‘Really?’ It was odd that all the other members of the community, from what Cryspyn implied, should have been sent here because of some crime they had committed, and William alone was innocent. He resolved to speak to the elderly priest again.
Isok was preparing his boat for departure when she found him.
‘Isok? I am sorry. Truly sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, is it?’ he said as he loaded the water into the boat. ‘God didn’t want us to be together, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘I wanted you, you know that, don’t you? I’m so sorry all this has happened.’
‘But being sorry didn’t stop you cuckolding me, did it?’ he demanded harshly, stopping a moment and staring at her. The blush was all he needed as confirmation. ‘So, that’s all there is to say.’
‘It’s not all my fault!’ she asserted. ‘What of you? You never told me that you’d never managed to lie with a woman before.’
‘Some people aren’t fornicators,’ he said coldly.
She looked away. ‘What will you do now?’
‘I will go away,’ he said, staring out to sea. ‘I’ll find peace somewhere.’
‘But how? Do you have the Prior’s permission to leave his demesne?’
‘No. So you can go and tell him, if you want. Tell him to kill me to punish me and keep me here.’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
‘No. You’d only betray me to men with ballocks, wouldn’t you?’ he said nastily.
She hung her head. Then looked up resolutely. ‘First …’
‘What?’ he demanded.
She was fearful, he saw, and licked her lips nervously. ‘Just this … Isok, tell me, truthfully, did you murder him?’
‘Who, Luke?’ he sneered. ‘The pretty fellow was killed by the pirates, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that what the good Prior said?’
‘Not him. You know who I mean.’
‘Oh, your tax-collector? You know, it’s a shame you sank that low. Not many women would have done so. Most would have been happy with a scavenger, or a shit-collector, but not someone who steals what we all earn.’
‘He wasn’t like that.’
‘No? What — so the stories about him murdering a man are untrue?’
‘He did it to save another. He told me. He said that the only people he had killed were those he had fought in order to protect others. He wasn’t evil.’
‘Really?’
‘So — did you kill him?’
‘No.’ He stopped his work and stared at her. ‘I’d feel better if I had, but no. You may like to think about that after I’ve gone. You’ve lost me, your lover’s dead, and the murderer’s still here somewhere. Think on that!’
She stood aghast with clenched fists while he pushed his boat out to sea, then sprang aboard, and she was still standing there when his boat disappeared around the northern rocks of the channel. When she looked down, she saw that her nails had stabbed deep marks in her palms.
Simon was unable to concentrate at the table. His stomach, for once, had betrayed him. The foods laid out so temptingly for them all were unappealing. All he could see as the others ate, was the slight, battered form lying so still in the church, the nervous smile forever dimmed. He reached for the jug of wine more regularly as the meal progressed, letting the wash of wine through his belly warm him in a way that the food could not.
In celebration of the victory over the pirates, the Prior had brought out the choicest titbits from his undercrofts. In reality these were few, but those about his table had not been in a position to enjoy good food for some days. Simon saw that Baldwin was eating sparingly as usual, but Sir Charles, on the Prior’s left hand, was grabbing at everything that passed within reach. Paul was sitting farther down the table with some monks, where they shared four to each mess bowl, but up on the top table, Sir Charles, Baldwin and Simon had one bowl per pair. Simon was supposed to share with William, but the priest had no more appetite than Simon. The Prior himself had a small plate of bread and plain meats to himself, and he dabbed at his face with a linen cloth, concealing his little burps and coughs.
Simon could feel Baldwin’s eye upon him occasionally, but he paid no heed to the conversation that flowed about the table. All he knew was an enveloping misery that felt like a premonition of some kind.
It was only when Sir Charles sat back with a contented belch that rumbled in his throat like water sinking down a pipe, that Baldwin asked, ‘How many knew of the sands which connect the islands?’
‘Almost everyone here, and most peasants elsewhere. It’s only the men at La Val who knew nothing of them,’ Cryspyn said.
‘Curious that they could be kept secret from the men at Ennor.’
‘Most of them would be pressed to find their arses with both hands,’ William grunted.
‘Perhaps, but some are intelligent enough,’ Baldwin said musingly. ‘I should like to speak to the Sergeant of Ennor, Thomas. And to David and Isok as well.’
‘Why?’ the Prior asked as he motioned to his steward to remove the emptied bowls.
‘Because surely one of them can help us to learn who was the murderer of Robert the gather-reeve. His death troubles me. I cannot see why he should have been killed. And to be stabbed in the back without defending himself … there is something peculiar about this.’
‘What is peculiar?’ William asked. ‘The man was a hated rent-collector. Anyone would have shoved a dagger in his back and thought it a good deed.’
‘I find it hard to believe that Luke was killed by pirates, either,’ Baldwin continued as though William had not spoken. ‘I did think that he had died because the pirates wanted to conceal their hiding-place, and knowing that there was a priest there might have given them a problem. They could have killed him just to hide their presence. Certainly they were more than capable of murdering him, but something about it strikes me as odd.’
‘They saw him, they killed him,’ William said off-handedly. ‘I see no problem with that.’
‘Do you not? Yet if I was trying to conceal my presence, the last thing I would do would be to proclaim it by removing a very significant person. The first man to be missed in any community would be the priest. And if the priest was gone, surely everyone would try to find the body? The death of Luke could have resulted in a widespread search of the islands. These pirates, after all, were experienced mariners. They must have raided plenty of islands and little hamlets before now. Usually they would install a spy on high ground to ensure that their ship was safe. It would be better than killing a man like Luke, no matter what we think of him.’
‘So you feel that he was murdered by an islander?’ the Prior asked heavily. ‘I know you have had a series of unfortunate experiences here, but surely you can trust me when I say that most of our people are decent, good men and women?’
‘You expect me to accept that? It seems certain that your people can turn to piracy, Prior,’ Baldwin pointed out.
‘What of the sand banks?’ William asked casually.
Baldwin looked at him with lowered brows. ‘Yes. That is a problem. You can see why?’
‘I have not the faintest idea, no.’
‘I was in the water, and I wore my sword. Yet when I was found, my sword had been taken from me and left not far from Robert’s body. That means that either someone took off my sword and dropped it there, perhaps intentionally to make me look like the murderer, and then carried my body to this island; or, more likely, someone found me on St Nicholas Island, took my sword, and carried that back to Ennor. Either way, it must have been someone who knew of the path beneath the sea. And they would have had to go all the way to Bechiek first,’ Baldwin added.
‘Perhaps they used a boat to cross over?’ William said.
‘Perhaps — but a boat was more likely to be seen, or missed from the beach,’ Baldwin said musingly.
‘It would be difficult to carry you all the way from Ennor to St Nicholas,’ Cryspyn joked, eyeing his solid frame.
Baldwin gave a dry grin of agreement. ‘I am no lightweight. Nor are the passes easy, as I learned myself in the company of William last evening. The ways are treacherous. That is why I am sure that the second is the more likely explanation. I had thought that the man who would most benefit from Robert’s death, the new gather-reeve, Walerand, must surely be the murderer, but he is too slight to carry me, and if he were to steal my sword, that must mean that he was already on the island of St Nicholas. Yet he apparently didn’t know about the sands. And I don’t think I mistook his disgust. He hated the very thought of walking in the sea. The idea of him walking to St Nicholas and back strikes me as unlikely.’