30 - King's Gold

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Where is the castle prison, do you think?’ Sir Richard said.

  Simon had seen a man leaning negligently against a wall at the farther side of the courtyard. Gesturing at him, he said, ‘I would think if he isn’t the gaoler, he will know who is.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Berkeley Castle

  When Sir Jevan de Bromfield caught sight of Benedetto Bardi, he gave the short bow due to a man of wealth, even if he were a mere merchant.

  ‘Sir Jevan,’ Benedetto said, bowing lower.

  The knight smiled at his politeness. It was natural that a banker should be somewhat obsequious when faced with a man of noble birth. ‘You have enjoyed your meal?’

  ‘His lordship was most courteous.’

  Sir Jevan thought, Yes, he would be. He knows you could lend him enough money to rebuild his entire castle. ‘You are popular.’

  ‘I am fortunate to be able to help people in need,’ Benedetto said.

  Sir Jevan detected smugness; it was enough to turn his stomach. ‘The Queen must be very grateful,’ he said.

  ‘She appreciates the good I can do for her,’ Benedetto said smoothly. ‘I was glad to help her and the King.’

  Sir Jevan commented, ‘Your brother – he suffers from mares, I hear. He was very loud last night.’

  Benedetto nodded; he had to step to one side as a man barged past on his way to the smiths’ forges. ‘Yes, Matteo was attacked by the mob in London. It was a terrible affair – I thought he would die.’

  ‘Death is never pleasant.’ Sir Jevan recalled for a moment the young woman’s face, the shock on her swain’s as his sword thrust into flesh. Those two deaths had been so long ago, he had all but forgotten them. But now there was something that brought them back to him. Benedetto – of course, he told himself. He had gone to meet Benedetto just after killing them both.

  ‘He is a different man since the attack,’ Benedetto said.

  ‘Near-death is bound to affect a man,’ Sir Jevan said, tiring of the conversation and the banker. He looked about him. ‘Is that him?’ He pointed to Matteo.

  ‘Yes,’ Benedetto said. ‘My poor brother. I sometimes fear he will not live long.’

  ‘Really?’ Sir Jevan said distractedly, observing the group with Sir Baldwin, the priest and the woman heading towards the gaol.

  He wanted to speak with that carter too.

  Berkeley Castle Gaol

  Dolwyn squatted at the wall. He had spent a miserable night incarcerated here, but it was no worse than the nights at Newgate, and he could contemplate his future with some equanimity.

  He had seen the two Bardi brothers. That was interesting. He had taken money from one in order to kill another: if that story was not to be betrayed, the man in question should hurry and secure his release. Dolwyn was not going to the gallows without ensuring that those who had hired him suffered the same fate.

  And he still had a parchment in his purse. That was something that plenty of men would be interested to see. Yes, he felt that he had some protection.

  The other two prisoners showed little interest in him. They were more concerned with their own situation, and clearly they had reason to be alarmed. In recent months, they had been enemies of Lord Berkeley and Sir Roger Mortimer, the King’s Regent, and could expect little in the way of sympathy from their captor.

  There was no water to drink, other than a bucket of foul-smelling liquid that could have been dredged from the moat itself. It stank of mud and rancid weed. One other bucket was provided in the room, for which he was grateful. He had heard that many gaolers did not bother with such niceties. He only hoped that the two had not been mixed up.

  It was just as he was beginning to think seriously about how long he could survive without some food, that the door’s lock moved. There was the sound of keys turning, and they all stood up. It was better to face whatever might happen while on their feet.

  The door was pushed wide, and outside there was a series of faces staring in.

  ‘Father, do you recognise any of these?’ a man asked.

  Father Luke peered inside, studying Harry, then Senchet, and then his eyes fell on Dolwyn, and he shook his head.

  ‘No, I know none of these.’

  ‘But I do,’ Sir Jevan said. ‘I would like to speak with this man now.’

  He had seen them over there, Benedetto and that tall knight, pointing at him. Benedetto looked like a farmer, pointing to which sheep he wanted slaughtered, Matteo thought. Not that he would use a man like Sir Jevan as an assassin. Not when there were cheaper men to be bought, like Dolwyn.

  As Sir Jevan left Benedetto and hurried after Baldwin, Matteo walked across the court, Benedetto had scarcely been able to meet his eye. Matteo had that feeling in his back again, as though the blade had never left it.

  He had never felt so lonely and threatened.

  Baldwin was glad of the aid of Sir Jevan. With his help Baldwin was able to summons two men-at-arms, who stood nearby with their weapons ready as the three men were brought up the long, narrow stairs from their cell and out into the sun. There Baldwin called on them to give him their names.

  Only one night, and the sight of them was already enough to inspire sympathy, Baldwin thought to himself. The foreigner, Senchet, was trying to smile, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. Harry was more grim-faced, and spent much of his time peering at Edgar, who stood a short way to his side, wearing his usual easy smile. It was an expression designed to goad others to fury when they saw it, but Harry was clearly not angry, only anxious and wary.

  It was the last man who attracted Baldwin’s attention. He stood with his head lowered, rather like a bull preparing to charge. He did not look concerned at his incarceration. Indeed, he might have been a long-serving prisoner from the way that he glared at Baldwin and the others. He had the gaolbird’s contempt for his guards. His only admission of weakness was the hand he held at his injured side.

  ‘He was the man who delayed me when I was chasing a felon,’ Sir Jevan said.

  ‘You were in charge of the cart?’ Baldwin asked. ‘Sir Jevan here remembers you.’

  ‘Aye – and I remember him well. He did this to me.’

  ‘You were preventing me from chasing a criminal,’ Sir Jevan said between gritted teeth.

  ‘I was walking along a road when you and your companions rode past me. You were the one who couldn’t pass – the others did well enough – and because you were enraged at your poor riding, you stabbed me.’

  ‘You deliberately moved your cart into my path!’

  ‘I was hiding beside my cart so as not to be struck by a fool’s hooves.’

  ‘You are lying!’ Sir Jevan spat, and lifted his arm as though to hit him.

  Baldwin shot a look at Edgar, who smilingly stepped forward and shook his head.

  ‘Out of my way,’ hissed Sir Jevan, but Baldwin spoke quietly.

  ‘Sir Jevan, I am Keeper of the King’s Peace and I will not have a prisoner maltreated in my care.’

  ‘And I will not have him lie about me!’ Sir Jevan roared. He had never been exposed to a peasant’s humour before, and now he could see a sneer of delight twisting Dolwyn’s features. ‘I’ll wipe that smile from his ugly face!’

  ‘No, Sir Jevan, you will not,’ Baldwin said firmly. He turned to Dolwyn. ‘Why did you have weapons in your cart?’

  ‘They were in the cart when I found it.’

  Agatha spat, ‘When you killed my husband, you mean. Coxbones! You deny you killed my poor Ham?’

  ‘What? What do you mean, “killed Ham”?’

  Baldwin was watching him carefully. The man’s surprise was unfeigned. If Baldwin had to guess, he spoke the truth. ‘You deny it?’

  ‘Of course I do. I didn’t kill this Ham. I didn’t even see him.’

  ‘You liar!’ Agatha shouted. She managed to spring forward and clump him on the head before Edgar, distracted by Jevan, could stop her. Father Luke and Simon together pulled her away. She shook them from her, mut
tering angrily.

  ‘What do you say?’ Baldwin demanded.

  ‘I didn’t kill him. I was going to capture him if I could, because he knocked me on the head and left me by the road. But I didn’t lay a finger on him.’

  ‘Why capture him?’ Baldwin asked. ‘To rob him of his money?’

  ‘No,’ Dolwyn said. ‘To give him a headache like the one he gave me.’

  ‘So you took an axe and killed him?’ Agatha said. ‘God’s cods! You make me sick. You killed my poor man to steal the little we had.’

  Dolwyn looked at her. ‘As God is my judge, no. I’ll put my hand on His Gospels and swear, if you want. May He strike me down here and now if I lie. I did not kill him. I got to Willersey late, and settled myself to sleep in the woods. Next morning, I woke to the sound of a horse whinnying, took it and the cart, and went on my way. I saw no one about the place.’

  ‘So you admit you stole the cart?’ Father Luke said.

  ‘I took a cart that was without a master, and a horse. They could have been stolen otherwise. Then, for God’s sake, some fools rode past me and all but killed me. This honourable knight struck at me because he was in a rage at being slowed. Not because of me, but because his own horse was shy.’

  ‘You say I was not capable of riding, eh?’ Sir Jevan would have leaped forward, but for Baldwin and Edgar blocking his path. Sir Jevan put his hand to his sword, but so did Edgar.

  Baldwin shook his head. ‘There is no need for swordplay, Sir Jevan.’

  ‘Your man,’ Sir Jevan said tersely, ‘is in my way.’

  ‘You will not attack the castle’s prisoners,’ Baldwin repeated, before eyeing Dolwyn again. ‘What of the weapons?’

  ‘They were there because of the purveyor,’ Father Luke said sadly. ‘I can explain all.’

  Cirencester

  The town was quiet as the two rode into it, and Stephen Dunheved cast about him warily, looking for any possible threats among the people there.

  He felt very exposed.

  ‘Brother, the more you stare about you, the more likely it is someone will think you suspicious,’ Thomas said. He sat on a large black stallion which they had stolen from the stable of a supporter of Sir Roger Mortimer. At the same time they had liberated cattle and sheep worth almost forty pounds, which was enough to keep the men happy.

  Stephen nodded, but it was hard to look out for men sent to arrest him from under his hat’s brim. In the end he surrendered to fate, drawing his hat down.

  They stopped at a tavern, and paid an urchin to hold their reins for them.

  The young lad eyed them pensively. ‘A penny.’

  Thomas waved a hand in a vague benediction. ‘For both.’

  ‘No, for one.’

  ‘Boy, if you argue I will say a ha’pence for the two.’

  ‘Then I’ll leave them.’ He dropped the reins.

  Stephen widened his eyes. ‘Have you been boxed about the ears recently, lad? You soon will be.’

  ‘A penny each.’

  Thomas chuckled to himself. He pulled a silver penny from his pocket and held it out. ‘When we return – if you have looked after our beasts well.’

  ‘A’ right, sir,’ the boy agreed with a smile.

  ‘That was too much,’ Stephen said as they walked away. But there was little point in haggling. It would only spark interest in them that was bound to be unwelcome.

  ‘Come,’ Thomas said, leading the way.

  The streets were broad, the houses appearing wealthy with their yellow stone, the occasional house of wood with wattle and daub and thatch that Stephen was used to. But it was the wealth of the people here that was so apparent. Stephen was amazed by the signs of affluence.

  ‘It is like a tiny London,’ he breathed. This was the wealth that came from sheep, he knew.

  ‘The abbey is very rich,’ Thomas agreed. He stood at the corner of the street and looked about him. ‘I think this will do, brother. Do you not?’

  Stephen stood and stared about at the town. A sleepy, rural town, he thought to himself. ‘Perfect,’ he said.

  ‘Then we shall take a wet to clean the dust from our throats, beg God’s good will upon our efforts, and retire to collect our band together,’ Thomas told him with a smile. He glanced about him again. ‘Yes. This will serve our needs very well.’

  Berkeley Castle

  Luke sighed as the men all turned to him.

  ‘I was given the chest for safekeeping,’ he began. ‘It was while the King’s reign was ending, and I had no understanding of how much money there was in there. All I knew was that a servant of Sir Hugh le Despenser had asked me to look after a chest. I did so. And when I heard of his death, I recalled the chest, and went to look at it. I opened it and found it full of purses of coin, containing hundreds of florins. It was obvious I couldn’t keep them, and just as obvious that Sir Hugh had no more need of them. So I bethought myself that it would be best to have the money passed over to he who had the most right to it – and that, it seemed to me, was the King.’

  ‘Sir Edward of Caernarfon, you mean?’ Baldwin said.

  ‘Yes. So when I heard that Ham, this good woman’s husband, was to take his cart all the way to Kenilworth, it seemed a good idea to join him. He was with a purveyor, and I thought I should be safe in their company.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And then Ham, the fool, stopped at the wayside, and two men threw weapons onto the cart, and we were sworn to silence. I heard one say that my cloth would protect them as they tried to enter the castle.’

  His face registered his shock and dismay at having been duped. He told them all about the attack, the sudden explosion of violence, the dead men and those who fled the place in terror.

  ‘In all truth I do not know how I survived.’

  ‘But you made your way home?’

  ‘Yes. In the end. I finally reached my home and thought that my trials were ended,’ Luke sighed. ‘But then, as soon as I saw Agatha, I knew that I was being selfish. I could not leave her knowing nothing of her husband’s end. I had to make her aware of what had happened. And then we found poor Ham’s body in the woods outside the vill. It was a terrible discovery.’

  Luke held his hands out in a gesture of pleading. ‘We did all we could for him – but nobody saw him die. He was killed with an axe. A horrible sight.’

  ‘What sort of an axe?’ Baldwin asked. ‘A war axe, such as was in the cart?’

  ‘No,’ Luke said. ‘Just a small hatchet, such as any man might have for breaking wood for the fire.’

  ‘Did your husband have such an axe in his cart?’ Baldwin asked.

  ‘He always had one,’ Agatha responded. She was shaking with emotion, Luke saw. He went to her and patted her back. ‘He kept it beneath the plank in front, where he might catch hold in need. He didn’t have a sword, it was all he possessed to defend himself if attacked.’

  ‘Check to see whether there is such an axe in the cart,’ Baldwin said to Edgar.

  Edgar wandered over to the cart. He searched all around the plank and beneath it before going to the weapons and goods in the bed. He riffled through them before returning with a shake of his head. ‘Nothing there.’

  Baldwin eyed Dolwyn. ‘I don’t know why you chose to do it, but I believe the evidence suggests you were guilty of his murder. The weapon used to kill him was probably on the cart, and you were found with the cart.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with it,’ Dolwyn said strongly. ‘And there are men here who can vouch for me. Matteo Bardi will speak for me – and his friend Alured, I think. They both know me well enough.’

  Baldwin heard running feet and turned to see a young messenger boy. ‘Sir Edward would see you, Sir Baldwin.’

  ‘Very well.’ Baldwin looked over at Dolwyn. ‘I hope you will be fortunate in calling these friends to speak for your character. We shall discuss this matter later. Edgar, return these fellows to the gaol.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  King’s Chamber, Berke
ley Castle

  The room was a mean little cell for a man who had been King, Baldwin felt.

  There were windows to the right and in front of him, and a table stood at the far wall, but there were no glorious hangings, nor pictures painted on the plain limewash of the walls. As Baldwin stood in the doorway, Sir Edward gestured to his steward and two pages. They bowed and left in unison.

  ‘I am glad you could come,’ Sir Edward said.

  Baldwin could see he was distraught. His face was lined with worry, his eyes looked dull and faded, and his flesh was pasty, like a man who has endured a long fever which has only recently broken. Even his once-luxuriant hair was paler, and lacking in lustre.

  ‘You look upon me as you might a leper: with pity but also revulsion,’ Sir Edward said.

  ‘I am sorry, my lord, it was just . . . you are so despondent. You—’

  Sir Edward sighed. ‘I know, my friend. You are a loyal subject.’

  It was a miracle that he could retain any of his calm demeanour. Baldwin was not sure that he could remain so collected, were their roles reversed. To be confined in a chamber like this must be torture to a man who had been used to riding each morning, and who was of a gregarious nature. The King had loved feasts and dancing, tournaments and joining in the country pursuits of the meanest villeins. His was a world of activity, not that of a ascetic. But here he was now, shut away from all that.

  ‘You know, at night in Kenilworth I used to plead with God for the love of a close companion. And do you know what I now beg for? That I never know another man so well, that there is never another beloved fellow so close to my heart. Because I am cursed, Sir Baldwin. All my loyal servants die. They must pay the price for being my friends. I never want to lose a friend like that again.’

  ‘Your Majesty, I am—’

  ‘No!’ Sir Edward stared at Baldwin. ‘Do not call me that. You can see that I am merely a prisoner, Sir Baldwin. I cannot come and go at will. To pretend that I am King is to play to my vanity. And I would hear the truth. It is less unpalatable than lies. Call me as the others do: Sir Edward. It is at least honourable enough. They have not removed my chivalry,’ he added with an icy calm.