Crowner's Crusade (33 page)

‘But the county belongs to Prince John!' howled de Revelle.

Walter de Ralegh jabbed a finger at the speaker. ‘A word of advice, de Revelle! As soon as the king is released, all lands he unwisely gave to his brother will be forfeit. John's remaining castles will be attacked and seized and the prince himself will probably be charged with treason, along with those who are known to support him. If I were you and you wish to save your neck, I would try to forget you'd ever heard of the Count of Mortain!' The tall judge got to his feet and pointed at the door. ‘Now go, de Revelle! You have no business here. Go to your manors, hunt, eat and sleep, but stop meddling in affairs of state that will only bring ruin upon you!'

Richard went pale, then red as his chagrin at being so summarily dismissed, wounded his pride and his vanity. He stalked to the door, sweeping his green cloak around him. As he passed John, he glared at him venomously. ‘This is your doing, de Wolfe! I'll never forget it!'

I
t was now early September and much had happened since the depths of winter. One warm afternoon, Nesta had moved two trestle tables and benches outside to flank the front door of the Bush. A pair of carpenters and a blacksmith sat on one, with John de Wolfe, Gwyn of Polruan and Nesta on the other. The only view was that of a bare patch opposite, where weeds covered the charred remains of the fire of some years ago, but it was pleasant to sit in the sun with a jug of ale and chat about the state of the world.

‘Any news from across the Channel?' asked Gwyn, leaning back against the wall of the inn, with a quart pot in his hand.

‘Ralph Morin's usual source passed through yesterday,' replied John. ‘A courier from Winchester said that our king is making slow but steady progress against Philip's army in Touraine and that he is planning to build a huge castle on the Seine.'

‘What about his traitorous brother?' demanded Nesta. ‘He seems to have faded from sight since May, when the king pardoned him yet again.'

De Wolfe scowled at the memory. ‘Yes, the Lionheart said he was like a naughty child and it was those men who led him astray who should be punished. But I don't trust him, he won't easily give up plotting to unseat Richard.'

After the collapse of John's rebellion in March, the main instigator, Hugh of Nonant, Bishop of Coventry, was fined heavily and went into exile in Normandy, where he died in disgrace. His brother, Robert Brito (who had refused to go to Germany as a hostage for the king) was thrown into the cells of Dover castle and was starved to death.

John himself had fled to Normandy and allied himself openly with King Philip, until he had crawled back to Liseaux to seek his brother's forgiveness. As Walter de Ralegh had foreseen, the
Curia Regis
had stripped him of his English possessions, including Devon, even before the king was released from Germany into his doughty mother's custody in February.

As the sun warmed them, they gave up talking politics in favour of things nearer home. Their sheriff, Henry de Furnellis, was liked well enough, but they were rather irked by his lack of enthusiasm for keeping the peace.

‘He's not a well man,' said John, in mitigation. ‘He suffered wounds in Ireland when we were there, but his main problem is this shaking fever he gets at intervals, picked up in the marshes of southern France, due to their foul air.'

‘Whatever it is, he's not too keen on chasing trail robbers from the roads,' grunted Gwyn. ‘We've had to go out with Ralph a few times on his behalf.'

‘It keeps us from growing rusty,' countered John. ‘And it's something to do to pass the time.'

John was becoming restless at his own inactivity. He had been back in Exeter now for a year and apart from some sporadic involvement with their wool business, had no real occupation. This was a common problem for knights who had neither a manor to administer nor a war to fight. Some of them even turned to banditry, but many more found little to occupy themselves – and of these, many were relatively poor, as an honourable rank does not fill an empty stomach. De Wolfe had even been considering entering the king's service again, but that would mean leaving Devon and almost certainly going to France to join the royal armies. Though he had no objection to this, he was now so enamoured of Nesta that it would be a great wrench to leave her. He looked at her now, smiling at him across the table, pretty and happy in her summer kirtle and lace coif.

‘Why so solemn, John?' she asked gaily. ‘It's a lovely day, the ale is perfect and Molly has a fine salmon to cook for our supper!'

He gave her one of his lopsided grins. ‘Not solemn,
cariad
– just wondering how to spend the next thirty years? Maybe I should take up my lance and go tourneying again, now that the king has made it legal.'

Old King Henry had forbidden jousting and tournaments, concerned at the loss of life amongst his knights and the fear that it trained them to be more proficient at rebelling against him. However, one of the first acts that Richard had made after his return, was to authorize five sites in England where they could be held on payment of steep entrance fees – another ploy to raise money for his war against Philip.

Nesta sat pondering John's reply about the next thirty years, as it reminded her of the hopelessness of their relationship. She loved him and knew that he probably returned her love – but to what end? He was the mature son of a Norman knight, married to a woman from another notable Norman family – a marriage that was irrevocable in the eyes of the Church, one that only death could dissolve. And she was but a Welsh widow, a mere alewife of no social status whatsoever. There was no future for them other than an illicit affair, with furtive love-making and a dalliance virtually confined to the inside of a tavern. John could never be seen in public with her or even acknowledge her, outside the circle of those who frequented the Bush.

She sighed and wondered whether she should have left Exeter when Meredydd was taken from her – perhaps gone home to Gwent and lived with her mother and sisters, then found a nice local man and settled down to have children. But then Nesta rebelled and mentally straightened her back. Today was today, she was going to enjoy her romance while it lasted and be damned to the consequences.

She looked across at de Wolfe, wondering what he was thinking. Not as uncomplicated and unimaginative as many people thought, he was also troubled about his liaison with Nesta, but in a different way. He both loved her and lusted after her, enjoying every moment of her company. But he felt that he was cheating her, standing in the way of her getting on with her life. Like her, he knew they could never marry and that he was blocking her chances of becoming a wife and mother. He was not concerned about his own image or reputation – after almost eight months, most of Exeter knew that she was his mistress. Many of the others of Norman blood, both knights and rich merchants, openly had lovers, even bastard children. Some of the canons and parish priests had the same illicit habits and no great notice was taken of it.

Of course, Matilda kept up a barrage of invective against him, but her vindictiveness over the ‘Welsh whore', as she usually called Nesta, had been overshadowed by a different hatred. This was her burning rage against her husband for his part in getting her wonderful brother so ignominiously dismissed as sheriff within days of being appointed. She had endlessly made it plain that for that, she would never forgive him. With this as the background to his life, what was to happen very soon, was all the more remarkable.

Richard the Lionheart was now firmly re-established as King of England, even to the extent of holding a second coronation at Winchester in April – to which he failed to invite his wife, Berengaria, who never set foot in the country of which she was queen. After landing at Sandwich in Kent with his mother in March, he was to spend only two months in the country, leaving with his fleet and army from Portsmouth in May, never to return.

Within days of landing, he had put on his armour and hurried to Nottingham, the last of Prince John's castles to hold out. The others had all surrendered, the castellan at St Michael's Mount having dropped dead of fright on hearing of the king's return!

Henry de la Pomeroy had also fled to the Mount, where to avoid the king's retribution, he had ordered his physician to open the veins in his wrists, so that he expired! At Nottingham, Richard fought his way into the barbican, then erected a gallows in full view of the defenders and hanged several men captured earlier, which rapidly caused the remaining men to surrender.

Under the expert guidance of Archbishop Hubert Walter, all the machinery of state regained its former pattern. The royal courts continued their rounds, the king's justices sitting at the Eyres of Assize and commissioners of lesser rank coming more frequently to clear the gaols of remand prisoners who had not either died or escaped. The day following John's ruminations outside the Bush, he learned of the arrival of a pair of these commissioners, due to hold a Court of Gaol Delivery the following week.

John had gone up to the castle to make a social call on the constable and the sheriff, mainly to catch up on recent gossip. He sat with the constable in the chamber of Henry de Furnellis, where the sheriff was bemoaning the fact that he would prefer to be back at his manor in Somerset, supervising the coming harvest.

‘I never wanted this damned job, John,' he grumbled. ‘My feelings of duty to the king persuaded me, but only on condition that it was temporary. My health is not good and I have petitioned the Chief Justiciar to relieve me of the task and appoint someone else.'

Ralph Morin said that they would all be sorry to see him leave, but he gave John a surreptitious wink, as they had often talked about having a younger, more active man as sheriff.

‘Perhaps these commissioners who came today may have some news for me before they hold court next week,' said Henry, hopefully. ‘They are at the bishop's palace at present, and I'm invited down to eat with them tonight.'

‘Who are they this time?' asked Ralph.

‘Simon Waring, the abbot of St Albans, who's staying with the bishop – and Sir Philip de Culleforde, a baron from Wiltshire. He's lodging at the New Inn.'

‘How have you found the new bishop?' asked John, who had heard that Henry Marshal, enthroned in May, had been inclined towards Prince John when Dean of York.

The old sheriff held up his palms and shrugged. ‘He's no jolly friar, John. A serious man with a serious face and somehow, a coldness about him. A different man to his brother William, that's for sure.'

This William was the Marshal of England, perhaps the best-known fighting man in the country, both on the tourney field and the battlefield. He had served two kings well and would serve two more during his long life. No doubt it was his influence with the king that gained his brother the bishop's mitre.

When John left Rougemont and walked back to his house in St Martin's Lane, he gloomily expected the usual frosty reception from his wife, who rarely spoke to him these days, except on the rare occasions when they were together in public, when she assumed a facade of normality for the benefit of her friends. But somewhat to his surprise and perhaps with a little apprehension, he found her in a more benign mood, as if she was concealing some pleasant secret. As they sat down to the usual light supper that Mary provided, he wondered what new spite Matilda was going to unleash on him.

But in the event, it was the sheriff's supper that night with the two judges, which would bring news of a great change in the life of John de Wolfe.

The following afternoon, John was in the farrier's opposite his home, preparing to get Bran saddled up for a canter around Bull Mead to give the old horse some exercise. Before he could leave, a young soldier appeared with a message from Ralph Morin, urgently requesting his presence at the castle within the hour ‘for a meeting on the king's business'.

Intrigued, he loped up to Rougemont and found his friend in the sheriff's chamber. Two other men were present and Henry de Furnellis introduced them as the commissioners who were to preside in the Shire Hall, Sir Philip de Culleforde and Abbot Simon Waring. The latter was a jovial-looking monk, with a bland round face, but a pair of steely eyes that suggested a hard core under the soft skin. De Culleforde was a tall, handsome man of about fifty, with a calm, unruffled manner. He was a member of the King's Council and had the ear of Hubert Walter and the king himself. They all sat on benches around Henry's table and his chief clerk appeared with glass goblets, filling them from a large flask of good wine. He then stood behind his master in case he was needed, as he was the only one of the Exeter men who could read and write. When they had all settled, the sheriff took the lead.

‘When I petitioned the Chief Justiciar about my desire to be relieved of this shrievalty, I had no idea that it would be acted on so quickly and so decisively,' he began. ‘But these two gentlemen have brought instructions from Archbishop Walter – and hence from the king himself – which have left me both happy and also bewildered.'

De Wolfe wondered what in God's name the sheriff was talking about, but he was soon to be enlightened, as Henry picked up three parchment rolls from the table, each having impressive seals dangling from them.

Henry handed them up to his clerk. ‘Tell them what they are, Elphin,' he commanded.

Elphin, a dried-up stick of a man, looked briefly at their headings before explaining their content. ‘Sirs, the first is a relief for Sir Henry, expressing the thanks of the Justiciar and of the king for his faithful service and discharging him from further duties as from the eve of Michaelmas.'

He shuffled the parchments and moved to the second one. ‘This is an appointment and commission for a new sheriff, as from Michaelmas itself.' He swallowed nervously before continuing. ‘It is drawn in the name of Sir Richard de Revelle.'