Henry handed them up to his clerk. ‘Tell them what they are, Elphin,’ he commanded.
Elphin, a dried-up stick of a man, looked briefly at their headings before explaining their content. ‘Sirs, the first is a relief for Sir Henry, expressing the thanks of the Justiciar and of the king for his faithful service and discharging him from further duties as from the eve of Michaelmas.’
He shuffled the parchments and moved to the second one. ‘This is an appointment and commission for a new sheriff, as from Michaelmas itself.’ He swallowed nervously before continuing. ‘It is drawn in the name of Sir Richard de Revelle.’
There was a moment’s silence as the words sank into the ears of Ralph Morin and John de Wolfe.
‘De Revelle! Are you jesting?’ demanded John. ‘He was ejected from that office only months ago!’
‘This cannot be true, surely!’ barked the castle constable. ‘He is the last man in England who deserves to be sheriff here!’
Henry de Furnellis looked appealing at Philip de Culleforde. ‘Can you repeat the explanation you gave to me, Sir Philip?’
The tall, grave knight nodded. ‘I fully realize your surprise and discomfort over this, but we have not finished explaining our arrangements. Firstly, there is no proof of any wrongdoing by de Revelle in relation to the revolt of a few months ago. The king has now fully pardoned his brother and is trying to put the whole sorry episode behind him.’
He paused and looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Also, William Marshal, who, after Hubert Walter himself, is probably the most powerful man in the kingdom and very close to the Lionheart, has specifically requested de Revelle’s reinstatement. This is no doubt at the behest of his brother Henry, now your bishop.’
Bitterly, John now saw the wheels-within-wheels, the power of nepotism that operated amongst the great families of the land.
But Philip de Culleforde had not yet finished his explanation. ‘In addition, I must tell you that Archbishop Walter is well aware of the suspicion and hostility that surrounds de Revelle. He told me of his previous request to you, de Wolfe, to keep an eye on the situation in Devon, though with the crushing of the rebellion, this no longer seems so necessary. However, the Justiciar feels that it might be better to have de Revelle where he can be seen, rather than covertly causing trouble.’ He paused and waved a hand at the clerk. ‘Give us the gist of the third document, if you please. This is also relevant to our concerns.’
Elphin cleared his throat and unrolled the parchment. ‘This is also a commission from the Archbishop, but adding the caveat that it is also the personal wish of King Richard that it be accepted. It offers the appointment of the King’s Coroner for the County of Devon to Sir John de Wolfe, in recognition of his faithful service and bravery during the Crusade and afterwards to the person of the king himself. And furthermore, to his dedication to keeping the peace in the County of Devin.’
For a moment there was another profound silence. Dumbfounded, John could only stumble out a few words. ‘What in God’s name is a “coroner”?’ he asked.
‘So what is a coroner?’ demanded Gwyn bluntly. He sat with Nesta at their usual table in the Bush, as they listened to John de Wolfe relating the extraordinary news from the castle. Matilda had gone to some special Mass in St Olave’s, so John had not spoken to her and instead had come to his second home in Idle Lane.
‘Coroner? I knew nothing of the name until I had a lecture from the two commissioners, especially the fat abbot, who seems more of a lawyer than a priest.’ He paused for a swallow of ale. ‘It comes from the Latin Custos placitorum coronae, which means “keeper of the pleas of the crown”.’
The Cornishman looked at him blankly. ‘I’m none the wiser for hearing that,’ he growled.
‘Neither was I, until they explained that Hubert Walter has devised yet another scheme for both raising money — and also starting to improve the keeping of the king’s peace.’
It was now Nesta’s turn to look baffled. ‘How’s it going to do that, John?’
‘It seems that it’s a “Jack-of-all-trades” appointment. This coroner has to keep records of all serious crimes, deaths, rapes, fires, wrecks, robberies, finds of treasure and God knows what else, to present to the king’s judges when they come on circuit. After an unnatural death, he has to hold an inquest, with a jury. He has to attend executions to confiscate the property of felons for the king, and all sorts of odd jobs, mainly directed at pushing as much business as he can to the royal courts, instead of the county, manor and burgess courts.’
‘What’s the point of that?’ she asked.
‘Money, that’s what it’s about! It’s all about scraping every penny into the Exchequer to pay the last of the ransom and for his campaign against the French.’
He paused for a drink, and Nesta refilled his pot from the large jug on the table.
‘And the king wants you to take up this appointment in Devon?’ she asked doubtfully.
‘It sounds as if he won’t take no for an answer,’ replied de Wolfe. ‘Though I don’t know if I want to be a glorified tax collector!’
‘You were complaining that you were tired of inactivity and wanted something to occupy you,’ said Nesta accusingly. ‘This sounds ideal, it would keep you in Exeter with some aim in life and give you the status of a king’s officer.’
He nodded slowly, as he considered his words. ‘I think there is a deeper motive behind this. The commissioners hinted that the king was incensed at the widespread corruption amongst sheriffs and needed some curb placed on their excesses. Old King Henry dismissed them all for malfeasance back in 1170, but they have crept back into their old ways. It’s hoped that these new coroners can act as a check on sheriffs — and in Devon, given this extraordinary return of bloody de Revelle, it will be all the more vital to keep a sharp eye on him.’
Gwyn grinned. ‘And knowing how you two men love each other, the Justiciar can be sure that you will watch him like a hawk!’
Nesta, pleased with any development that would prevent her lover from going off to find a war abroad, turned to practicalities. ‘So, Sir John, are you going to accept this honour from a grateful king? And when would you take office — and is there a salary?’
He put a long arm around her and pulled her to him. ‘Hussy, is all that concerns you whether or not I get paid? The answer is “no”! In fact, coroners will be forbidden to accept anything other than expenses — and they will have to prove they already have an income of at least twenty pounds a year. This is to ensure that they are so rich that they would not be tempted to embezzle the funds, as do the sheriffs.’
Gwyn’s booming laugh conveyed his cynicism. ‘Some hope! Can you imagine de Revelle passing up the chance to dip his hand into the county taxes, even though he must be worth a hundred pounds a year?’
‘And when would you begin, if you accept?’ persisted Nesta.
‘The whole scheme will be announced by the royal justices at the Kent Eyre to be held in Rochester Castle this month. Both the new sheriff and the coroners will take office at Michaelmas.’
Gwyn scratched his head to frighten away a few fleas. ‘I suppose the king gave you this new job in gratitude for what you did for him on the journey home?’ he said, with a note of pride in his voice.
John punched him on the arm. ‘He’s given you a job too, old friend! I want you to be my officer, my guard and the man who keeps me out of trouble — unless you have something better to do with your time!’
Gwyn grinned hugely and said he would give it a try to see if he liked it. ‘But how could you cover a county as big as Devon on your own? You’d spend your life on horseback!’
John nodded his agreement. ‘I asked them that, but it seems that each county is supposed to have three coroners, in different areas.’