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and Simon was shocked to see the fear on his face.
    He was a large man, running to fat, with flabbiness around his heavy features and showing in his jowls and chin, but for all that he looked muscular and rode like a knight, sure and steady, if a little hunched. He looked as though he had been a strong and sturdy man in his past, but had now developed too keen an interest in good food and drink.
    “Who are you, sir?” he asked, in an almost petulant voice with a heavy accent in which Simon recognised the tones of France - but that was normal with many monks now that the pope lived in Avignon.
    “Simon Puttock, sir. I am the bailiff of Lydford,” he answered, smiling to put the man at his ease. It did not seem to help. The man was plainly terrified of strangers, and his eyes flitted over Simon as he rode alongside. Unconcernedly, Simon looked at the other men in the group. The eldest, a jovial-looking man with almost white hair and a cheeky smile, grinned at him as if in mute apology for the rude introduction, then turned his eyes to stare fixedly at the road ahead, the remains of the smile showing as a slight grin that played around his lips. The others simply walked on quietly and ignored him, to his faint surprise, because usually monks, like other travellers, would be happy for any diversion on the road.
    “You are a long way from Lydford, bailiff.”
    Simon laughed briefly. “I’ve only just become bailiff, sir. I’m on my way back to my home in Sandford to collect my wife and tell her, then I will be going to Lydford to take up my new responsibilities. So where are you going? To Buckland?”
    “Yes.” The man seemed to pause. “Yes. we are going there. I am to become the new abbot of our monastery.” His eyes quickly darted from Simon to the road behind.
    Catching the glance, Simon smiled again. “That is my servant, abbot. You need not worry on your journey in these parts. I’ve not heard of trail bastons this far south, they all seem to be near Taunton and Bristol. Your journey should be safe.”
    “Good, good,” the abbot said absently, his brow furrowed, then glanced over to the bailiff with a calculating stare. “Tell me, my friend, which is the best way to Buckland from Crediton, do you think?”
    Simon drew his mouth down as he thought. “There are two main ways, either west to Oakhampton, then south through Lydford. I know that way - the roads are good and there are places for you to rest overnight. The other would be to go to the east of the moors and down that way. I’ve never been that far, although I did go to Exeter once. The Oakhampton route would be my choice.”
    “Good. Then we shall take that road.” He seemed to think a moment, staring at the road ahead, then turned back to Simon. “Would you travel with us? I would be grateful for the protection of the bailiff on the road.”
    Looking at him, faint surprise on his face, Simon said, “But, as I say, there’s no need to fear robbers. The country is quiet here.”
    “Maybe, maybe, but your company would be added protection and desirable, sir.” When Simon looked over at him, he was shocked to see the expression on the man’s face - he seemed to be trying to smile, but he could not hide the anxiety on his face. His eyes were wide and staring, almost as if he was pleading with the young bailiff, and Simon found himself wondering what could have created such fear. He almost asked, but decided not to - he might cause offence.
    “I’m afraid that I’m going to visit a friend not far from here, Sir Baldwin Furnshill at Furnshill Manor. Why don’t you join me? We can go on later,” he said, and, although he could not be sure, he felt that the older monk nearby shot him a sharp glance on hearing the name “Furnshill‘.
    “No, no. We must get to Buckland as soon as we can. You must come with us now.”
    Simon found himself repelled by this man, who was so obviously scared for no reason. It seemed almost obscene to be so fearful