King's Gold

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 Easter

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.’

Simon nodded doubtfully. ‘Rebels made an attempt on Kenilworth, and were slaughtered. They must be lunatic to try it here as well.’

‘But everyone will know that the garrison here has been denuded and that Lord Berkeley is away. They may well try again. So we must improve the defences in the time we have.’

‘How long is that, do you think?’ Simon asked.

‘My friend, I have no idea,’ Baldwin said frankly. ‘It could be a week, it could be a month. Not much more, though, I would think. The Earl of Mar will want the advantage of surprise.’

Simon nodded bleakly.

‘Simon, what is it that clouds your face so?’ Baldwin asked. ‘You looked glum as I rode in.’

‘Sir Jevan was slain a little over a week ago,’ Simon told him.

Baldwin gave a frown. ‘Do you have any idea who was the killer?’

Simon shook his head. ‘There was no witness, no indication as to who could have committed the crime. Only the fact that an axe was used. Perhaps that-’

But Baldwin was ahead of him. ‘Any man who sought to show it was the same person as he who killed the carter would do that. The woman and the priest from the vill are both gone, are they not?’

‘Yes.’

Baldwin nodded slowly. ‘Then I think that for now Dolwyn and his friends cannot be released. But we need not see them languish in the gloom and cold of a dank cell. We should devote our efforts to the protection of this castle, and they can help. Perhaps once that is achieved, we can return to this matter again.’

Willersey

The day was a dull one. There was no rain, but it might as well have been pouring, from the priest’s mood.

His garden had been invaded by slugs which had eaten the majority of his lettuces and peas, caterpillars had taken refuge in his cabbages, and before he could deal with any or all of them, he had been called to listen to the last confession of a farmer up in the shadow of the hill. The fool had been trying to separate a calf from its mother, and had been gored by her. Nobody thought he could survive more than a few hours.

Father Luke returned to the vill with a conviction that the world was not functioning as it ought. Only a few days ago he had been a contented man with many blessings to count, and now he felt as though his life was an abject failure. He had lost the King’s money, he had lost a pair of good fellows from his flock, and no matter what he tried, he was not able to console Jen.

Only this morning he had seen the poor child looking desolate. Perhaps, he wondered, he ought to speak with Agatha about her? But the widow was already doing all she could, and did not need his interference. No, he was better leaving her and the child alone, surely, and allowing them to find their own way to peace.

At the same time he still had John’s confession on his mind. He recalled how he had thought John such a pleasant fellow when he first met him — a cheerful soul with the smile of a rogue, he had thought. Little had he realised that John would become devoted to homicide: to murdering Sir Edward of Caernarfon.

Berkeley Castle

The discussion with Sir Richard and Simon Puttock had been intriguing to Sir Ralph. However, it was a matter of days ago now. They had not succeeded in capturing the murderer, and he wondered whether they ever would.

Sir Jevan had not been a congenial companion, and Sir Ralph did not bemoan his passing, but he took a keen interest in any issues that could lead to danger to his charge. If a murderer stalked the castle, he would wish to see the man apprehended.

Sir Edward himself was difficult in the mornings with a sore head, and grew more amiable as the day progressed. There was, indeed, little to occupy him now that the common pursuits of chivalry were denied him. But no matter what, Sir Ralph did agree with Gilbert that to allow the King to leave the castle to ride would present untold dangers.

For Sir Edward, the incarceration was tedious, but Sir Ralph was beginning to think that if he himself did not escape this chamber soon, he too would become quite mad. Being locked in here was taxing all his reserves of patience.

The only escape was to sit and consider who it was who could have killed Sir Jevan — and imagine how to defend Sir Edward, were the killer to try to assassinate him.

Minchenhamtone⁵⁹

The little vill was peaceful as John rode in.

There was not much to the village — only a small market square, with a modest-sized chapel and a pair of inns and some taverns. It was a place which Stephen and Thomas had once told John was safe. They had relatives who owned the manor nearby and the people of the area were very keen supporters of the Dunheveds and the old King. If he had need, they said, he should make his way here.

He had greater need than ever now. Filled with depression, he felt all the miles he had covered in recent days as he reined in by an ale-house and gazed about him. The illness he had mentioned to Baldwin had not been feigned. It was a fresh manifestation of his inner desperation. If only Paul were still alive, so that he had someone with whom to discuss this whole matter. But Paul was dead, and there was no one else in whom he could confide. His desperation was caused by that very solitude that would, with luck, ensure a measure of success.

It had been hellish to travel with Sir Baldwin. All the way he had felt as though he was being studied, as though Sir Baldwin knew he was a member of the party determined to release the King. In honesty, he was unsure as to whether Sir Baldwin himself was devoted to the incarceration of the old King, or would aid his release. Perhaps he would support those determined to free Sir Edward of Caernarfon? Many might. Many would.

‘John? What are you doing here?’

John’s head snapped around and he found himself staring at Sir Edmund Gascelin. ‘I am glad to find you. The whole plan has been discovered.’

Sir Edmund swore under his breath. ‘How?’

‘Men of the Earl of Mar were captured and beaten. It was not their cowardice or treachery that betrayed us; the simple fact that they were men from the Earl was enough to alert Lord Berkeley. He’s convinced there’s to be an attempt to free Sir Edward.’

‘Is he returning?’

‘No, he has to attend the Muster, but he has sent a knight to warn the castle,’ John said as he swung himself down from the saddle. An ostler came to take his horse from him, and John and Sir Edmund entered the inn. Inside, John found the two Dunheveds, and he repeated his story to them.

Frere Thomas looked at Stephen. ‘Does it change anything?’

‘We have the men ready. If they aren’t going to increase the garrison as John said, we will be safe enough.’

Sir Edmund grinned. ‘In that case, the plan will go ahead. Soon we will have rescued our liege-lord from Berkeley, and there’ll be nothing anyone can do to stop his return to the throne.’

‘There will be war again,’ John said.

‘Of course there will. How else would he recover his throne?’ Sir Edmund had a savage look about him, keenly anticipating the battles to come. ‘You must return to the castle now.’

‘I can’t,’ John said dully. ‘Sir Jevan is there, and he knows me. If I go back, with so few men in the garrison he will be sure to recognise me.’

‘He’s no threat to you now,’ Stephen said. ‘William has sent a message. He’s dead.’

‘So now we can consider the battle,’ Sir Edmund said with a ferocious grin.

John nodded, but inwardly his heart sank. The prospect of thousands of deaths, in order to return the failed King to his throne, had become abhorrent to him.