The Lost Prophecies by The Medieval Murderers Page B

apart from investigating sudden and violent deaths. As well as having to hold inquests on finds of treasure, any catches of ‘royal fish’ – the whale and the sturgeon – came within his jurisdiction, as they belonged to the king. But on the day following Thomas’s nocturnal labours in the library, John de Wolfe was called to yet another category of his responsibilities. Not fire or rape this time, but a serious assault. These could often prove fatal, given the lack of effective medical treatment, and sometimes coroners would commit the care of the injured victim to the assailant, the reasoning being that the latter had a powerful motive for keeping the man alive, as if he died within a year and a day the perpetrator would be hanged for murder!
    However, this time the victim was badly bruised and shaken but not in any serious danger of dying. De Wolfe, with Gwyn and Thomas at his side, rode out a few miles east of Exeter to the village of Clyst St Mary in answer to a plea from the manor reeve, the man responsible for organizing the labour force of the hamlet. He had ridden to Rougemont that morning to report that the bailiff had been assaulted by three men the previous evening. The bailiff was the representative of the manor lord, in this case the Bishop of Coutances, who was far away in Normandy.
    ‘The lad who herds the pigs raised the alarm,’ said the reeve as he rode alongside the coroner for the last half-mile into the village. ‘Simple in his wits, but he knew when something was wrong.’
    ‘You say this was in a field where there was a mound?’ demanded John.
    ‘Well, not a field as such, but in the wasteland between the pasture and the edge of the forest. There’s a grassy heap the height of a man – the old wives say it has been there since the days of Adam and Eve, though how they could know that beats me!’
    ‘How could your pig-boy see what happened if it was dark?’ objected Gwyn.
    ‘He saw the flickering lights of a lantern and crept up to have a look. The moon was more than half-full last night, so he could see a fair bit. There were three men, digging into the side of the mound, so he ran back to the bailiff’s dwelling to tell him.’
    ‘What happened then?’ asked de Wolfe.
    ‘Walter Tremble, our bailiff, called me out of my cottage and we went up there to see what was amiss. Sure enough, there were three fellows there, two of them with a pick and a shovel, digging like rabbits. Walter has a short temper and he ran ahead of me, shouting fit to burst.’
    As they came within sight of Clyst St Mary, the long-winded reeve came to the climax of his story.
    ‘The one with the lantern straightway turned and ran, but the diggers stood their ground, and when Walter reached them they set about him with their tools. He’s a big man, the bailiff, but he had no chance against a pick and shovel wielded by two desperate men.’
    ‘Why didn’t you go to his aid?’ growled Gwyn.
    ‘I did, but I’ve got a stiff leg and was way behind Walter,’ he whined by way of excuse. ‘My breathing’s not so good either. I’m not much use in a fight. Anyway, these men after beating the bailiff to the ground ran off into the darkness after the first man. I was more concerned about getting aid for Walter than chasing them,’ he added virtuously.
    ‘Could you see anything of them?’ asked the coroner. ‘Were they local men, d’you think?’
    ‘Too dark to see, sir, even with a bit of a moon. But I got the impression that the first one, the one with the lantern, had a long habit on, down to his ankles. I thought he might have been a priest.’
    ‘We’ll have to ask the bailiff. He obviously got a lot nearer than you, reeve!’ growled de Wolfe sarcastically.
    They had the opportunity a few minutes later as they were led to the only stone house in the village, next to the church. The parish priest had to put up with a meaner one of timber, but the absent bishop had installed his bailiff in a more