The Prophecy of Death: (Knights Templar 25)

by Michael Jecks

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘My Lord Despenser.’

  ‘The Earl of Winchester?’

  ‘His son.’

  ‘Oh, so you mean Sir Hugh.’

  ‘I mean my master.’

  ‘And he told you we would be here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fascinating, Simon. Sir Hugh takes such a keen interest in our well-being, that he sends his own men to guard us on the way to his side.’

  The journey was only short. Earlier in the year, Simon had been mouth agape at the sight of the hall with its fabulously decorated ceilings, the richly coloured walls, the huge desks at which so many courts were sitting – but not now. He was here with very specific business, and he was nervous about the outcome. The idea that the whole of his life’s safety depended upon the next half-hour or so had not escaped him. Even as he marched alongside Baldwin towards the Despenser’s rooms, he felt a grim certainty settle upon his soul that there was nothing he could do against a man who was so recklessly powerful.

  ‘In here,’ the man said, pointing to a door.

  ‘You first,’ Baldwin said.

  The Welshman sneered, as though the idea that he might try to capture the knight here in the King’s palace was so laughable that only a man scared of his own shadow might succumb to it, but he walked inside nonetheless.

  ‘Sir Baldwin’s here, Sir Hugh.’

  Baldwin walked inside, Simon wary at his back, and the door was closed quietly behind them.

  Before them was a small chamber, richly decorated. On the wall were hangings of marvellous colour, depicting hunting scenes of various types. The floor had a thick layer of reeds, which added a rich aroma of hay to the room. At the further end was a long table, on which stood a chessboard, and Despenser stood over it, eyeing the board with an expression of extreme concentration.

  ‘Welcome, Sir Baldwin. Bailiff. Come in and take a little wine with me.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As he regarded Baldwin and Simon, Despenser decided that he must be cautious with these two. He turned back to the board.

  It was plain enough that they were both intensely distrustful of him. The idea that he could mould them to his thinking was ridiculous, but there might be an angle which was exploitable, purely because of the assault by Wattere. It was worth a try, certainly, he thought.

  ‘You badly hurt my man, Bailiff. He tells me you bested him twice.’

  ‘He insulted my wife, and then tried to rob me. What would you have an Englishman do?’

  ‘You have stood in my path once more.’

  ‘I will stand in your path many times if you seek to despoil me,’ Simon grated.

  ‘Simon!’ Baldwin said calmingly. ‘Now, Sir Hugh, we do not take action against you lightly. However, clearly you anticipated just such a response to your man. You had a motive, and I do not believe that a man who spends so much time acquiring manors and estates would be interested in a small farm.’

  ‘I do have rather more interesting lands already,’ the Despenser said modestly.

  ‘So what did you intend when you sent that man to Simon’s house? Merely to upset him? Or was it to warn me away?’

  ‘You have a high opinion of your importance,’ Despenser said. He turned his attention from the board and gazed at Baldwin seriously.

  ‘No, I do not. I do have a high opinion of your intelligence, though. You would not do something without good reason.’

  ‘Perhaps. I feel honoured that you can be flattering, though.’

  ‘It is not flattery. It is simple realism.’

  ‘Very well, then. I shall be singularly honest in return. Yes, I had a motive. It was to persuade you that any further interference in my affairs would prove to be dangerous and painful to you. I did not, and do not, want you taking any further actions against me or my men.’

  ‘That we can agree, Sir Hugh – provided that your actions do not have any bearing on members of our families or friends, and that you don’t try to harm our own interests.’

  Despenser tilted his head to one side. ‘That does seem perfectly reasonable. Then we are agreed?’

  ‘For my part, yes,’ Baldwin said.

  Simon remained standing, saying nothing.

  ‘And you, good Bailiff?’

  ‘I came here today thinking that I would be likely to be killed by your men for insulting you, and now I learn that you will leave us alone, so long as we do likewise. You’ll excuse me, Sir Hugh, if I feel confused. Why would you agree to leave me alone so soon after attacking me in my own home?’

  Despenser gave a slow smile. ‘You are a shrewd man, Bailiff. Very well. Perhaps it is merely that, as adviser to the King, I have so many other matters to take up my time. There is much going on right now which makes demands on me. I cannot afford to waste it running around after impecunious bailiffs from the wilds of the West Country.’

  ‘That is good.’

  ‘However,’ Despenser continued, strolling to the cupboard and filling himself a tankard, ‘if you wanted to seal our new understanding, you could help me.’

  ‘In what way?’ Baldwin asked sharply.

  ‘Nothing too stressful. I merely ask that you consider the matter of this stolen oil. You were at the priory shortly after the murder and robbery, I think. You perhaps spoke with some of the people involved there, so you would be well-placed to try to make some sense of it all. I confess, from the miles which lie between Beaulieu and Canterbury, I could make no sense of the affair.’

  ‘You wish us to conduct an inquiry into the theft?’ Baldwin said.

  ‘Yes. And quickly. We need to have the oil back, if the King is to have any defence against the hordes which are arrayed against us.’

  ‘What hordes?’ Simon enquired.

  ‘A host of men is being recruited even as we speak. I think that if the King doesn’t get to France in the near future, the French will come to him.’

  ‘But if we agree to hold an inquiry into the death of the monk and the oil which was taken, you will leave our homes and families in peace?’ Baldwin said.

  ‘Yes. Completely.’

  ‘Then tell us everything you already know,’ Baldwin said.

  And so he did. After he had run through his investigations so far, he added, ‘The man you found dead was called Richard de Yatton. He’d been up to Leeds Castle, near Maidstone, and should have been back at Beaulieu long before. I don’t know what he was doing there on the road.’

  ‘It is a question of whether or not he had anything to do with the murder,’ Baldwin agreed.

  ‘I heard that the killer was seen escaping, and that he wore a King’s tabard,’ Despenser said pointedly.

  ‘Any man can pull on or take off a tabard,’ Baldwin pointed out. ‘And the body was so decomposed that it could have lain there a week or longer. A man may have killed him, knowing he was to pass by, taken his tabard, and then made his way to Canterbury. He killed the monk, then rode back and put the tabard on the dead herald, before making his escape. It is a possible explanation.’

  ‘I see …’

  ‘Another explanation, however, would be that the herald rode along that way, an outlaw saw him, slew him, dumped his body, and stole the little he possessed in ready money.’

  ‘Yes,’ Despenser grunted. He sighed. ‘I suppose I should tell you that I believed the man Thomas had something to do with it. The friar, Nicholas, pointed him out to me, and I think he was acting oddly. But although I had my men search his belongings twice, there was no sign of the oil.’

  ‘Is there anyone else you suspect?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘My dear Knight – I suspect everyone. That is my job.’

  Simon left the room in Baldwin’s wake, feeling confused and angry.

  The man had not apologised. He admitted that he was responsible for the violent threat against Margaret, that he had tried to evict Simon from the home he had possessed since he first took on the job as bailiff of the moors, and yet Despenser had the nerve to then d
emand Simon and Baldwin’s aid.

  ‘He would taunt the devil and then ask his advice,’ he muttered.

  Baldwin glanced at him, but continued on his way. ‘Not here, Simon. There are too many men about here who would be keen to know your thoughts.’

  It was not until they were outside again, that Baldwin stopped and looked about them carefully. ‘You are unhappy with the arrangement?’

  ‘The arrangement appears to be that we must work for him and hope that he will then prove trustworthy and honourable. When has he given that impression before?’

  ‘Simon, he is not. However, there is another aspect to this which may have escaped you. He is asking us not to help him, but to help the King. If we question the King’s men and investigate this affair, the King will get to learn of it. And then he is likely to ask us what success we have had. I am more of a fool than I realise if I do not manage to mention the fact of the persecution which you have endured. And if I then ask the King to help us, by refusing to allow Despenser to continue in his campaign against us, I am sure that he will do so. The King is an honourable man, and when he has given his word on a matter, he is likely to hold fast to it.’

  Simon considered. ‘I suppose that makes sense. However, it does not leave me any more content for now.’

  ‘Of course it doesn’t. But do not fret about it. We shall resolve the problem in one way or another. And now, Simon, we should think about how we may proceed.’

  ‘Do you want to return to Christ Church?’

  ‘I am not sure that it will be necessary,’ Baldwin said with a frown as he began to wander slowly along the path to the main court.

  ‘No,’ Simon agreed. ‘The man who killed the monk was probably wearing a tabard, and we know—’

  ‘There are two factors we need to think about most deeply, Simon,’ Baldwin interrupted gently. ‘We know as much as we are likely to about the matter of the dead monk, and we think that the killer may have passed by the woods and killed the man there.’

  ‘The herald.’

  ‘The man clad in a herald’s tabard, yes. But what intrigues me about the whole matter is, who could have benefited from the theft of the oil? At first, I was happy to think that it was yet another scheme planned by Despenser himself, but that is clearly wrong, unless he is trying to confuse us entirely, because why should he ask us to look into it if he was himself responsible?’

  ‘He may just be over-confident in his arrogance,’ Simon said bitterly.

  ‘I do not think so, Simon,’ Baldwin said. ‘I think that he has some healthy respect for our abilities as discoverers of unexpected secrets. No, I think we need to look elsewhere for motives.’

  ‘Then who could have had a motive?’

  ‘There is still the possibility that the affair was caused by a thief who knew the oil’s value, and sought to use it to demand money from the King. However, I do not incline to it. No, I think it’s more likely that it was someone who wanted to take it from the King to upset him.’

  ‘Sir Roger Mortimer, then? He would surely be glad to do anything which would anger the King. They have such a loathing for each other now, I would have thought that the oil’s disappearance would suit Mortimer very well.’

  ‘Very true. Especially if Despenser is correct and there is a fleet massing ready to invade the country. Unsettling the King just at this moment would be ideal.’

  ‘Who else?’

  Baldwin shook his head. ‘There must be someone, but I cannot … would the Queen wish to so irritate the King that she could instruct her allies to take the oil? It is possible …’

  ‘But extremely unlikely. Would she appreciate the oil’s importance?’

  ‘Who would, Simon? I would not until a matter of a few weeks ago. I had heard of it; I vaguely recall someone telling me about it a long time ago, when it was first mentioned after the coronation, but that is all. I had thought that the King, like the barons, thought it was a fictitious oil.’

  ‘It was brought for his coronation, though? Why wasn’t it used?’ Simon asked.

  ‘No one truly believed in its provenance, I think. Nobody would have dared to withhold it otherwise. The barons would have wanted it to be used, and the King would have demanded it, naturally, if either had believed in it. The fact it went unused is proof enough that nobody thought it important. And that must mean no one believed in it.’

  ‘Was no one interested enough to seek to validate the story?’

  ‘I understand a friar sought to do just that a few years ago, but his attempt foundered. Even the Pope didn’t trust the story.’

  ‘So nobody believes in it. Apart from the King now.’

  ‘And possibly Despenser,’ Baldwin said.

  ‘You think he does?’

  ‘He certainly declares it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t take that as signifying anything,’ Simon said. ‘But Prior Eastry of Christ Church seems to believe in it too.’

  ‘The Prior of Christ Church? I wonder. I believe he understands the danger of the stuff. Now it’s been stolen from him it is more important to him than ever. The fact that he allowed it to be stolen is proof, I think, that he didn’t value it terribly highly.’

  ‘The French King would want to remove it.’

  ‘Yes. He is another, with Mortimer, who could have a good motive to take it. And we know that he does have agents throughout England.’

  ‘Why do you think he’d want it? What would he do with it?’

  ‘Merely to deprive the King would be enough to make King Charles happy, I think. But then, perhaps, if he or another declared our King so feeble he couldn’t even protect his oil, perhaps the French King would offer it to any man who would overthrow King Edward?’

  Simon shrugged. ‘So we have the French King and Mortimer.’

  ‘Yes,’ Baldwin said, but now his eyes held a faraway look in them.

  ‘You are wondering about another?’

  ‘I was merely reflecting on the great estates in the land,’ Baldwin said. ‘There are the barons, and many of them are extremely displeased with the way that the King submits to Despenser and allows the man great sway over the rule of the nation. Then there are the men of the Church, too. Some, like Walter, will support him, but his reign has been divisive. Many churchmen would be happy to see the King embarrassed.’

  ‘Even at the expense of the nation?’

  ‘This is all speculation,’ Baldwin sighed. ‘A man needs straw to make cob, but we have not even mud.’

  ‘No. But at least we have one consolation,’ Simon said. ‘We do know that the King has a number of enemies. All we need to do is question those who could have been about when the monk and the herald were killed, and perhaps that will lead us to a motive too.’

  It had better, he added to himself. The idea that they may fail was tearing at his mind. For if they failed to find out who had taken the oil, and where it was now, he was sure that no matter what Baldwin said about the King, Despenser would return to persecuting Simon and his wife.

  First Tuesday after Ascension Day32

  Westminster Palace

  Joseph was intrigued by the two men when he walked into the room, intrigued and nervous.

  It was rare enough for any man to be offered the aid of Despenser, but these two had managed just that. This morning he had heard that Sir Hugh le Despenser had given a writ to this Keeper of the King’s Peace and his companion, which gave them the right to question all the heralds and messengers urgently. That meant that they had considerable influence with Despenser, if not the King as well. And it meant that Joseph must be cautious. Any man close to Despenser was not a man who could be trusted. There was not a single King’s messenger or herald who didn’t know that.

  But at least he felt he had some information he could give them which might help them.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’

  ‘Yes. You are a king’s messenger, and you were sent to Christ Church, which is where we met you, in those woods?’

  ‘I
remember it,’ he said quietly. ‘The poor man.’

  ‘Was that pathway very well known to all the messengers and heralds?’

  ‘Well enough. When we pass along roads, we let others know if they have grown more dangerous recently, or if other trails have become safer and more swift. We have a duty to tell others if they can travel faster or more safely.’

  ‘And that path was thought safe?’

  ‘It was the last time I used it – which was that day when I met you on it. Now I use a different route.’

  ‘So any of the messengers would know that a herald would have taken that path?’ Simon said.

  ‘Yes. We’d all have known Richard would have been there.’

  ‘Richard?’ Baldwin asked.

  Joseph looked at him in surprise. ‘He was Richard de Yatton. Didn’t you know? I heard you brought his necklace to Beaulieu.’

  ‘I did.’ Baldwin nodded. ‘I think it was the metal you saw gleaming in among the leaves. You remember? You said you saw something glinting there, and that was what led you to discover the body there. But no one saw fit to tell me whose it was.’

  ‘Oh, well, any man in the King’s service should have recognised that necklace. Poor devil. His own mother wouldn’t have recognised him as he lay there at the roadside. I certainly didn’t.’

  ‘Where was he going at the time?’

  ‘I heard he was on his way from Leeds Castle back to Beaulieu.’

  ‘He went to Leeds Castle straight from Beaulieu?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose so …’

  ‘How would he have reacted to a stranger on the road?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Suspiciously, but not with fear. We tend to reckon that a man on the road will be less likely to affect us than some other poor traveller. No outlaw wants to court the enmity of the King, after all. It would make no sense.’

  ‘So if he fell in with another traveller, he might well allow the man to get behind him?’

  Joseph chuckled at the idea. ‘No. I said he’d be suspicious, and I meant it. There are too many men who would like to get their hands on private correspondence. General outlaws are less of a threat, because no messenger or herald carries too much money with them, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t enemies about. I doubt whether Richard would let anyone get too close to him. He’d be more keen to leave another traveller and go alone, than go with a man he didn’t know.’