King's Gold

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Kenilworth

John climbed into the saddle with a sigh of thankfulness. He had no desire to be on horseback again so soon, but anything was better than remaining here in the castle. He constantly felt the need to keep his head down. It was a relief that he had been billeted outside the castle itself, along with many of the Berkeley men. There was not room for all inside.

It was impossible not to be worried. No matter where he looked, he saw men against whom only a few days before, he had fought. That fellow there, to the left of the main gates, he was one of those who had stood in John and Paul’s way as they tried to rush the gates; that fellow by the windlass, he was one of those John had seen in the yard. All about him were men who would be sure to recognise him at any moment. His nerves were in tatters.

A shiver ran through his frame at the thought that this was the place where Paul had died. It was here that John himself had killed the guard at the gate. More blood, he thought, more unnecessary death.

Already the horns were blaring their strident call, and the first of the men were beginning to walk on their horses towards the gates, led by their two commanders, Lord Thomas de Berkeley, and his brother-in-law, Sir John Maltravers, who both made a show of hardly acknowledging the presence of their charge. Lord Thomas gave Sir Edward of Caernarfon a curt nod, John saw, but nothing more. It was deeply insulting, and he seethed with indignation on Sir Edward’s behalf. Not long ago, those two men were in gaol because of their disrespect and treachery to their King. And now they felt they could treat that same man with the contempt usually reserved for a villein from their estates. For his part, he felt only sympathy and sadness. Like him, Sir Edward had lost all his closest friends and companions.

He clapped spurs to his beast’s flanks and clicked his tongue, and soon he was moving off with all the others, and as he went, his worry about being discovered was blown away with the wind. Once the cavalcade was outside the gates, and away from that dread garrison of men loyal to Earl Henry of Lancaster, it would be time for him to follow with the rearguard. At that thought he felt renewed, and could look about him with his head held high once more.

And then he saw that among the last men to leave the castle was Sir Jevan de Bromfield on his horse, and John felt his heart sink to his feet as he ducked his head down and pulled his hood over his brow.

Kenilworth Castle

‘So where have you been hiding?’ Baldwin said.

‘Hardly hiding,’ Simon grunted. They were thundering over the causeway now, and the low, grumbling sound was making his head pound still harder. ‘Sir Richard met me at Edith’s house.’

‘Oh, he is here, is he?’

‘Hence my head.’

Baldwin smiled. A man who was abstemious himself, he rarely suffered from hangovers, but he could at least sympathise with a man in as much pain as Simon. ‘Hopefully it will improve as we ride. That is the pleasure of riding in good, clear weather.’

‘Apart from the dust,’ Simon pointed out grimly.

Already, as the lead horses left the wooden causeway and trotted over the dried earth of the roadway at the other side, a fine mist was forming in the air.

Baldwin nodded and pulled at his neckerchief. He would tie it over his face, now the dust had become worse.

‘When did you get here?’ Simon asked.

‘Three days ago,’ Baldwin said with a grin. ‘Apparently Sir Edward asked to have friends whom he could trust to join him on the road.’

‘Why you as well?’ Simon wondered. ‘Aren’t there enough here already?’

‘We’re here to help guard him from you, Simon, and the rest of the men here,’ Baldwin said.

Simon winced. ‘I don’t think I want to hear any more.’

‘We will be well enough,’ Baldwin said. ‘Sir Ralph is riding with the King, and we agreed that I would have a look over the rest of the men in the escort. I would be glad if you would too, and let me know if you see or hear anything suspicious, old friend. It is good to know that you are here, and Sir Richard. If ever there was a man less likely to be a danger to the King, it would be him.’

‘I have heard nothing,’ Simon said. He cast a look about them, idly studying the men nearest. ‘The only fellow I have encountered here is a man called Sir Jevan. Do you know him?’

‘By reputation. He is one of the new breed of knight,’ Baldwin said dismissively. ‘One of those who lives by the sword and seeks only enrichment, the same as those who flocked to Despenser’s side — not that Sir Jevan was one of them. I believe he hated Despenser with a passion. Still, he is a man who thinks that the strongest deserve praise by virtue of their power.’

‘I was not impressed,’ Simon admitted.

‘Good,’ Baldwin chuckled. Then a cloud of dust rose and enveloped them and he coughed. ‘Dear heaven, this ride will be as pleasant as riding across the Holy Land.’

‘A little less hot, I hope,’ Simon muttered.

‘So do I,’ Baldwin said.

‘So, why does Sir Edward of Caernarfon think he needs protection?’

‘Because he thinks you, or someone else here who has no reason to remember him with fondness, will attempt to assassinate him.’

‘You jest.’

‘Oh, no, Simon,’ Baldwin said, and Simon saw the truth in his eyes. ‘I do not make jest at all. He believes it. And so do I.’

South of Kenilworth

John rode as far to the back of the mounted men-at-arms as he could, keeping his hood over his head and a strip of cloth over his mouth. Many others were covering their faces against the rising clouds of dust that clung to the inside of a man’s mouth and nostrils like flour in a mill. It was a horrible sensation, true enough, but it was not so revolting to John as the sight of Sir Jevan.

He gritted his teeth. It would be impossible to feel safe while that bastard was with the escort. If Sir Jevan so much as caught a glimpse of his face, John was done for. It was a miracle that he had not already been recognised. Fortunately he had changed his clothing when he arrived at the castle, giving his tunic and hosen to the laundress who had joined the party, which was perhaps why he had escaped Sir Jevan’s attention so far. That, and the strategic use of his hood, had probably saved him.

He would have to try to keep out of Sir Jevan’s way. With so many men sprawling over so large an area, it was easy enough to remain undetected. Here at the rear, John was nearly a quarter of a mile or so behind the knight.

The only other option was to escape entirely and leave the party. Or kill Sir Jevan.

Kenilworth

Simon stared at him, and then gave a guffaw of laughter. ‘Me? What, you reckon Hugh and I could try something?’

‘Not alone, Simon,’ Baldwin explained. ‘But think about it from Sir Edward’s point of view. He was captured, saw his closest companion hacked to pieces, and was brought there, to Kenilworth,’ he jerked his thumb at the great castle, ‘and there, while protected by a mass of men, a tiny group managed to penetrate the defences. They forced their way into the outer ward and would have got further, were it not for a little bad luck. They were discovered as the curfew was imposed, and killed.’

‘All?’

‘All those who remained in the castle. A posse was sent to capture the others outside the castle walls, but it was curfew and growing dark, and although a few were found and slain, they suspect the ringleaders escaped. Or weren’t there,’ he added as an afterthought.

Simon grinned. ‘You’re being evasive, or merely impenetrable?’

Baldwin chuckled. ‘No, merely I find conversation so much more elevating when I hold it with myself! Sir Edward thought that this transfer to Berkeley was a pretext. Away from Kenilworth, it would be easier to have him killed.’

‘Ah!’ Simon breathed. ‘You mean Mortimer.’

‘He did,’ Baldwin said, shooting him a glance.

‘But you don’t?’

‘Of course not! Why would Sir Roger kill Sir Edward? Killing the King must inevitably come back to haunt him, because it would be impossible to keep such a scheme secret. So the fact of the assassination would become public knowledge, and then King Edward III, Sir Edward’s son, and his mother, Isabella, must both turn upon Sir Roger. They could not support him if they learned that he had ordered the death of Sir Edward.’

‘But removing him. .’

‘Serves no useful purpose.’

‘It would prevent another freeing him and installing him once more on the throne.’

Baldwin shook his head. ‘Who would support Sir Edward? Some few, perhaps, but when it came to a battle, would his men stay at his side against his son, the King? The risks of killing Sir Edward are greater than those of holding him in comfort. The rage that Queen Isabella would show, were she to learn that her husband had been murdered — that would scare me!’

‘But she and Mortimer are lovers.’

‘I know that is the rumour. But once she loved her husband. Still, that is not important. What is important is that she is a most pragmatic lady. If it were to become thought that she had colluded in his death, she would herself be guilty of gross treason. And she would also think of the danger to her own son. If a king could so easily be done to death, her son would run that same gauntlet through his life, should a powerful baron rise against him. No, she is a French princess. She would not dream of insulting her peers and her blood in such a manner.’

‘So who. .?’

‘There is nothing to say anyone will try to assassinate Sir Edward.’

Simon closed his eyes. ‘My head hurts, but were it a little less painful, Baldwin, I would knock you from your horse, knight or no knight.’

‘It is not confusing. Mortimer may well have pretended to attack Kenilworth to show that Edward was not secure there. Kenilworth is held by my lord the Earl of Lancaster, is it not? To slander the Earl by showing that his guards and precautions are not sufficient, then to have Edward taken to another castle, which is run for Mortimer and which would keep the King under his closer control, would be perfect for Sir Roger. It upsets Lancaster at the same time, for which he would be grateful.’

‘Unless the guard at Berkeley Castle show themselves to be less reliable than Sir Roger thought,’ Simon guessed.

‘Which is not likely, since the Lord Berkeley is Sir Roger Mortimer’s son-in-law,’ Baldwin finished.

‘That all makes sense,’ Simon agreed. ‘So why is the King worried?’

‘Because all this is my reasoning, not the King’s. He thinks that there will be an ambush, and someone will attack us on the way to Berkeley.’

‘To kill him.’

‘Yes.’