The Noble Outlaw Read Online Free PDF Page A

against his brother Richard Coeur de Lion, whilst the latter was imprisoned in Germany.
    De Furnellis had temporarily taken over the post, but a few months later de Revelle was reinstated as a result of the political influence of Exeter's Bishop Marshal, himself a Prince John sympathiser. However, a year later, he was again ejected from office, mainly because of de Wolfe's exposure of his corrupt behaviour, and once again de Furnellis had been recruited to fill the gap.
    After a few pleasantries and mutual complaints about the icy weather, John told the sheriff about the discovery of the body in Smythen Street.
    'I've no idea who the man might be, Henry,' he finished. 'He wore garments of a decent quality, so is unlikely to be some beggar who crawled in there for shelter.'
    'And who would want to slay a beggar with a nail in the back of the neck?' agreed de Furnellis. He was a shrewd man, experienced in the ways of the world, though the fire had gone out of his belly as the years passed by. He had accepted the post of sheriff reluctantly, out of duty to his king, but hoped that he was only looked on as a stopgap and could go back to retirement as soon as possible.
    'Have you any recollection of someone having gone missing in the city this past year?' asked John, hopefully. The sheriff had a manor a few miles out in the country, but lived most of the time in a town house on Curre Street, so might have heard some local gossip.
    He scratched his bristly jowls thoughtfully. 'Folk are always vanishing, John, usually for reasons of their own. This is no village, where all men belong to a frankpledge and their neighbours know every time they cough or fart. In towns, men conveniently slip away because of debt or to escape from a shrewish wife - or run off with a pretty mistress.'
    De Wolfe knew that the bluff older man was not making personal remarks, though either of the last two reasons could have applied to himself. 'But no particular disappearance comes to your mind?' persisted the coroner.
    Henry shook his head dolefully. 'Sorry, John, no one of sufficient importance to be reported to me, anyway. Unless they are arrested or appealed for some crime, our citizens try to give me a wide berth. If they are dead, they come to your notice!'
    After a few more minutes, the chief clerk began to get impatient and glare accusingly at his master for neglecting yet another armful of documents, so de Wolfe finished his wine and took his leave.
    'You do what you think fit, John. You have more experience in tracking down corpses than me,' was Henry's parting shot as the coroner went to the door. Typically, the sheriff was content to leave any investigating to de Wolfe, though as the king's representative in the county, enforcing law and order was his responsibility.
    Outside the keep, snowflakes were being whirled about by a keen east wind. John pulled his mottled wolf skin cloak tighter about him as he loped across the inner bailey and made for the gatehouse. Instead of going up to his dismal chamber, he carried on through the arch, through the outer ward and down Castle Hill to the high street. It was not far off midday, according to the cathedral bell ringing for Nones, so dinner was next on the agenda. He made his way back to his house in Martin's Lane, a short alley which joined High Street to the cathedral Close.
    Pushing open the door of the narrow timber building, he wondered which would prove to be more frosty, the weather or his wife's welcome.

CHAPTER TWO

    In which a knight of the realm crosses Dartmoor

    At that moment, about sixteen miles west of the city, a group of men were huddled under a turf roof in what was virtually a hole in the ground. Like the king's coroner, they were waiting for their midday meal, though theirs was to come from a blackened iron pot that sat on three stones set over a small fire.
    'What have you got in there for us, Robert?' demanded a burly young man whose nose and cheeks were reddened by the cold. He