The Manor of Death by Bernard Knight Read Free Book Online Page B

alone understands how he does it, mainly with knotted strings and notched tally-sticks, for he can neither read nor write.'
    A slattern brought out two quart pots of ale, which tasted better than it looked, though John pined for the good stuff brewed by Nesta in the Bush back home. He drank and listened while the Keeper carried on with his explanation. 'Capie then goes twice a day to Elias Palmer, who writes down what Capie calculates has been loaded or discharged from each of the ships.'
    'But he can't be at every ship all the time,' objected John.
    'That's very true, though he checks the goods in the warehouses as well, trying to get some idea of what is being moved in and out of the port.'
    De Wolfe saw Gwyn approaching in the distance and gulped down the rest of his ale, confident that he would need another jug as soon as the Cornishman arrived.
    'This system seems wide open to error and abuse, if you ask me!' he growled. 'How does he actually get the money paid?'
    'That's Elias Palmer's job. He charges both a manor tax and a county tax, squeezing it from whoever owns the wool or wine or whatever the goods happen to be. The first levy goes to the Priory of Loders, who own the village, then the royal tax goes to the sheriff as part of the county farm.'
    Gwyn of Polruan stamped up the last few yards to the Harbour Inn and dropped heavily on to the bench.
    'Waste of bloody time! Nobody knows a thing - or so they say!' he reported. 'Wouldn't tell us if they did, by their attitude! Something strange about this village, I reckon. As if they are keeping some big secret.'
    Luke de Casewold nodded sagely. 'I've felt the same ever since I started coming down here as Keeper,' he asserted. 'The whole damned place is up to something, I can feel it in my bones!' He drained his ale-jar and stood up. 'I'm going to get to the bottom of it, too, whatever the cost! I was appointed to keep the peace - and that includes anything that's to the detriment of our good King Richard.'
    John de Wolfe was as ardent a supporter of the Coeur de Lion as any man in England, but he felt strangely embarrassed at this over-pretentious loyalty. The fellow had been in office only a few months and here he was declaring that he was going to root out the king's enemies in a flea-bitten seaport like Axmouth. He had better watch his step, thought John. Edward Northcote, the Prior of Loders and some of those tough-looking shipmasters would not take kindly to this popinjay interfering in their affairs.
    Almost immediately he felt guilty, for was he not himself a king's officer, sworn to uphold the law and justice in all their forms? Maybe he was influenced by his own dealings in wool and other commodities in his partnership in Exeter to be sufficiently condemnatory of any sharp practices elsewhere. As he pondered this potential conflict of interests, there was a distant shout from beyond the town gate. The three of them turned and saw that Hugh Bogge, the clerk to the Keeper, was coming up from the river bank, where there was a landing for the small boat that ferried people across the estuary to Seaton. Behind him waddled the figure of a woman, dressed in black with a dark shawl over her head in spite of the warmth of the day.
    'It looks as if he's found someone,' said Luke smugly. The clerk marched up to them, having the same self important air as his master. Bogge was a short, rotund fellow with a moon face and pasty complexion. His mousy hair was shorn into a tonsure, and his stained black cassock was clinched at the waist with a wide leather belt, through which a large sheathed dagger was thrust, somewhat incongruously for a man in minor holy orders. The woman, who looked old but may not have been more than fifty, plodded up behind him, her lined face telling of a hard life and little expectation of it becoming better. She looked warily at these men from Exeter and Axminster, for law officers never heralded anything other than trouble and sadness.
    'This is Edith