‘I’m glad your wife has gone to Tiverton this week. Without you around, I would have been so alone, just left with sad memories of former years.’
Their eyes met, his dark ones lurking under heavy brows, her large hazel orbs set in a smooth rounded face. Something new passed between them, so that he stood up and raised her by the hand, then wordlessly took her to the wide steps to the loft. At the top, he pushed open the door of her little cell and then shut it firmly behind them.
Nesta sank to the edge of her thick pallet and held out her arms to him. As he knelt to kiss her, she whispered again. ‘John, I told you, I’d never make a nun!’
The next week was a foretaste of heaven for both man and beast. Brutus had a bone every day and John had Nesta. He spent every night there, only going back to St Martin’s Lane at dawn, in time for Mary to give him a good breakfast. The cook knew perfectly well what was happening — as did much of Exeter — and not being in the market for him, bore no jealous feelings at all. In fact she was both pleased and amused at the change in her master, who with Matilda absent and having found Paradise down in Idle Lane, was amiable and cheerful in a way she’d not seen before.
Nothing lasts for ever and in this case, it was only a week before Nemesis arrived on a dappled palfrey. Matilda was home and after a flurry of unpacking and harassing Lucille, she sat in her usual place near the hearth, waiting for Mary to hurriedly prepare a meal. She was still too full of pride about her brother’s elevation to sheriff to bother much with John, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before some gossiping friend would tell her of her husband’s new interest in the Bush Inn. He felt he should begin to broach the subject of de Revelle’s appointment, to prepare her for what must surely be a great disappointment. As soon as he could get her attention after her eulogy about the grandeur of the festivities at the Tiverton manor, he described the problem about Richard de Revelle’s proposed shrievalty.
‘As the king’s representative in Devon, only the king can appoint him,’ he said cautiously.
She immediately dismissed the notion. ‘You are only trying to stir up trouble again, John!’ she snapped. ‘Prince John was given the county after the king’s coronation, to rule as he thinks fit. He already has a chancellor, justiciar and exchequer of his own, so of course he can appoint his own sheriff!’
‘So why did the king keep Rougemont and Launceston castles in his own hand — and why are many of Prince John’s fortifications now being pulled down?’ retorted her husband.
Matilda glared at him around the corner of her chair. ‘As ever, you are only trying to make trouble for my brother! Is it pure dislike or jealousy of a man who is achieving something in his life?’ she cried. ‘Unlike you, he’s not shiftless and aimless unless he has a war to fight or a harlot to straddle!’
So within an hour of her return, they were squabbling again — and he knew that when she found out about the time he had spent in the Bush, the battle would be endless. They ate in sullen silence, then Matilda took herself off to her solar, shouting for Lucille as if she were calling to a dog.
It was another few days before the expected challenge to her brother came about. The time moved on to the New Year, still celebrated by most on the first day of January, even though the Church had long ago moved its date to the twenty-fifth of March, on the grounds that the one set in early Roman times was a pagan festival.7
Richard de Revelle had again installed himself in the sheriff’s chamber, but rapidly made it known that he was now there in a different capacity as the true sheriff. He called his senior clerks to him and had proclamations written to the two portreeves of Exeter, the Masters of the various Guilds and to the burgers who made up the city council as well as sending them to the other major towns like Totnes and Plymouth. These informed them that Sir Richard de Revelle was now Sheriff of Devon, appointed by their lord, the Count of Mortain and that all important business and the conduct of the courts now operated through him.
De Revelle also tried to impress upon Ralph Morin his superiority in the hierarchy of the county, but that pugnacious soldier told him bluntly that he was an officer of the king and took no orders from someone who held his dubious post at the behest of a mere Count.
On Epiphany, the sixth day of the new month that celebrated the Magi’s visit to the infant Jesus, a small procession entered Exeter from the London road. Half of the dozen men were a guard of men-at-arms under a sergeant, escorting a tall, grizzled man in his sixties, accompanied by another heavily built man with a large white moustache, both of whom had a squire and a body-servant.
They made straight for Rougemont and surprised the constable, who had no idea that they were coming. A flurry of activity settled their horses and escort, then Ralph Morin had food and drink organized for them in his chamber. At the same time, he covertly told Gabriel to send a soldier down to find Sir John de Wolfe and get him up to the castle as soon as possible.
The new arrivals were Sir Walter de Ralegh, one of the Royal Justices and a member of the Curia, the King’s Council, together with Sir Henry de Furnellis, a middle-aged knight whose father, Geoffrey de Furnellis, had been sheriff of Devon earlier in the century.
Both of them had strong Devon connections, as Walter had been born in East Budleigh and though de Furnellis was now a Somerset man, his family came from Venn Ottery, both manors being near each other about ten miles south-east of Exeter.
‘I came in response to your message to Hubert Walter,’ announced de Ralegh in his deep voice. ‘I am due to hold an Assize of Gaol Delivery in Dorchester next week, so it was convenient for me to come here. I picked up my old friend Henry here on the way, as the Justiciar has plans for him!’
‘Plans that I could well do without,’ put in de Furnellis wryly. ‘I want a quiet life these days, but my duty to the king comes first.’
They avoided further discussion while they ate and drank after their journey, the visitors saying that they would stay in the New Inn, the city’s largest hostelry in the High Street, where visiting judges were usually accommodated.
When John de Wolfe arrived, he too was surprised by the rapid response to the messages to the Chief Justiciar about both his success in combating outlaws and in dealing with the killer of the royal messenger, as well as the news that Prince John had flaunted the royal protocol in appointing his own sheriff. De Wolfe was already acquainted with both of the visitors, from various campaigns in Ireland and France, as well as at tournaments. Walter de Ralegh still had a Devonshire accent and because of his local knowledge, was often sent by the Curia Regis on matters concerning the west of England. When the platters and cups were cleared away, Walter got straight down to business.
‘The Curia is concerned about the increasing level of violence all over the country and the lack of any proper means to deal with it. Hubert Walter has plans to set up Keepers of the Peace and other measures, but that’s in the future, when the king is back in circulation.’
‘It’s bad down here, Sir Walter,’ said Ralph Morin. ‘The roads are getting so unsafe that it’s dangerous for folk to travel anywhere.’
‘Don’t think you’re alone in that, the Justiciar gets pleas from all over the country complaining of the same thing. But not having a sheriff here makes things worse.’
‘We now have a self-appointed one!’ said John cynically.
Walter de Ralegh turned his rough, weather-beaten face towards de Wolfe. ‘Not for long, John! Where is the bloody man? We’ll soon deal with him.’
‘De Revelle has settled himself in the old sheriff’s room here, but he’s not shown up today,’ advised the constable. ‘The clerk he’s brought with him says he’s starting his duties tomorrow.’