'And Henry Crik got involved because he was the cog's agent and they also needed him to help find buyers for the illicit goods,' added the sheriff.
John rubbed a hand over his black stubble, often an indication that he was puzzled. 'So how did this bloody lay brother from Loders come into it?'
'Crik says that he soon tumbled as to what was going on and demanded a share in the racket, or he would denounce them to the cellarer and prior. Absalom denied it all, of course, but Crik says that he was keen to put a nice nest egg aside and then vanish from the priory to live comfortably far away.'
The food and ale had arrived and they broke off to cut fresh bread, hack hunks of cheese and chew some hot meat pastries that the castle cooks had provided. Then Henry de Furnellis returned to the main issues.
'So we have Elias Palmer, Martin Rof, Henry Crik and Brother Absalom certainly guilty of either murder, piracy or evasion of Customs dues. Then these two carters killed the pedlar and the Keeper, according to both Crik and Grendel, who tries to shift the blame on to the other carter, Dolwin Veg.'
'And I suspect they attempted the murder of Gwyn and myself,' growled de Wolfe. 'They are most likely the bastards who laid an ambush for us with crossbows, when we were getting too close to their misdoings. The business with the false call to a corpse in Ottery St Mary was too clever for those dullards. No doubt the Axmouth gang set it up, with some stranger paid to impersonate the Ottery reeve.'
The sheriff put his tankard down on the table with a bang.
'What about the bailiff, this Edward Northcote? And that John Capie, the fellow the county employs as a Customs collector, God preserve us? What are they guilty of?'
The little clerk thumbed nervously through his notes. 'No one has actually said that either of them were involved in the piracy and the selling of the stolen goods, sir. But everyone seems to accept that the whole village knew about evading the taxes, so they must have been aware of that, for Capie was the man responsible for counting the stuff.'
John strove to keep his mind on the problem. 'I'll wager the bailiff knew every damned thing that went on in that village. He may not have taken an active part in the piracy nor perhaps shared in the loot. But there's no way that he wouldn't have known about it, and at the very least he must have turned a blind eye.'
Henry tossed the crust of a pastry to a thin cat that was slinking from under the table. 'Well, as I said earlier, I'm going to dump the problem in the lap of the king's court. The Commissioners of Gaol Delivery are due here next month, so let them sort it out! The villains from Axmouth can rot down the cells until then and I'm letting the Church decide what they want to do with that fellow from Loders.'
John thought rather sourly that the sheriff's recent revival of enthusiasm had suddenly petered out, but in a couple of weeks he would be in London, so it would not be his problem.
What was his problem was managing the upheaval in his private life, and the sooner he got down to dealing with it, the better.
De Wolfe had expected that having to go down to the Bush again would be an ordeal, but somewhat to his surprise he found that a certain calmness had entered his soul. That evening he walked Brutus around the Close for a while, not to disappoint him, but then returned him to Mary and set out alone for Idle Lane.
He entered the taproom without hesitation and strode across to his table, as he had done for several years. Gwyn was already there, as arranged earlier, a bowl of fish soup and a hunk of bread before him. As John sat down, Edwin came across as usual and placed a pot of ale in front of him but hovered about, an uneasy look on his aged face.
'Hear you're off to London, cap'n,' he said rather nervously. 'We'll all miss you greatly.' He hesitated for a moment. 'And we'll be lost without Mistress Nesta, too.' He swung away quickly, as if he feared a tear would appear in his one good eye.
John took a deep swallow of the ale, thinking that he had better make the most of it, as it was unlikely that he would get such a good brew in London. He glanced around at the score of men drinking in the room and knew from the way they studiously tried not to look in his direction that the news was already all over the city … 'the ale-wife's getting married and the crowner's leaving town!'
A few moments later he broke off talking to Gwyn as he saw Nesta coming down the ladder from the loft. At the same time Owain ap Gronow appeared through the back door, carrying a large pitcher of cider which he placed alongside the ale barrels. An illogical feeling of relief flooded John's mind when he saw that the Welshman had not been up with Nesta in her tiny bedroom, until he realised that it was now none of his business.
He stood up and stalked across the taproom to where the pair were now standing together, apparently discussing the ale and cider. When Owain saw John advancing upon him, he stiffened and looked as if he was expecting an assault upon his person, but John held out his hand and gave a twisted grin.
'By rights, lad, I should give you a beating — but I'll settle for congratulations!' He gripped the mason's upper arm in a gesture of acceptance, and Owain smiled in relief as Nesta watched warily.
'I don't know what to say, Crowner!' Owain blurted out in Welsh. 'Nothing can be adequate after what you've done for me. Saved my life, then led me to the best woman in the world.'
Again, John smiled crookedly 'I'll not argue with the last part, though perhaps I should have let those outlaws cut your throat!'
He turned to Nesta. 'We have important business to talk about, cariad. It now concerns your future husband, so let's all go and sit down with Gwyn, for he's involved as well.'
Mystified, Nesta did as she was bid, and as she sat down Gwyn noticed with a sigh of sadness for times past that she placed herself on the bench opposite de Wolfe with Owain close alongside her. John leant forward and the others did the same, not wanting their business to be heard by the other patrons.
'Nesta, you had the silly notion of giving the Bush to me when you left for Gwent, but that just cannot be! I will purchase it from you and there will be no arguments. '
He overrode the start of her protests. 'It is true that I helped you when Meredydd died, but you have repaid that to me from the success you made of running the inn. It is also true that I paid to repair the building after it burnt down, but in recent years Exeter has burgeoned with its trade. Now, property is worth more, so unless you object to the price I will repay you what Meredydd paid four years ago.'
With flushed cheeks, she again started to reject his offer as too generous, but he would have none of it. 'Look on it as a dowry or a wedding gift, Nesta. Perhaps you might wish to open a tavern in Chepstow — it would be a sin if the world was deprived of the best ale in Christendom!'
Then he went on to explain his plan to give the tenancy of the Bush to Gwyn, the place to be run by his wife Avisa in his absence. Gwyn, after his initial bewilderment at his master's generosity, had taken enthusiastically to the idea. He had already told John that Avisa was delighted with the proposal, a dream come true to get out of the squalor of their hut in St Sidwell's and have a bigger home and a business to run.
Now knowing that her good friend Gwyn was to be the beneficiary, Nesta soon came round to accepting John's stratagems. She knew Avisa as a strong, sensible and capable woman and was sure that she would make a success of running the inn. It was also a relief to Nesta to know that the Bush would be in friendly hands, instead of being taken by a stranger who might let the place degenerate, like some of the other drinking dens in the city.