The Noble Outlaw (40 page)

De Sucote waved a hand airily. 'On the contrary, my lord, at their specific request, I am the legal representative of both Sir Richard de Revelle and Sir Henry de la Pomeroy and thus am fully entitled to speak on their behalf.'

De Ralegh glowered at Joscelin, whose Levantine appearance suggested that in spite of his French name, he came from the southern part of France and possibly had Moorish ancestry. 'Have they suddenly lost the power of speech, that they need you to try to explain their actions?' he bellowed.

Reginald de Bohun discreetly touched his arm. 'It would be best to let him have his say. He is entitled, if he really is acting for these men.'

The senior justice muttered under his breath, but waved a hand reluctantly at Joscelin. 'Say your piece then and get it over with.'

The lawyer leaned on his table with one hand and waved the other towards the group of men standing below him in the hall.

'These are outlaws, as is their leader over there!' He pointed a finger at Nicholas de Arundell sitting opposite.

'They were properly declared exigent by a previous sheriff, and as such have no rights whatsoever to bring a legal suit. In the eyes of the law, they do not even exist and by rights should be executed forthwith, as my clients here recently attempted to do on behalf of the people of this county.'

A buzz of concern went around the court and the former fugitives from Dartmoor looked about them in alarm, afraid that they had been betrayed by the promise of amnesty.

'Sit down, de Sucote or whatever your name is,' bellowed Walter de Ralegh. 'You are totally misinformed and are wasting the time of this court. Sir Nicholas and his men have been granted a free pardon by the king - not that they should have been branded as outlaws in the first place.'

Unabashed, Joscelin remained standing and again addressed the justices in a tone of polite insolence.

'I beg leave to dispute that fact, my lord. As I understand it, the so-called pardon was given by Hubert Walter, not Richard Plantagenet.'

Walter rose to his feet and angrily pointed a quivering finger at the lawyer-priest. 'You are becoming insufferable, sir! Firstly, the Chief Justiciar has been given authority by our blessed monarch to act in his name in all judicial functions and therefore his actions in this matter are the king's actions. Secondly, despatches that arrived at Southampton three days ago from the court at Rouen contained specific confirmation by King Richard of the Justiciar's action. So sit down and shut up, unless you have anything useful to say.' Even the arrogant clerk hesitated to continue his defiance of the fiery old warrior, though he would have liked proof of the king's confirmation of Arundell's pardon. A quick calculation in his mind told him that it was just possible for a reply to have arrived from Normandy in the time since the Justiciar had lifted the sentence of outlawry. Though it was not the sailing season in the Channel, vital despatches continued to pass in each direction throughout the year, and with favourable winds the crossing could be made in one day.

Reluctantly, he subsided to his bench, his first attempt at defence having failed.

The sheriff then outlined the circumstances of the dispute, from the alleged reports of the death of Nicholas to the riot at Hempston Arundell and the banishment of Nicholas and his men.

Reginald de Bohun began with a very pertinent question to Henry de la Pomeroy.

'Tell me how you heard that de Arundell had been killed in Palestine. Can you prove that you had such a message?'

Henry flushed and looked to de Revelle and his steward for help. 'It was common knowledge, I can't recall where and when I heard it. No doubt my manor officials will confirm that.'

'No doubt they would, but common knowledge is hardly proof,' said de Bohun sarcastically. 'You seem to have no name or details of the mysterious monk who brought news of this supposed death. Have you any evidence to persuade me that this was anything other than a convenient rumour?'

Pomeroy evidently did not, and after getting no help from de Revelle he sat down in confusion, still muttering about 'common knowledge'.

Nicholas then stood to state emphatically that he had not suffered so much as a slight wound during his two years' campaigning in Sicily, Cyprus and the Holy Land, let alone been in danger of being reported dead. The questioning went on for another hour, the two judges relentlessly picking at every item, in spite of Joscelin de Sucote's efforts to bolster the meagre facts and to challenge the judges' right to ask certain questions.

Joan then stepped forward to relate how the two manor lords had arrived on her doorstep with a troop of retainers and armed men, to inform her that her husband was dead and that the manor now escheated to Prince John, as he had previously been granted the whole of the two western counties by his royal brother.

In the court she stood alongside her husband, neat and demure in a blue gown under a heavy woollen cloak, and spoke in a clear voice that rang out over the hushed court.

'These men said that the prince had given Hempston into their care and that I was to move out within three days. I protested loud and long, but with no husband to turn to, nor any relatives closer than Trefry in Cornwall, I was helpless. My steward, faithful Robert Hereward who sits here, did all he could, but they beat him and turned him out of his dwelling.' There were vociferous denials from the defendants' bench, but Hereward, the reeve Martin Wimund and Philip Girard all vehemently confirmed their mistress's account.

The story moved on to the return of Nicholas from Outremer, to find his wife gone and a strange steward installed in the hall of his manor house. The altercation that ensued then was the most controversial part of the evidence, as the riot that broke out when Nicholas's old servants joined him in attempting to evict the intruders had led to the death of one of Pomeroy's men.

'I submit that these soon-to-be outlaws set upon the legitimate servants of the manor and sorely assaulted them,' brayed the lawyer Joscelin. 'They murdered one man and seriously injured others. They fled, realising the enormity of their crime, and when they failed to appear to answer for it at four sessions of the county court, they were quite properly outlawed.' A red-faced and choleric Henry de la Pomeroy jumped up to confirm this, though de Revelle sat strangely quiet, nods of assent seeming to be the most that he would contribute to his defence.

'But I understand that within an hour of the return of Sir Nicholas, a force of armed men arrived from nearby Berry Pomeroy, bent on ejecting them from the manor,' cut in de Bohun, seizing the weak point of the denials. 'Surely they must have been the greater force, and the returning Crusader with only the support of a few old manor servants would have little chance against them?

For another hour and more, accusations and counterclaims were bandied back and forth, with Walter de Ralegh forcefully keeping the parties to the relevant issues and Reginald de Bohun more quietly interjecting questions and comments which went to the heart of the matter.

Finally they came to the day of the attack on Challacombe and the fiasco at Grimspound. Here the suave voice of de Sucote laid great emphasis on the killing of the two men from Berry Pomeroy by Nicholas's archers, calling it 'yet more murders which should be punished by hanging'.

Walter de Ralegh dryly observed that when a much greater force turns up fully armed, those attacked must surely be entitled to defend themselves to the best of their ability. Pomeroy and de Revelle, together with their advocate, made great play of the claim that they were doing a public service by marching against outlaws in order to slay them and legitimately rid the Devon countryside of evil thieves and robbers.

'Again, very convenient timing,' observed de Bohun with scarcely veiled sarcasm. Having just heard that Sir John de Wolfe, the king's coroner, was riding to London to seek the intervention of the Justiciar, you suddenly decided to rid the high moor of men who had already been there for well over two years.'

The deaths of the soldiers at Grimspound was balanced by statements not only from Nicholas and his men, but also from de Wolfe, to the effect that an old woman, Gunilda Hemforde, had died in the attack and was found hastily buried in the yard at Challacombe. Strident denials of her murder were made by the defendants, but eventually some admissions were made by Pomeroy's men of some rough handling of the lady in an effort to get her to reveal the whereabouts of the outlaws.

Noon was approaching by the time all the evidence and disputation was completed. More citizens had drifted in by now, as news had percolated through the streets that a right royal row was brewing in the castle - a couple of score spectators were now packing in behind the half-circle of soldiers.

Finally, the two justices turned to each other and spent ten minutes in a head-to-head discussion, speaking in low voices that even the sheriff and the archdeacon could not discern. The murmur of conversation in the Shire Hall was muted as the two judges eventually broke apart and Walter de Ralegh stood up in front of his chair, a tall and forbidding figure. His head moved slowly from side to side as he spoke first towards the defendants' table, then at Nicholas de Arundell, the plaintiff.

'This issue perplexes my brother lord and myself, but it must be resolved,' he began in his deep, uncompromising voice. 'The fault is undoubtedly mainly on the side of those two manor lords Henry de la Pomeroy and Richard de Revelle, who have acted shamefully in this matter.'

There was a gush of protest from Joscelin de Sucote at this defamation of his clients, but Walter waved him back into his seat with a peremptory wave of his hand.

'To take advantage of a lady whose courageous husband was absent both on the king's business in Sicily and Cyprus and especially on the Holy Crusade, was despicable. We consider that using the patently fictitious excuse that her husband had died was a cruel falsehood based on an alleged rumour, probably circulated by the defendants themselves.'

He turned to John de Alençon, who sat next to him.

'Archdeacon, I understand that the Church has particular strictures against those who take advantage of absent Crusaders?'

De Ralegh knew this perfectly well, but wanted it voiced from an ecclesiastical throat. De Alençon was happy to oblige.

'Indeed it does. Rome is firm upon the issue, even up to withdrawal of communion from those who offend.'

'Then that may be a matter for your own consistory courts to pursue - but as far as we are concerned today, we have to make judgement on earthly grounds. There is another who bears responsibility for some of the wrongdoing, and that is John, Count of Mortain. The fact that his chaplain is here today shows that he is well aware of what has transpired. Whether he knew of it at the time, I cannot tell, but this allegation that the manor of Hempston was forfeit to him on the alleged death of its lord is a total fabrication. If it escheated to anyone, it would have been to the king.' He ignored another babble of protest from the table on his right.

'However, on the other side of the coin, there is no doubt that an affray took place when Sir Nicholas discovered that he and his family had been evicted. Whatever the truth of the matter, a man died from a blow on the head during the mélée - though one might say that such a violent reaction was justified in the circumstances.' He paused and looked grimly around the court, reminding Gwyn of his own master at inquests.

'There is also the matter of the deaths at Grimspound. Again, de Arundell and his men were chased from their refuge, which was then burned to the ground - and a defenceless old woman ended up dead, in somewhat doubtful circumstances. They were then pursued by a much larger force under Pomeroy and de Revelle - and who can blame them for resisting to the best of their ability in order to save their lives, though this also ended in further killing?'

John de Wolfe, who had been inwardly rejoicing at the judges' partiality for de Arundell up to this point, suddenly had an inkling that it was not going to be a resounding verdict in his favour. What was the crafty old devil working up to, he wondered? The coroner stared at the judge's back, waiting anxiously for his next words.

'Our first Norman monarch, William of Falaise, encouraged the employment of various ordeals as a means of settling legal disputes. These ancient rites are meant to call upon the aid of the Almighty in determining who is right and who is wrong.' Walter laid a hand on the shoulder of the archdeacon and looked down at him. 'I am well aware that recently, Rome has become less than enthusiastic about the employment of such tests, and indeed I hear that there are calls for the Holy Father to ban them.'

He stared around again. 'But I believe that there is still merit in the ordeal - and what is more important, so do the people of England, who are firmly attached to them as a means of seeking justice.'

'Is the old bugger going to get Richard and Pomeroy to dip their arms into molten lead?' asked Gwyn in a hoarse whisper. 'Or run barefoot across nine red-hot ploughshares?'

De Wolfe shook his head, still intent on listening to Walter de Ralegh, for he now thought he could see where the man's mind was leading him.

'My brother justice and I have decided that this dispute must be settled once and for all, so that no one can then complain that favouritism or political interference tilted the verdict - for the aid of God himself is to be sought, which no man can question.'

The silence in the hall was almost palpable, as every ear strained to know what was going to happen.