Dispensation of Death

Chapter Thirty-One

‘Baldwin, what is the matter?’

‘You would hardly believe it, Simon,’ Baldwin said, his teeth gritted. ‘The King denies that there is anything to be discussed. He agrees that we have found where the man was staying, but apart from that says we have nothing. He said that the assassin, Jack, was a known felon, so whoever killed him was doing the King a service, especially as the man was obviously here to kill the Queen — and possibly Mabilla too. In God’s name! Have you ever heard such nonsense?’

‘What of Sir Hugh’s horse?’

‘Oh, he knew all about that! Sir Hugh had already told him that a known horse-thief had taken one of his mounts and it was found last night as people were trying to put out the flames at the inn where the man was staying. The King actually made it sound as though he was unimpressed with us, Simon, because Sir Hugh had learned of this place within a little while of us ourselves, and he more or less accused me of being dilatory and lazy. Me! Dear heaven, what can I do to escape this iniquitous den of malevolent, mendacious, manipulative, mean-minded …’

‘Don’t forget “mercenary”,’ Simon prompted.

‘Go fall from a horse,’ Baldwin growled. ‘Look about you, Simon. The King wished to be deluded about the true nature of his chief adviser and friend; here, all try to gallop to a better position compared with others by telling the King and his companion what they want to hear. There may be a short interval while a man seeks to do something for the common good, but that is over in the blink of an eye, because if it suits neither the King’s dreams nor his adviser’s ambitions, it will be forgotten. There is nothing that so embitters a man as to see his good intentions discarded by another for the simple reason that he can see personal advantage by so doing. Dear God in heaven! What must a man do?’

Simon was frowning. ‘Has the King heard about the attempt on Despenser’s life?’

Baldwin nodded. ‘Yes. He knows all about that — his guards kept him informed. He is furious about it. I think that was why he did not make his own speech today. Partly because his voice could have betrayed his rage, and partly because he wanted to demonstrate that his favourite still has his full trust and support.’

Simon looked about him at the walls. ‘It didn’t occur to me before, but there are more men about here today.’

‘The King is treating it as a serious attempt. So is Despenser. The bolt flew very close, so I have heard. The King asked me to forget all about the attack on the Queen, and instead to seek the men who decided to pay an assassin to kill his friend.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I thought the Queen was more deserving of my protection. Despenser can go hang! He has his own men to guard him, and he is responsible for breaking apart the Queen’s household and imprisoning or sending abroad all her own guards. Why should I seek to help him compared to her?’

‘You said all that?’ Simon felt a leaden-like weight in his belly. In that case, the die was cast. If Baldwin had summarily rejected the King’s request for help, they would both have lost any patronage which might have been flowing their way.

‘No. Only the first, that the Queen was in more need of my help, and that as her husband he would naturally want me to bend all my efforts to her protection,’ Baldwin said. He turned away from Simon and put a hand to his temple. ‘In God’s name, I swear I wish I had never come here to this cursed isle! There is no good can come of it, not for you nor I. All we can do is hope to survive and not be consumed in this political morass.’

‘What’s a morass?’

‘A bog.’

‘Ah,’ Simon smiled brightly. ‘Yes. It is that.’

He was inclined to fear for a while, but then he remembered the sight of the dead Mabilla, and was disgusted that any man could want to divert attention from her murder to an attempt on the life of Despenser. ‘Sir Hugh is a repellent character. The more I see of him, the more easily I can understand someone trying to kill the bastard.’

‘He is worse than you can imagine,’ Baldwin said.

‘What of the King, though? Would he punish you for refusing to seek the attacker of Despenser?’

Baldwin shook his head. ‘He was very upset that someone could have attempted to hurt his … his friend.’

He drew Simon away to a shadowy corner to speak his mind. ‘Look, Simon, if he were to punish me for simply seeking the person who tried to kill his wife, it would put him in bad odour with everyone else, even those in his own court. He cannot do that. What he can, and may do, is find some other pretext for harming or hurting me. At least at present you are secure. There is no one who can link you to my refusal. You have to keep yourself out of the way so far as is possible.’

‘I am not going to leave you to hunt this man on your own. I have my own pride, Sir Baldwin. I am keen to bring Mabilla’s murderer to justice if I may.’

‘I know, old friend.’ Baldwin gripped his shoulder. ‘We merely have to keep our heads on our shoulders long enough to make sure that we can.’

Simon set his mind back to those earlier murders. ‘Do we agree that the man Jack was here to see the Queen killed?’

‘Of course he was! But someone was defending her.’

‘Then the best course for us would be to meet her again and warn her that another could be sent to achieve where he failed.’

Baldwin looked at him. ‘You are right, but I do not take on that task with any great enthusiasm, Simon. If the Queen has a brain, she will be fully aware that her life is in danger. In her heart she must be praying to be sent to France to negotiate with her brother.’

‘Surely the danger to herself will only spur her on to demand that she be sent?’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin grunted, and then his brow furrowed.

‘What?’

‘I was thinking that if Despenser wished to be rid of her, the easiest option now would be to ensure that she was sent off to France, urgently. Having an assassin found making an attempt on her life would be no bad way to achieve it. If she could tell the King of France that her life was being threatened, he would send messengers demanding safe passage for her in an instant.’

‘Despenser is a devious, political man,’ Simon said.

Baldwin shook his head. ‘But … although I would be happy to believe anything evil of him, and it is easy to imagine that he is ruthless enough to have a loyal servant destroyed to fulfil a desire, surely he would not have a man cut off his tarse and shove it in his mouth in sign of his sodomy with the King.’

‘Yes. It makes no sense,’ Simon agreed. ‘I’d more easily believe the Queen had arranged it herself.’

‘At least the foul symbolism would be more believable,’ Baldwin nodded.

Sir Hugh le Despenser was still feeling that creeping sensation at his back as he walked past the Great Hall on his way to the King’s rooms. Ellis was not with him, and he felt uneasy.

He was startled when a burly figure appeared before him.

His sudden panic was reflected in his speedy grabbing at his sword-hilt, and his hasty attempt to draw steel, but before he could do so, he suddenly recognised the man. ‘Oh, Coroner. I am glad you have deigned to visit me at last!’

‘I am a man with many calls on my time — rather like you. We both appear to be busy just now, do we not?’

‘I am always busy in the service of the King. You should be too. You heard about the man who tried to murder me last night? A crossbowman out there in the New Palace Yard.’

‘Yes, I heard a little about it. However, I was more interested in the matter I was shown this morning. There was a little inn over at Chelchede — the Swan. Did you know it? A nice little place, it was. It was taken by some men last night and fired.’

‘Yes, I heard about it. A thief there had stolen a horse of mine. My men found it as they tried to put out the fires. I hope you will have held an inquest on the dead and issued the usual fines. But more serious is an attempted assassination against the King’s own adviser. What are you to do about that?’

‘About the attempt on your life? What should I do?’

‘You are the Coroner! Do your job!’

‘My “job”, as you term it, is to record all cases of sudden death, to note the methods by which death occurred, and to hold those records until a man can be put on the county before the jury. I am no investigating angel.’

‘Then who is?’

‘If you want a man to seek out a killer, you should ask the good Keeper of the King’s Peace to do so. He has a good deal of investigative experience, and I am sure you know him well enough to engage his aid.’

‘What are you talking about!’ Despenser spat. ‘I hardly know the man!’

Sir John smiled cynically. ‘Of course not. You are mere acquaintances. No matter — I need to speak to you about the death at the inn. Your men were seen there.’

‘I told you. A known horse-thief had taken one of my horses. My men went to retrieve it.’

‘I have been told that they were seen tormenting the innkeeper and then firing the place.’

‘You’ll find no witnesses to give any evidence to that. They were mistaken, clearly. No man of mine would do that. Now, if you don’t mind, I have business to attend to.’

‘I see.’

‘However, Coroner, if you want to be useful to the King, you should seek to find out who could have sent that crossbowman. He might have been intending to harm the King, you realise?’

Sir John bowed, keeping his eyes on the man all the while, and as Sir Hugh stalked away, he wondered aloud: ‘So, was he lying again, or was he telling the truth this time, and you are not really a companion of his, Sir Baldwin?’

William Pilk was satisfied with the efforts of the last day or two. He had successfully carried out my Lord Despenser’s command about razing the inn to the ground, and now he was assured of an improved position at the next opportunity. What with money and promotion, he felt much was all right with the world.

Ellis was at the alehouse by the gatehouse as William walked past, and he shouted to William, ‘Hey! Where’s Sir Hugh?’

‘You talking to me?’ William returned disdainfully.

Ellis was unused to being challenged. ‘Yes, you pilcock. Where is he?’

‘He has been having talks with the King. I think he’s still there now.’

‘Has he asked for me?’

‘No. He has enough men about him already.’

Ellis peered at him disbelievingly. This timid little arse was being cheeky. ‘Hey, are you pissed or what?’ he asked.

William looked at the alehouse and then down meaningfully at the pot in Ellis’s hand. ‘No. Are you?’

‘Why — you little shit!’

Ellis hurled his pot at William, and as the latter lifted a hand to shield himself, Ellis was up on his feet and hurtling straight at him, fists already bunched.

William had no time to wipe the ale from his eyes before the first punch hit him. It knocked him backwards, and he fell over a loose cobble. Looking up, Ellis was nearly on him, and Pilk rolled quickly away at the last moment. Ellis blundered by, trying to change direction, but too late. As he went, William Pilk reached out and caught his ankle. He gave a twist and Ellis uttered a shriek.

William rose to his feet, wiping his face. Ellis too, more cautious this time, going gently on his right leg where the pain was shooting up from a badly twisted ankle.

At William’s side was a stall where a fishmonger had a display of fish from the sea and the Thames. He picked up a whole eel, and as Ellis came on again, he flicked it like a whip. The head struck Ellis in the eye, and he had to turn his face away even as William vaulted towards him and wrapped the thing about Ellis’s throat, pulling as hard as he could.

Foolish! It was slippery in his fist. Ellis jerked and strained, and reached over his head to grab at William’s nose. William felt as though it was going to be wrenched from his face, and let go the fish to save it. Immediately an elbow slammed back towards him. It just missed his belly, but his flank felt like a donkey had kicked him.

It put Ellis off-balance, though. William gathered both fists together and swung them at his opponent’s face. They pounded into his temple by the already swelling eye, and Ellis fell back, shocked. William went in closer, and clubbed his nose. There was a crunch of gristle, and he was enjoying the sight of all that blood spraying around when he felt a sudden explosion in his abdomen.

He curled up, bent double, eyes wide as his lungs screamed for air, air he couldn’t possibly take in. While he gasped, Ellis stood, shaking blood from his face. His fist bounced wildly from the back of William’s skull. It was a glancing blow, but enough to topple him to the ground. And then Ellis began to kick. He had two good boots into the kidneys and then clipped William’s head once, before a slamming blow struck his own head and he paused. While he reflected, the cudgel crashed into his head again, and he fell to his knees.

‘I think you ought to stay there a moment and reflect,’ Coroner John said happily. He swung the cudgel on the little thong that encircled his wrist, but seeing that there was little likelihood of the squirming, choking and weeping William returning to the fray any more than the dazed Ellis, he took the thong from his wrist and tossed it gently back towards the innkeeper.

‘Don’t think they’ll be any more bother,’ he said. ‘You two, I suggest you buy each other an ale and make up your differences before my Lord Despenser sees you. He won’t be too happy to see his two best boys beating each other up like this, will he?’

He saw that Ellis was staring at him now with a fury that was only matched by William Pilk’s as he gazed at Ellis, but the Coroner was unconcerned. Their master was a threat to him, certainly, but these two were hardly the kind to give him sleepless nights. They would only attack him were their master to consider him a threat, and sadly the Coroner knew he was nothing of the sort. Who would dare to be a threat to Sir Hugh le Despenser?

Sir Baldwin and his friend were a curious pair. It was plain enough that neither of them trusted him. It was a little hurtful, but understandable in this madhouse of intrigue. Even after Sir Hugh’s words, John didn’t trust Simon and Baldwin yet, either.