The King of Thieves

Chapter Ten

Langdon, Kent

‘Ah, I am glad to see you both,’ the boy said condescendingly, and Simon had to shoot a look at Baldwin to stop himself from sniggering. Not only would it have been rude, it would also have been very foolish. A man would not willingly insult the next King of England.

The Earl of Chester was almost thirteen years old, but his manner held all the haughtiness of his father. He was taller than Simon remembered, although it was only some two months since he had last seen the Earl, but as Simon knew perfectly well, a lad could very quickly shoot upwards at this period of his life.

He was good-looking. The fair hair of his father, the regular, slightly long features, and the steadiness of his gaze all added to the lad’s allure. Simon could easily imagine that in a short while, he would be tempting the serving girls from any nearby establishment. But his looks and manner were of little concern to the Bailiff just now. What he wanted was to hear that his own presence was unnecessary.

‘You will ride with me when I leave this country to go to France to meet my uncle,’ Prince Edward stated. ‘I will need to have protection, I am told.’

‘His Royal Highness is fully aware of the risks of the road,’ Richard of Bury put in.

Simon did not like Bury. The man was a large, florid-faced cleric, who appeared to hold his piety and love of learning as others might grip a shield. He was watching Simon now, his small, brown eyes shrewd and knowing.

‘How many of us will there be?’ Baldwin asked.

‘We haven’t decided,’ Bury said.

‘My Lord?’ Baldwin pressed, ignoring him.

‘I have a need for a fair entourage. I am to be travelling as a Duke, after all,’ the Earl said. ‘I think I shall need four knights as a minimum, and then the servants …’

The list was a long one, but Baldwin was not interested in the finer details. ‘Which other knights will travel with us?’ he enquired.

‘I had thought to bring Sir Henry de Beaumont. And of course the Bishop of Exeter will join us.’

‘They are good men,’ Baldwin agreed.

‘Oh, and I would like to have Sir Richard de Welles, also.’ The Earl was looking up and over Simon’s head as he spoke, as though mulling over this additional choice.

Simon looked up, forgetting to show due respect. ‘Him? Why?’

‘I beg your pardon, Bailiff?’

Simon realised his error. ‘I am very sorry, your Royal Highness, but I am just surprised at your choice there. Sir Richard is a man of … of great courage and-’

‘Precisely, Bailiff. He is a man of courage and fighting ability. He would be an ideal companion on a journey such as this, I would think. You have a comment to make about him? If you know of some fault in his character, or a dangerous secret, you should share it with us now.’

Simon swallowed and shook his head. He could hardly declare that he had a great respect for the knight’s drinking abilities, for his capacity for strong ale, burned wine, and breakfasts of immense proportions the morning after, when all decent folks were still nursing bellies that complained at the patter of a flea’s feet. And heads that threatened to explode at the rumbustious clatter of a sparrow’s feet landing on a branch. ‘I have enormous regard for Sir Richard,’ he managed with a slight croak in his voice.

‘I am glad. And now, gentlemen, I would be grateful if you could prepare yourselves to leave England in the next week. My father will soon give me the two counties of Ponthieu and Montreuil, and after that we shall be leaving for Paris.’

Simon knew it then. This was a boy, little more than a child. And he was about to leave his country to go to a strange land, where he would be carrying out an important duty for his country and his father. It was a stern, responsible task — but for a boy of twelve years, it was more than that: it was exciting. Especially since he would hopefully guarantee his own inheritance.

He mentioned this later that afternoon as he and Baldwin stood at the bar in the buttery, Baldwin sipping at a leather cup of strong, red wine, Simon gulping from a quart jug of the King’s best ale.

Baldwin looked at him a little strangely. ‘You believe he’s thinking of the realm and his Crown? I tell you this: I think he has more important considerations in his heart.’

‘Such as? What would be more important to a fellow like him than his realm?’ Simon scoffed.

‘The thought that he will be able to see, kiss, and converse with his mother for the first time in many months — that will weigh more heavily with the Earl.’

‘And we’ll be there …’

‘To look after us,’ said Richard of Bury.

The chubby cleric eyed them both short-sightedly, and Simon glowered in return. ‘You were eavesdropping on us. Don’t you trust us?’

‘Bailiff, I have been seeking you out. Don’t you think that we are to be allies on this journey? My only interest is the safety of the Earl of Chester, and yours is the same, surely?’

Baldwin gave a smile and apologised. ‘We are sorry if we gave you offence, Richard. The simple truth is, we are both out of sorts. We would infinitely prefer to be ensconced in our homes with our wives and children about us. This trip — it is just one more lengthy journey which we would fain have left to others.’

‘But the Earl himself asked for you both. He felt happier with your company.’

‘He barely knows us,’ Simon said with a bad grace and turned his back to lean on the bar.

‘True. But he knows his mother’s opinion of you both, which is very high. And he knows something of your characters because I have been teaching him how to understand men. What’s more, he is well aware that you are no favourites of the Despenser.’

‘Sir Hugh le Despenser is a close friend of his father’s, though,’ Baldwin said lightly.

‘Let us not mince words, Sir Knight,’ Richard said, his voice dropping. ‘Despenser is an evil cancer in the heart of the realm. You two are known to be hated by him. Yes, even here people can receive messages of such a sort. And yes, the Earl is happy to have men with him who will be less devoted to Despenser.’

‘What do you want from us?’ Baldwin asked.

‘Just this: that you keep an eye on the Bishop. He is dedicated to the destruction of the Earl’s mother, and Earl Edward will not allow that. It is your task to …’

Simon turned back, eyes narrowed. ‘Are you suggesting that we should spy upon him? Bishop Walter has been a friend to me for longer than I can remember.’

‘I am glad for you. To others, the good Bishop may not appear so kindly. One such person will become your King. Remember that, Master Bailiff!’

‘Richard, we are grateful to you,’ Baldwin said sharply. ‘We will do all in our power to protect your student.’

He watched as the clerk nodded and walked away. ‘I think, Simon,’ he sighed, turning to his old friend, ‘this could become a strangely dangerous mission.’

‘May he swyve a goat!’

Gate of the Grand Châtelet

The body lay at the rear of a small, dark alleyway.

Jean stood with the Sergent while a physician studied her, concluding his examination with a grimace and a muttered, ‘Whoever did this was in real earnest.’

Jean could see what he meant. Despite the lack of light, he could see that the girl had been stabbed many times. Her torso was punctured with lots of little wounds, each about an inch in length, one even penetrating a nipple.

For that was the other thing: this young girl, and she could scarcely have been fifteen, was entirely naked. It was a sight that made old Godeaul’s breath rasp in his throat. As Jean knew, the Sergent had three daughters of his own. The man was gripping his staff with whitened knuckles.

‘Who did this, Godeaul?’

‘If I knew that, Procureur, his body would already be in the river!’ the old fellow said hoarsely. ‘I would not allow a man who could do this to a young girl to live.’

Jean nodded and peered closer, crouching down at her side. The bones of her right hand were crushed; blood was clotted all over her, and smeared across her belly in two lengthy sweeps. That was, he thought, where her murderer had wiped his blade clean after thrusting it into her. And it had been a frenzied attack — he could count twenty stab wounds quite easily, but there would be more, all over her upper body: her breasts, belly, shoulders, throat and head. One had ripped through her right cheek and laid the teeth open to view.

He felt ashamed of himself for subjecting her poor naked body to this close study, but he knew that he must make sense of her position, her wounds, even the choice of this alley for her resting place, if he was to find her killer.

And find her killer he must. As Sergent Godeaul had said, the man who was capable of this sort of attack should be found and slain like a rabid dog before he could kill again.

Langdon, Kent

They had left the bar, and were making their way back to their beds when Simon heard a quiet call. Wolf turned and growled, a low, deep rumble.

‘Baldwin!’ Simon hissed, his hand going to his sword.

‘There is no need for that, Bailiff,’ said the Bishop as he approached.

‘Bishop Walter, I am sorry,’ Simon said.

‘Walk with me, both of you. I have need of a little contemplation, and your heads will aid me.’

They followed him as he paced along the grassed lawns, his head bent.

‘Bishop, is there something you wish to ask of us?’ Baldwin said after some minutes.

The Bishop sighed. ‘Yes, there is. It grieves me to say it, but we have too many men on this journey. I am content with Sir Richard de Welles. He is a stout-hearted man, and has experience of reading how other men will react, from his position as Coroner. And I believe he will stick true to his oath.’

‘Of course.’

‘You will, too, I know. There is nothing you would do to harm me,’ the Bishop continued, as though he had not heard Baldwin. ‘It is the others. You know, I am wary even of Sir Henry de Beaumont.’

‘Why? Sir Henry is a man of good reputation.’

‘Yes, he is. But a good reputation is only as good as the last man who reported it.’

‘What do you fear, Bishop?’ Simon asked bluntly.

‘It is not my fear,’ Bishop Walter said quietly, ‘but I am anxious, that if I die, then the Earl’s life could be in danger, and the realm with him.’