a happy smile. ‘They’re all looking for your ship now. They’ll try to steal everything they can before Ranulph finds it, and then they’ll claim salvage. You know what that is?’
‘Yes. I know,’ Simon said. After all, when he returned home, he was to take up a new post at Dartmouth, under his master, Abbot Champeaux of Tavistock, who had bought the post of Keeper of the Port. The good Abbot hoped to make a profit for the Abbey, so that it would be left with a favourable balance on his death. Simon knew that his master was determined to see the Abbey on a sound footing, and the way that the Abbot had arranged the Abbey’s finances, Simon was comfortably assured that his master would succeed. ‘Who is this Ranulph?’
‘Ranulph de Blancminster, the Lord of the Manor. He owns all these islands, apart from the northern ones, of course. They are the Abbey’s.’
Now Simon remembered the name. Of course! Tavistock Abbey owned property in a place called Ennor. This must be the same place. That was a stroke of luck, since he was himself in the Abbey’s employ. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed.
‘Salvage is the law that means a man can win himself a share of half the value of the ship he finds, if he helps it to be saved. Half of the value of the ship and all the goods inside it.’
‘Yes,’ Simon said as testily as his tiredness allowed. ‘I know.’
‘Better than a wreck, of course.’
‘I know … Why?’
Hamadus grinned, as though acknowledging that he had won Simon’s interest against his will. ‘Because salvage means that they will save lives if they can. They’ll win money anyway, but if it’s supposed to be a wreck, then they have the problem.’
Simonwaited impatiently. His head was hurting already, and he had no wish to sit here listening to the old dollypoddle. ‘Well?’
‘It’s not a wreck if there is a man, woman, dog or cat left alive, is it? In the good old days, people would sometimes kill everyone, just to remove witnesses, and then they’d take the ship and its cargo for themselves. It was profitable in those days. Unless the King’s Coroner, or the Earl’s Havener got to hear of it. Many were hanged for taking a ship that wasn’t theirs. The law of salvage is better: a man knows he can go and save a ship and all the souls in her, and be paid up to half the value of the vessel and her cargo. It means losing the whole value and only claiming a part, but at least a man doesn’t risk his neck for the money. Better for all.’
‘They would kill people to prevent witnesses giving testimony against them?’ Simon asked, appalled.
‘Do you realise how much some of these ships can be worth?’ Hamadus asked scathingly.
‘So a King’s Coroner lives here?’ Simon said. ‘A Coroner must view all wrecks.’
‘Not here. We have the earldom’s Haveners to answer to. The money goes to the earldom.’
Simon was frowning. His head ached, and his eyes felt gritty and foul from saltwater, as though someone had thrown a handful of sand into each. ‘That makes no sense. I thought the King owned all wrecks. It’s nothing to do with the islanders.’
‘The King?’ Hamadus laughed aloud. Standing, he walked over to Simon and crouched at his side, eyes gleaming like a demon’s. ‘You think the King’s writ runs here? He’s a clever man, so they say – witty, generous and bold – but that means nothing here. We live miles from him. He would have to cross the seas to find us.
We
have our
own
laws.’
Simon felt a sudden shaft of fear as the man lifted his hand to Simon’s face, but there was nothing he could do to protect himself. It was just the exhaustion of the ship’s foundering, he told himself; that and the loss of his closest friend. To have lost Baldwin wasappalling. It made him feel a renewed grief, and as though in sympathy, his eyes watered again.
It was good, though. As soon as the old man’s hand touched his face, he felt refreshed. His eyes were less sore, his
‘Yes. I know,’ Simon said. After all, when he returned home, he was to take up a new post at Dartmouth, under his master, Abbot Champeaux of Tavistock, who had bought the post of Keeper of the Port. The good Abbot hoped to make a profit for the Abbey, so that it would be left with a favourable balance on his death. Simon knew that his master was determined to see the Abbey on a sound footing, and the way that the Abbot had arranged the Abbey’s finances, Simon was comfortably assured that his master would succeed. ‘Who is this Ranulph?’
‘Ranulph de Blancminster, the Lord of the Manor. He owns all these islands, apart from the northern ones, of course. They are the Abbey’s.’
Now Simon remembered the name. Of course! Tavistock Abbey owned property in a place called Ennor. This must be the same place. That was a stroke of luck, since he was himself in the Abbey’s employ. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed.
‘Salvage is the law that means a man can win himself a share of half the value of the ship he finds, if he helps it to be saved. Half of the value of the ship and all the goods inside it.’
‘Yes,’ Simon said as testily as his tiredness allowed. ‘I know.’
‘Better than a wreck, of course.’
‘I know … Why?’
Hamadus grinned, as though acknowledging that he had won Simon’s interest against his will. ‘Because salvage means that they will save lives if they can. They’ll win money anyway, but if it’s supposed to be a wreck, then they have the problem.’
Simonwaited impatiently. His head was hurting already, and he had no wish to sit here listening to the old dollypoddle. ‘Well?’
‘It’s not a wreck if there is a man, woman, dog or cat left alive, is it? In the good old days, people would sometimes kill everyone, just to remove witnesses, and then they’d take the ship and its cargo for themselves. It was profitable in those days. Unless the King’s Coroner, or the Earl’s Havener got to hear of it. Many were hanged for taking a ship that wasn’t theirs. The law of salvage is better: a man knows he can go and save a ship and all the souls in her, and be paid up to half the value of the vessel and her cargo. It means losing the whole value and only claiming a part, but at least a man doesn’t risk his neck for the money. Better for all.’
‘They would kill people to prevent witnesses giving testimony against them?’ Simon asked, appalled.
‘Do you realise how much some of these ships can be worth?’ Hamadus asked scathingly.
‘So a King’s Coroner lives here?’ Simon said. ‘A Coroner must view all wrecks.’
‘Not here. We have the earldom’s Haveners to answer to. The money goes to the earldom.’
Simon was frowning. His head ached, and his eyes felt gritty and foul from saltwater, as though someone had thrown a handful of sand into each. ‘That makes no sense. I thought the King owned all wrecks. It’s nothing to do with the islanders.’
‘The King?’ Hamadus laughed aloud. Standing, he walked over to Simon and crouched at his side, eyes gleaming like a demon’s. ‘You think the King’s writ runs here? He’s a clever man, so they say – witty, generous and bold – but that means nothing here. We live miles from him. He would have to cross the seas to find us.
We
have our
own
laws.’
Simon felt a sudden shaft of fear as the man lifted his hand to Simon’s face, but there was nothing he could do to protect himself. It was just the exhaustion of the ship’s foundering, he told himself; that and the loss of his closest friend. To have lost Baldwin wasappalling. It made him feel a renewed grief, and as though in sympathy, his eyes watered again.
It was good, though. As soon as the old man’s hand touched his face, he felt refreshed. His eyes were less sore, his
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