'Do you want me to go, Nesta?' he asked, baffled at the situation. John de Wolfe and any sort of emotional crisis mixed as well as oil and water.
The offer instantly softened Nesta's mood. 'Of course not, you great oaf!' She snuggled closer, and several nearby patrons tactfully found some other direction in which to stare. 'I'm sorry, dear John. Maybe it's the time of the month. I get so sad sometimes, but take no notice.'
After her next foray to the kitchen-shed, de Wolfe decided that he had better make for home, as Nesta's remarks probably indicated that the loft would be out of bounds that evening. Finishing his ale, he went with her to the door, where a final good-night kiss saw him on his way to Martin's Lane.
The next day, Friday, was taken up with the county court, held in the Shire Hall, inside the inner ward of Rougemont. The central area of the castle, ringed with its defensive wall, held three buildings, the keep at the far side from the gatehouse, the small garrison church of St Mary and the courthouse. This was a bare stone box with a slated roof, as thatch would be vulnerable to fire arrows in the event of a siege. However, there had been no fighting here for over half a century, since the castle had held out for the Empress Matilda for three months in the civil war against King Stephen.
The coroner was required for a number of duties at the shire court, held frequently to settle a variety of criminal and civil cases. He had to call upon 'attached' persons to answer to their bail and, if they failed to appear for four successive courts, declare them outlaw. This particular day, he also had to present various other matters, including several appeals of felony and two criminals who wished to turn 'approver'. There were several forfeitures of the property of hanged felons to register and a number of other administrative tasks, some of which would have to be handed on to the higher court, the Eyre, when it eventually delivered four king's judges to Exeter to try the most serious cases.
The day passed, with Thomas de Peyne doing sterling work in producing documents and rolls and scribing new material for eventual presentation to the Justices in Eyre. At the end of it, John was content to go home to eat the rest of Mary's large pike for supper and doze with a jug of Loire wine. When his wife vanished to her devotions and her bed, he did not even have the will to get up and go down to the Bush. Ignoring Brutus's accusing eye, he slumped in his chair before the fire and let his mind wander over all his problems, professional and personal, until he finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
In which Crowner John rides to Honiton
Next morning it was almost a replay of the previous Tuesday, as Hugh Bogge, the Keeper's clerk, again turned up at Rougemont soon after the eighth hour, having left Honiton as dawn lightened the eastern sky. His message was also similar, in that he came to summon the coroner to the scene of a violent death.
'Not a strangled young shipman this time,' he announced with morbid relish. 'A packman with his head stove in! But Sir Luke thinks there might be a connection between them.'
In spite of his three-hour ride, Bogge was quite willing to travel back with them after a bite to eat and a change of horse. By noon they had retraced the fourteen miles of relatively good road back to Honiton, even Thomas keeping up a decent pace on his new rounsey. De Wolfe and Gwyn had become so frustrated by his tardiness on the old broken-winded pony that John had dipped into the sheriff's expense fund and bought a dappled palfrey for the clerk.
They rode into the large village along its straight main street that was part of the Fosse Way, until Hugh Bogge led them down a side track that joined the road to Wilmington and Axminster, where the Keeper of the Peace lived. The cottages and shacks of Honiton petered out after a few hundred paces and, beyond a few strip-fields on either side, trees began again, patches of woodland at first, then denser forest beyond. Just where the last length of ploughed land gave way to a copse of beech and ash, John saw a cluster of people about twenty yards off the road.
'That's the place, Crowner,' said Hugh, his fat face almost glowing with excitement. He obviously relished being a Keeper's clerk, savouring the minor dramas that went with the job.
As they rode up and dismounted, they could see that Luke de Casewold was holding court amongst a handful of villagers. Some held a rake or hoe in their hands and seemed to have been working in the adjacent fields, where early oats and barley were showing green, as well as young bean and pea plants. After tying their horses' reins to convenient saplings, the four newcomers went along the edge of the trees to the group, and de Wolfe pushed his way past the yokels to confront the Keeper.
'A dead packman, your clerk said?' he growled by way of a greeting.
Luke de Casewold pointed down to a shallow depression in the ground, an old pit half-filled with moss and new nettles.