Simon latched on to what he was saying. ‘Think, Baldwin! If a man came here and succeeded in killing, say, the Queen, the first thing to happen would be that the King’s men would smother the neighbourhood. If he had taken a room in a house nearby, the owner would know if he rose in the middle of the night and trotted off. No household is so quiet that a man could go abroad without someone being aware, and as soon as the men-at-arms arrived, mine host would become thoroughly talkative. If this fellow was staying nearby, he was either sleeping rough … no, it is too cold – unless he made his own camp, but about here that would be too obvious. So, not a camp … I would guess he stayed in a small inn or tavern. A place large enough for him to be anonymous, not a small house where his coming and going would be too obvious.’
‘Yes – you are absolutely right. He would have to be staying in a place where his movements would be easily concealed – possibly somewhere that was already so busy, that he could justifiably demand space in a barn or hayloft,’ Baldwin said thoughtfully.
‘Because then he could slip away in the darkness and no one would see him,’ Simon agreed.
Baldwin set off across the yard.
‘Hey – where are you going?’ Simon called out.
‘We need some men to search all the little inns and taverns hereabouts. If I understand my orders, I have been instructed to find out all I may about this man. I shall do so, then. I will command the King’s Sergeant to send riders to seek this place.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ellis had been at the palace from an early hour, and at midday he was in the main hall again, leaning against one of the pillars and staring at the throne. There had to be some reason why Jack had been killed and left here to be found. What that reason might be, he had no idea. All he was certain of was that if Jack had been there when the Queen passed by, he would have killed her. Of course, if another woman was in his way, like Mabilla, he might have been forced to hurt her, perhaps even kill her, in order to achieve his end. But none of those women would have been able to stop him.
Which meant that the man who attacked Mabilla was not Jack; thus her murderer was still abroad.
He was about to go and study Jack’s body again, just to see if anything else occurred to him, when he heard shouts and the rattle of horses’ hooves in the New Palace Yard. No man who was handy with a weapon could ignore the sound of cavalry. He hurried out to watch, and saw thirty or forty men on horseback streaming from the gate. Another twenty or so marched out with pikes on their shoulders.
‘Where are they going?’ he asked a cleric nearby.
‘They’ve been ordered to look for the place where the assassin may have been staying.’
‘Who ordered them to do so?’
‘Those two.’
Ellis took in the sight of Baldwin and Simon over at the far side of the yard. He was not surprised. However, when he saw the pair of them make their way to the Exchequer, he was intrigued. They must surely be going back to the hall as well, just as he had. There was a connecting door from the Exchequer to the dais behind the throne.
On a whim, he decided to listen to them, and he hurried off into the Green Yard before entering the Great Hall at the screens. Peering within, he could see the two men crouched behind the throne, and he slipped inside silently, walking up along the line of pillars, out of their sight, until he was only a matter of yards from them and could hear their conversation.
The Bailiff was saying, ‘Look at it. There is not enough.’
‘Let us take a look behind the tapestry. No – nothing there either. But the fact remains that the man was stabbed, had his tarse cut off and shoved into his mouth. Any of those wounds will have caused a deal of bleeding, but there is nothing in here.’
‘It’s hardly surprising, of course,’ Simon Puttock said sensibly. ‘This hall is constantly being used as a corridor between one or another chamber. No one in his right mind would come here and do something like that to a man’s body in full view of anyone who might walk in.’
‘Well, the lack of blood bears out your thoughts, Simon. So, the next question has to be: where on earth is all the blood? Where was he killed?’
‘If the killer was a man from here, from the palace itself, he could know any number of little nooks and crannies.’
‘And yet …’
‘Yes?’
‘If the man knew his victim was an assassin, we can suppose that the assassin was killed on his way to the killing or on the way back. If it was on the way back, we know that he did not intend to hurt the Queen, but was merely attempting to worry her, or had another motive and was always planning to kill the girl who died. The Queen in that case becomes merely an innocent witness.’
‘So where was he killed?’
‘Well, Simon, there are two entrances to this hall. We came in through one, the Exchequer. The only other one is the main entrance at that end there. The man was not too heavy, but I’d guess that even he would have been an uncomfortable weight to drag or carry too far. I would bet that he was near here when he died.’
‘In the hall here?’
‘That would be one possibility, but I have looked about the place a little, and have seen no sign of blood. No, I think we should look outside in the screens passage, the service chambers and the lower rooms near the King’s rooms.’
Ellis listened as they marched along the hall, gradually sidling about the pillar as they grew level and passed by him. Then he walked down the outer aisle, careful to move quietly and keep from the view of the entrance. Soon he heard them again.
‘Nothing here. If there were, we’d have seen it when we were in here the other day.’
‘Very well, Simon. Come, we must check in the buttery and pantry.’
There was a pause, and then a call full of dejection. ‘Nothing here, either, Baldwin.’
‘Nor here, Simon. This is madness. Logic says that the man must have been killed nearby. To carry a dead weight in the middle of the night with no candle or other aid would be extremely difficult.’
‘Baldwin …’
‘What, Simon?’
‘What of that door there?’
‘It leads to the King’s chapel, I believe.’
‘Is it locked?’
There was a pause for a few moments. ‘It is open, Simon. Come on.’
Ellis sneaked to the opening and listened carefully. He knew the door in question. It led into the ground-floor level of the King’s chapel. It was always locked usually, to ensure the King’s privacy, and his steward would only unlock it for Masses during which the King’s household would join him in prayers. It oughtn’t to be open.
As he peeped around the doorway, he heard them again.
‘Look here, Baldwin.’
Ellis leaned forward to see what Simon was speaking of, but as he did so, he felt a boot hit his ankle, and his leg was swept away, in an instant he was on the ground. He snarled as he rolled over to spring up, only to find himself gazing along the length of Sir Baldwin’s sword into the knight’s dark eyes.
‘I would like to speak with you, friend.’
William Pilk was with his master as Sir Hugh le Despenser left the Temple and set off along the road towards the Great Hall at Thorney Island. Not solely William, naturally. The Despenser was so convinced of his importance that he always tried to travel with a large entourage of men.
A good thing too, if the events of yesterday were anything to go by. The Bishop could have been dead with all those men throwing rocks at him. It would only take one to knock him down and the mob would have been on him. Pilk had seen it often enough before. When someone in power could be shown to be vulnerable, the crowds would enjoy ripping them limb from limb.
‘Pilk. Here.’
‘My Lord?’
‘When we get there, go and see how Ellis is doing. I want someone to keep an eye on him.’
‘Eh?’ Pilk stared at him.
Despenser favoured him with a look. ‘I don’t entirely distrust him,
Pilk. But if I am to have a replacement for my steward and henchman soon, I’d best make sure that the man whom I trust is the one who watches him, eh?’
William Pilk felt his breast swell with pride. The idea that his master could think of installing him in Ellis’s place had never occurred to him. It was a proof, as if he needed it, of how much trust his master was putting in him now.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Good. If there’s something urgent, come to tell me. I’ll be in the King’s private chamber, I expect.’
Pilk settled back, trying to look forbidding and strong, as he should now he had the Despenser’s full trust. A man like him was powerful. There were few others who could hope to emulate him. This was the sort of thing he’d dreamed of when he was younger, that he’d get to be the senior man in a great household like Sir Hugh’s. And now it was coming true – Sir Hugh was giving him responsibility.
His master didn’t trust Ellis any more than he should – that was obvious from the way he had asked Pilk to watch the man. No surprise there. Anyone with a brain could see he was unreliable, whereas Pilk had never failed. He was clever, he knew that. With a little luck and by using his brain, he would make his fortune.
With such cheering thoughts, he scarcely noticed their way. Long before he expected it, he could see the enormous belfry tower of the Abbey up ahead, and then they were off King Street and were riding in under the great gatehouse.
All here knew Sir Hugh, of course. The porters ducked their heads as he passed, whether he noticed or not. If they had not, he would have noticed, and as soon as he saw a dereliction of respect for a knight like himself, he would have them arrested instantly. He could make use of his authority as a household knight and member of the King’s inner council to ensure that any servant’s life could grow uncomfortable or downright painful. And any man who tried to complain would have the King to contend with, which would usually mean an even greater punishment, because Edward was ruthless towards any who caused trouble for his friends. Since the capture and murder of Gaveston, no one had been in any doubt that Edward would visit unequalled retribution upon them.
Pilk was still feeling that sense of warmth as he dropped from his mount and threw the reins to a waiting groom. The fellow caught them, frowning slightly at the arrogance of the action, but Pilk knew he was safe. Even grooms knew their places here, and the man’s eyes flashed to Despenser briefly before he took the horse away to the stables.
As Sir Hugh dismounted and made his way towards the Green Yard, tugging off his gauntlets as he went, Pilk walked to the Exchequer to see where Ellis could have gone. There was no sign of anyone there, though. The door was locked. So Pilk walked out to the Green Yard, and from there, he went in by the screens door to the Great Hall.
There he immediately saw his master standing before the knight Sir Baldwin.
‘I demand to know the meaning of this!’ Sir Hugh was bellowing.
Sir Baldwin was calm, but his eyes did not blink, which Pilk immediately thought made him look dangerous, as did the sword which was in his hand. Behind him on the floor lay Ellis, while another sword lay resting on his breast, the grinning Bailiff holding the hilt.
‘I was asking this man why he was following me and eavesdropping on my conversations with the Bailiff here.’
‘And you had to knock him down to do that, I suppose?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want him to try to attack me,’ Baldwin said. He still hadn’t blinked, Pilk noticed. The man stood very still, his sword’s point towards the ground, across his front, so that whenever he needed to, he could flick it straight up at his opponent.
‘Let him up at once!’
‘Certainly, but it will be your responsibility if he tries anything foolish,’ Baldwin said. He stepped back swiftly, and nodded to his companion, who withdrew his own sword.
Ellis looked up at the two men, and as soon as he was sure that he was safe, he rolled over and pushed himself upwards. His sword was in his scabbard still, and for an instant he thought about drawing it. Sir Hugh was silent, and Pilk wondered whether this was a part of the Despenser’s plan, to see Sir Baldwin provoke Ellis into an indiscreet attack. It would be sure to be helpful either way – whether Ellis killed Sir Baldwin or the other way about. Best, of course, would be for both to kill each other.
But Ellis was not angry enough to miss the danger in the Devon knight’s eyes. There were plenty of knights who bought their knighthoods with money that they had accumulated through their mercantile ventures. As soon as a man reached a certain value of income, he was expected and required to become a knight. It was how the nation kept its stock of warriors. Not this man. Although the sword looked almost new, without the scratches and nicks that spoke of past battles, that proved nothing. Plenty of men had nice, new, shiny swords because they had over-used their old ones. If he had to guess, he’d say this man was in possession of two or three swords that had seen good service.
‘I’ll ask you again: what were you doing following us?’
‘I was just walking along the hall, and when I reached this door, you knocked me down for no reason,’ Ellis growled.
‘There. Clearly this has been a misunderstanding,’ Sir Hugh said with a smile. ‘I suggest you put up your swords, lordings. We aren’t in the West Country now. It must be good for you to come to civilisation once in a while. Oh … Sir Baldwin. How is Iddesleigh? Have you been to see my manor at Monkleigh recently? It is not in very good shape since you were there last. Still, your little manor at Furnshill is all right, is it not? A nice place, so I am told. And I believe that you have a lovely wife and child there.’
Baldwin’s face did not alter. Pilk could have sworn it was graven in stone, he was so still. And then he smiled gently, and carefully pushed his sworn into the scabbard. ‘My Lord, I have a wonderful family. They are so precious to me that if any man were to try to touch them, I would see to his immediate destruction.’
‘You think to threaten me, man?’ Sir Hugh said. Pilk reckoned there was no anger in his voice, only a kind of mingled wonder and amusement. ‘And what would you do if I, for example, burned your house to the ground with your family inside it, eh? And Sir Baldwin, I could do just that, if I chose. So don’t make me choose. Let me remain contented and at peace, so that you and I do not fall out. I am a good master to my vassals and friends, you know. There is no need for you or your companion there to look for strife. Consider it. We could be friends.’
‘Why do you seek to offer me this, Sir Hugh?’ Baldwin said. ‘What use could my friendship have for you? What value, what utility, would I have for a great magnate, the King’s own friend?’
‘Nothing. I make the offer freely,’ Sir Hugh said, his hands outspread, palms up in sign of openness.
‘No,’ Baldwin said consideringly. ‘You wish to have something concealed about these murders. Perhaps it could be convenient for you to have me silenced.’
‘I think that things would be rather more advantageous for you, if you were to listen. It will mean you have a strong ally. Of course, if you prefer, I could be an enemy.’
Pilk smiled at that. The last few words had been spoken in that gruff voice which he and the others in the household recognised only too clearly. When he spoke like that, Sir Hugh le Despenser meant that he’d break someone’s leg if they didn’t do exactly as he wished.
Baldwin’s eyes narrowed. ‘So clearly it is something you are very worried about. I think that will make our investigation more interesting.’
‘It will,’ Sir Hugh said. He smiled. ‘Indeed, it will.’
Coroner John was unhappy. This new Keeper, Sir Baldwin, was a companion of Bishop Walter of Exeter, and that meant he was a close ally of Despenser, so his words could scarcely be trusted on any level. A friend of Despenser was an enemy of justice, in Sir John’s simple belief.
Yet the man had been instructed to find out what had happened to Mabilla, and who had killed the assassin. That should have been a weight off John’s mind, but
in many ways it left him feeling that the entire investigation was to be whitewashed. Nothing of any importance would be discovered by men like that Sir Baldwin. The Bishop and Despenser had carved up the realm between them, and they were not the sort of men who would threaten their own positions. If there was skulduggery afoot, it was more than likely due to those two, so their own placemen would uncover nothing.
John didn’t like that. Which was why he was now descending into the filth of the main gaol to visit the guard from the southern wall, Arch.
It cost him a whole shilling to bribe the gaoler to open the ancient door so that he could enter the foul chamber.
‘Leave me, please leave me!’
Sir John had seen enough torture victims in his time to be unshaken, but from a professional viewpoint, he was disgusted. To have so destroyed this man was unnecessary and pointless. He had been broken in spirit, and from the look of his arms, in parts of his body too. Anything he had said at the extremity of his pain was irrelevant. Everyone knew that, who had ever questioned a man in this condition.
‘I will leave you, but I want to ask you some questions first,’ he said.
‘I know nothing more – nothing! Please, I can tell you nothing!’
‘The night – you know the night I mean. You were drunk.’
‘No! No! I had nothing!’
‘You fell asleep at your post.’
‘No! I was awake.’
‘You kept no watch. The assassin crept past you.’
‘He must have been there already.’
‘You saw him?’
‘No. I only saw the Queen’s guard on his rounds. No one else.’
John smiled. ‘And he knocked you down?’
‘No! No, he was keeping lookout. There was nervousness in the palace.’
‘You were asleep as soon as you arrived, I suppose? Everyone says you were lax in your work.’
‘No! I was awake until late. It was after the moon when I got hit.’
Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) Page 22
