The Manor of Death(47)

The coroner was worried that the fellow might rashly stick his nose into a wasps' nest and come to serious harm.

'Have a care, de Casewold! Someone has already seen off a shipman and a pedlar, with little compunction. Why don't I suggest to the sheriff that he sends a few men-at-arms to back you up?'

Luke made a deprecating gesture. 'I can spy out the situation first, Sir John. Then if I detect a pattern, maybe your idea might be the answer. Set up an ambush with king's men and catch the bastards in the act!'

Their uninspiring meal over, de Wolfe gave the sullen landlord a couple of pennies and they left the alehouse, where Luke and his clerk took themselves off up the valley towards Axminster. John and his companions made their way to a rickety wooden jetty just outside the wharf gate and spent another half-penny on a ferry-ride across to Seaton. The tide had just turned, and the old man who rowed the flat-bottomed boat had to pull manfully to broach the incoming flood. On the other side of the wide estuary, the village of Seaton stretched down to a stony beach, where fishing boats were pulled up on the pebbles. Thomas went off to the whitewashed church to seek the priest, while Gwyn asked directions to the cottage of Widow Makerel.

This turned out to be a small hut near the strand, with a roof of flat stones to ward off the winds that swept in from the sea. Behind, they could see the chalk cliffs of Beer, riddled with quarry caves from which came the white stone that formed much of Exeter's cathedral.

In the cottage's single room they found Edith Makerel gutting some fish that a neighbour had given her, while the fat girl who had been Simon's betrothed was carrying in wood for the fire that glowed in a pit in the middle of the room. Against one wall a young man lolled on a bench, which together with a table and a couple of stools formed the only furniture in the house, the corner beds being bags of hessian stuffed with ferns and feathers.

The family looked anxious when the two large men appeared but hospitably offered them the bench, the man who was Simon's elder brother moving off to make way for them.

John politely accepted some ale, and the thin brew was poured by the girl into two misshapen mugs of coarse earthenware.

'I dislike disturbing you and reminding you of your great sorrow, mistress,' he said in a voice that was unusually soft and gentle for him. 'But we must get to the bottom of this tragedy, one way or another. I wondered if you have any fresh recollections of what may have been troubling your son when he came home from the sea?'

Edith Makerel, a gaunt woman dressed in a black kirtle with a crumpled linen apron over it, dropped on to a stool and began nervously twisting the cloth belt of her apron. 'Thinking back on it, sir, I am more convinced than ever that it was the pangs of conscience that preyed on his mind. Something he had done or even witnessed, was my guess - though he would not admit it, even to me, his mother.'

De Wolfe listened gravely, quite willing to believe that a woman's intuition was to be relied upon, especially when it concerned her son. 'Have you no idea what this thing might have been? Did he have the marks of a fight or of some injury he could have sustained?'

The widow shook her head sadly. 'He would say nothing, Crowner. He just sat and stared at the fire, seeming mostly bereft of speech. Not like him at all; he was usually a pleasant, cheerful lad. It was going on that damned ship that ruined him.' Edith sounded bitter, as well she might be.

John questioned both the dumpy girl, whose name was Edna, and the elder brother, but they had nothing to add, just confirming the mother's opinion.

'Was there anything else that was out of the ordinary?' asked John, desperate to avoid the usual blank wall that seemed to face him when he made enquiries into this case.

'He seemed to have more money that usual,' said Edith Makerel slowly. 'He gave me ten pence and told me to buy some good food. On his first voyage, he came back with only a shilling for all those days at sea.'

The girl and the brother confirmed that Simon seemed to have more money. 'He gave me six pence and told me to buy a new shift,' said Edna with a tearful sniff. 'He said the coins might as well be put to some use, as he couldn't give them back. It seemed an odd thing to say.'

'He brought nothing back with him from the voyage?' asked Gwyn. 'No trinkets or a flask of brandywine or suchlike?'

There were puzzled shakes of the head, and soon John realised once more that they had exhausted what little there was to be learnt. They left the sad little family and went out into the spring sunshine, as the weather had improved again.

'We'd better wait for the little fellow,' said Gwyn. 'Let's hope he has better luck with the priest.'

They walked down to the beach and squatted on the pebbles, watching the gulls wheeling over the small boats pulled up on the stones, where men were stacking fish into wicker baskets, ready for carting to markets as far away as Exeter and Yeovil. A small island of sand and stones projected from the sea just in front of them, looking like another whale about to surface.