The Prophecy of Death

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lydford

‘Baldwin! Baldwin, stop, please,’ Margaret called, running from the house to him. He was already astride his horse, his wife nearby; Edgar tightening the saddle a short distance away, while Wolf capered with one of Simon’s hounds on the grass beside the road.

‘Baldwin, don’t, please. There’s no need for you to do anything which might lead to more danger for you!’

‘Margaret, do not worry about me, my dear. I am perfectly content that I am doing the correct thing.’

‘You cannot go alone,’ Margaret said.

Jeanne had heard their words, but was unsure of their import. ‘What is this? Baldwin, tell me what is happening? Why do you want to leave so soon?’

‘He has decided that he will go to the Despenser and fight him!’ Margaret said.

‘No, I have not,’ Baldwin said reasonably. ‘I have decided I need to return to speak with him, though, to try to ensure that there is no further risk to Simon and Margaret from his men. There is no point in his attacking people who have nothing whatever to do with his affairs. If that itself will not work, I shall petition the King himself.’

‘When you say there’s no point in his attacking someone, you mean yourself?’

‘Jeanne, I have not picked a fight with the man. Not intentionally, at least. Yet he now appears to blame me for something which he is solely responsible for. If he proposed to hound us to death, I may as well ask why. And if I can deflect a little of his ire from Simon and Margaret, that is worth attempting.’

‘You are going again, then? How long will you be gone this time?’

‘In honesty, I do not know. All I can say is, I shall be home again as soon as I may be,’ Baldwin said.

‘Husband, I ask you not to go,’ Jeanne said. Her face was pale, and she leaned towards him beseechingly. ‘Please, Baldwin, don’t do this. I have already missed you so much this year, and I do not want to have to live as your widow yet.’

‘I will not be gone for too long. Hopefully only a week or so,’ Baldwin said. ‘Now, Margaret, do not fret, and don’t think of moving from here yet. Leave it to me, and I shall let you know the best thing to do.’

‘But I have already decided to leave Lydford and return to Sandford. It is more sensible. It is safer there, and nearer to you.’

‘That itself does make sense,’ Baldwin muttered.

Another horse clattered over the cobbles, and Simon crossed to Baldwin’s side. ‘I can’t leave you to go alone, Baldwin.’

‘In heaven’s name,’ Baldwin cried. ‘Is there anybody else? Do you want to bring your chickens, too?’

‘You are both determined?’ Jeanne said, looking from one to the other. ‘Is there nothing that your wives can say to you both that would cause you to reconsider? Not our sorrow, nor our fears? How safe will Margaret be here if you go away, Simon? How safe will I be, if Baldwin’s gone from his home?’

That was also in Baldwin’s mind. He sat on his horse a moment, considering. ‘Simon, could you have Hugh travel? Good. Then let him accompany Margaret and Jeanne along with Edgar. Your Peterkin will go with them, as well as any valuables, and Edgar will deposit them at my house. They will be safe enough at Furnshill, won’t they, Edgar?’

‘Aye. Especially if I can recruit a couple of men from the vill.’

‘Then it is settled. Margaret, you are to bring your boy to Furnshill, where you will have a peaceful time. Meanwhile, I should install someone else here in your house, someone who can defend it,’ Baldwin continued.

Simon grinned. ‘There is another bailiff from the moors who’d like the chance to live here: Ham Upcott. I’ll ask him to come. He’d enjoy beating up a king’s officer or a man from Despenser.’

‘Make sure he realises the sort of men we’re talking of, Simon,’ Baldwin warned. ‘These are harder men than many about here.’

‘Christ’s cods — do you really think so?’ Simon asked. ‘You’ve forgotten what sort of men they are who mine for tin on the moors. I’d have more sympathy for the next poor fool Despenser sends down here, than for a moorland bailiff.’

Vigil of Ascension Day³⁰

Guildford

Jack’s worst fears were not realised.

To his amazement, the men who were with the King were so efficient and organised that every day, the majority of the men set off before dawn, and the next lodgings were always ready before they stopped travelling. This meant that they were outpacing Jack and the Bishop’s journey from Canterbury to Beaulieu, which was only helped by the fact that the roads were much better here. The King was often about this part of his realm, Jack assumed, and the Keepers of the King’s Peace maintained the roads and verges with more care than elsewhere in the country.

‘Are you all right?’

Thomas was at his side, riding along with a fixed expression of distaste on his face every time he caught sight of the Despenser or his men. ‘I am fine.’

It was fortunate that Jack had possessed two blankets, for having seen what Despenser had done to Thomas’s own, he was able to share one of his. It did mean he grew a little chilly on some of the evenings, but for the most part he was fine, and it was good to feel that he had performed an act of kindness. A strange feeling, but curiously warming to the soul. ‘You should try not to keep staring at him.’

‘Despenser? Why not? He ravaged my belongings, accused me of murder, suggested I stole the King’s possessions, and you think I should forgive and forget?’

‘Neither. But I do recommend that you leave him alone. He’s too powerful, too rich, for you to think of hurting him.’

‘Perhaps so — but I can dream!’

‘Save your dreams for the night. You don’t want to fall from your horse.’

‘No. And thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For helping to keep me sane. Without you helping me, I daresay I would have tried to jump on him and kill him. And that wouldn’t help me a great deal.’

‘It would be one way of ending all your wordly problems,’ Jack said with ponderous humour.

‘I’d rather find another means of resolving them.’

‘Good. Now, since he says you stole a possession from the King — can you tell me what this was supposed to be?’

‘There is a phial of oil at Canterbury — or was. It was given by St Thomas, they say, to help our King.’

‘So it was that? I heard about the robbery — it was the week before I got to Canterbury with the Bishop. Who would want to steal it?’ Jack asked.

‘Only someone who intends the King harm. Or someone who wants to do someone else good, I suppose.’

‘If this is holy oil from St Thomas, then it must be marvellous indeed, and very potent.’

‘I believe so. But since it’s been stolen, we may never know.’

‘Why does he say you stole it?’

‘I happened to be there at the priory a few days before the theft.’

‘So were many, I daresay. That’s no reason to accuse you.’

‘Yes. I don’t know why he thinks I may have taken it. I can’t see any reason to.’

‘You don’t hate the King, then?’ Jack said lightly, but regretted his words as soon as he spoke them. ‘Ignore my words. I sound like a cheap spy trying to have you confess to treason just so I can have you arrested.’

‘It is all right. No, I don’t hate the King. And I love our Queen. Those two I would do much for.’

‘But not Despenser, eh?’

‘Him, I would not piss on him if he was on fire,’ Thomas said, and in his mind’s eye he saw that cruel, arrogant face once more, spitting at the ground after he had cuffed Thomas for reaching to his dying brother during the coronation.

If he could, he would happily kill any number of Despenser’s men — and Despenser himself, if he had the chance.

It was late that night, when Thomas had rolled himself up in his blanket and cloak to keep the night chill off, sharing some straw for his bedding with a number of other men and some rats, that he suddenly woke.

He was not usually good at waking up. To him early mornings were a form of unpleasant torture that must perforce be endured, rather than enjoyed. But this time he woke with a start as though suddenly hearing the last trumpet.

It was no trumpet, though. Perhaps a rat had scrabbled past, too close to ignore, too fast to see? Or was it a random thought, something which had sparked like flint and steel in his brain and made him wake?

He was aware of the talk he had had with Jack earlier in the day, and suddenly he felt a wariness. Jack had said that he sounded like a spy, and in truth, yes, he did. It was precisely the kind of conversation which a spy would have had with a man, letting his words ramble on until enough had been said and the spy could denounce him.

But it did not seem right with Jack. Jack had been so helpful, so friendly, that he surely couldn’t be involved with Despenser.

He couldn’t be.

Near Sherborne, Dorset

Simon could not help but keep casting sidelong glances at Baldwin all the way as they rode, Wolf reluctantly loping along behind them.

They had made good time so far. Two days ago, after Baldwin had stated his desire to hurry, their little party had reached Okehampton by evening. Yesterday they had reached Furnshill fairly early, and then Simon and Baldwin carried on at a more urgent pace, and to Simon’s surprise they reached the old town of Ilminster. With luck today they might get as far as Shaftsbury, and tomorrow, perhaps, they would get to Winchester, although Baldwin had already said that they would be best served by making sure that they reached Stockbridge and then letting their mounts have a good rest.

Baldwin had been a good friend for so long now that Simon could hardly remember a time when they had not been companions. It was nearly ten years ago when they first met, over the fire at the little vill. They had discovered a band of trail bastons, ‘club men’ who were ravaging the countryside and killing wantonly. There were so many men who took to violence in those terrible days. The famine was hitting everybody hard, and there were starving families all over the country. Although Devon was not so badly affected as some regions, that only meant that there was an incentive to foreigners from up-country — Somerset and Wiltshire and beyond — to travel to Devon to steal what they could. That was what it felt like at the time, anyway.

Simon had been new to his elevated position as bailiff. It had been largely due to Baldwin’s help that he had caught the trail bastons and firmly secured himself to his post at Lydford. How ironic it would be if he was now to lose everything because of his friendship with Baldwin.

‘I don’t know that this is the best thing to do, Baldwin,’ he said at last. ‘Despenser is an irrational creature. He knows that you and I are thorns in his flesh. What if he decides that the best way to remove us both is to have us murdered?’

‘If he were likely to reach that conclusion, and thought he might get away with it,’ Baldwin said, ‘he would already have done so. No, he is a shrewd and cunning man. If there was merit in killing us, he would have sent that man Wattere with more men and killed you as soon as possible. But he did not. All he did in truth was send you warning that he intended to deal with you at some time in the future.’

‘True enough, but if he finds that we’ve followed him to London, won’t he think that we’re just growing too annoying to be supported? He’d rather just remove us.’

‘So you think you’d be best served by remaining at home and hiding?’

Simon wanted to make a sharp rejoinder, but instead he looked away. The idea of running from any man was repugnant to him, but there were some situations which deserved caution, and this was one such. The man Despenser was the most dangerous in the whole country. He had money, men, and the ear of the King. ‘Running away has never been part of my character.’

‘Nor mine. You could run away from him, Simon, but if you do, you will be forced to run for ever. Yes, if you were to sell the house in Lydford and return to Sandford, he would be thwarted for a little while, but he’d soon find you. He has spies all over the country. But it’s not you he wants, I don’t think. I hope I do not suffer from unjustified arrogance when I say that I think he is more concerned about me.’

‘So what do you intend to do?’

Baldwin gave a twisted grin. ‘I hope to have a chance to have a frank talk with him. I have never sought to be thrown into politics. At every possible opportunity I have tried to avoid it. And he may not realise that, nor that I have done all in my power to keep away from him. It is not that I mean to harm his interests, only that I have barged into his affairs wherever I have gone. He is strangely ubiquitous.’

‘And then, because you have always seen that his affairs tend to be unjust and unfair to the others who are affected, that is the only reason you have deliberately thwarted him?’ Simon said. ‘I don’t think that is entirely the right way to convince him to leave you alone, Baldwin!’

‘Perhaps not. But I would have an accommodation with him if it were possible. I do not wish to live with a permanent fear of him, dreading what he may do to Jeanne or the children; nor what he might do to you and your family. That is unbearable. So if I am forced, I will beg of him that he leaves me in peace.’

‘Beg?’

‘For the peace of my family and yours, yes I would beg,’ Baldwin said firmly.

‘Well, if we are to endure such an unpleasant experience, let’s get it over with,’ Simon said.

‘Yes. If only we had something we could use against him,’ Baldwin said. ‘I would feel much happier entering negotiations with him knowing that I had something more than begging as a last resort.’

‘I think you will have to wish for that.’

‘Yes … and yet we did wonder about the oil, didn’t we? The oil stolen from the King.’

‘Yes. And we agreed to avoid Despenser.’

‘We would be happy to do so, Simon, if only he had left us alone. But when we considered the murder and the theft of the oil, you were asking me about the dead man in the woods, weren’t you? Do you remember, I said that perhaps the killer of that man was the same as the murderer of Gilbert at the priory? The man killed Gilbert, stole the oil, and took to horse through the woods towards the King. He met with a man in the woods, and sought to …’

‘Sought to what?’ Simon demanded irritably.

‘I just had a most curious thought,’ Baldwin said. ‘What if he sought to conceal his identity by throwing his tabard on to the dead man he saw at the side of the road?’

‘How would that work? Unless he was a herald himself, of course,’ Simon scoffed, and then frowned.

‘Yes, it would make sense, wouldn’t it? A man who was dressed as a herald would know that a king’s herald would be sought for the murder of Gilbert, so as soon as he could, he threw aside that uniform. From that moment he would be seen as an innocent when it came to the murder. People would seek a man in that tabard, and failing that, they would assume the murderer was dead. They wouldn’t know who to seek.’

Simon frowned. ‘But they would still search for the murderer of the herald.’

‘Perhaps so. But it would be some local man, not a fellow from the King’s household, wouldn’t it? So they would hardly realise who it was they questioned. And in fact, so long as the murdrum fine was paid, there would be little need for them to investigate further. The coroner and King would be content so long as the money was in the King’s coffers.’

‘So the herald killed a stranger, and then ran into the woods with his oil?’

‘It is one possibility. I say no more than that.’

‘Then we need to consider who had a desire for the oil.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘And we already considered that, didn’t we? We both felt it was likely that only one man would have dared such a bold theft.’

‘But why should Despenser want the oil?’ Simon said. ‘It makes no sense. He could not hope to be crowned, so the oil would have no benefit to him.’

‘The only advantage it might hold would lie in the properties of the oil itself. Perhaps he thought that such a blessed unguent might help him?’ Baldwin guessed. ‘Or the alternative would be that he sought to hold on to it until the King’s need became overwhelming, and then intended to blackmail the King.’

‘Would he dare?’

‘There is little Despenser would not dare, given his appalling arrogance and greed,’ Baldwin said flatly. ‘But there is another possibility, of course. Perhaps he wanted it solely so that he could ask the King to have it used urgently now, to give him the sort of aid his reign requires.’

‘And to do so, he was prepared to see a monk murdered. Hardly the way to ingratiate the King with God,’ Simon said with contempt.

‘Despenser’s mind works in very strange ways,’ Baldwin agreed.