Free No Law in the Land: (Knights Templar 27) by Michael Jecks

beckoned. ‘Look, Bailiff,
     I do happily confess that I am new to this task. I have not been a coroner for long. But I would have you tell me, do you
     have any idea who could have done this?’
    ‘I have been wondering that myself. It isn’t the locals about here. You can see that.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Look at us! There aren’t enough to try to attack such a force as this. And why would we kill like this? This wasn’t a simple
     waylaying, I’d wager. No, these men were attacked and killed for a definite purpose. The man with his eyes put out? Why would
     a robber do that?’
    ‘That is what I thought too. So it would be a large band of outlaws, is what you believe?’
    ‘I can only think so. But …’
    ‘What?’
    ‘A gang large enough to do this would have to have been seen or heard, Sir Peregrine.’
    ‘True enough. So where did they come from? Do you have any idea?’
    ‘I’ve searched along the roads all about here in the last day or two. There is one direction I think they could have come
     from. North.’
    The coroner shrugged and shook his head. ‘Should that mean something to me? Which castle would they be from? That’s what I
     need to know. Who are they and where could they have come from? Are they outlaws, is that what you mean?’
    Bill eyed him closely, then looked back over the dead bodies. ‘There is no man within my manor who would have done this. North
     of here there are a number of men-at-arms in the employ of different lords, and there are men at Oakhampton, of course. But
     a group would have to be very sure of themselves to do such murder. Of the men in the area near here, I don’t know who would
     dare to attack such a group.’
    Sir Peregrine looked at him for a moment. ‘I have the impression you are withholding something from me. Is there anything
     else you wish to tell me?’
    Bill looked up at the coroner. Since first seeing the man, he had been impressed by Sir Peregrine’s haughtiness and self-importance.
     The man was the perfect example of a knight: arrogant and overbearing. He was typical of all the coroners Bill had ever met:
     he surely wasn’t interested in justice or protecting the people about here; he was only looking at this as a means of procuring
     money in amercements for the king. All murders and attacks like this led to the locals being fleeced to swell the king’s purse.
    ‘I can tell nothing more than you, Sir Peregrine,’ Bill said flatly.
    ‘Very well. Let us open the inquest and see what may be learned,’ the coroner said, and clapped his hands to get the attention
     of the men waiting. ‘I call this inquest to order!’
    Westminster Palace
    Sir Hugh le Despenser was aware of the value of good information, and he appreciated the importance of a man who would happily
     bring him news. The under-bottler from the Painted Chamber was an expensive ally, but his reports were worth all the money
     Sir Hughlavished on him. He paid the man now with twenty shillings, a small fortune, but one that the man’s detailed account fully
     justified.
    ‘I am grateful to you, my friend,’ he said as he passed the money over. ‘Let me know more about the king’s mood when you can.’
    As the under-bottler left, Sir Hugh stood and rubbed at his forehead. The pressure was unrelenting, and the sensation of having
     his head in a vice was growing in virulence daily. There was so much for him to do, so much to plan, if he were to be safe.
     One thing was certain – his new spy was only as good as Despenser’s star. If his position began to wane, the under-bottler
     would not come to advise him. He would be seeking his next patron, rather. So when the fellow stopped responding to Despenser’s
     requests, he might have to be taught a lesson at a dagger’s point.
    One thing was clear, though. If the queen and Mortimer had become so close that even a cloth-headed fool like Bishop Stapledon
     could spot it, the matter was more serious than he had realised. That being