the men who had attacked this boat, then saw the bodies and his mood hardened. ‘Who is responsible for this slaughter?’

  ‘Bailiff, these men attacked the ship and we had to take her back,’ Ivo said. He was standing leaning on a sword which he had liberated from the men at the mast. ‘They say they were acting on the King’s orders, but I can’t see him here. Apparently they were looking for a Frenchman, but he’s not here either. I reckon they’re mazed. Either that or they’re pirates and saw this as another easy target, like the Saint John. Bastards!’

  ‘We’re not pirates!’

  ‘Where are the crew of the Saint John, then?’ Simon demanded.

  ‘The …’

  ‘You are arrested for the murder of the crew of the Saint John, for piracy, and for breaking the King’s Peace. You will be held in the town’s gaol until you can be tried in the court.’

  ‘I swear you’ll see us released before that, Bailiff,’ the spokesman said with a curl of his lip.

  ‘And I swear you will be put on trial for your lives for all the men who’ve died as a result of your piracy!’ Simon said with vigour. ‘Ivo, bind them and take them back to shore. I want them off this ship and out of my sight!’

  Sir Richard was prodding at the corpses with a toe. ‘Here was I, thinking my work was all but done here, and now I’ve another parcel of bodies to sort through and hold inquest on. This town is good for a Coroner, Simon. You do me proud down here.’

  ‘I am glad you are grateful,’ Simon said sharply and without humour. He could see four dead from where he stood, and he didn’t find the sight amusing in the slightest. ‘You! Cynegils! Bring all the weapons over to the boat down there. I don’t want anything left behind.’

  ‘You can help collect the bodies too,’ Sir Richard said. He was walking from one to another, and now he called Baldwin. ‘Please remember how all these men are lying, Sir Baldwin. Walk about them with me. I can’t get the jury to come out here to the ship, so best we witness the scene and then have the bodies carried back to shore for an inquest there, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Quite so,’ Baldwin nodded.

  Cynegils moved among the men, gathering all the swords and knives together, and despositing them behind the Bailiff. It took three attempts.

  ‘Now,’ Simon said. ‘What is all this about?’

  ‘They arrived here and killed poor Dicken as soon as he asked what they were doing.’

  ‘You’re sober?’ Baldwin asked not unkindly.

  Cynegils shuddered. ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Simon said.

  ‘You know some men can see what’s not there if they drink too much? I knew a man saw spiders crawling up his arms. Hundreds and hundreds of pink spiders. He tried to beat them off, screaming all the while. It was horrible! I felt like that myself today, because – well, I saw a ghost. Yes, you can laugh if you want, but on my way here today I did, I saw a ghost. It was young Ed, who died on the Saint John. I don’t care what you think, I saw him, and I’m sure he was warning me from going to sea again. He was a good lad, was Ed.’

  Baldwin leaned nearer and sniffed. ‘He hasn’t been drinking, Simon.’

  ‘Bailiff!’ The spokesman was addressing him, but Simon ignored him. He was mulling over Cynegils’s story. He had heard of ghosts returning to warn men of danger. Simon had more faith in the truth of the inexplicable than Baldwin did.

  Reluctantly, he faced the leader of the attackers, who stood now at the sheer, wearing a sarcastic smile. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, Master Bailiff, I would be grateful if you could speak to our master in the town. He is Sir Andrew de Limpsfield, and he is staying at—’

  ‘I know him and where he stays,’ Simon snapped. ‘Do you hope he will release you? I tell you now, man, that is not going to happen. You’ve caused the deaths of many men here today, and you will pay the full price for that.’

  ‘This lot? Most of the injured are Sir Andrew’s men. I’d be cautious, Bailiff, lest he demands payment from you for the harm done to his ship’s company.’

  Simon swore under his breath as the man was led over the side. ‘I’ll speak to him, all right. And I’ll learn what the murdering bastard thinks he’s doing here.’

  Pierre was still crouched on his knees in the wide space of the chapel as he prayed.

  Not all had fled to the shore to save the cog. Some of the older men and some children were still here, and Pierre felt less conspicuous than he might. It would be hard, though, to remain here when the other men all began to return. Better by far that he should leave the place and get back to his ship, where he should be safe.

  With that thought in his mind, he rose to his feet, bowing and genuflecting to the cross, and remaining there for a moment or two as he honoured his brother-in-law’s memory. Then he turned sharply on his heel and made his way to the entrance.

  Outside, the bright sunlight was blinding, and he stood a few moments, his cowl shielding his eyes as he took his bearings. He spotted the shabby figure of Hamund a short way down the hill, and moved off towards him.

  ‘Did you see where he went?’ Pierre asked.

  ‘Yes. I heard what he said, too.’ It was odd, now Hamund reflected on it, just how easy it had been to listen. In the past, perhaps he too would have been the same – ignoring some tattily dressed churl as though he was deaf and irrelevant. Certainly that appeared to be the attitude of Sir Andrew. Hamund was nearby, and yet the knight had spoken without any attempt to lower his voice.

  ‘What was that?’

  In answer, Hamund pointed down to the haven. ‘See the ship there? That man told his men to search it from stem to stern to find “the Frenchman”. He didn’t care about anything else, just finding you.’

  ‘As I thought,’ Pierre said. It was a blow, but not a surprise. He had expected Sir Andrew to be looking for him, as soon as he had realised the Frenchman was here. Well, so be it. Pierre might not be able to escape on this ship now, but he would find another, with luck. A ship to take him away from his love.

  ‘I don’t think he’ll like what’s happened now,’ Hamund continued.

  ‘Hmm?’ Pierre was deep in thoughts of his beloved as Hamund spoke, and for an instant he was disorientated.

  ‘Haven’t you seen? He’s been humiliated.’

  Pierre stared at him, baffled, and then out to the haven again. He could see men down the side of the ship once more, the little boats bobbing and moving as they landed in them. One was pushed too forcefully, and Pierre saw him tumble down into the boat’s interior, while sailors from Dartmouth laughed at the sight. ‘Those are Sir Andrew’s men?’

  ‘Yes. And now they’re being sent back, from the look of them,’ Hamund said with satisfaction. ‘I saw them take the ship, because there was a cooper down there who started bellowing about pirates, and then it seemed as though the whole population of Dartmouth took to their boats and rescued her! Isn’t it wonderful?’

  Pierre licked his lips. ‘If it means that Sir Andrew is to be held here without a crew, then it is, as you say, good news.’

  ‘Of course they’ll hold him here. He tried to steal a ship, didn’t he? That’s what all the people here will think and say, anyway. And since it is just after that other ship, the Saint John, was taken and her crew killed, that will be all the more reason for the men here to hate the murderers. They’ll do all they can to frustrate him and help our cog to sail.’

  He was right. Of course he was right. And yet, Sir Andrew was capable of inventing a lie just to have Pierre held there and prevent him from escaping to France.

  It was impossible to know what to do for the best!

  ‘Can you show me the place where he is staying?’

  Simo
n had always liked the cooper, and trusted his judgement. Now, as the disgruntled crew of Sir Andrew’s ship were led away, he beckoned Hamo to him, drawing him a short distance from the rest.

  ‘What really happened, Hamo? Ivo is such a fool he can usually only see as far as the ground at his feet. He never confuses himself by looking up at what’s happening in the world about him. You were here, you must have seen what went on.’

  ‘I was up at the ship in my boat, gone to deliver some barrels they’d asked me to repair, and while I was there, I saw the vessels coming up fast. Well, I wasn’t going to hang around to be knocked on the head. My first thought was, these must be they pirates as took the Saint John, so I shouted up to the deck to warn Dicken and the others, and put my head about. While I was going, I saw the ship took, so I raised the Hue and Cry ashore.’

  ‘Is it true what he said about looking for a man?’ Simon asked, indicating the leader of the men in the boats far below.

  ‘When I got up here, that was what it looked like. Who did they mean?’

  ‘There’s a Frenchman about here, apparently. The man they all work for said he’s wanted for raping a woman, but I don’t believe them.’

  ‘Why?’

  Simon looked back at the burned wreck of the Saint John. ‘Whoever heard of men committing that many murders because of a rape? If they were the ones who killed the crew of that ship, they are entirely evil, and they deserve to be gaoled until they can be hanged.’

  While the two had been talking, Baldwin and Sir Richard had completed their initial view of the bodies. Now Sir Richard stood at Simon’s shoulder. ‘We are all done here, I think, Bailiff. Could you arrange for someone to have these bodies brought back to the market hall? We can hold the inquest there. Right – I’d best speak to that fool of a sergeant and see when he can call the juries together. I’d like to get it all finished as soon as possible, though. How about this time tomorrow? Could he cope with that, do you think?’

  Simon looked at Hamo, who shrugged. ‘Ivo isn’t good at doing things in a hurry,’ he said.