Abbot Robert was toying with his goblet now. ‘And now there is this poor fellow on the moors: Walwynus. His corpse is guarded?’
‘I left the miner Hal Raddych up there. When the coroner arrives, we can investigate more fully.’
‘Of course. Who could wish to kill a poor fellow like him? It seems insane.’
‘There are madmen about,’ Simon said.
‘Yes, but one hardly expects to meet them here. Do you think that this was a random attack from an outlaw? Someone who knocked him down just to filch his purse?’
‘It is very hard to say, my Lord Abbot. But I shall enquire as I may, see if I can dig up something for the coroner to use. When should he arrive?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. Tomorrow or the day after, I hope.’
Tuesday or Wednesday, Simon noted. He sighed. ‘I only wish Baldwin were here.’
‘Yes. He is a man of excellent judgement.’
Simon nodded, burped gently, and sipped at his wine. ‘Baldwin is a good man to have at your side in an enquiry. He’s so used to running his own courts as Keeper of the King’s Peace that questioning people is second nature to him.’
‘He has many duties,’ the abbot murmured. ‘The duties and responsibilities of an abbot are equally onerous: varied and always increasing. We are now to be asked to help the King again. His Host is marching to Scotland, I hear.’
‘I had thought that they would have crossed the border by now.’
‘Perhaps they have. The King is up in the north, I understand.’ The abbot smiled humourlessly. ‘He wishes money for his bastard, Adam. The lad is to be blooded in Scotland, so we must all pay the King taxes so that he can afford to buy a horse and new armour for his whelp, I suppose.’
His tone was bitter. Simon knew that Abbot Robert resented having to send more of his hard-earned money to support the King in one of his campaigns.
‘Every time he calls on his Host he expects us to pay our fee,’ the abbot continued. ‘This abbey once had to support fifteen knights, but now we commute that service with scutage, we have to pay for sixteen. Not only that: his sister is to marry, and he wants a subsidy from me to help pay for her wedding! When the King decided to march against Thomas of Lancaster earlier this year, he demanded that I should act as his recruitment officer. Now a man has arrived telling me I must do so again, and find men for him at the same time as paying a fine because I, as an abbot, tend not to maintain knights here in the cloister. Pah! He wanted me to provide him with money to hire mere mercenaries, knaves and churls who will fight for any man if the money is right, against every element of Christ’s teaching, and at the same time he demands my best, healthiest, strongest peasants to fill his army: no matter that he denudes my fields of the men I need during the harvest. My God! Save me from bellicose monarchs!’
Simon nodded understandingly, but he failed to see where this conversation was heading. Outside, the light had faded, and he wondered how much longer the abbot was going to talk. For his part, the ride to Tavistock, the quick return to Lydford and back, followed by the trip to Wally’s body, had made his entire body ache; the abbot’s good red wine hadn’t helped. Simon longed to sprawl back in his seat, to close his eyes and dream of his wife, but he wasn’t fooled by his host’s affable manner. Abbot Robert was Simon’s master, when all was said and done, and if he wished to talk on, Simon must listen. He felt his eyelids grow heavy.
‘Bailiff, you seem tired.’
‘No, my Lord. I am fine. You were talking about the King?’
‘Yes. He wants more men, but he also wants money. I have no recruiting officers, and finding one in whom I can place any trust…’
Simon’s heart sank. ‘Of course, my Lord Abbot. If you command me.’
‘No, I do not command you to take total responsibility, Simon,’ the abbot said with a faint smile. ‘But I would ask that you assist the man sent to raise a force from the local men. I have no time for this nonsense, but if I don’t have someone there… well, you know how it is. I cannot lose all my men.’
‘This man is staying in the town?’
‘No, as soon as he got here this afternoon, I had him sent to join the other guests and fed. He is there now, I expect. If you could spend a little time with him, I should be most grateful.’
‘I shall help as best I may.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ the abbot said, and toyed with his knife for a moment.
Simon thought he looked distrait. ‘Is there another matter, my Lord Abbot?’
‘There is one other little affair.’ The abbot coughed; ‘This morning, a man sleeping in the guest room with you came to me and alleged that there had been a theft from his belongings. I am investigating his accusations myself.’
‘You do not wish me to help?’
‘I think not. Not yet. If I am right, the villain should soon come to me and confess. There is little point in setting you after him. No. If someone asks you about the matter, please tell people that the pewterer has not lost anything.’
‘My Lord?’
‘You will not be lying. I have myself reimbursed him,’ Abbot Robert said quietly. ‘I will not allow one felon to drag the name of this abbey through the midden. Whoever is responsible, I shall soon know, but there is no reason to have it bruited abroad that the abbey is a hotbed of thieves and rascals. However, that is not the same as this affair of the dead miner. Surely that is much more important. You have set matters
