‘There are a lot of huts in here,’ said Nesta. ‘Looks like the back of the Bush. Best see what’s in them.’
Exploration revealed a privy, a wash house, a wood store, a pigsty and a large kitchen shed, which still had a mouldering mattress in the corner, where obviously the cookmaid had slept. A well had been dug in the centre of the muddy plot, too near to the pigsty for Nesta’s liking. They surveyed the scene and then looked back at the house, where a completely blank wall reached up to the roof.
‘Well, it’s all here, John, but needs a great deal of improvement.’
He readily agreed with her opinion. ‘Depends on how much the owner wants for it. The need for so much to be spent on the place should be a good lever to lower his price.’
They walked back to the Bush, John’s mind half on the house and half on Nesta walking sedately alongside him. He wondered how long it would be before Matilda accused him of lusting after a common alewife, as no doubt one of her church cronies would eventually hear of it and revel in telling her.
When he went back to St Martin’s Lane with his wife that evening, he took care to act as if he had never seen inside the place before. They paraded around for half an hour and almost reluctantly, Matilda agreed that, after a great deal of work, possibly it could be turned into a dwelling fit for the wife of a knight.
‘But where did they sleep?’ she demanded, when they were looking around the hall again.
John saw some discoloured lines in one corner, with old nails projecting. ‘I think there was a partition there, cutting off a small room. Perhaps that was it.’
Matilda sneered. ‘I’m not sleeping in some box, John! We would need a proper room for me to have a maid to help me dress and do my hair.’
De Wolfe looked at the dusty firepit and imagined the haze of smoke that would normally ascend from it to find its way out through the eaves high above.
‘And I would like a fireplace with a chimney. I saw one in Brittany a few years ago, built in stone. We could combine that with a solar built on to the back of the house.’ He became almost enthusiastic and wondered if he had now reached an age where home comforts were more important than the thrill of jousting or the bloodlust of battle.
Having seen all they needed, he locked up and walked her back to Fore Street. ‘I’ll be away tomorrow, on the Archbishop’s business, but when I’m back I’ll see about making a bargain with the owner.’
He was careful to mention Hubert Walter, as he knew that dropping the name of the highest clergyman in the land would keep his wife content — as would the thought of living in a house within a stone’s throw of the cathedral.
The long day’s ride up the Exe valley and one of its tributaries turned out to be fruitless. De Wolfe and Gwyn rode north from Exeter through all the small villages and manor up the river. They called to enquire at many alehouses and spoke to manor reeves and bailiffs, all of whom denied any sighting of a man answering the description of Roger Smale. True, their description was very vague and the only useful detail was the unusual buckle, which John wore on his own belt. He displayed it time and time again, without getting any flicker of recognition.
Several of the people they questioned, especially the reeves and bailiffs, wanted to know what his interest was and what authority he had to ask such questions. John hedged his answers slightly, saying that he was on a commission from the King’s Justices, which was not all that far from the truth, given that Hubert Walter was the head of England’s legal system.
After riding as far as Crediton and Tiverton, the two men arrived back in Exeter as the sun was setting. As soon as they had stabled their horses, Gwyn went home to St Sidwells, while John walked down to the Bush, looking forward to some good ale, a good meal and Nesta’s company.
When all three were set before him, he tackled Molly’s boiled bacon, peas and leeks with appreciation and over a dish of plums and nuts, told the landlady about his disappointing expedition into the country.
‘Never mind, John, you did all you could,’ she said consolingly. ‘It’s three weeks since you found the body and from what you describe of him, he must have been dead for some time before that.’
Edwin, who had been hovering to listen to his tale, topped up his pot from a large jug. ‘Can’t win them all, cap’n,’ he observed sympathetically. ‘Maybe something will turn up one day to help you nail the swine who did it.’
John sat talking to Nesta for a long while, discussing the improvement in trade and income that was already apparent at the Bush.
‘Just knowing that you are involved seems to have brought old customers back, John,’ she said happily. ‘Everyone admired you before, but since you came back from the Crusade and especially as you were so close to the king, you are a hero to every man in Exeter!’
De Wolfe grunted to cover up his embarrassment, though coming from the lips of such a pretty, amiable woman, he secretly revelled in her praise. ‘There’s one man who doesn’t look on me with favour, and that’s my damned brother-in-law. This rumour that he might be made sheriff one day is enough to make me want to go back to Acre!’
‘But he can’t be sheriff while Prince John holds the county in his grasp,’ she objected. ‘Surely when King Richard is released, he will kick out his wayward brother — then the Lionheart ought to make you sheriff!’
John grinned at the thought of such an unlikely event. ‘Can you see me as a glorified tax-collector? Not that I’ll ever get the offer.’
He spent another night in the loft, conscious again of Nesta’s nearness in her little room until he fell asleep, oblivious to the snores of a fat merchant in the adjoining cubicle. Next morning was taken up with haggling with the lawyer over a price for a long lease on the house in St Martin’s Lane. John emphasized the poor condition and dragged the man down to the house to have all the faults pointed out. ‘It will cost me as much as I’m willing to give you, just to pay for the repairs and alterations!’ he claimed.
With an offer of twenty pounds, which was about seven years’ wages for a labourer, the lawyer promised to see if his old colleague would accept it and they parted amicably.
He called on Matilda to tell her what he had done and she seemed mildly interested, though immediately offering her own news that her niece’s ‘waters had broken’, which caused John to flee from the house, which seemed even more full of women than ever.
Going up to the castle on its low hill, he called in on Ralph Morin to tell him of the complete failure of the expedition the previous day. ‘I despair of seeing any justice done in this county now,’ he said grimly. ‘When William Brewer was sheriff, before the king gave Devon away four years ago, at least he made the effort to hunt down criminals. Now it seems that unless manor lords keep the peace in their own patches, no one cares about seeking miscreants, other than in the towns. And even in Exeter, the council has only two constables to try to keep order amongst four thousand people.’
The castellan agreed with him, but said he had no remit to intervene. ‘I am only empowered to act against insurrection or invasion,’ he said ruefully. ‘I could contribute some of the garrison to a posse comitatus, should a hunt be mounted for marauding outlaws or highway robbers. But that could only be done at the behest of a sheriff — and we don’t have one!’
John moved down a couple of doors and pushed into Richard de Revelle’s chamber, bent on irritating his brother-in-law. ‘I see you are still here, playing at being sheriff!’ he said sarcastically, wanting to get his words in first.
‘And what are you playing at, John?’ retorted Richard, suavely. ‘Practising to be an unemployed soldier, eh? God knows there are plenty of those about now, with no Crusade to offer an excuse for pillaging, drinking and whoring.’