King's Gold

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Maundy Thursday

Berkeley Castle

Dolwyn was sitting apart from the other two. They had shunned him since learning he had been accused of murder. Perhaps, he thought sullenly, they expected him to spring upon them during the night and slay them with bare hands and teeth.

The morning was well advanced when the upper door opened and five men unlocked their cell, calling on all three to follow them.

Traipsing up the stairway, Dolwyn was surprised at how leaden his feet felt. He had done without food for longer than this before, when he had been on the run, but that did not compare to this feeling.

The sudden glare made him cover his eyes as it had two days before, but today there was no direct sunlight, only bright clouds that gleamed like balls of spun silver high overhead.

There were two more men out here, both with staffs at the ready, and he eyed them as he passed. Seven guards for three weak and hungry men, Dolwyn thought to himself. It was heavy-handed.

They were brought to the hall. There was no fire today. Instead, the blackened hearth in the middle of the broad flagstoned room had been cleared, and the three prisoners were placed before it. A shame it was not lit. The stone walls absorbed any heat the sun might provide; in here it was perpetual autumn.

At the far end of the hall, sitting on his great seat on his dais, was Lord Berkeley, looking solemn. Ranged about the walls were men from the castle’s garrison, and Dolwyn saw the priest, Agatha, Baldwin and the others. He eyed them with a feeling of apprehension. This was not to be a quick and easy hearing with allies to protect him; this was a dangerous chamber.

‘You have been accused of the murder of Ham Carter of Willersey. How do you plead?’

Dolwyn knew that this court was convened to see to it that he was executed. A simple means for a lord to ensure that peasants would obey his laws was to hang a malefactor every so often.

‘I am innocent.’

‘What of the other two? How do they plead?’ Lord Berkeley called, staring at Harry and Senchet.

‘Innocent,’ they both responded quickly.

Dolwyn looked at them. ‘I did not find these two until after I had taken the cart. I was riding along the road alone when Sir Jevan there,’ he nodded in Sir Jevan’s direction, ‘saw me and stabbed me. They have nothing to do with the matter.’

‘Is there anyone who can speak for these two?’ Lord Berkeley asked.

Gilbert nodded. ‘My lord, I know them both. They were loyal servants to Sir Edward when he was King. He would speak for them, if you wish, I am sure.’

There was some annoyance in the face of Lord Berkeley when he heard that, but after a muttered discussion it was decided by the lord and his steward that the two could be released.

‘What do you have to say for yourself then, Master Dolwyn?’ the steward asked with a sneer. He was a medium-height man in his forties, with a protuberant pot belly. Grey eyes watched closely as Dolwyn responded to his questions, narrowing slightly when the answers he received were not to his liking. It was plain that he had at one time been given some legal training from the way he posed his questions, glancing down at the clerk who scratched away with his reeds as he spoke, making sure of the facts. He enjoyed his task as prosecutor.

Naturally there was no defence pleader. An innocent man had no need of a specialist: innocence spoke for itself.

‘So, your name is Dolwyn of Guildford. And you stole a horse and cart.’

‘I stole nothing. I found a horse and cart. There was no one with them. It’s not stealing to take something that’s been left.’

‘But it was only left because you had killed the owner. You took an axe and cut his head off.’

‘That wasn’t me,’ Dolwyn said.

‘Master Steward,’ Luke said, ‘the head was not cut off.’

‘But an axe killed him?’

‘Yes,’ Luke agreed.

‘Very well. This man took an axe and slew the owner, Ham, and left his body to rot while stealing his horse and cart.’

‘I did not see him and did not murder him.’

‘Then who did? Do you accuse the other two who were not with you when you were discovered by Sir Jevan? Did they kill Ham so you could steal his cart?’

‘I had nothing to do with his death and did not meet these two until after Sir Jevan stabbed me. I’ve been ill for days, and those two men saved my life.’

‘So you say.’

‘My master will speak for me,’ Dolwyn said. He was looking about the hall already.

‘Which master is that?’

‘Matteo Bardi, brother of Benedetto Bardi.’

‘Are they here? Call for them!’ the steward demanded after a short glance at Lord Berkeley. The latter would not want the Bardis insulted — they were too important to his father-in-law and the Queen — but if this man truly was their servant, they might wish to protect him.

It was an anxious time for Dolwyn as he waited.

Soon the two brothers walked into the hall. Matteo looked concerned, and for his part, Benedetto was fretful. His eyes were on Dolwyn as he crossed the floor, and even when he had stopped, his attention was on Dolwyn and not the steward.

‘Sirs, this man says he knows you. Do you know him?’

Matteo nodded. ‘He was lately in my service. Before that he was in the service of the King.’

‘Can you vouch for his character?’

‘Of course. I would not have a servant who was not entirely reliable,’ Matteo said.

Benedetto was peering, but finally nodded. ‘This man is known to my house.’

‘Where is your house?’ the steward asked.

‘London,’ Matteo said.

‘And yet the fellow was here. What was he doing so far from your home?’

‘He had been sent to deliver messages,’ Matteo said with some hauteur. ‘I often send servants with messages, as does your lord.’

‘You think that his theft of a cart was suitable for delivery of your little notes?’

‘I think that if he found a cart and horse wandering, he would be right to bring them to the nearest town. It would be his duty.’

‘So you are not aware of his having stolen anything else before?’

‘No. Not of his stealing,’ Matteo said.

There was a sudden hush. Matteo shot a quick look at his brother, then at Dolwyn, but would not meet the steward’s piercing eye.

The steward was not fooled. ‘What crimes has he committed?’

‘I could not speak of them. Any crime he could have committed was long before I knew him,’ Matteo said.

‘I won’t have this,’ the steward declared. ‘Do you know of any crimes of which he has been accused?’

Matteo looked despairingly at Dolwyn. No one spoke, until Dolwyn sighed heavily. ‘It was murder, Steward. Murder. I was accused of it before I served Master Matteo.’

William had secured a place for John at a tavern in the town. It was the better option, he said, in case Sir Jevan saw him, and John felt sure he was right. If he were to remain in the castle all day long, the risk of being seen was high, and then his fate would be assured.

William had advised him to keep away from the castle. He would be called if he were needed, but if he were to go to the castle, Sir Jevan would have to be slain first so he could not identify John. Because if John were to be seen, and his part at Kenilworth remembered, the whole project could be thrown into disarray — and that, William made clear, he was not prepared to tolerate.

John was more than content to remain here in this tavern, away from Sir Jevan and the castle. The more he thought of it, the more terrible the idea grew of freeing Sir Edward from his captivity. As soon as he was released there would be more fighting. More battles. More blood spilled.

John had seen enough of war and death.

The room was silent after Dolwyn’s quiet intervention. Then the steward turned to him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

‘Oh! The felon recalls now, does he? All of a sudden he remembers that he has killed before.’

‘I didn’t say that!’ Dolwyn declared fiercely. ‘I said I was accused. I wasn’t guilty.’

‘Were you found guilty in a court?’

‘No.’

‘But the coroner recorded that you were.’

‘No, only that there were some arguments that day.’

‘Tell us, Master Dolwyn of Guildford, were you serving the King’s household at the time?’

Simon looked at the accused man and would have sworn that he rocked back on his heels at those words. He had not expected to hear that, Simon guessed. The man had assumed that his past was secret. How, Simon wondered, had the truth been betrayed?

‘I was.’ Dolwyn’s voice sounded as though there was an obstruction in his throat.

And who were you accused of killing?’

Simon could feel the tension in the room as though all the people in the room were waiting, but Dolwyn did not speak.

‘I ask again,’ the steward said in a tone of heavy patience.

The accused man blinked and struggled with his breath as though suffocating. Eventually he whispered ‘My wife. My child. They died,’ Dolwyn went on. ‘But it wasn’t murder. I wasn’t hanged.’

‘Because you ran? You abjured the realm?’

‘No.’ The voice was ragged.

‘What happened to your wife and child?’

‘They were in the house. I was out for the night at the tavern, and I’d had a lot to drink. When I got home, my wife was in a rage with me. I hit her.’

‘You killed her.’

‘No! I swear it! But she had been shouting at me, and all I did was punch her. And then I went out to cool my head, and when I came back the place was on fire. I tried to rescue her. .’

‘You killed her. She fell into the fire, and the house caught light.’

‘I tried to get back inside to save her and my daughter, but the men in the vill stopped me. They held me back.’ How did this steward know of all that? Dolwyn had told Matteo, but no one else.

‘So this is the sort of man you are. A killer even of your own family. A danger to others. My lord, I have no more questions. Here is exactly the kind of fellow who would take advantage of a traveller, kill him, and rob him of all he possessed.’

‘I did nothing! My family wasn’t meant to die!’

‘You expect us to believe that?’ the steward spat.

‘What of the jury?’ Lord Berkeley asked.

The men who stood at the wall nearest Simon fell to talking amongst themselves, and then they nodded to the steward. He asked if they had reached a conclusion. There was a muttering, and then he asked them for their decision.

‘He’s guilty, master.’

The steward addressed Dolwyn. ‘You’ve heard their conclusion. What do you have to say?’

‘I didn’t harm him. I wouldn’t have, because I knew he had a wife and child at home. After he told me that, it would have been impossible for me to lay a finger on him. I’d not have hurt him any more than I’d have hurt them. Master Matteo, help me!’ he pleaded, turning to Matteo.

Matteo nodded, and Simon saw him give a quick frown as if of reassurance. The gesture was so swift, Simon could almost have believed that he had imagined it, but then he saw Matteo’s hand pat his purse, and understood. The Bardi would pay to save him.

Lord Berkeley leaned forward. ‘Well, this is my court, and I believe that the jury is fair and just in their conclusions. So it is my belief that you are guilty. You murdered Ham, you stole his horse and cart, and you would have made off with your booty if the brave knight here had not prevented you. I find you guilty, and my decision is that you will be hanged until you are dead. Take him away.’

Simon looked at Dolwyn. He barely appeared to care. There was something about him that was ineffably sad. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but suddenly another voice intervened.

‘WAIT!’

Simon winced at the bellow from his side.

Lord Berkeley and his steward peered round.

‘Who said that?’ the steward demanded.

‘I did,’ declared the smiling Sir Richard de Welles. ‘You can’t do that.’

Lord Berkeley raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? You think a lord cannot decide his own judgements in his own court?’

‘Oh, that’s all right, me lord. No trouble at all,’ Sir Richard said with a genial smile. He pushed three men from before him and stepped over to Dolwyn’s side. ‘But you cannot send him to hang.’

‘And why not?’

‘You know the law, me lord. It’s illegal for you to execute any man without the approval of your local coroner. He has to be there to witness the execution and make sure all is in order.’

‘Oh, and you claim that privilege?’

‘No, I am not coroner here. You have to ask your local fellow to come. Who is he?’

Lord Berkeley looked at his steward, then at Sir John Maltravers. ‘Well?’

Neither knew the name of the man responsible for the area.

‘In that case, me lord, I am afraid you may not have this man’s head,’ said Sir Richard apologetically. ‘I’m very sorry. Be a good thing, removing an arse like this, especially since he’s a known killer. But against the law.’

‘Is there any man here who would stand by him?’ Sir John demanded. He was a big man, almost as tall as Sir Richard, although younger, and with a powerful, heavy body that was not fat, but accumulated muscle. He had only a couple of days’ growth of beard, which gave him a belligerent appearance.

‘I will,’ said Sir Richard happily. ‘Sorry, me lord, but we can’t break the King’s laws.’

‘I too,’ Baldwin said. ‘As a Keeper of the King’s Peace. .’

‘So am I!’ Lord Berkeley stated angrily.

‘I was about to say, my lord,’ Baldwin finished smoothly, ‘that as Keeper of the King’s Peace yourself, you would hardly wish it known that you had deliberately flouted the King’s laws in your own court. Bring the coroner here so that he may witness the execution. That is all. It need not be a lengthy process.’

‘True,’ the lord said, frowning at Baldwin and Sir Richard with a baleful eye. ‘Very well. Put him back in the gaol. He can wait there until the coroner arrives.’