The Bishop Must Die

Chapter Twenty-Two

Bishop’s Clyst

When the stern-faced Keeper walked from the room, leaving the bishop sitting pale and stunned by Sir Baldwin’s summary, William nodded to John to stay with his uncle, and marched quickly after the knight.

‘Sir Baldwin, please. Sir Knight — a moment?’

‘Yes, squire?’

William jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bishop’s chamber. ‘You meant what you said in there?’

‘I would not have said it else.’

‘I didn’t mean to insult you, Sir Baldwin. Please, do not grow angry with me. I only seek to protect my uncle.’

‘You are fond of him?’

William smiled, and joined Baldwin, the two walking side-by-side out into the sunshine of the bishop’s garden, then beyond to the small orchard. ‘I love him greatly. He has been enormously kind to me. When I was young, it was Bishop Walter who looked after me and saw to my education. Later, when I was confused, and thought that I might seek a career in the Church like him, it was he who sat down with me and questioned my interests, my motives, and persuaded me to look hard, deep into my heart. And I found that there, although it was harder to admit it to myself when I was young, I preferred the companionship of a woman than that of many sex-starved and desperate men! I would never have made a good churchman. He was quite right. But the bishop has given me help all through my life, he has given me money, and his example has shown me the best routes to take always.’

‘You speak as a man who has much to thank his uncle for.’

‘I think you too have had cause to appreciate his kindness and generosity?’

The knight threw him a sharp look, which the squire found hard to fathom. It was as though Sir Baldwin was torn between anxiety and a swift anger. ‘Why? What has he said to you?’

They were at the hedge that bounded the orchard now, and Squire William spoke carefully. ‘Sir Baldwin, my uncle has told me only two things about you: that he has always found you entirely honourable and fair, a true seeker after justice in your dealings with felons and outlaws. That, he says, makes you a rare man among the king’s law officers. He has also told me that you were once a pilgrim, and that your journeys to the Holy Land must have coloured your every thought for the long years since.’

‘I see,’ Baldwin said quietly. He stared out eastwards. Far away there was the ridge of the Blackdown Hills, standing grey-blue in the distance.

To William, he looked like a man rent by conflicting emotions. The scar that stretched from his eyebrow almost to his chin shone in the sunlight, and the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were less prominent. Instead, it was the tracks of sadness and bitterness that stood out, the deep gashes at his brow and at either side of his mouth. His was a face that had seen much anguish, and he had suffered greatly.

‘Sir Baldwin, I am sorry. You are distressed. I will leave you.’

‘No, Squire William. No, my friend. I was merely reflecting that when a man has given a confidence to another, it is ever his fear that his trust was misplaced. I am sorry that I have given you cause to be upset as well. I should have trusted your uncle and his discretion.’

Squire William was surprised to find his hand grasped by the knight, and then Baldwin’s dark, intense eyes were turned to him, as he said, ‘You are a good man. You will need courage though, in the days ahead, unless I am much mistaken.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You heard us discuss the men who could wish your uncle’s death? That is all they are: the most obvious suspects. Your uncle has lived a long life, and he has made many enemies, my friend. Key among them is the queen herself. She will return to the kingdom before long, and there will be great battles fought as men protect the country from her and her invaders. Many will die, I fear.’

His eyes turned east again, and Squire William saw the haunting fear that had invaded his eyes. ‘Sir Baldwin, I am sure that the king will be able to defend his realm.’

‘Yes, but at what cost? There have been wars before in our poor little country, but at least they were fought by us in defence of our lands and privileges. This war is not to be so honourable, Squire. This is a battle between a husband and wife, and such battles are ever more vicious and brutal. No one will likely win. I fear for us all.’

‘One or the other must win!’

Baldwin turned to him, and now the anxiety was gone, to be replaced by a shrewd calculation. ‘You think so? What if the men who come over with the queen are all French and owe their allegiance solely to the French king? What if, when they have defeated our king, they refuse to honour a past arrangement, and instead decide to take the realm for the French? A man would not have to be terribly cynical to see a dreadful disaster unfolding.’

‘That would not bode well, not for England, nor for my uncle.’

‘You are correct there. Your uncle is detested by the French.’

‘I feel it is a mutual antagonism,’ Squire William said with a small grin.

‘You may well be right,’ Baldwin grinned back.

‘But in the meantime, Sir Baldwin, would you not help us? We need to learn what we may about the men who seek the bishop’s death.’

‘You want me to, but I cannot. My wife is here, and I must remain with her. I could not leave her alone to face an invasion. In the last year I have travelled widely to help the king, to help your uncle, and to protect the Duke of Chester. I cannot in conscience leave my lady again. Now is the time for a man to remain at home and guard his property.’

‘I understand. But there is no invasion yet. There are no ships at our ports bringing men and matériel. While the nation is still moderately peaceful, would you not help to protect your friend?’

‘You cannot understand. I have a wife and children who need me.’

‘Do you not think that you could spend just a little more time with us? It may be nothing, anyway. There may be no one there. These threats might be from another man altogether, for all we know.’

Baldwin held his gaze for a long while, staring silently at him. ‘I will do anything I can to help the good bishop, but I have a higher loyalty. My wife, my family, are more important to me even than your uncle.’

‘I understand.’ William sighed and made to move away, but Baldwin’s next words made him stop.

‘There is one other thing,’ the knight said pensively. ‘These notes were all delivered to the bishop’s chamber in Exeter. That would seem to show that the person who delivered them knew when the room would be empty. And more than that, no one was seen on his way to or from the place. Surely that must mean that the fellow is someone from inside your entourage — a servant, say, or an embittered priest. An annuellar maybe? There are so many inside the cathedral.’

‘You are pulling my leg!’ William said with a smile. ‘You cannot mean that one of the bishop’s own servants would do a thing like this!’

‘It is as likely to be a man from within the Church as without. After all, how many men outside the Church have access to writing tools and parchment?’

Second Thursday before the Feast of St Paul and St John^*

Montreuil

It was a chastened duke who rode back with them the previous day. There had been no glory in the way that the men had beaten off the enemy. Only a stern, fixed duty.

Of course, for Paul it was very different.

The others had joked and laughed about the affair, calling it the ‘Battle of the Beach’, proud of the way that they had managed to protect their heir. Ralph la Zouche was the only one who betrayed his emotions, weeping over the body of his younger brother. The duke had stopped and gone to him, offering him some comfort, but Sir Ralph was beyond that. In the way he wept, Paul wondered whether he was mourning his brother, or expressing his own selfish grief at being alone. Not that Paul would be likely to mention it. Any such comment could lead to a sudden explosion of rage, and Paul had no intention of being on the receiving end of Sir Ralph’s sword.

Duke Edward himself did not brag or laugh aloud. Instead he maintained a silent reserve as he rode.

It was easy to see what he was thinking, Paul reckoned. Clearly the lad, still so young, had been shocked and terrified by the battle. There were many men who would have been alarmed, Paul included, to see such a force. Well, Paul would make no bones about it. He had been scared. The mere thought of those men pounding towards him had been enough to turn his bowels to water, and if the battle had lasted a moment longer, he might have had an unfortunate and embarrassing proof of his fear to explain to the others. Still, he had survived without anyone noticing, he thought.

But for a youngster like this one, it must have been truly petrifying. He was only thirteen years old, and for him to see such an ambush, to know that men were prepared to assault each other in such a manner, that was surely appalling.

Later, in the castle once more, Paul had tried to go to him, to ensure that he was settled in his mind, but he received a curt rejection. The boy had his mother with him that evening, and perhaps it was better that she was there on hand to soothe the fellow. It was a woman’s task, after all.

It was with that reflection that Paul waited in the chamber for the young duke to come for his lessons. It was a pleasant little room, this, with a window that peered out over the river, and Paul settled himself there, resting his back against the wall and watching the peasants at work out in the fields, a tranter or two meandering along the roadway, carts and wagons passing slowly.

The door opened, and the duke entered. The man-at-arms who had accompanied him closed the door quietly, remaining outside.

‘My lord Duke, I hope you slept well?’ Paul greeted him.

‘I did not.’

Paul smiled benignly. ‘Ah, you must not allow a little action like that of yesterday to unsettle you, my lord. No, the main thing is, you were safe.’

‘You think so?’

‘Of course. While you have a force such as yesterday’s with you, you will be safe from robbers and outlaws.’

‘You think those men were outlaws, then?’

‘Yes, but there is nothing to fear from such men. You saw how poorly they fought.’

‘It’s true,’ the duke said musingly. ‘They were not a match for our men in some ways. The speed and determination of our guard was adequate to throw them into confusion.’

‘Naturally.’

‘But I am not concerned for outlaws; what I am worried about is the fact that I think they may have been sent for me.’

‘Oh, my lord, I don’t think-’

‘Do you really believe that a bunch of cutpurses would be so well armoured? Do you think that they would have aimed straight for the youngest in the group — me?’

‘I thought that they were all riding towards me! In an action like that, you see, you can be-’

‘Shut up! If I want a fool to make me laugh, I can demand the services of a better trained one. Those men were sent to capture me — I hope.’

‘What do you mean, you “hope”?’

‘If they were not, they were sent to kill me,’ the duke said, and pursed his lips.

‘I think, Your Highness, you are taking this too seriously.’

‘A man of my bodyguard is dead, and you suggest I am too serious?’

‘No, but surely if there was such a danger to you, we would already know of it, eh?’

The duke gave him a withering look, and then took his seat on a large chair. ‘Priest, you make a poor adviser. I have to understand the nature of the threat in order to be able to protect myself from it.’

‘But who would want to see you harmed?’ Paul protested weakly.

‘Either Despenser wishes to have me captured and taken back to England, or killed. If I were to die here in France, the kingdom would blame my mother and Mortimer — and can you envisage the invasion of England succeeding if all in the country thought that? No! Despenser wishes to see me dead. Well, he will not — I will see his head on a spike first!’

‘What will you do?’ Paul asked.

‘First, we shall move away from the sphere of my mother’s influence — in order to protect her. We could go somewhere where it will be easier to remain safe. Perhaps to Paris — but the king, my uncle, is not happy to have us remain. He sees us as an embarrassment now. Or I could go to Normandy. There are plenty of safe places there for us to hide in.’

‘What does your mother say?’

‘Her view does not matter. This is my responsibility,’ the duke said firmly.

Paul nodded, but did not speak. Uppermost in his mind was the reaction of Mortimer. He was due to return the next day.

Furnshill

There was another man in the hall when Baldwin entered. ‘Sir Peregrine, I hope I see you well, sir?’

‘I am very well, Sir Baldwin.’

With this man, Baldwin was perfunctory at best. He had never liked Sir Peregrine de Barnstaple. The coroner was too much the politician for his tastes and while Baldwin agreed entirely with the ambition of seeing the Despenser removed from his secure position beside the throne, he deprecated the man’s enthusiasm for plotting.

To Baldwin it was a simple matter of honour: he had sworn allegiance to the king as his sovereign, and although the king could, and often did, make an appalling mess of his governance of the realm, yet he was still the man whom God had anointed with oil. He was the rightful king, and Baldwin must seek to preserve him.

‘You have come here from Tiverton, Sir Peregrine? Has there been a murder?’ he asked as he took his wife’s hand and kissed it, saying, ‘I missed you, my love.’

She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘And I you,’ she whispered. Then she stood away and nodded to Edgar. He strode off, returning a moment later with a mazer for Baldwin. There was already a jug at the side of Sir Peregrine, and Baldwin took it up, serving his guest first, topping up his cup, before filling his own and drinking deeply.

‘No, no murder yet,’ Sir Peregrine said with a smile. ‘Or perhaps I should say, not recently. It is a long time since Tiverton suffered from a crime of that sort. The reason I am here is because I was on my way to Exeter, to meet with the sheriff.’

‘That young fool de Cockington?’

‘True, he is not so experienced as you and I, Sir Baldwin, which makes him rather a refreshing fellow to have in a position like his. The opportunities for pulling the wool over his eyes are legion. Even when he believes he has struck a hard bargain with me, I usually manage to acquire all I need.’

‘That is good,’ Baldwin said. He was thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, ‘Do you know anything about a family called Biset? A man called John Biset?’

‘I have heard of him, I think. Why?’

Baldwin shook his head. ‘Something I was wondering about. Probably nothing. So, you will stay for some food? Would you accept a bed for the night?’

‘I would like to, but no, I should ride on. I left only late this morning,’ Sir Peregrine said, ‘delayed by business. But I hope to hurry to Exeter. There is a lady there whom I would meet again.’

‘A lady?’ Baldwin asked, glancing at his wife with a faint smile. There was something endearing about Sir Peregrine’s attempts to find himself a wife.

‘Yes, the Lady Isabella, who was sadly widowed for the second time a few years ago.’

Jeanne, who was always keen for news of Sir Peregrine’s romantic progress, leaned forward. ‘Tell us about her — I do not know this lady.’

‘She is named Isabella Fitzwilliam. Her last husband was Henry, but he was captured by the king’s men and executed for treachery. Since then, she has been living in penury.’

Baldwin shook his head sadly. ‘There are so many who have lost their livelihoods. It is terrible.’

‘Yes. To think that an honourable lady like her … Well, as you say, Sir Baldwin, the last few years have seen so much injustice and cruelty, it is hard to know what to say to someone who has suffered so much.’

‘But you hope to be able to comfort her?’ Jeanne prompted.

‘I cannot hope … I would like to … But it is impossible to even dream of such things. The poor lady has lost two husbands already. I cannot imagine that she would be keen to experience such a loss again,’ Sir Peregrine said, his eyes a little downcast.

It was no more than the truth. Hard though it was to accept, Sir Peregrine was almost resigned to the fact that his life would end without a wife. He would die a bachelor.

In the past, that had been a source of extreme sadness. He had wanted to have the stability of a wife at his side, to have children whom he might teach and leave to carry on his family name. Given time, perhaps he would have seen a son of his become famous, even see him knighted in his own right. That would have been a wonder to him!

But no, it had never happened, and now, much though he desired a woman’s companionship, he would have to learn to be satisfied with the friendship of others.

‘You would like her for your wife?’ Jeanne said definitely.

‘Well, of course I would, my lady, but if I were truthful, I would have to say that my own position is scarcely sound. There are many men who are better placed than me to provide for a lady such as her.’

‘What is she like?’ Jeanne asked.

‘Well, she is no child,’ Sir Peregrine said with an embarrassed shrug. ‘Oh, I do not mean that she is old, Lady Jeanne!’

‘What, not as old as me?’ Jeanne asked sweetly.

‘You torment me now,’ the knight said distractedly. ‘I can say nothing without your twisting my words.’

‘I shall be silent, then,’ Jeanne smiled.

‘She is a little shorter than you, Lady Jeanne, and a little older, I would guess. But for all that, she has a radiant smile. Her eyes are as green as a holly-leaf, and her hair is the auburn colour of a conker. And even though she has suffered so much, she smiles and laughs a great deal.’

‘With you?’ Jeanne said.

‘She and I have laughed much.’

‘Then she will welcome your suit, Sir Peregrine. A man who makes his woman laugh is a rarity. If you make her do that, you will be able to ask her to do anything. I advise you to press your suit.’