There was a certain tinge of sincerity in his voice that puzzled John. Could this man be a villain and a possible murderer?
'There is more to it than that, bailiff. We have a ship's boy cruelly slain and his body buried, then we have one of the king's law officers murdered. The last death, and certainly the killing of a pedlar, have fingers pointing at Axmouth.'
Edward Northcote bridled at this. 'That's sheer supposition, Crowner! You have no proof whatsoever that our village is concerned in any of that — apart from the dead boy, which I firmly maintain was some drunken dispute between shipmen, notorious for their drunken violence.'
De Wolfe glowered at the indignant bailiff. 'Be that as it may, we need to check your records against what is found in your sheds.'
Northcote glared back at him, but it was the monkish fellow from Loders who broke in. 'I can see that it might be within your remit to investigate these deaths, but what possible right can a coroner have to come poking his nose into matters of commerce?'
'The right of a king's law officer to pursue whatever task is allotted to him!' snapped de Wolfe. 'A coroner can be given a commission by the king or his agents to look into anything in the realm. And I have been commanded by the sheriff — who represents the king in this county of Devon — to investigate certain serious allegations concerning the conduct of the port of Axmouth.'
As if to highlight his words, he turned back to Northcote. 'Is that vessel The Tiger in the harbour at present?'
The bailiff shook his head. 'No, she left the river a couple of days ago, bound for Ouistreham in Normandy with wool. Should be home next week, bringing fine Caen stone back to build some church.'
De Wolfe was disappointed as he wondered, though without much foundation, whether each return of The Tiger might coincide with illicit goods appearing in the quayside barns. His suspicion of that vessel was based mainly on the fact that the dead Simon had been a crew member and had been so agitated on his return from his last voyage — as well as a personal dislike of her shipmaster, Martin Rof.
Soon, Thomas came out of the house with the portreeve, who clutched a bundle of parchments under his arm. 'What do you want done with these?' he demanded querulously.
'We'll all take a walk down to the quayside and check what's in the sheds against those documents of yours,' said the coroner, already starting to lope towards the gate.
'They'll not be up to date,' called Elias from behind him. 'There are two cogs unloading there today, and John Capie won't have brought me his tallies for them yet.'
He shuffled along behind, followed by the bailiff and Absalom, Ralph Morin bringing up the rear. When they reached the spot on the river bank where two vessels were berthed, they found that Gabriel had stopped the men from unloading while the inventory of the big sheds across the road was being made.
'You are interfering with our work, Crowner,' croaked Elias Palmer. 'We still have to pay these men and now they are all sitting on their backsides while you waste our time.'
A couple of men-at-arms were stationed at the doors of each of the four warehouses, one of which was open, with a disgruntled John Capie standing with a bundle of tallies in his hand. 'This new stuff is cloth from Cologne and some dried fruit and wine from Barfleur,' he protested.
'It's what else might be in these storehouses than concerns me,' snapped de Wolfe. 'I want everything checked against those lists that the portreeve is holding so close to his chest.'
Two hours later, de Wolfe was even more disappointed, as the laborious business of identifying every item in the cavernous barns with the sheets of parchment that Elias had produced had revealed nothing that could be construed as illegal or even suspicious. It was true that many of the casks and crates had little or no markings upon them, and the bales of wool waiting to be shipped out had nothing on them but splashes of different-coloured dyes to denote the place of origin, according to a list that the portreeve held. But overall the total number of different classes of merchandise corresponded with the manifests. There were some errors, but with such a random method as Capie's knots and sticks it was to be expected that there were a few discrepancies.
By early afternoon the coroner and constable had to admit defeat, in that they had found no evidence of malpractice in Axmouth. The bailiff and the brother from Loders had stood around during the search in bored resentment, and when finally the search was called off they were full of righteous indignation.
'Now that you have wasted half our day and slowed the discharge of the cargo from those two vessels, perhaps you will go away and leave us in peace!' snorted Edward Northcote.
'The prior will hear of this, you may be assured of that!' brayed Absalom. 'I have no doubt that he will complain to the bishop about this intrusion.'
'What the devil has the bishop got to do with anything?' countered Morin. 'He's no say in the enforcement of the law in this county.'
'Then I'll complain to the Archbishop of Canterbury.'
De Wolfe leered at him, grateful for even a small victory. 'Then I'll be happy to convey your complaints to him personally, for I'm about to sail to Normandy to see him!'
Rightly suspecting that they would now receive little hospitality in Axmouth, the party saddled up and left the village, stopping instead a few miles along the homeward road for refreshment. At a roadside clearing near Colyford, the men-at-arms dismounted from their short-legged moorland horses and sprawled amongst the weeds to pass around skins of ale and cider and eat the bread and meat they had brought in their saddle-pouches. Leaving the sergeant to keep order, their leaders rode the quarter-mile into the village and used the solitary tavern to assuage their hunger and thirst.
De Wolfe ordered bread, cheese and cold mutton for the four of them, and while the ale-wife went off to prepare the food they sat hunched on a couple of benches drinking the thin brew and discussing the fiasco in Axmouth.
'You are sure those lists corresponded to what was in the barns?' grumbled the constable, less aware than John how meticulous Thomas de Peyne was in such matters. The little clerk stoutly defended himself and pointed out a gaping flaw in their attempt to unmask any evildoing.
'The manifests of Elias were well written and convincing, and I had no problem in matching the items with the goods,' he said. 'But of course we have no way of knowing how true those lists were!'
De Wolfe peered at his clerk from under his black brows. He had every respect for Thomas's perspicacity but did not follow his train of thought here. 'What d'you mean, not true?'
'Well, the lists could just as well have been written to deliberately conform with what's in the sheds at any time. That doesn't mean that the stuff came off a particular ship and was checked in by John Capie. If the bailiff and the portreeve and anyone else down there feared that they might be challenged — as indeed we did this morning — then they could fabricate those lists as often as necessary, so that everything would appear to be in order.'
Gwyn tried to follow the sharp little clerk's argument, but failed. 'What the hell d'you mean, Thomas? I don't understand.'
His small friend gave him a pitying look, but explained again. 'Look, say a pirate ship comes in with stolen goods. The stuff is unloaded into the sheds and straightway a list is made of it, falsely attributing its ownership to various merchants. As I'm sure they shift the material out very quickly, probably inside a day or two, then it would be virtually impossible to verify anyone crate or barrel to some alleged importer in Yeovil or Dorchester. And one bale of wool looks the same as another, and the few markings they have could easily be faked.'