CITY OF FIENDS
Also by Michael Jecks
The Last Templar
The Merchant’s Partner
A Moorland Hanging
The Crediton Killings
The Abbot’s Gibbet
The Leper’s Return
Squire Throwleigh’s Heir
Belladonna at Belstone
The Traitor of St Giles
The Boy Bishop’s Glovemaker
The Tournament of Blood
The Sticklepath Strangler
The Devil’s Acolyte
The Mad Monk of Gidleigh
The Templar’s Penance
The Outlaws of Ennor
The Tolls of Death
The Chapel of Bones
The Butcher of St Peter’s
A Friar’s Bloodfeud
The Death Ship of Dartmouth
The Malice of Unnatural Death
Dispensation of Death
The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover
The Prophecy of Death
The King of Thieves
The Bishop Must Die
The Oath
King’s Gold
First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2012
A CBS Company
Copyright © Michael Jecks, 2012
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster Inc. All rights reserved.
The right of Michael Jecks to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN HB: 978-0-85720-521-6
TPB: 978-0-85720-522-3
Ebook: 978-0-85720-524-7
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd,
Croydon, CR0 4YY
This book is for Andy, Jenny,
and all the BERTS Frangles,
for ales, for Morris dancing, for cycling,
and for all the fun.
You are the best of neighbours.
Bratchet
a diminutive form of ‘brat’.
Coffin
a pie-case of pastry.
Deodand
the fine exacted for the value of a thing that occasioned death. Deodand finally disappeared after a train killed a man in the nineteenth century, and the full value of engine and train was charged to the company.
Deofol and Foumart
two terms of opprobrium.
Gegge
Leman
lover or sweetheart.
Lurdan
sluggard, vagabond, rascal – also implying dimness.
Misericord
small wooden projection set into choir stalls for monks and canons to rest upon to ease their legs during long services; also a long, narrow-bladed dagger for the coup de grâce. Both implying compassion, pity, or mercy.
Parnel
wanton young woman, harlot.
Recusant
one who refuses to submit to authority.
Scanthing
very small, insignificant in size.
Strummel patch
term of contempt.
Villeiny-saying
speaking slander of a person.
Sir Baldwin de Furnshill
Keeper of the King’s Peace and keen investigator of felonies.
Edgar
Sir Baldwin’s loyal Sergeant.
Simon Puttock
once a bailiff of Dartmoor, now a farmer near Crediton and friend to Sir Baldwin.
Edith
Simon’s daughter.
Peter
Edith’s husband.
Henry
Edith and Peter’s baby.
Hugh
Simon’s servant.
Sir Richard de Welles
Coroner in Lifton.
Sir Reginald
Coroner in Exeter.
Sir James de Cockington
Sheriff of Exeter.
Luke Chepman
a successful merchant and member of the Freedom of Exeter
Sir Charles of Lancaster
the loyal servant of the Lancaster family, he has become a committed supporter of the former King, Edward II.
Ulric of Exeter
servant to Sir Charles.
Cathedral & Religious
Adam Murimuth
Precentor and Canon at Exeter Cathedral.
Fr Laurence Coscumbe
Vicar within the Cathedral.
Fr Paul
Vicar of Holy Trinity at the South Gate.
Janekyn Beyvyn
porter responsible for all the gates to the Cathedral Close.
Paffards
Henry Paffard
a wealthy merchant in Exeter.
Claricia Paffard
Henry’s long suffering wife.
Gregory Paffard
eldest son of Henry and Claricia.
Agatha
the second child, with the most business acumen.
Thomas
the third child, a boy of six years.
John
old bottler to the family.
Benjamin
Henry Paffard’s apprentice.
Alice
maid to the Paffards.
Joan
younger maid.
De Coyntes
Bydaud de Coyntes
Gascon merchant.
Emma de Coyntes
Bydaud’s wife.
Anastasia
Bydaud’s eldest daughter.
Sabina
Bydaud’s younger daughter.
Peg
maid to the de Coyntes family.
Avices
Roger Avice
a dealer in good wines, who has suffered from debts.
Helewisia Avice
Roger’s wife; a determined woman from farming stock.
Katherine
their daughter of sixteen.
Piers
their son, who died two years before.
Marsilles
Juliana Marsille
a widow, who struggles to survive.
Philip
her eldest son, who is trying to build up his family’s business again.
William
aged sixteen, he is determined to help his brother and mother.
The idea for this book came to me while I was researching what I had intended to be a very parochial little story about four families in Exeter. Why is it that, when sitting in a darkened library, so many curious little diversions always occur to me?
This one came about because I was looking into that strange period after the capture, and escape from captivity, of King Edward II.
The kingdom must have been in complete turmoil. Many men were keen to try to spring Edward from his prisons, first at Kenilworth, then at Berkeley, while others were more than happy to see him languish in gaol, letting his son rule in his stead.
Despenser, at last, had been removed. But in his place was the ever more avari
cious Mortimer, who took every advantage. Some believe he was hoping to take the throne for one of his sons. I don’t believe that myself, but there is no doubt that he grabbed all the money, lands and authority he could lay his hands on.
And in the middle of all this, poor Bishop Berkeley suddenly died.
The facts are few and far between. We know that the good Bishop was elected, and confirmed on 8 January 1327. He left no Register, or other record, apparently. About the only document we have from him was a letter to Adam Murimuth, on 12 January, appointing him his Official-Principal.
It is thought that he was enthroned soon after 25 March, and then, following the precedent of his immediate predecessors, he went on a tour of the ecclesiastical estates. Proof of his determination to be a good administrator, I suppose.
But his journey was cut short by his death.
It is Murimuth’s chronicle that tells us that he died at Petreshayes, in Yarcombe, on 24 June. A shockingly sudden death.
What could have led to such a brief episcopate? Was he merely unwell?
I suspect not.
Generally, it is true that men, whether bishops or lords, could die while travelling from one manor to another. Their entourages generally used up all the resources of a manor quite quickly, after which they would move on to the next. However, if there was even a hint of ill-health, they would stay put, since there was no point in hastening a man’s demise by forcing him to cover twenty miles on horseback.
Be that as it may, there is other evidence that must be looked at.
Berkeley’s successor was Grandisson, one of Exeter’s greatest bishops. According to Wikipedia there was mention in Coulton’s Social Life in Britain of a section from Grandisson’s Register that said Berkeley had been murdered and his estates despoiled.
I am not convinced. This is the only mention I have seen (in Wikipedia, I mean) of this murder and despoilation. Looking in Coulton’s book, which was published in 1918, there is a footnote on page 27 that reads: Grandisson succeeded (after a very brief episcopate of John (sic) de Berkeley) to that Bishop Stapeldon whose murder is recounted in the French Chronicle of London (Camden Soc. 1844), P.52.
I do wonder whether the mention of murder and the vision of rampaging hordes which it brings to mind are due to someone’s misreading Coulton’s book when they put the comment up on Wikipedia.
Don’t get me started on inaccurate quotations on Wikipedia!
However, although this researcher may have had a problem, there is no doubt that Berkeley’s contemporaries did view his death in an especial light. For several years after his demise (and to the disgust of Bishop Grandisson, according to Professor Nicholas Orme in his Death and Burial in Medieval Exeter, Devon & Cornwall Record Society, 2003), pilgrims went to pray at his tomb. This cult lasted until the 1340s, after which it dwindled.
So, I was left with the idea of a bishop who was revered by his people, even to the extent that they would travel to visit his tomb under the disapproving eye of his successor. A man who had died suddenly – and a man with the magical name of Berkeley – just at the time that King Edward II was being held by Berkeley’s brother at the castle that still holds their name. And also, of course, at the time when certain men were trying to free their King from that castle. And when the Dunheved brothers had succeeded in doing so.
Is it any wonder that a fiction writer would be attracted to this story?
As always, my gratitude goes to my copy editor, Joan Deitch; to my marvellous editor, Jessica Leeke; my agent Eddie Bell; and the many people who have contributed (knowingly or not) to the story: Jules Frusher, Kathryn Warner, the excellent Ian Mortimer, and all the many others whose research I have shamelessly pinched!
My greatest thanks must go to my wife and kids for their patience and fortitude during the writing and editing of yet another book. Love you all.
And as ever, any errors are my own.
Unless they were caused by my mislaying an important note after being called out to liberate a cricket ball from the barn roof . . .
Michael Jecks
North Dartmoor
July 2011
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Relationships are always changing. Sometimes their adjustments are so gradual, we hardly notice them; occasionally they are shattered by shocks that devastate all concerned, but whether they alter with glacial or lightning speed, the effect can be profound.
In a family, in a village, in a city, the connections that matter most are those with our nearest family and friends, yet they are the ones which are tested daily. These are the people whom we can most easily upset – and yet they are the very ones upon whom we most depend.
Disputes can occur at the drop of a hat: a misinterpreted expression, a careless word, a hand held too long – all can lead to sharp words, bitterness and rancour.
Reconciliation may be straightforward if attempted with speed, but it is less certain when allowed to fester. It is better, so they say, not to sleep on a quarrel. But all too often men and women lie weeping into the night over cruel words. Words which were uttered in the heat of the moment and which were never intended to have a lasting impact; or worse, words which were precisely considered – and all the more vicious as a result.
In the year 1327, all over the kingdom people went about their business in a state of constant worry because they feared what the future might bring.
Their King, Edward II, had been forced to abdicate.
The uncertain political situation affected everyone: the merchants and traders of Exeter, just as much as elsewhere in the realm. In such a climate, even mild-mannered people became uncharacteristically quick to take offence; disagreements abounded and could grow into outright feuds, petty disputes into fist-fights. Even murder.
In one street in Exeter that June, an argument that arose from an ill-considered reckless threat grew to dominate the lives of all about and escalated into a disaster that would overwhelm them all with hideous acts of violence. All for love, for loyalty, or for honour.
And none of those who were intimate with the victims or protagonists would be untouched by the consequences.
Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist1, first year of the reign of King Edward III
Petreshayes Manor, Yarcombe, East Devon
The smoke could be seen clearly from half a mile away. In the still air of the summer’s evening, the columns
rose from the manor’s fires like pillars supporting the sky.
‘Hold!’ commanded Sir Charles of Lancaster, peering ahead. There was no sign of alarm. A wood on their left offered some protection, while to the right there were some fields, pasture, common land. All ideal for pursuing their victims, should they escape.
‘Here we are, boys,’ he breathed.
His men stared. There was a heightened tension, the awareness of an imminent fight. Breath rasped, and he heard the soft hiss of a blade being drawn, the jangle of bit, the squeak of leather, the hollow clop of a hoof.
‘That’s the manor,’ his guide said. Wat Bakere was a rotund, smiling man, but he wore a scowl today. ‘You’ll find it easy to overrun. Kill them all.’ He was pointing at the church and manorial buildings over at the other side of the dirt road. It curled about the line of the manor, which was a prominent landmark.
‘You’re sure they are there?’
‘Ulric told you, didn’t he? He said they would be,’ Bakere said, jerking a thumb at the lad behind him.
Sir Charles nodded.
He was a tall man, fair and handsome as a Viking, and ruthless as a berserker. During the last civil war he had fought against the King for his lord, Thomas of Lancaster, and when Earl Lancaster was executed, Sir Charles had been exiled. That was five years ago, and when he begged for a pardon for his offences, his King had been gracious. He was rewarded with positions of trust, and given a living once more.
He asked for no more; he had given his word and his hand to his King, so when Edward II was captured by his enemies, Sir Charles became a recusant knight. He would not renege on the new oaths he had given his King. Instead he left the comfortable billet in the King’s manor at Eltham where he had lived for the last months, and rode into the twilight to take up arms on the King’s behalf.
Now the King’s son had taken the throne, Sir Charles was a renegade. A felon. Because he would hold to his vow.
Today, with his band of warriors committed to the King, he would begin the fight to return Sir Edward of Caernarfon, as he was now labelled, to his natural place on the throne of England.
Sir Charles looked at Ulric of Exeter. He was more trustworthy than Wat Bakere. Bakere had been given to him by Stephen Dunheved, a man who appreciated the value of good information, but it was Ulric, the merchant’s fellow, who had brought the details. Returning his gaze to Bakere, he nodded.