The Oath aktm-29

by Michael Jecks

  ‘I am sure you do not mean that,’ Sir Laurence said sharply. ‘If this was a question of discussing with enemies, my lord, I would agree wholeheartedly. But here, sir, we are talking about meeting with our Queen and her son. That means the next King of our country! You have no authority to prevent us from talking to them. This is not treason or sedition, it is commonsense.’

  ‘I will not have you gainsay me, Sir Laurence! I am Commander here, damn your eyes, and I will see my orders complied with.’

  ‘You have overall command of the King’s forces,’ Sir Laurence countered. ‘However, I have a duty to the castle and the people of the city as well. And although it is a terrible responsibility for me, I have to execute my duty as I see fit. I will not permit the city or the castle to be laid waste just because of our interpretation of how the King would most like to see us behave.’

  The Earl rose and slammed his fist on the table, making the cups and horns leap. ‘I will not listen to this bullock-turd! You say you agree I am Commander, and that is enough. I am in charge here – not you – and we shall hold this castle, no matter what.’

  ‘My lord Earl,’ Sir Charles said smoothly. ‘It cannot harm anybody to ask for an audience with the Queen. If we enter discussions, it does not mean we actually have to accept any terms given. All it does mean is that we know exactly where we stand. If we are informed that none of us will be allowed to leave the castle with honour, it makes all other discussions pointless. However, while we talk, we are delaying the enemy’s plans, even if by only a little. We have supplies here, so the time will not hurt us. And when the talks break down, as they almost certainly will, they will have to start from scratch with their siege machines. It is a delaying tactic, my lord.’

  Earl Hugh looked at him, and in that moment Simon realised that the old man was at the end of his tether. He plainly knew that if all went foul with the King, his son must die. Sir Hugh le Despenser was the most detested man in the realm, and for him there would be no hiding-place.

  What was more, if the mob tracked down Sir Hugh, they might decide to enforce the most brutal punishment. Others had suffered that final torment, of being hanged, drawn and quartered. It was the most appalling revenge society could inflict, and Earl Hugh knew that if the mob caught his son, he could expect no sympathy.

  Simon looked away. It was a hideous prospect for any father. He himself was fearful that his own son might die here in the castle, but how much worse must it be for a man if his son were forced to endure ritual public slaughter? It was at that moment that he began to feel sympathy for the Earl.

  The meeting ended shortly thereafter, and the Earl walked from the room like an old man; Simon noticed that none of the others in the chamber could meet his eye. It was like watching someone go to their execution, he thought. It only required the priest intoning prayers as Earl Hugh shuffled out.

  But Sir Laurence was still at the table, toying with a reed while others muttered and mingled. Simon thought that this was as good a time as any to question him.

  ‘Sir Laurence, may I speak with you?’ he said.

  ‘Are you going to call me a coward or fool, too? No? Then yes, you may speak with me.’

  ‘I was asked to view a body the other day,’ Simon began. ‘It was that of a maidservant called Cecily. Did you know her?’

  ‘Everyone in the city knew of Cecily. She was notorious as the maid whose family was butchered,’ Sir Laurence said, leaning back in his chair. He aimed the reed like a dart, and threw it at Simon. ‘Well?’

  ‘You were seen with her on the night she died, and I wondered…’

  ‘You want to talk to me about that? She had come to me to ask about the men who’d been released – Squire William and others – and I was able to tell her that he was dead. That was all.’

  ‘You said just that and left her?’

  Sir Laurence’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are asking whether I killed her, Bailiff? I did not. I was walking around the streets assessing the barricades I had ordered to be built. I didn’t have time for her petty concerns – especially since the man she most feared was dead.’

  ‘The Squire – where was he killed?’

  ‘East of here, some miles away. Sir Stephen viewed the body.’

  ‘At least she would have been comforted by that knowledge,’ Simon said.

  ‘Yes, so you would have thought – but, if anything, she was more distraught. She only demanded that his men should be arrested in his place. Nonsense!’ Sir Laurence blew out an irritated breath.

  ‘So, what then did–’

  But the Constable cut him off, standing abruptly. ‘Enough. I spoke with her, she left. That is all that happened, and now, master, if you will excuse me, I have a castle to protect.’

  Simon sighed. Sir Laurence was short-tempered, but that was not necessarily a sign of guilt. He had a lot on his mind at the moment.

  Sir Charles led Simon to the buttery where the pair drank off a quart of strong wine each, but the drink had no effect on either of them. Outside the castle, they could hear cheering and singing, and the steady beat of a drum somewhere as people in the city celebrated their release and safety.

  ‘What will happen?’ Simon asked him, staring at a very drunk guard who was staggering along the wall of the hall.

  Sir Charles shrugged. ‘We will either fight, in which case we shall very probably die together, or we shall arrange a peace and walk out of here with our heads held high.’

  ‘Which do you think it’ll be?’

  Sir Charles looked at him.

  ‘Come, Bailiff. Let us try another jug of that wine. I’m not sure it wasn’t off, eh?’

  Fourth Sunday after the Feast of St Michael [27]

  Bristol Gaol

  The morning was, for once, blessedly dry, and even inside the repellent little chamber in which Saul the Fosser had been thrown together with three drunks, one of whom threw up for the early part of the night until he had emptied his belly, and then retched until he passed out, lying snoring in a pool of his own vomit, the difference in temperature was noticeable. Not warm, but not as icy cold as it had been.

  ‘Fosser? Someone wants to talk to you.’

  The door was pushed open, the rusty hinges screeching. In that enclosed stone space, the sound was like a dagger being thrust between the ears. Saul climbed to his feet, then made his way out through the door, past the gaoler, with his reek of old garlic and armpits, and found himself in a small chamber. There was a man there, who stood playing with the little dagger with its two rubies.

  He was a very calm, quiet man, with a peculiar slow blink of his brown eyes. His hair was very dark, while his flesh was quite pale, a curious combination. He was wearing a long, dark-green tunic of very soft-looking woven material. It made Saul feel even chillier than usual to see such a rich, warm-looking fabric.

  ‘You are the man who was trying to sell this?’ the stranger asked.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Saul said immediately. ‘I was trying to make a little money, my lord, not–’

  The man wasn’t impressed by his assumption of his rank, nor by his protestations of innocence. ‘Know that the man who carried this weapon was a felon who deserved the full penalty of law. If you killed him, it will not be weighed against you. But, if you know where his body lies, you must tell me now. I want to see him dead with my own eyes.’

  Saul considered. There was the risk that this man was lying, of course, but he had the impression that the fellow was telling the truth. There was certainly no indication of any sorrow on his part for the late departed owner of the dagger. On the other hand, Saul had no idea who the owner was, unless it was the tall knight at the graveside.

  ‘I don’t know who he was,’ he said, and told all he knew. About the knight watching the burial of the woman, how he threw the packet into the grave while Saul replaced the earth, and then disappeared. ‘I think he was in the castle. Perhaps he is in there now?’

  ‘Perhaps he is. Describe him.’


  ‘He was tall, with a long crimson robe, and…’ It took only a little time to describe the man standing in the cemetery.

  The knight considered him without speaking for a while. Then he nodded to himself. ‘Very well. I believe you. You will remain here for a little longer, Fosser, but it’s not a punishment.’

  ‘Please, my lord, no! Let me go home. It’s not as if I’ll be able to run away,’ he said, gesturing at his leg, hoping for sympathy.

  ‘It is not in order to punish you, Fosser. It is for your protection,’ the man said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Bristol

  He had not expected to be treated quite so well as this, but Sir Stephen knew that the Queen must be grateful for the gift he had brought her. There were not very many men who would bring her an entire city. In the great Guild Hall, he felt honoured to he allowed some time with her, her lovely little maid and one guard.

  Isabella was a delightful woman. Quite the prettiest he had ever seen. Her fair hair and pale features were set off exquisitely by the black material of her widow’s weeds, and everything about her appeared designed to drive a man’s fancies to thoughts of bed.

  ‘I am very keen to learn what is happening inside the castle, Sir Stephen. Do you know upon whom the Earl of Winchester depends most of all? He is a strong-willed man, I know, but all must have one or two whom they can trust above all others.’

  He was tempted to make a flippant comment about her husband and the way that the King had always selected unsuitable advisers, but saw that such a view would be safer kept to himself.

  ‘My lady, Your Highness, I think that the Earl is less strong now than when you last saw him. When would that have been?’

  ‘It was last year, more than a year ago.’

  ‘And his health has not improved. He fights because he can see no alternative if he wishes to protect his son.’

  ‘His son will die for the crimes he has committed,’ Queen Isabella said flatly. ‘You know how he has insulted even me, his Queen? He took my city, this Bristol. All the revenues which were mine by law, he acquired to his own benefit. The city was a part of my dower, and yet he seized it all. It was ever an especial favourite of mine, Bristol. So pretty, is it not?’

  ‘I find it so.’

  ‘So, the good Earl is not content? And yet he must know that he cannot stand in our path.’

  There was a knock at the doors, and in walked a youth. It was only when the guard snapped to attention, and the maid curtseyed deeply that Sir Stephen felt his heart lurch, and he bowed low.

  ‘My son, this is Sir Stephen Siward, who yesterday brought us the city of Bristol.’

  ‘You turned from your friends in the castle?’

  Sir Stephen heard the pointed challenge. ‘Your Royal Highness, I thought, and still feel, that it is more important to remain loyal to the Royal Family than to others.’

  ‘Which others?’

  Sir Stephen looked up. ‘Men who would use the law to terrorise and steal. I have had experience of the murders committed by the Despensers. I would not be able to support a Despenser.’

  ‘That is good.’ The Duke of Aquitaine, Edward, son of King Edward II, walked to his mother’s side, bowing and kissing her hand, before turning and studying Sir Stephen. Fair-haired like his parents, he had a glorious mane of hair, and his build was already that of a warrior, even though he was only just fourteen years of age. He also had some strength of character, from the way that he studied Sir Stephen with those serious blue eyes of his. ‘But I wouldn’t see all Despensers punished by association, either. The fact that one is dishonourable, dishonoured and must be punished for his manifest crimes does not mean his father is a felon. I respect the Earl.’

  ‘So do I,’ Isabella said. ‘He has been good to us in the past. Perhaps he would listen to reason and surrender the castle, do you think? There can be no benefit in his keeping the fortress only to see it destroyed about him. The rubble of a ruin is hardly worth a single life.’

  ‘I think he would plan to keep it in order to hold it for your husband, Your Highness.’

  ‘I have no husband,’ she said, and there was just a hint of heat in her response, although she recovered her sangfroid quickly enough. ‘But were Edward to come here, it could not be for a very long time. Did you not know?’

  ‘I am not sure what you mean.’

  ‘The King has left the country. That is why we are gathering today. He has left his kingdom, and that means the realm is without a monarch. It has been deserted.’

  Cardiff

  It was a relief to see the castle appear in the distance at last. Huge, and beautifully proportioned, it was a sight to make Baldwin smile: so regular and symmetrical, it appealed to his sense of balance.

  He was at the rear of their party as they rode down the final plain towards the castle with the great town at its foot. There were men at the entrances to the town itself, and Baldwin and Jack rode slowly to the gates as the rest of their party rode on ahead.

  Here at least there were signs of normality. Flags and banners flew from the turrets and there was an air of calmness and peace about the place that made Baldwin’s soul feel refreshed.

  Their journey today had been uneventful, merely a fast walk through the woods and valleys of South Wales.

  It was a countryside he particularly liked: verdant and hilly, it was much like his own Devonshire, although the peasants were perhaps rather poorer. They had come down a little green valley from the Severn, and Baldwin had been taken by that. At the bottom of the valley was a little house, the smoke rising from the end of the thatched roof. There was a cattle shed, badly dilapidated, and some other cottages as they rode past, but only the main farmhouse appeared to have anyone living in it, and even there the people looked poverty-struck. In fact, they looked to be no better off than Baldwin’s villeins had during the famine of ten years before.

  For all the beauty of that little valley, Baldwin had been glad to ride away from it, and point his rounsey’s head westwards again. At least from there it was only some five-and-twenty miles to the castle.

  The friars were happy to be away from Bristol, that much was clear. But they were also clearly of the opinion that they were leaping from the chafing dish into the coals: the King’s anger on hearing that his timid requests for letters of safe-conduct for all those in the household with him was to be entirely ignored did not bear contemplation. Since Baldwin had endured the King’s displeasure before, he did not envy the two their task.

  Still, for the most part of the journey, all were taken with the constant threat that the Queen might have other men in the area here to attack them. She was as able to throw some forces ahead of her into Wales as any other warrior. And since she had Mortimer with her, who was the most experienced fighter of any in the realm when it came to border wars, a screen of horsemen around here was very likely.

  They made good time, hurrying without over-tiring their mounts, for the most part without talking as all kept their eyes skinned on the trees and other likely ambush positions. However all had been well so far.

  Poor Roisea rode with her face concealed beneath a veil, her head hanging, the picture of misery. The death of her husband had been most untimely. If what she had said was true – that he was about to make his fortune again – it was particularly hard for her because the money had not yet arrived. Now, she would remain as poor as before. She had lost everything.

  He remembered their little house to the south of Bristol. At the time he had been in so much of a hurry to be gone, that the couple had not occupied his thoughts much, although Roisea’s and Thomas’s behaviour had seemed vaguely improper in front of him. It was hardly polite to be display such affection in front of a guest, especially a guest they hardly knew, and yet now, in retrospect, it seemed fortunate that the man should have died in the knowledge that his wife loved him.

  Baldwin had already stabbed the bearded man who had led the attackers in Winchester. He had followed them all that way
. Baldwin thought about it. It was very curious. He had never known of footpads showing such determination before. What’s more, the fellow was with different companions, too, which implied that he was a leader of men, who was prepared to hire others to help him as he planned his attacks. Why attack Thomas Redcliffe? There would have to be a significant reason, to persuade a fellow to hunt a man all the way from Winchester, let alone from London.

  The alternative, that he was trying to catch a King’s Messenger, was more likely. Perhaps Redcliffe was thought to carry some dangerous message that must be stopped? Or perhaps it was more simple: he was killed because he had taken some business from a London merchant who resented his interference. The merchant could have paid someone to hunt him down and execute him.

  But there was little point speculating. Better to leave such hypotheses to others.

  Their way took them down a grassy bank to the road itself, a stony track that pointed like an arrow to the castle. Baldwin almost unhorsed himself riding down a particularly steep part, and he glanced back with a grin on his face, only to see Alexander a short distance away, gazing about him with caution.

  It reminded him that even this close to the King, they would not be safe until they were inside the castle’s wall – and with that thought, he spurred his rounsey on again.

  Bristol

  The hall was filled.

  Sir Stephen Siward was one of the most powerful knights in the country, one of only two thousand men who could call themselves members of the Order of Chivalry of England – and yet he had never seen a gathering like this. The Bishops of Ely, Hereford, Lincoln, Norwich and Winchester, the Earls of Kent, Lancaster and Norfolk, as well as barons, bannerets, knights and squires, thronged the large chamber, all presenting themselves before the Queen and her son as the new rulers of the country – and that itself was shocking.