too.”
“I wonder…”
Hugh looked at him. He had reverted back to his pensive silence, chin down on his chest as he swayed along, glaring at the road surface under him as if daring it to argue with his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Hugh coughed and, when this had no impact, said, “Master?”
There was a grunt, but Simon did not look up until they had ridden on for a few yards, and then he peered at his servant with a frown of concentration, almost seeming not to recognise him, so intense were his thoughts. “What?”
“Why did you ask me that?”
“Eh? Oh. Well… I was thinking, well, wondering really… I still can’t believe that he could have killed Brewer, even if it does look as if he killed the abbot.” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to be contemplating his thoughts again, then, head on one side and without looking at his servant, he started to speak, slowly and concisely. “If the knight had captured the abbot and taken him hostage, if it was Rodney, it was either a chance meeting and robbery or it was planned and intended – perhaps a revenge attack. If it was revenge for some misdeed, then we’ll probably never know what the deed was. Right, but if it was not, then it was a chance attack. What would that mean?”
He was mumbling as he considered, his brow deeply puckered. “The knight and another man found the monks on the road. They took the abbot and carried him off into the woods. They took him a long way, then tied him to a tree, set light to him and watched him die. Why kill him like that? If they had to kill him, why not a knife in the back or a rope round the neck, so that they could get away as quickly as possible. Just because he was killed that way it seems unlikely that it was a chance attack.” He shot a keen glance at Hugh. “Does that make sense?”
Hugh thought for a minute, his bottom lip out as he considered the logic with frowning concentration. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I think so.”
“Fine. Even so, let’s carry on. So, assuming that it was mere chance: if they had done all this… Let’s just think it through. If they did this, if they killed the abbot, then why did they divide? Why did one take all the money and the abbot’s mare, the other the war horse. Why? The war horse was worth more – and what happened to the other man’s horse? The monks said that both attackers were mounted, so where is the second horse?”
“Maybe the other man took both horses?”
“Why? Why should he? What would be the point? One man with two horses is suspicious, he might raise attention.”
“Oh, I don’t know! Anyway, John Black must be right, it surely was the same man who killed Brewer.”
“What? Him? The knight? Killed Brewer?” His incredulity made his voice rise. “Why, for the money? How would a travelling knight hear about the wealth of a farmer on his way past? Is it really credible? Anyway, let’s just sort out the abbot’s death first, shall we!
“Right, so I think we have to assume that it was not chance, but that it was an intentional meeting. So the knight and his accomplice saw the monks on the road and attacked. What does that mean? There was no ambush, that seems odd. So maybe the knight happened to come upon them and recognised the abbot – from behind? No, of course not. You don’t recognise a man’s back on horseback, you only recognise a face. So that means he must have heard about the abbot, have known about him before they came upon the monks, and chased after him, trying to catch him. Perhaps the two of them had been chasing the monks for some time? But even so…”
“What, master?”
“Well, why on earth would they split up after the killing? If there were two of them, and they had been chasing the monks for some way, why would they divide immediately afterwards? You would think they would stay together – that the immensity of their crime would hold them together.”
Hugh was confused now. “So what are you saying? I…”
“I just don’t believe that he killed the abbot. I can’t believe it! I think that whether he came across the monks on the road by chance or whether he was looking for them, either way he would have kept his war horse. He was a knight, he would not have just left it or given it away! A war horse costs over a hundred pounds!”
“Er… well, yes, but…”
“So, could his own story have been genuine? Could it be true that he found the horse? Could it be true that he came across it and took it because he had no other?”
“Master, perhaps…”
“No,” said Simon decisively. “I’m certain the killer of the abbot was someone else. And that means that Master Black’s opinion must be wrong. Black thinks that because a murderer went through the area, he must have killed Brewer on the way. I think Rodney didn’t kill de Penne. I believed him when he seemed so shocked at the idea of killing a monk, and I think it’s equally unlikely he could have killed the farmer – after all, Brewer was very unpopular, surely it’s more likely he was killed by someone local, someone who hated him? No, someone else must have killed them!” He kicked at his horse and coaxed it into an easy canter, and, sighing, Hugh urged his own horse to keep up.
Without having to follow a trail, and being able to keep to the roads and lanes, they made good time and were in Drewsteignton by midday. They paused to water the horses, then were on their way again, keeping to an easy pace so as not to strain their animals, and were in Crediton at dusk. Hugh expected his master to suggest that they went on immediately, and was surprised when he blandly mentioned his aches and pains and proposed that they should stay the night with the priest at Crediton church, Peter Clifford. Shrugging, Hugh agreed, but with a suspicion at the back of his mind that his master must have an ulterior motive – he seemed too off-hand about the suggestion.
The priest was delighted to see them. He rushed out to welcome them, arms outstretched, his eyes gleaming with delight. He led them through to his room and, when they were seated by the fire, poured them mulled wine.
“So, my friends, what are you doing so far from home? I heard about the gang killing the abbot, and that you went after them – did you have any joy in your hunt?”
Simon stared at his pewter mug as he spoke. “Yes, Peter, we caught them all, down on the moors. They managed to kill again, though.”
“Oh, no!” Clifford’s brow wrinkled in his sadness at the news.
Simon leaned forward and fixed a firm stare on his friend. “Peter, do you remember a knight passing through Crediton at about the same time as the monks? Did you hear anything about a stranger? A tall man, very broad, and sitting on a great horse? He might have had a companion with him.”
“No. No, I don’t think so. Why, who was he?”
“His name was Rodney of Hungerford. We found him with the trail bastons – he seems to have been an impoverished knight. John Black and the others think he might have killed the abbot.”
“No, I’m sure I would remember if I had heard anything of him.”
“Yes. Ah well, it was worth a try.”
“So. This attack, Simon. Did many get hurt?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Simon, and went on to describe the murders, the posse’s chase over the moors and the fight with the outlaws. The priest sat attentively, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his mug in his hand, nodding his understanding at the tale as it unfolded.
“I see,” he said when Simon had finished. “So many poor souls! And all for lust, lust for money and lust for the women. Oh dear God, take them into your care and protect these poor souls.” He stared unseeing into the flames. After a pause, he looked up keenly at the bailiff. “But you are not sure that these men were the killers of Brewer and the abbot?”
“Well, now you mention it…”
The priest leaned back, a smile on his face. “Come along, now, Simon. You know you’ll tell me sooner or later!”
The bailiff laughed shortly, relaxed by the warmth and the wine, before looking across at his friend. “Alright, Peter. I am certain that they did kill the merchants, or as certain as I can be, anyway.”
“But?”
“I am equally unsure that this knight was involved in the death of the farmer or the abbot. I find it hard to believe that the abbot was killed on a whim – I think it must have been a planned murder. That means I do not believe that it was a robbery – whoever heard of a robber killing his victims like that?”
“So you don’t think the robbers may have simply been disturbed? That they panicked and wanted to get
