29 - The Oath

by Michael Jecks

  ‘You were investigating a murder, I believe, when I arrived here?’

  The question so surprised Simon that he almost choked. He shot a look at Margaret, but her frank incomprehension was a picture. ‘Yes.’

  ‘The dead woman was called Cecily, I believe. And she was slain by a man who may still be here in the city?’

  ‘He’s bound to be, since he killed her after the city’s gates were locked.’

  ‘That simplifies matters. Very well – the woman was killed by a man called Squire William de B—’

  ‘I think that is unlikely.’

  ‘Perhaps you should tell me what you know first.’ Sir Roger smiled thinly.

  ‘She was found dead,’ Simon said, and went on to tell about the murders of the Capons and their daughter and grandchild by the Squire and his men. ‘I have not managed to get far with the discovery of the killer. I had supposed it could be the Squire himself, but now Sir Laurence has told me that Sir Stephen held an inquest over Squire William’s body before she died, perhaps Cecily was murdered by one of his confederates:? But if so, why wait so long to kill her? They could have got rid of her much sooner.’

  ‘True enough,’ Mortimer acquiesced.

  ‘It is the case that finding anyone in the city in the last days has not been very easy,’ Simon added heavily.

  ‘Perhaps so. But I would have the murderer pursued. He is guilty of a reprehensible crime, and I would see him punished for it.’

  ‘Oh. Aye.’

  ‘You sound doubtful?’

  ‘I see little profit in chasing about the countryside trying to find a man who could be almost anywhere.’

  ‘That is not the point,’ Sir Roger said sternly. ‘If it is felt, or believed, that a man can escape punishment here, the whole city could begin to behave in the same manner and I shall not permit that to happen. All those guilty of crimes will be held up to exemplary punishment so as to deter others. And it is important that this particular man is discovered. After all, Squire William was a friend and ally of the Despenser. That, so I have heard, is the true reason why he was released after the killings of Cecily’s master and family. I will not let it be said that those who kill my enemies can rely upon a more gentle judgement than others. Those murders were a disgraceful act, and we have to show now, more than ever, that all felons will be sought, found, and brought to justice. That is what the law is for. Under any King, the law must be supreme.’

  ‘Yes,’ Simon said. He wanted to ask about his servants again, but there was something in Sir Roger Mortimer’s face that put him off for the moment.

  ‘No one can be above the law, don’t you agree?’ Mortimer repeated.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Simon said. ‘I have served the law all my life.’

  ‘Then I would like you to find this murderer and bring him to me for justice,’ Mortimer said.

  Simon nodded, but he was doubtful as he eyed the tall knight. ‘Sir Roger, there is clearly more to this than is apparent. If it is not disrespectful, may I know the reason for your interest in the woman’s murder?’

  ‘All you need know is that this dagger,’ Mortimer said, pulling the bent knife from under his tunic, ‘was thrown into the grave by a man who came to witness the woman’s burial. The fosser himself retrieved it. Speak to him. He may be able to help you.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Cardiff

  The excitement in the town was palpable as the ship was seen approaching early that morning.

  Like the day before, the weather was sunny, and warm when the sun touched a man’s face or hand, but the breeze was chilly, and Baldwin saw Jack pulling his cloak tighter about his body as the wind from the sea picked up.

  They had slept the previous night in a stable. Hunt as they might, there seemed to be no beds available for any money. Cardiff was packed with men who had depended upon the King for their livelihoods. With the turmoil in the country, they were hoping for some form of rescue before Mortimer arrived, which they were all convinced would not be long.

  It was a smooth sea that the King’s cog sailed on. It came about the harbour, and then put in at the quay a little before noon, the timbers scraping and echoing hollowly. Sailors idled on the ropes about the sails, hauling on the canvas and tugging it up before lashing it in place, while others lounged about the deck in attitudes of boredom. Theirs had been a short journey, but with the weather they must have endured, Baldwin was sure that they would have had enough excitement.

  After docking, although some of the crew strolled ashore, and a tall sailor with a large axe waited at the gangplank as though preparing to guard it against any who would dare to attack, the ship remained quiet for some while, and Baldwin began to wonder whether this was the right one after all. Sir Ralph was nearby, the friars behind him, and all were waiting with tension in the air. Nobody knew how the King would react to the news the friars brought.

  At last the ship’s little cabin door opened, and two men stepped out. They walked to the gangplank, and then Despenser himself strode into the air, staring about him with a furious eye. It was that which made Baldwin think that he was beginning to lose his mind.

  It wouldn’t be a surprise after the last weeks. Everything which Sir Hugh le Despenser had built up – his money, his properties, his lands – all were at risk now, because he had thrown his hand in with the King. In the last month, he had seen the whole of his empire topple and fall. It would be enough to make any man despair.

  However, Despenser’s present pallor was not caused by the losses he was incurring; they sprang from a more mundane cause. As Baldwin watched, he saw how the man’s attention kept wandering to the ship’s rail, and then realised that he was suffering from sea-sickness.

  The King came to the deck a short while afterwards, and sprang up onto the gangplank with the enthusiasm of a much younger man. Once he was on land, the other men joined him.

  ‘Sir Ralph, I am glad to see you!’ the King said, striding up to them.

  Baldwin, bowing as low as Sir Ralph, was slightly surprised by the effusiveness of the greeting. It was as though Edward had decided to become the most popular monarch the realm had known.

  ‘Sir Baldwin too, I am most pleased to see you. I trust you are both well?’

  ‘Very well,’ both men said, shooting a glance at each other.

  ‘Good. And the two estimable Brothers. My friends, I hope I find you unharmed after your travels? Excellent!’

  ‘Your Royal Highn—’ Sir Ralph began, but the King cut him off.

  ‘No, Sir Ralph. Surely we need a little wine and food first. Poor Sir Hugh has been terribly upset by the voyage. It was particularly rough until yesterday, and I am very afraid that he has lost his sea legs. You know, we were almost hurled against the rocks at Lundy; a ferocious wind, it was.’

  The King’s men had already prepared him a chamber in the castle, and it was to this that they went, the King marching briskly along as though finding it hard to suppress his enthusiasm. Despenser was a pale, anxious wraith in comparison, his whole demeanour that of a man who knows he is cursed.

  When they reached the chambers, the King strode to his seat near the fire and sat, stretching luxuriously. His handsome face was a little burned by sun and wind, and his blue eyes appeared to gleam with more intelligence than before. The journey by water had done him good, Baldwin thought. To escape the immediate risks and dangers had apparently worked like a tonic on his frayed nerves.

  ‘You know, Sir Baldwin, I was intending to break our journey on Lundy Island, just to be away and rest. We could not stop, though, for the wind and high seas threatened to dash the vessel on the rocks, and so it came into my head that we should aim direct for Ireland, but that too did not work. The winds were quite contrary for us, and we beat up and down, but made no headway – is that not so, Sir Hugh?’

  Sir Hugh mumbled something, and when Baldwin glanced his way, he saw that the adviser had a finger in his mouth and was worrying at the remains of a nail. The repetition of h
is tale of the rocks surprised Baldwin, and then he realised: the King was not refreshed at all. He was merely acting the part, demonstrating his confidence so that those about him would not guess at his inner desperation.

  The King was talking again.

  ‘And then it came to me, Sir Baldwin. You see, I am the King. I cannot leave my realm, can I? That would be to deny my duty, which is to protect my kingdom. And if the kingdom ever needed protection, it is now. With my poor wife so woefully misguided, and my son led unthinking into the clutches of Sir Roger Mortimer, that evil traitor, clearly the worst thing I can do is sail off to Ireland. After all, by the time I return, Mortimer might have done untold harm to my people. So it is better, I think, that I return. And it is God’s will, that is clear, for his wind blew me straight back here.’

  ‘I see.’ Baldwin did not look at Sir Ralph, but was keenly aware of the knight at his side.

  ‘Now, I trust that the Queen had a message for me?’

  The friars tensed, and then both bowed their heads.

  ‘Your Highness,’ Mark began. ‘She did not promise to protect those who are with you. She swore that those who were guilty of crimes against the realm, against her or your son, would be punished. There would be no safe-conduct for any of them.’

  ‘None?’ the King asked, the smile still on his face. Behind him, Sir Hugh le Despenser began to worry at another nail.

  ‘None at all,’ the friar said quietly. He had his eyes closed, Baldwin saw, as though expecting to receive a sword-blow at any moment that would end his life.

  ‘Then we shall have to ensure that none are captured by that harpy!’ the King suddenly exploded. He rose, stalking about the room, a hand on his sword hilt, while he gesticulated wildly with his right. ‘The bitch chooses to threaten us – all of us? When did she accumulate such authority in my realm? Does she seriously believe that the mere possession of my son will force me to accept the threats of rebels, traitors and foreign mercenaries? The bitch will soon learn: she will learn that my will is the will of the King! If she seeks to pit herself against me in battle, she shall do so! I will stand with my banner, if there is only one herald who will hold it with me! I will never submit to such foul threats and dishonour, damn her soul forever! Sweet Jesu, as You sit at the right hand of God, hear my prayer! Protect my son, save him from her wiles, and aid me to strike down the foul traitor Mortimer. God help me in this. I will not rest until he is dead.’

  ‘My lord, there is more,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘As we left, the city of Bristol was being surrounded. I fear that . . .’

  ‘It is besieged, I know,’ the King interrupted. He took a deep breath. ‘I need more men to go and lift the siege.’

  ‘Sire, I am afraid it is too late for that. The siege has ended. The city capitulated.’

  King Edward slowly turned to stare at him. ‘What? No, Bristol would not surrender. The walls are strong, the city is powerful . . .’

  ‘It is true, my lord,’ Sir Ralph said, and brought forward the messengers.

  Robert Vyke felt overawed as he cast a look at all the great men in this chamber. He was one among three messengers here, and had been told to wait until he was called inside. Seeing the King, he fell to his knees. ‘Your Majesty, I am sorry to bring such news. I have to tell you that the good Earl Hugh of Winchester arrived, but he could not hold the city for long.’

  ‘Had the city fallen when you left?’ Despenser demanded.

  ‘No.’

  Despenser gave a satisfied nod. ‘Then what of the castle?’

  It was another messenger who answered now. ‘Sire, the city had fallen when I left it two days ago. There was a traitor in the castle who ran to open the city gates to the Queen and Sir Roger Mortimer. They rode into the city without opposition. It was shortly after that, that Sir Laurence Ashby asked that I ride to you to warn you. He said that the castle would likely not be able to fight on.’

  ‘I too fear that the castle itself cannot survive long with the city in Mortimer’s hands,’ Sir Ralph said.

  ‘Why?’ Despenser shot out. ‘There are sufficient men there to protect it, and they should have been provisioned well. Why wouldn’t they be able to defend the castle? It was held before, when the city rebelled against the King ten years ago.’

  ‘Sir Hugh, when the castle was last attacked, it survived a long while. But then there was a strong garrison inside, and they knew that the posse comitatus was outside the city. They had a clear view of their rescuers. This time, they know that the Queen is all-powerful. How can even your father maintain the fighting spirit of the men there, when they know that the King has no force with him. How can they hope to be relieved? Without that hope, there can be no commitment to holding on to the castle. Why would men risk their lives for a vain hope?’

  ‘No. They can’t have given up.’ Despenser had gone even paler of hue. ‘My father’s there, he’ll put some spirit into them. The garrison won’t submit so easily with him in charge. He’s a good motivator. Knows his men.’

  ‘Sir Hugh, I believe that the city must fall before any form of relief could be gathered,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘For that reason, I recommend that you, Sire, should seek to return to your ship and make your way to Ireland. At least there the population may have remained loyal to you.’

  ‘My people are loyal! It is only the damned barons who seek more control over me – they’re the ones who want to have me as a puppet, pulling my strings for me, telling me what I can and can’t do. Well, I won’t let them! I will gather a new host from here, from the Welsh.’

  ‘Your Royal Highness,’ Sir Ralph began.

  ‘Shut up!’ Despenser snapped. ‘The King has spoken, Sir Ralph, and you would do well to consider how to help him, not hinder him with pointless objections – if you wish to keep your head on your shoulders!’

  Bristol Castle

  The hall was filled with smoke from the fire, and the steward had already sent for more wood that was better aged and would smoke less.

  When he was led in, at first Earl Hugh of Winchester was hopeful that this might prove to be a swift meeting designed to fine him and perhaps strip him of some of his honours, but the first glance about the chamber was enough to drive a dagger of ice into his spine.

  If it were not for the strong arm of his servant, he would have toppled and fallen right there before the men, but he managed to make his way to the chair which had been set before the tribunal.

  He could feel his legs tremble on his way there. It was the longest walk he had ever undertaken. His worst enemies were seated staring at him as he crossed the floor.

  Sir Roger Mortimer, the Earls of Kent and Norfolk, brothers to King Edward himself, then two retainers of the Earl of Lancaster, who had himself been killed by the King, and Henry of Lancaster too. All detested the Earl and his son, and all would take delight in destroying him. He knew that.

  His life was to end.

  ‘My lords, where is the Queen?’ he asked, and was surprised by how firm and steady his voice sounded.

  ‘Silence, Earl Winchester. You have no right to speak in this court,’ Mortimer said flatly. ‘If you speak, you will be gagged.’

  ‘May I not speak in my defence?’

  ‘No. We accord you the same rights you accorded to the Earl of Lancaster when he was captured. Your crimes are so manifest and obnoxious to all thinking men that you deserve no defence.’

  ‘Of what am I accused?’

  ‘Silence!’ Sir Roger snapped. He nodded to a clerk at a table nearby, who stood and nervously began reading from a list.

  Earl Hugh listened with his face kept carefully blank. There was a slight pain in his breast over his heart, and his bowels felt as though they had turned to water, but over all that he was aware of a slow, building anger. That these men should think they could dare to bring him to trial! He was an Earl, the same rank as the highest in this chamber, and they thought they could serve punishment to him like some churl from the street? They would learn differently. Sure
ly the Queen wouldn’t allow them to continue, once she heard. He had never hurt her. And the fact that he had agreed to give up the castle must count for something. He only prayed that his son would get to Ireland, that his own predicament would delay matters sufficiently for his son to make good his escape.

  Not that they would dare to carry out any punishment. Not of a truly condign nature. He was a friend to the King, and Edward’s fury would know no bounds, were he to learn that someone had hurt one of his chief advisers.

  So, his crimes were legion. He was to pay for supporting his son and his son’s government, for making laws that stopped men from defending themselves in court, for enriching himself at the expense of others, of stealing from the Church, and for participating in the execution of Earl Thomas of Lancaster, the Earl who had himself tried to accroach all power in the realm to himself, and control the King. A number of crimes. All perhaps repellent to the men here, while all were also designed to service the King. It was he who had demanded the removal of Thomas of Lancaster; he who had wished for strong government. Earl Hugh’s crime was to have supported his son. He was a father! Who would not do the same in those circumstances?

  He opened his mouth to reject these ridiculous allegations, but Mortimer glanced at him, and in that look, Earl Hugh saw pure malevolent glee. This was not a show trial to scare a man before throwing him into confinement. This was a trial for his life, but a trial at which no argument might be submitted in his defence. His judges put on a fine show of deliberating over possible penalties, but the crimes themselves were accepted as proven. And there was only one punishment to suit the crimes, he realised: he was to die.

  It was curious, to sit here and listen to the men talking about him in this abstract manner, as though he was not there. Only Mortimer and Lancaster would occasionally look at him, as though to remind themselves how repellent he truly was. The others tended to avert their eyes, as though they too felt a little of the guilt of sentencing a man without giving him even the semblance of fairness in his trial. It was a formality, this court, not a court of law in which the truth was weighed and assessed among other evidence.