King's Gold

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Kenilworth

Edward of Caernarfon stood when the knock came. He had already heard voices outside, and although they had not been raised in anger, he was aware of tension.

‘You may enter,’ he said now. He felt that tingling in his breast again, as though he was readying himself for a sudden attack once more. The flesh of his scalp was moving, and he could feel his heart pounding in his breast.

And then his fear left him and he almost fell to the floor, so great was his relief. At first he could not speak, his throat closed with the emotion that seemed almost to suffocate him. And then, as the two men knelt, their eyes on him, he held out his hands. ‘My friends.’

‘My liege,’ Baldwin replied. ‘I am here as you ordered.’

‘And I am heartily glad of it,’ the King said. ‘I had feared that I would die before you arrived, but now, to see you both with me once more, I begin to feel sure that I will survive.’

‘We have heard of the attack on the castle.’

‘I am glad of it, Sir Baldwin. But you do not, perhaps, comprehend the full enormity of the attack.’

‘You believe that they may have been intending to kill you,’ Baldwin said. ‘It was my fear also. That is why I am here.’

‘I am sincerely glad of it, too,’ the King said. Then he glanced at the door, and beckoned the other two over to the window at the farther wall. He looked from Baldwin to Sir Ralph, and then placed a finger at his lips in token of silence. ‘There is more,’ he whispered. ‘A man came to see me before the attack on the castle, and he managed to pass me a note. He said that the Bardi were prepared to advance me money to help rescue me, and that they would give me all the aid I require.’

Baldwin exchanged a startled look with Sir Ralph. ‘Are you sure of this?’

‘You doubt me?’

‘I would be suspicious of any such message. At Berkeley on my way here, my liege, I saw the head of the House of Bardi, but he is entangled with the new regime. He provides the money that the Queen needs to pay her mercenaries.’

Edward of Caernarfon smiled. ‘And would they not do so, in order to inveigle their way into the affections of those in power, so that when the moment came, they would be ready? I think you will find that the Bardi are ready to reinstate me.’

Wednesday before Palm Sunday

Kenilworth

It was the sight of the massive castle that made Simon realise the enormity of the Dunheveds’ task.

‘Christ’s ballocks, they tried to storm that?’ he breathed at the sight.

Sir Richard de Welles looked up with a measuring gaze. ‘Hey? Oh, yes, that’s the castle. A good fortress — solid footings on rock, I expect, with a lake for a moat. Not much chance of the fools getting inside without a stratagem of some kind. No doubt they were so confident they thought they could walk to the doors and open them.’

Sir Jevan shook his head. ‘They thought themselves too clever to be captured, my friends. They sent a man in the day before, and learned from him where the King was held, and then the next day they infiltrated many of their companions into the castle, pretending that they were bringing food and drink. Some of them had been delivering goods to the castle for many weeks. It shows how good their planning had been, eh?’

‘They had some foresight,’ Sir Richard nodded. ‘But without the ability to run to a set plan, all that was a waste of time and effort. They were fools. Better by far to jump upon us when we leave.’ He placed his hand on the crupper and cantle, and turned in his saddle, peering around at the men behind, then gazing off at the road along which they had ridden. ‘Yes. On that road. But not here, so near the castle. No, if I were them, I’d have the ambush planned for somewhere nearer the destination. Perhaps along the last five miles. Just at the stage when the plodding escort with the King will be both bored and tired, and ready for a break. That would be my plan.’

‘You have no need to worry about your plan,’ Sir Jevan said with calm confidence. ‘The rebels will not dare to try again so soon. They will need to gather their strength.’

‘Really?’ Sir Richard said with a smile. ‘Hah, that’s a relief. I’d thought that a mob like them, with fifteen men to spare in a frontal assault, may have one or two others about the place. This Stephen Dunhead — was he a local man?’

‘I think his lands were not far,’ Sir Jevan said tightly.

‘Oh. And the others with him — were there any knights?’

‘Some who looked like knights,’ Sir Jevan agreed. He glanced curiously at Sir Richard. ‘What of it?’

‘And all these fifteen men who were inside the castle, they weren’t known to the garrison as locals? Or else they’d have been taken, wouldn’t they?’

‘Of course.’

‘So, we have a man who’s a local boy, who has lots of friends, we can guess. Yet he also has enough friends who’re not known hereabouts, to be able to raise a little force that can come and attack without fear of recognition.’

‘Why do you assume he has lots of friends about here?’ Sir Jevan scoffed.

Sir Richard smiled broadly. ‘Because I have fought many times in me life, my friend. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s better by far to assume that your enemy is much cleverer and more populous than you and your own men. Ye know why? Because that way there are no unpleasant surprises.’

‘There will be none on our ride,’ Sir Jevan said with cold certainty. ‘Not with the force assembling here. And if they were to wish to surprise us, they would find it difficult. We leave tomorrow, as early as we may.’

Willersey

Agatha knew now that no one could help her.

She had gone to see Master William, the reeve, and he had quickly put her straight. No, the cart had not been there. It couldn’t have been, because if the horse and cart had been stolen when Ham was killed, the coroner would come back and fine the vill deodand for the stolen goods. But no one had seen a horse or cart, therefore no one could state that they had been stolen. Perhaps they were lost miles away, and Ham had walked home. It was possible. Mention of the cart now would only lead to embarrassment and expense, he told Agatha. And, he hinted, the vill which was expected to support a widow and child would not be so willing to do so, were that widow to expose the whole vill to more costs.

The law was terrifying. It was there for men, not women. Women did not exist in law except as chattels of husbands or fathers, and even though it was obvious to the meanest intellect that Agatha had been deprived of her family’s goods, she had no right to bring a case against anyone. She was only a woman.

But she was not going to surrender immediately on the word of the reeve. The cart and horse were hers. Jen and she needed food, and the horse and cart together were worth a lot of money.

A clerk in Holy Orders could help a widow. He had a duty to each member of his flock. A priest was educated, he would understand the courts and help her to win the justice she needed. From all she had heard, Father Luke had an interest in finding the cart, too.

She had seen the tyre marks of a cart when she went and looked. The tracks were some distance from Ham’s body, but distinctive. Even days after his death, they were plain on the ground. She knew that he had done as he usually did: hobbled the horse, set the cart in a quiet, hidden place among trees, and then gone to sleep a short way away.

Someone had found the cart, or discovered the horse hobbling about, and took them, together with all the valuables on the back of the cart. Well, Agatha wanted them all back.

She heard the priest knocking on her door and calling. It took her no time at all to kiss Jen, make her promise to listen to the other adults in the vill, and to see the neighbours if she had any difficulties, then collect her food and drink, wrapped in a large square of muslin, and join the priest at the door.

‘You are sure you wish to do this, mistress?’ he asked hopefully. He would prefer to avoid another walk.

‘Of course I am,’ she snapped. ‘I have to look after us now that Ham’s dead, don’t I?’

Father Luke nodded sadly. The journey to Worcester was a long one, and he had already endured enough travelling to last him many years. Even the prospect of a pilgrimage to Canterbury, which he had until recently viewed with enthusiasm, was not to be borne. No, if he could, he would remain here in Willersey for the remainder of his days.

‘Come on!’ she called. ‘If we don’t leave now we’ll never get anywhere.’

He glanced about him at the little vill as she set off, stumping heavily up the roadway. Jen stood in the doorway, her hands on the doorpost, staring wide-eyed after her mother, like a child who feared she would soon be orphaned.

All her confidence was gone now, Father Luke saw. The little girl who only a few weeks ago had continually surprised him with her maturity and intellect, was lost. With her father gone, she had realised that the world was infinitely more dangerous than she could ever have foreseen.

He set his jaw, took his staff, and moved off after Agatha, filled with a grim resolution. He would find that damned cart, and the chest — and he would keep it. The man who had been King had no use for the money, for it would not change his life one whit, but here, in this vill, it could work a wonder. It could even save that little girl from living in fear.

Somehow, he would find that money.

Kenilworth

Matteo walked down to the yard as Lord Berkeley’s men gathered there. The lord was giving orders to his men, and Matteo bowed as he presented the indenture.

‘My lord, this is for you. It is the authorisation for you to take Sir Edward of Caernarfon to your own castle.’

Lord Thomas took the parchment and opened it. ‘Good. Where is the Earl?’

‘He is away,’ Gilbert said reluctantly. He had been standing over at the entrance to the hall, but now he stepped forward. ‘May I help you, my lord?’

‘This is an indenture for the release of Sir Edward into my hands. I am to take him to Berkeley,’ Lord Thomas said pleasantly. ‘It is signed by the King.’

‘My lord, I have no. . Please, can you wait until my lord the Earl returns? He should only be a little while longer, and I am sure-’

‘I have urgent business,’ Lord Thomas said tersely. ‘Prepare Sir Edward for his departure.’

‘My lord, I-’

‘At once.’

‘My lord, I do not think you should attempt to remove Sir Edward until Earl Henry has viewed the indenture,’ Sir Jevan said.

‘You are?’

‘My name is Sir Jevan de Bromfield.’

‘You are a household knight of the Earl of Lancaster? I am glad to meet you, Sir Jevan. However, I have been ordered in the name of the King to remove Sir Edward for his own protection. It seems that the defences here were insufficient. Perhaps that was intentional — I don’t know. However, my task is bring Sir Edward to safety and that, Sir Jevan, I shall do. If you wish to thwart me and my men, I think you will find it difficult.’

Thursday before Palm Sunday

Kenilworth Castle

‘Morning, Master Puttock. How are ye this morning, eh? It’s a fine morning for a sore head, I daresay. Good God, breathe that air. Makes you glad to be alive, hey?’

Simon heard Sir Richard approach from the far side of the outer ward where the good knight had been glancing over his rounsey, and now he nudged Simon with a beaming smile. ‘Bad head, eh? I know what it’s like. You need a quick cup of strong ale to settle your stomach, man, that’s all.’

The thought was almost enough to make Simon spew again. He had already had to stick his head out of the window when he woke, and after trying to eat a little breakfast, he had resorted to running for the midden, where he had brought it all up again. It was outrageous to suggest that he should take more ale when his head was entirely due to the knight’s carousing the night before!

‘No,’ he said weakly.

‘Well, if you don’t want a solid cure for your head, man, you only have yourself to blame, eh?’

Simon gave him a sour look and walked over to the horses. His own beast was looking well enough after almost a day of rest, and he was glad to see that a patch where the saddle had rubbed on its withers appeared to have healed, after the groom had spread some goose fat over the area.

‘There he is,’ the groom said with a nod of his head towards the inner ward’s gates.

Simon turned to see Sir Edward of Caernarfon walking past.

‘He looks sad,’ Simon said quietly.

‘He is, I expect,’ said Sir Jevan, who had been patting his own horse a short way away. He joined Simon. ‘Hard to imagine how he must feel, eh? His children won’t see him, his wife hates him, and his subjects have forgotten him. What a disaster it must seem, to see all his works set aside.’

Simon shrugged. Perhaps the King was experiencing a little of the horror that had been visited upon the people of his realm. In his opinion, the King did not deserve any more sympathy than Despenser.

And yet Simon still found himself feeling sorry for the man.

There was a goodly number of men around the King as he trotted to the outer ward. Beside him was a squire, whom Simon recognised from the King’s household in Westminster, although he could not remember the fellow’s name. At the other side was the King’s Gaoler, a Sergeant called Gilbert. Then came more servants and a contingent of guards. None of them terribly prepossessing, he thought.

Mostly they were scruffy-looking fellows with long knives, leather jerkins and toughened leather caps on their heads. Welsh, from the look of them, he thought. Mortimer had many Welsh friends, and was trusted by the Welsh, as was Sir Edward of Caernarfon himself. It made for confusion among the peoples of the Principality when Mortimer decided to rebel.

‘Ho! Looks like we should mount,’ Sir Richard said. He left Simon and swung himself onto his beast, settling instantly like a man born in a saddle. Simon took a little longer, and when he was seated, he saw Hugh scowling ferociously while two grooms tried to curb their amusement, holding his pony still for him while he attempted to get his foot in the stirrup.

Watching Hugh, Simon did not pay attention to the others, and he was surprised to find that a man had ridden up close. He looked across — and felt a little of his sore head dissipate at the gladsome sight.

‘Baldwin! What in God’s great name are you doing here?’

‘Old friend, I was about to ask you the same question,’ Baldwin said, gripping Simon’s arm.

There was a shout at the gate, a slow rumble as the great baulks of timber swung open on their huge hinges, and then amid a loud trumpet blast, Gilbert gave the order for the unruly mob to ride off. Soon all fifty men were moving, Gilbert in the lead, while the old King was surrounded by the majority of the men-at-arms behind him.