He did his best to reassure her about the outcome.
'This need not be a fight to the death, Matilda. This has been boiled down to a dispute over land and they are not going to hang the losing survivor. A disabling strike with the sword — or a submission if one man is being soundly defeated, will suffice to satisfy honour.'
He did not add that there was nothing to stop one combatant killing the other if he could — and by the angry look in de la Pomeroy's eye, it seemed he would be happy to spill Nicholas's life blood all over the ground.
'When is this barbaric ritual to take place?' demanded his wife.
'The first contest will be at the eighth hour tomorrow morning, in the inner ward of Rougemont,' explained John. 'The second will be an hour later, the actual time depending on how long the first one lasts. Usually, few continue for more than a couple of hours, unless the pair are evenly matched in skill.'
His wife clucked her tongue and bemoaned the bloodthirsty tastes of bestial men, compared to the gentler sensibilities of her own sex. 'If Sir Nicholas perishes, that poor wife of his will be devastated,' she said with genuine concern.
'If he is defeated, he loses his home and his land and everything that goes with it,' pointed out de Wolfe. 'He would be destitute, yet another landless, penurious knight let loose upon the country. He might as well go back to being an outlaw on the moor, thanks to your brother and his grasping friend from Berry Castle.' For once, his wife had no caustic answer to throw back in his face.
That afternoon, John and his officer and clerk went back to the coroner's chamber in the gatehouse to refresh themselves with bread, cheese and ale — though Thomas drank cider, for which he now grudgingly admitted he was getting a taste. The little priest pulled his quills and parchment towards him, ready to start writing duplicate copies of inquests, but the other two seemed in a talkative mood, wanting to pick over the significance of the proceedings that morning.
'I had hoped old Walter and this new judge would have just hanged those two sods — or at least banished them from the realm or imposed a massive fine that would cripple them,' growled Gwyn, from his usual seat on the window ledge.
De Wolfe, sitting behind his trestle table, shook his head. 'They have too many powerful friends for that, Gwyn. John de Alencon told me afterwards that, on reflection, he felt it was unwise of him to suggest that the bastards could be excommunicated for cheating a man on Crusade, as the bishop is well known as a strong supporter of Prince John and will probably have strong words to say to the archdeacon when he hears about it. And you saw how the prince sent his clever lawyer down to aid them.'
'But what does this strange verdict of Ordeal by Battle mean, Crowner?' asked Thomas, his sharp nose almost twitching with interest. 'What on earth can that achieve?'
The coroner rasped a hand across his stubble thoughtfully. 'It was a clever move, assuming Nicholas wins. It would show that God as well as the king's justices agree that de Arundell was the wronged party, though that seems bloody obvious to everyone. But at least, by invoking the Almighty, it would prevent those who support the prince from claiming that the result was rigged by the Justiciar and his justices.'
'And if he loses?' grunted the Cornishman.
De Wolfe shrugged. 'Political expediency, it's called. Hubert Walter certainly wants Nicholas to triumph and to see de Revelle's nose rubbed in the dirt once again — but if it fails, then he can say that it shows that he was impartial.'
'Will he win, master?' asked Thomas. 'It doesn't seem fair, asking one man to fight two opponents.'
'Some of these ruffians who turn approver have to fight up to five of their accomplices to save their necks,' replied Gwyn. 'As long as there's a decent interval between bouts to allow them to recover, I don't see it makes much difference.'
De Wolfe went back to answer Thomas's first question. 'Who will win? I hope to God that Nicholas can vanquish Henry de la Pomeroy, who is a hard bastard and well used to fighting. De Revelle is a chicken-hearted coward and should be no problem, though I hope Nicholas doesn't kill him, as Matilda will blame me for the rest of my life.'
Gwyn swallowed the rest of his quart with a gurgling noise like a barrel being emptied. Wiping his moustache with an upward sweep of his hand, he became inquisitive.
'I've seen many of these trials by combat, but I still don't understand why bashing your opponent's head with a staff or skewering him on a sword should be a means of solving a legal dispute.'
Their clerk, a fount of knowledge on so many matters, was eager to show off his erudition. 'As the judge said, it's an ancient ritual, though new minds at the Vatican are becoming impatient with what they see as pagan magic, even though Almighty God is invoked.'
'How ancient?' asked de Wolfe, also curious about this odd practice, even though everyone was familiar with it as a part of English legal procedure.
'Ordeals of fire and water go back to ancient times, even in far-off places in the East, but as for the Ordeal of Battle, as the justice said, William of Normandy brought it to England at the time of the Conquest,' explained Thomas. 'But it was originally a German invention or even possibly developed by the pagans in the Northlands.'
Gwyn scratched his crotch vigorously. 'Wherever it came from, let's hope our man Nicholas has the stronger arm tomorrow, after all the effort we've made to help him.'
'Amen to that,' said Thomas, crossing himself devoutly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Though the crowd in the Shire Hall might have been small the previous day, Exeter's gossip grapevine ensured that far more people climbed Castle Hill the next morning to see three knights and manor lords fight it out, possibly to the death.
The constable of Rougemont had been up at dawn to organise the arrangements. The weather was cold, with a leaden sky, but there had been no new snow, and only dirty remnants of the last fall lurked at the foot of the high curtain walls. Sergeant Gabriel and his soldiers from the garrison had cleared the centre of the inner ward of the usual obstructions, such as empty ox-carts, archery targets and heaps of refuse. The pigs and goats that normally snuffled about the bailey were chased down to the outer ward, and a man was stationed at the gate to make sure that they did not return.
Gabriel paced out the requisite square of sixty feet on each side and his men hammered in stakes at intervals, ropes being strung between them to keep the combat area clear of spectators. A dozen men-at-arms spaced out outside this barrier made doubly sure that there would be no interference to the ritual.
By the time the cathedral bell tolled to announce the office of Prime, just before the eighth hour, about a hundred people were gathered in the inner ward. At the end farthest from the gatehouse, towards the squat keep, the supporters of de la Pomeroy and de Revelle gathered along the rope, mainly the bailiffs, reeves and other manor officials. The opposite side of the marked-off square was reserved for de Arundell's men from the moor, together with his wife Joan. Nicholas and her cousin had tried to persuade her to stay away, but the resolute lady adamantly refused, saying that if her husband was to be wounded or killed, it was only right that she should be with him.
Resigned to the stubborn woman's resolve, Gillian le Bret stayed closely by her, and to de Wolfe's surprise, his own wife Matilda insisted on accompanying them. He tried to dissuade her also, saying that it was not proper for a woman to witness bloodshed, injury and possibly death, but taking her cue from Joan de Arundell, Matilda shrugged off his protests. John wondered to what extent she was there in case her brother Richard suffered the same misfortune, so with a sigh he abandoned his attempts to keep her away. He could not stay at her side, as he had his own duties as coroner whenever an ordeal was in progress, and Thomas had to keep a record for eventual presentation to the royal justices of the General Eyre when it arrived, sometime in the future.