30 - King's Gold

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Damn these fiends,’ Sir Richard said, waving his hand to keep them from his face, which bore a wholly untypical glower of disgust.

  Simon had known Sir Richard for some years now, and had never seen him flinch at the sight of a corpse before, however ancient and noisome. But this was different. The stench in here was overpowering.

  Sir Ranulf and his clerk walked with Sir Richard to stare down at the body.

  ‘I think,’ Sir Ranulf said, ‘we should conduct this inquest as soon as we may.’

  The clerk had thrust his face into the elbow of his sleeve. His voice was was muffled as he replied, ‘Yes. And then have the poor fellow buried.’

  The coroner nodded, still staring down at the ravaged figure, and then turned on his heel and was marching away. ‘Right, Sir Richard, could you aid me in collecting together all the men in the castle and in the town for our jury. We shall require them to gather here in the morning. With luck we can expedite matters and have the body delivered to the priest by luncheon.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Sir Ranulf looked about him as they emerged into the daylight again. ‘This is a good little fortress, isn’t it? And I believe you have a prisoner here.’

  ‘True. Sir Edward of Caernarfon is held in the back over there,’ Sir Richard replied.

  ‘I should like to see him,’ Sir Ranulf said.

  Sir Richard smiled. ‘There would be no trouble with that, Sir Ranulf. But anyone visiting Sir Edward must remain tolerably polite.’

  ‘But of course,’ said Sir Ranulf. ‘How else would one behave to our last King?’

  Second Friday after Easter56

  Berkeley Castle

  The castle had returned to its accustomed quietness after the inquest, and the men of the jury had dispersed back to their fields and labours by early afternoon.

  Simon and Sir Richard sat with the coroner and his clerk in the hall while the two ate.

  Sir Ranulf was an astute man, Simon learned. This was another in the mould of Sir Richard, who appeared to have a genuine interest in discovering who was guilty of a crime.

  ‘The man Dolwyn was not convincing,’ Sir Ranulf said meditatively. ‘And he is owed a hanging, I hear.’

  ‘He had the manner of a man determined to remain in gaol,’ Sir Richard commented, pulling the thigh from the chicken on the board before him and taking a gargantuan bite. ‘I think he has a lot of secrets to keep.’

  ‘But do you think he killed Sir Jevan?’ Sir Ranulf asked.

  ‘No. And I’m glad that the task of deciding his guilt or innocence is up to a Justice and not me,’ Sir Richard told him.

  Simon shook his head. Dolwyn had cut a mean figure. He had the pallor of a gaol-bird already, and his responses to all questions were insolent, as though he was already convinced he would hang for this murder. ‘I think him innocent.’

  Sir Richard glanced at him. ‘Perhaps. Not our place to decide.’

  The coroner for the county stared at his trencher with a frown. ‘There would appear to be few friends of this Sir Jevan. Soon all the men here who could have committed the crime will be flown. Then justice will be difficult to pursue.’

  ‘I am sure that Harry and Senchet had nothing to do with the murder,’ Simon said.

  ‘As am I,’ concurred Sir Richard.

  ‘Then, my friends, I recommend that you both bend your efforts to discover the true culprit,’ Sir Ranulf said.

  Simon looked at the food on his trencher. He had lost his appetite. The local courts would decide upon the guilt or innocence of Dolwyn, and the comfort of passing the responsibility to another was shattered. He knew he must seek the murderer.

  Of the men who had cause to wish to see Sir Jevan dead, he felt sure that the Bardi brothers or Alured were the most likely suspects. He knew that they had motives: Benedetto to punish Sir Jevan for attempting to kill Matteo; Matteo in revenge for his injuries. Both would think Sir Jevan guilty, because Alured had shown them that the man was a murderer.

  But whoever had killed him had used an axe and left it in the body, just as Ham had been murdered. And Dolwyn was accused of that murder too.

  Sir Ranulf continued, ‘I would aid you, but I have two more corpses to view.’ He sighed, pushed his trencher from him and leaned away from the table. ‘The last year has provided me with more corpses than I ever wished to see.’

  ‘Aye,’ his clerk said. ‘And it will become worse.’

  ‘How so?’ Sir Richard said. ‘The kingdom is at ease.’

  Rodney looked at Sir Ranulf. ‘Do you really believe the land is at peace? While Sir Edward of Caernarfon lives, there is a rallying point for those who would rebel against the new order. If we are not careful, he will be released and the wars will start again.’

  ‘War!’ Sir Ranulf said. ‘I know little of war, but I do know murder when I see it. And there are plenty of men willing to free Sir Edward. They say that he is still the legitimate King.’

  ‘We have to keep him safe,’ Sir Richard said.

  ‘From harm,’ Sir Ranulf added.

  Simon nodded too, but as he glanced at Sir Richard, he thought the knight sent a nod and slight wink in his direction. Sir Richard would help him find the murderer of Sir Jevan, he felt sure.

  Cirencester

  The news that they had been expecting came all too soon. Frere Thomas was already calmly sitting on a bench in the little tavern when his brother walked in.

  Stephen was wearing a short tunic, a cowl and hood, like any number of peasants in the area, and the two brothers nodded to each other imperceptibly as their eyes met, but beyond that there was no sign that they had seen each other.

  Thomas watched Stephen walk to the bar and lean on it, asking for ale, while all the time, Thomas’s ears were straining outside. There was nothing to indicate that either had been followed in here, and all his anxiety fled as he realised that their plans had worked. They were safe.

  He stood, made a smiling bow at the wench at the bar, giving her the sign of the cross, then walked out to the bench at the door outside. A few moments later a shadow fell over him, and he knew it was Stephen.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘As we thought, Tom, the King has demanded that all his men leave to join him up in the north. The lands about here are growing empty.’

  ‘Good. Then we should begin to make their lives more exciting,’ Thomas said.

  Stephen said no more. The men in their gang knew what was expected. He walked away from Thomas, and the latter uttered a short prayer for success. He did not plead his case or that of Stephen, he merely asked that their patron, the man who had once been King, should be returned to his throne. As God must require.

  And that thought itself was enough to make him content.

  Berkeley Castle

  Sir Ralph was surprised when the knock came, and a moment or two later Sir Richard and Sir Ranulf were in the chamber and introducing the coroner to the King.

  ‘Your Highness,’ Sir Ranulf said, bowing. ‘I hope I find you comfortable?’

  Sir Ralph smiled to see the expression on Sir Edward’s face. It was that of a man who has been given a pot of iced water in a desert. ‘As you can see, sir, it is not the accommodation I would have chosen,’ he said deprecatingly, with a gesture around the room. ‘But it suffices.’

  ‘You have all you need?’ Sir Ranulf asked.

  ‘I have excellent company, my friend, but I lack books. That is my greatest sorrow.’

  ‘I shall ensure that books are sent to you, sire.’

  Sir Ralph frowned. It was unkind of the coroner to pretend to help. He thought he should interrupt, but was unsure how to.

  ‘I would be grateful.’

  Sir Ranulf glanced about the chamber with a critical eye. ‘You must let me know if there is anything else you need, sire. And one other thing. Her Royal Highness, your wife, wishes me to tell you she thinks of you with fondness, and has asked me to arrange for some presents to be brought. Wine, some clothing, and choice meats
. I shall arrange this with the custodian of the castle.’

  Sir Richard appeared to stir himself. ‘Hey? Do you have a letter from Her Highness, or anything to confirm all this?’

  The coroner smiled. ‘I was asked to visit to enquire about Sir Edward. It was simply fortuitous that you had a death here as well.’

  Sir Ralph rose and peered at the letter with Sir Richard when Sir Edward had studied it.

  ‘It is genuine,’ Sir Edward said. ‘Please tell my wife that I am glad, and grateful for her thoughts and gifts.’

  Sir Ranulf spoke with Sir Edward for some little while, and Sir Ralph was glad to see his lord keenly enthusiastic all the while. Only when the guests had left the chamber, did Sir Edward’s mask fall.

  He fell into his seat and covered his eyes.

  ‘Sir Edward?’ Sir Ralph rose to his feet, perturbed.

  ‘What does she wish to do? Torture me? Promising presents – books, clothes. Why, to remind me of all I have lost? Or does she tease me, showing me all the luxuries that her damned lover enjoys?’

  Willersey

  The day was overcast and heavy with the threat of rain as Father Luke walked from his church door to the little patch of garden, carrying his hoe.

  ‘Hello, Jen,’ he called with a smile.

  She gave a startled jump like a young foal, and turned a face of tragic misery to him.

  ‘Jen,’ he said, shocked at the sight. ‘Please, maid, come here and let me hold you.’

  She slowly crossed the path to him, and he put his arms about her. ‘Dear child, you are skin and bone,’ he said. ‘You must eat, or you will not flourish.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I have no hunger.’

  ‘Jen, your father wouldn’t wish to think that his death would cause yours,’ Luke said firmly. ‘You need to eat and remember how good your father was, so that his memory, and your love for him, will live on.’

  ‘I miss him so much!’ she blurted out, sobbing.

  He knelt before her, and she put her head on his shoulder, weeping with all the passion of a grown woman.

  Father Luke cradled her skinny body and had to blink to keep his own tears at bay. This poor little girl.

  He felt as though the despair of the world was resting on his shoulders.

  Second Saturday after Easter57

  Berkeley Castle

  Simon and Sir Richard sat on a bench outside the gaol as Dolwyn, Harry and Senchet were brought to them.

  The day was warm and humid, but of the three men, Dolwyn shivered like a man with the ague.

  ‘Do you know why we’ve brought you here?’ Sir Richard asked, his eyes resting on each of them in turn.

  Harry spoke first. ‘We know nothing, sir. We were asleep in our beds when the screams woke us, and we followed Master Dolwyn to find the cause, as we should.’

  ‘You are here because we believe you,’ Simon said. ‘Look, we do not think you are guilty. It makes no sense for any of you to have slain Sir Jevan, so far as we can see. So we wish to do what we may to have you released. But in order to do that, we have to know if you can tell us any more about what happened, the night Sir Jevan died.’

  ‘We were asleep,’ Harry said simply. ‘It was his screams that woke us.’

  ‘All we did was go to help a man being attacked,’ Senchet agreed.

  ‘What of you, Dolwyn?’ Sir Richard asked.

  ‘I was in my bed, same as these. We were all woken by the screams.’

  ‘When you reached the body, then – is there anything more you can tell us?’

  ‘Sir Richard, if there had been anything I could have said to aid my defence, I would have told the coroner at the inquest.’

  Sir Richard nodded and looked across at Simon.

  Simon shrugged dispiritedly. ‘Ach! I wish Baldwin were here,’ he said.

  Near Stockport

  Baldwin rose with the sun. He and Edgar worked in a companionable silence as they saddled and bridled their horses. Both knew their work, and had spent so many years together that there was seldom need for a word to pass between them. Much as John had been with Paul. It made him feel even more lonely to see them – he felt like an intruder.

  Yet he had to get back with them to warn the Dunheveds that the plan was already known and risked disaster, were they to continue. The words of Lord Berkeley were not idly spoken; he clearly knew that there was to be an attempt upon the castle. Sir Edward of Caernarfon would be at risk: he could well die.

  ‘Sir Baldwin,’ he said as they trotted along the road, ‘do you think that Lord Berkeley knows something about the men guarding the old King?’

  ‘Yes,’ Baldwin stated. His tone was rough, as though he hated to speak such words.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If I had to guess, I would think that the castle has a man or men inside it whose task it is to ensure that the good Sir Edward never leaves it alive,’ Baldwin said gruffly. ‘And if I were to speculate, I would guess that it was not my Lord Berkeley’s man, but another’s.’

  ‘Whose?’

  Sir Baldwin looked at him as if measuring him. Speaking too plainly to someone who was not a close companion was always dangerous. There were men willing to spy for others at all levels in the nation. But Sir Baldwin was not a man to be fearful of speaking what he believed to be the truth.

  ‘At a guess, I would think Sir Roger Mortimer’s,’ he said. ‘No one else would be as easy to command as a man loyal to Sir Roger.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Sir Edward of Caernarfon’s chamber

  ‘Bring me wine,’ Sir Edward demanded.

  The days were inexpressibly tedious. His new books had not arrived, and all his other activities were curtailed, so that his hours were spent staring at the whitewashed walls overwhelmed with self-pity.

  One of the few pleasures left to him was wine. At least when he was drunk he was less aware of Sir Ralph’s pained expression. He knew that Sir Ralph considered him a spent force. Gilbert was as bad. He sat on a stool near the door with the look of a man who had bitten into an apple to find half a maggot.

  His entire life had been spent under the gaze of others. In his role as law-maker and judge, every moment had taken place in public, and even his private existence was observed. He had never known true peace, except those glorious hours spent alone with his closest companions: Sir Hugh le Despenser, and before him Sir Piers Gaveston.

  Now, all his friends were gone. In their place were these glum churls.

  The sound of a man rapping at his door made him sigh heavily. More fools come to pester him, or insult him, no doubt.

  He motioned and the guard nearer the door opened it to show Sir Richard de Welles and Simon Puttock.

  ‘Yes?’ Sir Edward demanded.

  ‘We came to ensure you were comfortable, Sir Edward,’ Sir Richard rumbled.

  Sir Edward waved a hand about him. ‘Look at my marvellous accommodation, and the cheery company. Surely I could wish for nothing more.’

  The sardonic tone was painful to hear, and Simon looked about him to avoid Sir Edward’s gaze, while Sir Richard turned and ordered Gilbert and a steward from the room. They demurred, and it took a threatening glower from Sir Richard to finally get them to leave. Sir Ralph remained.

  ‘Sir Edward,’ Sir Richard began, ‘we have had a murder in the castle. A knight called Sir Jevan.’

  ‘He broke his oath to me; I will not mourn him.’

  ‘You won’t be alone in that. Some believe Master Dolwyn of Guildford killed the fellow.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Sir Richard said. ‘There are others with more reason to want to kill him.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Benedetto di Bardi,’ said Simon, and explained about the murder of the two youngsters, as described by Alured.

  ‘But,’ Sir Edward said, ‘the Bardis are good, loyal servants of the Crown. They would not seek to support a murderer.’

  ‘Sir Edward,’ Simon interposed, ‘you
know, I think, of the letter that this man Dolwyn carried?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘It was written by the Bardis, but Benedetto was determined to aid the Queen, not you. Through Sir Jevan, he gave her his assurance of money and support. I think Matteo was on your side – which could explain why Sir Jevan may have attempted to kill him.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Sir Edward agreed. ‘What of it?’

  Simon took a deep breath. ‘I have to ask: Sir Jevan was no friend of yours. Did you arrange for him to be slain? If so, we shall drop the matter. But if you did not, we feel bound to enquire into it.’

  Sir Edward met his look with a firm determination. ‘I have not instructed, asked nor requested that any man should kill Sir Jevan.’

  ‘In that case, we must speak with Alured and the Bardis,’ Simon said.

  Third Wednesday after Easter58

  Berkeley Castle

  Baldwin saw the castle rising before him at last with a distinct relief. The last days of riding at speed had been hard, and he would be glad indeed of a bed.

  He rode in under the gatehouse with Edgar close at his side, Wolf lumbering along behind them. John had been with them until the day before, but then, during the morning, he had told Baldwin that he was unwell. It was true that he looked very pale and jittery, but to Baldwin, it looked as though the man was scared. To put it bluntly: petrified. Of what, Baldwin had no idea, but he was persuaded that it was something or someone to do with the castle.

  Whatever the reason, Baldwin was of no mind to drag him back to Berkeley if he was unwilling. He was happy to let the fellow go and continue alone with Edgar.

  Simon was in the court with his servant Hugh when Baldwin clattered into the yard.

  ‘Good God, Baldwin!’ Simon exclaimed, his face wiped free of the look of introspection that had clouded it. ‘It is good to see you, old friend.’

  In a short time they were inside the hall with mazers of wine in their hands.

  ‘So, what brought you back before the muster?’ Simon asked.

  Baldwin told him about the fight with the Scots. ‘They were from Donald of Mar. Since they were heading south, Lord Berkeley felt that they could be gathering in order to try to free Sir Edward.’