The Elixir of Death by Bernard Knight Page B

that it be kept safely.' De Wolfe scowled around the small crowd to impress the point upon them. 'My clerk has a complete inventory of what was in the vessel and I expect every single item to be there when arrangements are made for its collection.'  
    He knew only too well that the contents of a ship - and even the structure of the vessel itself - were an irresistible attraction to poor coastal communities. In fact, the Curia Regis had placed wrecks within the coroner's jurisdiction in an attempt to reduce the pillaging that went on, often with the local lord's consent or even active participation.
    The inquest was soon over, and all that remained for John to decide was the fate of the corpses.
    'If we wait until we get back to Exeter before sending a cart down here to fetch them, they'll be stinking by 'the time they reach Dawlish,' said Gwyn, in his typically blunt fashion. It was true that a clumsy ox-cart trundling along the atrocious tracks of South Devon would take many days to make the round trip. William Vado confirmed that there was no carter in Ringmore or any of the nearby villages who would be willing to make the long journey to Dawlish. Eventually, de Wolfe compromised by paying for a local carter to convey the dead men as far as Totnes, where the coroner promised to make arrangements for them to be taken on to Dawlish.
    Their work in the village done, the trio saddled up and by noon were on their way eastwards, the coroner grimly promising the bailiff that he would be back as soon as there was any news of what had occurred on that lonely coast.

    It was the afternoon of the next day when they reached Dawlish, as John had stopped to visit his mother and the rest of the family at Stoke-in-Teignhead, a village just south of the River Teign, not far from where it emptied into the sea at Teignmouth. He had been born and brought up there and had a great affection for the place, where his sprightly mother Enyd, spinster sister Evelyn and elder brother William still held the manor. Their usual effusive hospitality extended not only to John, but to Gwyn and Thomas as well, who were always welcome there. They were plied with food and drink, which the ever hungry Cornishman attacked with gusto, while John brought the family up to date on recent events. In fact it was difficult to get away, and only John's pleading that he must call at Dawlish on the way home allowed them to get back on the road. His family had been saddened to hear that Hilda was now widowed, for she was the daughter of the reeve at their other manor at Holcombe, farther up the coast. They had all known her since she was a child, but the unbreachable gap between a Saxon villein and the son of a Norman manor-lord made it impossible for John's youthful romance with Hilda to flourish. Privately, Enyd would have preferred her as a daughter-in-law to Matilda de Revelle, but it was not to be.
    As the three men rode out of the wooded valley of Stoke, John's mother gazed after them with a twinge of anxiety, as she was well aware of her son's partiality for women and the affection he felt for Hilda. Enyd was also very fond of his Welsh mistress Nesta, especially as she herself had a Welsh father and a Cornish mother. As John vanished beyond the trees, she hoped that Hilda's new availability would not put her son's life in greater emotional turmoil than usual.
    The riders reached the ford at the mouth of the Teign, where thankfully the tide was low enough for them to cross, then went northwards up the coast for a few miles. Dawlish was a village that straggled above the beach, where a small river gave shelter for the vessels that were pulled up on to its sandy banks. Most were fishing boats, but there were two trading cogs lying there, smaller than the wrecked Mary.
    'I'll leave you to it, Crowner,' said Gwyn tactfully, as they reined in in the centre of the hamlet. 'I'll be in the alehouse when you've finished.'  
    'And I'll be in the church, praying for the souls