winced.
'Who's the shipmaster - and who owns the vessel?' asked Gwyn.
'The master is Martin Rof, who lives in this vill. As to the owner, I've no knowledge; you'll have to ask Northcote or Elias Palmer.'
He rose rather abruptly, leaving half his bread on the table, as if he was unwilling to answer any more questions. As he left, he gestured sharply at the squinting man, who followed him sheepishly out of the door.
'What was all that about?' growled Gwyn. 'I say again, there's something odd about this place.'
The coroner turned to his clerk. 'Thomas, did you learn anything from your ecclesiastical friend yesterday?'
His clerk confessed that Henry of Cumba had nothing solid to tell him, though Thomas had sensed that all was not well in the town of Axmouth.
'It was clear that the Prior of Loders had a strong grip on the place and dictated much of what was done there,' mused the clerk. 'The parish priest is but a vicar employed by the priory for parish duties. This bailiff Edward Northcote seems an iron-handed master and acts more like a manor-lord than a servant of the priory.'
'What about the portreeve?' askedJohn.
De Peyne's humped shoulder shrugged under his thin cassock. 'It's clear that he is under the thumb of Northcote, though the pair of them seem to rule everything that goes on in Axmouth. Yet I had the notion that Father Henry suspects that Elias Palmer has his own intrigues, even though he appears to defer to the bailiff in everything.'
Thomas had coaxed little else out of the parish priest, and when they had finished eating John paid the ale-wife a few pennies and they went into the main street.
'Get as much of a jury as you can scrape together, Gwyn,' ordered the coroner. 'With that damned ship gone, we must make do with the widow, the lad's doxy, the First Finder and a few villagers and shipmen. If they are reluctant, wave your sword at them and threaten them with the name of the Lionheart!'
Gwyn ambled off towards the quayside and John led Thomas back up through the village to the bailiff's dwelling. It was a bright morning, spring being now well advanced. Birds were stealing straw from the thatched roofs of the cottages to build their nests, and the sun was drying the mud that rutted the road through the town. Inside Northcote's house, they found him leaning over the portreeve, as the latter inscribed a parchment on a table against the inner wall. Suddenly conscious that Thomas de Peyne was able to read, Elias blew rapidly on his wet ink and took a large pebble off the foot of the document, so that the parchment rolled itself up, out of sight of prying eyes.
'Just recording the tally of a cargo of wine unloaded yesterday,' he piped unconvincingly. 'There'll be dues to pay on that, by merchants in Taunton and Bristol. '
De Wolfe had no interest in Customs tax; he had a corpse to investigate. 'I will need you both at my inquest this morning. I will hold it across the cadaver in the churchyard, around the tenth hour. I want to get home to Exeter as soon as possible.'
Edward Northcote scowled at him. 'I have no time to waste on such matters. What has the slaying of some youth from Seaton to do with me?'
John's black eyebrows rose up his forehead. 'Are you not the bailiff of this vill?' he demanded. 'It is you who should be helping me in this tragedy. You are responsible for law and order here, on behalf of the sheriff! No wonder the Chief Justiciar has appointed Keepers such as de Casewold, if the bailiffs will not shift themselves to do their duty!'
'De Casewold! A self-important nonentity, running around bleating about justice yet unable to do a thing,' sneered Northcote. 'He has no power, no authority apart from his own rasping voice! '
The coroner gestured impatiently. 'I'm not here to bandy words with you, bailiff! I want to know about the vessel that the dead youth sailed upon.' He did not bother to ask if Northcote and Elias had heard that the lad's identity had been discovered, as he was well
'Who's the shipmaster - and who owns the vessel?' asked Gwyn.
'The master is Martin Rof, who lives in this vill. As to the owner, I've no knowledge; you'll have to ask Northcote or Elias Palmer.'
He rose rather abruptly, leaving half his bread on the table, as if he was unwilling to answer any more questions. As he left, he gestured sharply at the squinting man, who followed him sheepishly out of the door.
'What was all that about?' growled Gwyn. 'I say again, there's something odd about this place.'
The coroner turned to his clerk. 'Thomas, did you learn anything from your ecclesiastical friend yesterday?'
His clerk confessed that Henry of Cumba had nothing solid to tell him, though Thomas had sensed that all was not well in the town of Axmouth.
'It was clear that the Prior of Loders had a strong grip on the place and dictated much of what was done there,' mused the clerk. 'The parish priest is but a vicar employed by the priory for parish duties. This bailiff Edward Northcote seems an iron-handed master and acts more like a manor-lord than a servant of the priory.'
'What about the portreeve?' askedJohn.
De Peyne's humped shoulder shrugged under his thin cassock. 'It's clear that he is under the thumb of Northcote, though the pair of them seem to rule everything that goes on in Axmouth. Yet I had the notion that Father Henry suspects that Elias Palmer has his own intrigues, even though he appears to defer to the bailiff in everything.'
Thomas had coaxed little else out of the parish priest, and when they had finished eating John paid the ale-wife a few pennies and they went into the main street.
'Get as much of a jury as you can scrape together, Gwyn,' ordered the coroner. 'With that damned ship gone, we must make do with the widow, the lad's doxy, the First Finder and a few villagers and shipmen. If they are reluctant, wave your sword at them and threaten them with the name of the Lionheart!'
Gwyn ambled off towards the quayside and John led Thomas back up through the village to the bailiff's dwelling. It was a bright morning, spring being now well advanced. Birds were stealing straw from the thatched roofs of the cottages to build their nests, and the sun was drying the mud that rutted the road through the town. Inside Northcote's house, they found him leaning over the portreeve, as the latter inscribed a parchment on a table against the inner wall. Suddenly conscious that Thomas de Peyne was able to read, Elias blew rapidly on his wet ink and took a large pebble off the foot of the document, so that the parchment rolled itself up, out of sight of prying eyes.
'Just recording the tally of a cargo of wine unloaded yesterday,' he piped unconvincingly. 'There'll be dues to pay on that, by merchants in Taunton and Bristol. '
De Wolfe had no interest in Customs tax; he had a corpse to investigate. 'I will need you both at my inquest this morning. I will hold it across the cadaver in the churchyard, around the tenth hour. I want to get home to Exeter as soon as possible.'
Edward Northcote scowled at him. 'I have no time to waste on such matters. What has the slaying of some youth from Seaton to do with me?'
John's black eyebrows rose up his forehead. 'Are you not the bailiff of this vill?' he demanded. 'It is you who should be helping me in this tragedy. You are responsible for law and order here, on behalf of the sheriff! No wonder the Chief Justiciar has appointed Keepers such as de Casewold, if the bailiffs will not shift themselves to do their duty!'
'De Casewold! A self-important nonentity, running around bleating about justice yet unable to do a thing,' sneered Northcote. 'He has no power, no authority apart from his own rasping voice! '
The coroner gestured impatiently. 'I'm not here to bandy words with you, bailiff! I want to know about the vessel that the dead youth sailed upon.' He did not bother to ask if Northcote and Elias had heard that the lad's identity had been discovered, as he was well
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