King's Gold

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Berkeley Castle

Matteo heard the tap at his door and jerked nervously. Since Alured’s beating, he had been a very unwilling guest here. Having no servant to protect him from the assaults of his brother and his men made him scared even to leave his room. He remained here, afraid that at any time a fellow paid for by Benedetto could come through and kill him. There were so many men in this castle motivated solely by money.

‘Who is it?’ he demanded, gripping his sword’s hilt as he moved to the side of the door.

‘Me — Dolwyn.’

He felt that word, that voice, like a hammer-blow in his belly. Benedetto could have bribed the gaoler to release Dolwyn, perhaps so he could come here and kill him?

To have reached Matteo’s door here in the keep, he must have been released with the approval of the steward of the castle.

He pulled at the bolts with a feverish enthusiasm now his mind was made up, and as the last slid back, he took a pace back into the room.

Dolwyn walked in with a quick look about him. He looked terrible. His clothing was filthy, his hair straggly and verminous, and his skin had a grave-like pallor. ‘Apparently they have decided I’m innocent,’ he said. ‘The carter was killed by his wife. For tonight, at least, I am safe.’

‘I am glad you are free,’ Matteo said. ‘I was worried.’

‘Yes. I am sure you were,’ Dolwyn said. ‘Especially since Alured is injured.’

‘They nearly killed him, because he was protecting me! It was not his fault: he was only doing his job. And for that they tried to kick him to death!’

‘They won’t while I’m here,’ Dolwyn said. ‘But I hope you can afford my services. I will want good money now. This place is too dangerous.’

Matteo nodded abstractedly. ‘Of course. Shall we leave this castle, then?’

‘Master, we’re safer behind these walls than out there in the open.’

Matteo nodded, but his mind was already back on the former King. If Edward were to be freed, with the help of Matteo, and he recovered his throne, Matteo would become the most valuable ally he had. With the wealth of the Bardis, anything would be possible.

For the first time in days, the Florentine felt more positive about the future.

Alured was sleeping again; he spent a lot of time sleeping. It left Hugh with time to muse, and he didn’t mind that. But he was growing fretful at being stuck in here.

When the door opened and Dolwyn peered round it, Hugh grasped his cudgel and snapped, ‘What do you want?’

‘I’ve been released,’ Dolwyn said curtly, and explained about Agatha’s confession. ‘I wanted to see how Alured was doing.’

‘He’s all right,’ Hugh said, still suspicious. He had learned early on in life never to trust strangers.

‘Glad to hear it. I think he’s a good man.’

‘Is it true you killed your wife?’ Hugh asked baldly.

‘There was a fire, but I wasn’t the cause. It was an accident,’ Dolwyn said.

Hugh nodded. The sadness in Dolwyn’s tone spoke to his own bereavement. He considered a moment, then said gruffly, ‘You want a pot of ale?’

Tuesday after Ascension Day

Berkeley Castle

Baldwin stood at the wall.

All around was the noise of masons and labourers at work: the creaking of hempen rope straining, and timbers complaining as the men on the treadwheel winched the heavy sections of rock up high overhead to the walls. The area they were repairing was where Sir Jevan had been found.

The chamber in which the body had lain was for storage. There were two piles of masonry which had been precut, and were awaiting insertion into the hole in the wall. This comprised part of the actual curtain wall of the castle, and looking through it, Baldwin could see all the way to south and east.

‘So, you found him in here?’ he asked.

Dolwyn was standing behind him with Harry and Senchet. ‘Yes. He was lying between those two piles of rock. You can see his blood still.’

Baldwin turned back from the hole in the wall. ‘Why did none of the masons come?’

Simon could answer that. ‘They did — but not until all were awake and ready. They were too scared to come alone. Someone said that the Devil was up here, apparently, and that put off the rest.’

‘So the killer presumably hurried away through them all,’ Baldwin said. ‘He must be a cool character, to kill and then escape while the garrison was on its way to capture him.’

‘Or insane,’ Simon said.

‘Such is not the behaviour of a madman,’ Baldwin muttered. He stared down at the piles of dressed stone, but then he knelt. The pile of dressed rocks to the left of where the body had lain had a curious formation. ‘There is space in here for a man to hide,’ Baldwin said, peering over the top. ‘The killer could have concealed himself here, after the body was found. Perhaps he felt no need to run down the stairs or along the passageways, Simon.’

‘And perhaps he flew, like Hugh said,’ Simon smiled.

‘Eh?’

‘Hugh was prepared to listen to the rumours of a Devil flying past.’

‘Who spoke of that?’ Baldwin asked.

‘A mason.’

Baldwin nodded. It was a sad place to die, he thought. Alone, in the dark, attacked by an unseen assailant. ‘Why was he here?’

‘We wondered that too,’ Simon said. ‘It is not on the way to a garderobe or urinal.’

Baldwin looked about him. He crossed the floor to the door in the northernmost wall. This led into a passageway that ran straight to the keep. He stared at that in silence, thinking for a long moment. ‘And that is where many others slept?’

‘Yes. The Bardis were there, and Alured.’

‘Let us meet this mason who spoke of the Devil,’ Baldwin said.

Masons’ Yard, Berkeley Castle

‘Who was it?’ Baldwin demanded as they reached the encampment below the tower.

Simon sent Hugh to find the man, and before too long he was back with a grey-haired fellow in his middle years. He had a square, sunburned face, and hands that looked as powerful as the rocks he had spent his life breaking and shaping. Although his eyes were blue and clear, there was an unfocused look about them as he smiled a little blankly at the men ranged about him. ‘You wanted me?’

‘I hear you said that there was a Devil came to kill the knight in the chamber up there,’ Baldwin said.

‘No. It was a Devil took his soul away with him,’ the man said.

‘Why did you think that?’

‘Who else would have been there with him in the middle of the night?’

‘You saw nothing, though?’ Baldwin said. His patience with the overly superstitious was never extensive.

‘I saw him, yes.’

‘What?’ Baldwin said.

Simon peered at him. ‘Are you sure? Where?’

‘Up there,’ the man said, pointing to the roof of the passage that led from the chamber to the keep.

‘You didn’t tell me this before,’ Simon said irritably.

‘That’s because you didn’t ask me. You asked me if I’d heard the noise, and if so, what I thought it was. I told you I thought it was the Devil, but you didn’t ask if I saw Him.’

‘But you did?’

‘Something like. A figure was bounding along up there with a thick, raggedy cloak about him. That’s what I think I saw.’

‘You aren’t more certain?’

‘It was the Devil. What does it matter what I think?’

It was cold here in his room. Benedetto Bardi stirred the fire and daydreamed about Florentine sunshine. Here all was perpetually hazy.

The look on Matteo’s face had been truly appalling. He had been terrified at the sight of Benedetto, and then for those dull-witted tarses of his to beat up Matteo’s man — well, any fears that were already in his younger brother’s mind would hardly have been assuaged by that, would they?

Benedetto cursed profusely. Here he was, marooned in this miserable castle, and here he must remain until Lord Berkeley came home.

The quiet tap at his door surprised him. ‘Yes?’ he snapped, opening it. Then: ‘Sir Baldwin, this is a pleasant surprise. Please enter and join me in a cup of wine.’

He was not alone, Benedetto saw. There was Sir Richard, and the man Puttock, too. They all walked in and stood looking at him as though he was some kind of felon.

‘Well?’ he prompted.

‘We have an interesting series of deaths, Master Benedetto,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘First one brother dies, and your other brother is almost killed. Two other fellows die near your brother’s body, all in the space of a day. And the man responsible, we think, was on his way to your house. He was an ally of yours. But now, he too is dead. It seems very strange that so much bloodshed should happen in so short a space, so near to you.’

‘I agree. It is most peculiar. But on that particular day in London, many people were killed. Even the Bishop of Exeter died about then, and numerous peasants.’

‘Did you order Sir Jevan to kill your brothers?’ Sir Richard rumbled.

‘Did I. .’ Benedetto sighed. ‘No. Categorically not. I would never kill my brothers. Look at me, sirs. Do I look like the sort of man who could do such a thing? It would insult my blood, insult my mother’s memory, my father’s good name.’

‘I have heard of men of business who are capable of such dishonour,’ Simon said.

‘Well, I am not one of them. No, I think it is more likely that the killer of Sir Jevan was Alured, servant to my brother. Look at him: he is irrational. Sir Richard, Master Puttock, you both saw him entering into a fight with my men when all I wished was a word with my brother.’

‘But that was only a little after the death of Sir Jevan. Alured was protecting his master. Perhaps Matteo thought you guilty of killing him too?’

‘I say again, no.’

Baldwin reached into his purse and pulled out the parchment. He held it up for Benedetto to see. ‘Read this.’

‘I. . oh.’ Benedetto winced to see it again. It had suffered in the last months since Manuele had signed it. ‘I know this letter.’

‘It says that the Bardi will support Sir Edward with money and all aid. And yet you supported the Queen against him.’

He shrugged. ‘A man of business must sometimes look to both sides.’

‘Even when it means seeking the death of your own brothers?’ Baldwin asked pointedly.

‘Never! I would do anything in my power to protect them.’

‘Your protestations are fascinating,’ Baldwin said. ‘However, if you did not do these things, who did?’

‘That madman, Alured.’

‘Or could it have been your brother?’

At the thought Benedetto winced, thinking of the conversation when Matteo had accused him of trying to murder him. ‘He would be shocked indeed to think anyone could accuse him of such a crime.’

‘So you believe it can only be Alured?’ Baldwin said.

‘Who else?’ He stared. ‘You are asking me to believe that Matteo could have killed our brother Manuele? No. Nothing would make me believe that.’

‘And yet your brother is convinced it must be you.’

‘He is a frail thing, Matteo. It is his work, sifting information all day. I think it is only natural that he sometimes has these monstrous dreams. He sees plots under every stone, assassins under his bed. Sometimes he doesn’t know what is real and what is false.’

‘What do you think, Baldwin?’ Simon asked as they made their way back down the stairs.

‘I do not know what to think,’ Baldwin admitted. ‘Or rather, I think I shall be glad to be away from here, and gladder still to see the back of Benedetto and Matteo and their men. How can we serve them, while we believe that they could be murderers?’

He had reached the level of the wall now, and he moved to a door. It opened to the walkway, and he stepped out, peering down. ‘Ah, if someone were to run across there, over the roof, he would be visible from the ground.’

Simon peered over to look. There was a broad wall rising from the building beneath. It lay just below the walkway, and a man could easily reach it by jumping down. And at this end there was a wide window facing into the court, where an arrow slit had been widened. ‘An easy journey,’ he agreed, cursing himself for not seeing it before.

Sir Richard nodded. ‘But would a Devil try it?’

‘I don’t think so. But I am perfectly content to believe that a man might dart across there, and when he reached the keep, he could run up here to this door and get in through it.’

Simon smiled sadly. ‘Which helps us not at all, because Matteo, Benedetto and Alured were all sleeping in the keep, as were many others. Any one of them could have killed Jevan.’