The Tolls of Death: (Knights Templar 17) Read online

  Richer stepped aside, but his hand was at his dagger’s hilt. ‘Call off your pet, Constable, unless you want him to feel the sting of my blade. Call him off, I say!’

  As Serlo tried to leap on him, old Iwan grabbed one arm and held it in a vice-like grip; the other arm was gripped by Iwan’s son Angot. They held Serlo firmly while he roared at Richer: ‘You threaten me? You accuse me? Iwan, let me go, you old bastard! Richer, I’ll have your ballocks in my purse for this!’

  ‘Oh you will, will you?’ Richer said coolly. ‘Friend Serlo, if you try to harm me, I swear that within the hour, I’ll see you in Hell. You go back to threatening children and your wife, little man – leave real men alone. We deserve more capable fighters than cowards like you!’

  He stepped forward, letting his hand fall away from his knife, and as he passed Alexander, he held the man’s gaze, speaking low.

  ‘Keep that piece of shit away from Athelina in future, understand? Otherwise all this will come straight to the attention of the lord of the manor. I swear it. Leave her alone, and leave her safe, or I’ll ruin you.’

  Letitia heard his words, but did not know what he meant by them. Athelina had little to do with her or Alex, apart from living in one of the houses which Alex and Serlo owned. In any event, Alex wouldn’t have harmed her. Since losing his own mother, he had taken great care to protect other mothers so far as was possible.

  Then she saw Richer’s expression as he stared at her husband. That was when she understood. Richer didn’t care about Serlo. His words may have been aimed at Serlo, but their import was intended for Alex. This man Richer had returned here after many years abroad; now it appeared that he and Alex hated each other. Why, she had no idea, but she was sure that Richer was threatening her man. It should have worried her: Richer was one of the men-at-arms at the castle, after all, but she couldn’t be anxious about Alex. He was too sensible and self-assured. No matter how dangerous Richer might be, she was convinced that Alex and she could meet the threat head-on. He was the Constable of the vill, when all was said and done, and Letitia was more than capable of helping him.

  But, she acknowledged with a sigh, her brother-in-law was a different matter. Serlo was forever causing problems for them, starting brawls in the tavern, insulting men and women as though he was safe from prosecution, and now he had even threatened one of the castle’s men in full view of the vill.

  It was clear that he detested Richer with a loathing that went much more than skin deep. And, as usual, it would be the protection of Alex’s brother which would cause the friction between herself and her husband, she saw with a swift intuition. So be it.

  ‘Yes, Serlo, you leave me alone before you get hurt,’ Richer said more loudly again, with a chuckle in his voice. ‘And in the meantime, I look forward to the next court in our lord’s hall, if you persist in taking gifts. You’re reducing the amount he can expect from his tolls, by reducing the charge, and he won’t like that.’

  He tapped his dagger’s hilt meaningfully and then stepped back a few paces, his eyes still on Alexander and Serlo, before he spun on his heel and left.

  Alexander put his hand through his wife’s crooked arm. ‘Come, my dear, we should get back to our home,’ he said. ‘Serlo, you should join us. Would you care for some wine and meats?’

  ‘No. No, I’m going to get on home,’ Serlo said, shrugging off the hands of those who had held him fast. ‘Next time you try to hold me, I’ll punch some sense into your heads, you …’

  Iwan smiled at him, his wrinkled old face unperturbed. ‘Oh yes? You’ll punch sense into me, will ’ee, Serlo Almeric’s son? You try it, fellow. And when you’ve come round, you can remember to be polite to your elders. Just think on: you’re in our tithing. If you break the King’s Peace, it’s goin’ to be me and Angot here who knock some sort of sense into your thick head, because we won’t pay fines for your stupidity.’

  Alexander broke in quickly. ‘Don’t threaten him in my presence, Iwan. I won’t have it. If a man misbehaves in this vill, I’ll tell him, and I’ll bring it to the attention of Gervase at the castle, too.’

  ‘Oh, I weren’t threatenin’ him,’ Iwan remarked happily. ‘I were just tellin’ ’im ’ow it were to be.’

  Serlo spat at the ground at Iwan’s feet, then barged the old man from his path. Alexander saw Iwan’s fist clench, and snarled, ‘Iwan, leave it!’

  ‘Weren’t doin’ nothin’,’ came the reply, Iwan’s blue eyes opened wide in innocence, and as Serlo disappeared from view, Alexander turned from the church and made his way homewards, his arm still linked with that of his wife.

  As the two made their stately progress home from the church, Gervase, the steward at the castle, finished his discussion with the cook about the meals for that day and strolled downstairs, just in time to see Lady Anne and her maids leaving the chapel.

  She was still small, neat and perfect, he thought. This was the woman who had come between him and his only real friend, Nicholas the castellan, first by taking Nick from him, then by stopping him from indulging in those lengthy debates which both had enjoyed so much. They had invariably been drunken affairs, meandering on late into the night; during which they had spoken of manor business and then, as the wine flowed more freely, the politics of the nation. Nick was of a mind with their lord, that the Despensers must be curbed before they took over the whole kingdom, while Gervase held the pragmatic view that it was better to have the Despensers as tyrants ruling all, including the King, because that meant the kingdom was quiet and secure. Any move to restrain them could only lead to war again, and that was to be avoided at all costs. Their disagreements never led to anger on either side. Both could lay down their opinions without offending the other.

  But Lady Anne had not enjoyed having her husband arrive drunk in her bed each night, and she had sweetly suggested that they should use different rooms, if he wished to carouse the night away with his old companion. So, as Nick said, ‘just for a little while’ they’d best drop the custom.

  This was only the first of the signs that Gervase had lost his friend. Nick started to take breakfast in his bedchamber with his wife rather than in the hall where the two men had been wont to discuss their plans for the day. Now commands came down from Nick, often an embarrassed Nick, which indicated to Gervase that it was his wife who had demanded changes to the steward’s list of chores.

  At first Gervase had accepted all this in good heart, knowing that it was only right and fair that Nick should be allowed to enjoy his wife. No one should come between a man and his woman. Gervase knew that well enough.

  ‘Master steward! Good morning. It is a fine one, isn’t it?’

  He fixed a smile to his face and nodded briefly. ‘My lady, yes. And you look magnificent.’

  ‘You flatter me,’ she said shyly. As so often before, he felt his heart lurch as her gaze darted away from him as though she was ashamed, or fearful, of seeing too much. It was said that the eyes were the windows to a man’s soul; well, she was ever scared of seeing love in another’s face.

  It was no surprise, he reflected. She was temptation made flesh. Perfect in all ways, from her flawless skin to the slim, lithe body beneath her tunic, she was enough to make any man forget his oaths.

  ‘No man could flatter you, Lady Anne. Flattery supposes that the comments are not merited, and in your case they are.’

  She returned her gaze to him then, a smile on her lips. ‘I thank you.’

  He watched as she moved away, still captivated by the thought of that lovely body … before he was wrenched back by the memory of the pain he had suffered, the loss of his best friend, and the betrayal.

  It hurt so much, he could weep.

  Chapter Four

  Walking quickly, Richer left the churchyard and made his way along the path towards the castle. He had not gone above a hundred paces when at the bend in the road where the trees obscured the view, his companion Warin appeared suddenly at his side.

  ‘Christ’s tears, I w
ish you wouldn’t do that!’ Richer declared. ‘The way you appear, it’s enough to make a man have a fit!’

  His friend glanced at him. ‘Why? You think I’m more likely to give a man a fit than you? It wasn’t me who tweaked the tail of that little monkey.’

  ‘It wasn’t only his tail I was tweaking,’ Richer said smugly. ‘It was his brother’s.’

  ‘Don’t forget,’ his friend said unsmilingly, ‘that this is not an affair which concerns only you.’

  ‘I am aware of that.’

  ‘Good. If you upset the Constable and his brother, it may have unfortunate consequences for the tithing and the manor, and I cannot allow that.’ Warin’s voice was sharper this time.

  Richer had rarely heard his tone so cool. The man was a squire, yes, and of course he had a legitimate interest in the workings of the manor and in the loyalties of the peasants because of his position with the castle, but Richer felt as though he had been deserted by his oldest companion. Their relationship had been one of mutual trust, rather that of friends or brothers than squire with his man-at-arms. To hear Warin speak so was enough to make Richer feel as he did when he prepared to ride into a battle: an awareness of danger to come.

  ‘This business of the tolls should interest the castle,’ he said. ‘I don’t understand why the steward does nothing about it.’

  Warin frowned. ‘Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you. This matter goes much deeper than the foolishness of a tollkeeper. It is an ancient feud.’

  ‘I never liked him,’ Richer answered simply. ‘And now, seeing how he’s treated my woman, I dislike him all the more.’

  ‘Your woman? You left her fifteen years ago, you tell me she has two brats from her dead husband, and still you call her yours?’

  ‘She may be mine again,’ Richer said seriously, but then he looked up at his squire and grinned. ‘Don’t worry about Serlo – he’s no real danger to us. Alex is the one with the brain. He’ll understand that all I want is to see Athelina safe, remaining in her house. They’ll work out for themselves that it’s better to do what I want, rather than have me making trouble for them. If they leave her alone, I’ll leave them alone.’

  ‘The two brothers together could be a risk. They are upsetting the folk about here with their depredations. They are like those other thieving devils, Despenser and his father,’ Warin growled. ‘If you keep up this affair of trying to settle an old score, Serlo might decide to harm you. Perhaps even waylay and kill you.’

  ‘Not while we are at the castle. Even they wouldn’t do anything while we live under Nicholas’s protection. He’s the representative of Sir Henry. No one would dare to gainsay him in the lord’s own manor.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Warin’s eyes were a curious light hazel colour with green flecks. When those eyes were fired with rage, they glittered like gold shot through with emerald. Although he was large and strongly built, he was no dullard, like some of the blockheads who regularly fought in the lists, but an intelligent and educated man. Now he turned on Richer a look which seemed to shear through his words like a sword through butter.

  Richer’s laugh was less certain under that scrutiny. ‘“Perhaps”– nothing! And while I’m here, I won’t have the pair of them robbing everyone including their master!’

  ‘Very well, but I don’t wish the area to be unsettled. This used to be a stable, secure place. I want it to remain so.’

  ‘Yes, Squire, and I shall see to it.’

  ‘Good,’ Warin said. ‘With Despenser running the land there are already too many problems in the realm without us seeking to create more here in the manor.’

  ‘The problems aren’t of my making,’ Richer protested. ‘I didn’t tell the miller to ask us for a gift.’

  ‘Yet you are happy enough to continue the argument, aren’t you? And you’d like to smack Serlo’s fat face, wouldn’t you, friend Richer?’

  Those unsettling eyes were on him again, and Richer had to shrug in agreement.

  He had always disliked Almeric’s family. Then, when he had suffered his own personal disaster and lost everyone belonging to him, it seemed cruel and unjust that they should have remained in Cardinham and prospered while he was absent. It served to make his dislike more intense.

  Alexander and Serlo had been nasty pieces of work from as early as Richer could remember. Never the sort to leave the vill and make their own way in the world, they preferred to remain in the backwater where they had been sired and whelped, making themselves kings of this little territory. But like kings of many another small land, their rule was permanently at risk. Alexander liked to believe that he was master of the vill because he was the Constable; Serlo liked to believe that he was a prince among his peers because his brother ran things.

  The brothers had managed to acquire much power and influence here, by judicious use of gossip, spreading malicious tales about others in order to enhance their own positions. When all else failed, they resorted to threats of violence, but from what Richer had seen, that was a rare occurrence. Most people in the vill didn’t bother to argue.

  If they demanded a piece of land to graze their animals, the farmer would give way. It was easier than preventing them. And in that way, they encroached on other men’s lands and increased their flocks. Small parcels were borrowed, and then after some months or a year the neighbour might see that they had put up a fence to prevent their sheep escaping, and soon that fence became a wall and hedge, and then Alexander would claim that since he’d been using the land for so long, it was easier to include it on his lands, and how much would the farmer want for it? All too often the farmer would agree to let him make use of the land because, as Alexander said, it was better for the manor that his profits were kept high, since they formed such a large part of the manor’s total profit.

  Aye, Richer thought, the two had come a long way from the young lads who had been so fearful of their father, a man so drunken and stupid, he couldn’t even keep his sheep in their fold.

  Warin appeared to think he had made his point and was silent for the rest of their march, but Richer was not persuaded that he was happy. Warin did not like the mess that was this little manor. There was too much corruption, and too many intense rivalries.

  And they still had business with Nicholas, of course. Perhaps that was what occupied the squire’s thoughts: how to make him bow to Warin’s will.

  On the Monday following these events, Simon and Baldwin bade farewell to the morose young ostler; they sent him on his way with two pennies instead of the one they had agreed on as a fee. When he received the money, he stared at the coins as though in disbelief at their niggardliness, before shaking his head in disgust and mounting his horse, leading the others away with him.

  Soon Simon and Baldwin were on their way again, this time with a fellow who was as different from their last stony-faced companion as he could be; this one appeared unable to keep his mouth shut.

  Ivo was an engaging youth, perhaps fifteen years old. He wore a pair of hosen that were far too large for him and which rumpled about his knees alarmingly. They were tied to his belt underneath his tunic, a bright blue-coloured wool garment which looked warm and comfortable. On his head he wore a coif with a hood, which he was constantly pulling up over his forehead, and then shaking it free, as though he was practising the best method of removing it whenever he had an opportunity.

  When the hood was down, Simon saw that the lad had an unruly shock of tallow-coloured hair over his long, thin face. It was the sort of face Simon would have expected to see on a clerk: pale, with hooded eyes, high cheeks and a long nose, small mouth, and a chin which was all but non-existent – but for all that Ivo was enormously cheering company. He plainly enjoyed telling and hearing stories, the more bawdy the better. Already Simon had heard two tales of an alewife and her lovers, together with a couple of crude verses based upon a miller who tried to rob a pair of northern clerics of their grain, but who was bested by them when they slept with the miller’s wife and da
ughter before the daughter took pity on them and showed them where their grain had been hidden.

  Simon’s amusement was only enhanced by the often repeated expression of shock on Baldwin’s face. It was rare that a villein on Baldwin’s land would have dared utter such talk in his presence, Simon realised, and although the knight was used to hearing such language from convicted felons, he was entirely unprepared to hear it from a boy who was his servant.

  They had slept well at Bodmin, and found that their route out of the town took them up a hill and over a pleasantly sheltered way, with spreading oaks and beech trees high overhead, and strong turf hedges at either side. Soon, however, these started to disappear, and the path, although well-trodden, became noticeably less well-maintained. This far from the town, the farmsteads and vills were more widely separated, and Simon couldn’t help but wonder how safe it was. His eyes were drawn to tree-trunks and bushes, looking for ambushes.

  ‘The Keeper of the King’s Peace down here doesn’t seem to pay much attention to the law on keeping the verges clear,’ Simon noted.

  Baldwin, who was himself the Keeper for the Crediton area, smiled. ‘Perhaps he feels it is far enough from danger down here?’

  ‘More fool him, then. A felon can attack here as easily as in Buckinghamshire. Vigilance isn’t a matter of relying on good fortune,’ Simon grunted. ‘Pirates could land at the shore and attack; a peasant can turn outlaw here as easily as a man from Exeter.’

  ‘True enough,’ Baldwin nodded.

  ‘Did you ever hear the story about the apple-selling girl who accused the vintner of taking her virginity?’ the ostler asked eagerly.

  Simon was taken off-balance. ‘What was that?’

  ‘See, she’s teased by him into his bed, right?’ Ivo continued happily. ‘She wouldn’t have gone with him, but he promises her five pounds in gold, he wants her so much. So afterwards, next morning, she says, “Right, you’ve had your fun, where’s my money?” but he says, “Last night was so good, I’ll have you again tonight. Stay here, pretty maid, and let us play again.” She says, “I can’t stay, and I won’t stay! Pay me like you promised,” but he isn’t having any of that. He says, “If you won’t stay, I’m not paying.” So she goes to the court, says this vintner he promised her five pounds in “cellarage” for a night, and she wants her money.