The Tournament of Blood

Chapter Twenty-Four

The feast was intended to celebrate the magnificence of the tournament’s opening and give people a taste for the events to come, but Alice sat there, waiting for it to begin, her appetite nonexistent. The choicest meats would taste of nothing; mere ashes would have been as good. The wine was like vinegar, the smoke stung her eyes, and the raucous enjoyment of the other men in the place was all but intolerable. She felt sick with worry about her man, terrified that he might die, appalled to have seen his near-fatal fall from the horse.

Odo had ensured that Alice’s maid and two gentlewomen had attended to her after her collapse. All Alice could remember was waking and hoping it had all been a nightmare. She prayed that the vision of Geoffrey being hurled from his horse by the evil lance in William’s hand was but a dream, a hideous scene sent by a Mare to terrify her.

But as soon as she awoke, Alice found herself staring into the compassionate eyes of a female attendant – and realised that it had been no dream. Her husband was lying at death’s door, and she could do nothing to help. Rising, she learned that Geoffrey had been taken to a chamber near the castle’s hall and she hurried there, ignoring the servants who tried to bar her way and prevent her from entering. ‘He is my husband!’ she declared, with tears in her eyes.

The physician and priest could give her no positive response. ‘If he is to heal, it is in God’s hands,’ the priest said, trying to soothe her, but in his eyes she could see the terrible truth. Geoffrey wouldn’t live; she was sure of it.

Now, at the feast, her mind was trying to come to grips with this new terror. Without Geoffrey, she was entirely alone. Her sole support and protection was dying and there was nothing she could do. She had sat at his side, gripping his hand, directing his face to the altar and crucifix and begging him to pray for his safety while she too pleaded with God, but there was no response. The hand remained quiescent in hers, the breathing so shallow and quiet that several times already she thought he had died.

What could she do? If he died, she was entirely at the mercy of Sir John. Marriage to William. The very thought brought a sob to her throat and a feeling of nausea, and now she was expected to join in a feast!

It was while she was considering this that she saw William himself swaggering towards her.

He was drunk – that was obvious. His face was flushed, his manner truculent. Christ, how she detested the haughty youth! He saw her and gave a hawkish grin. ‘Ready to marry at last?’

‘I am already married.’

‘Ah, but you’ll soon be a widow,’ he said dismissively, and belched. ‘At least I can offer you security. So long as you’re good for breeding, that’s the main thing.’

She felt her face blanch. ‘You think I would wed you? I should rather die.’

‘You’ll have little choice, my Lady,’ he sneered.

‘I am married already. I am the wife of Geoffrey.’

‘If you want to remain known as the wife of the Coward of Boroughbridge, fine. You may not like me much, my Lady, but at least I’m no deserter.’

‘You dare to slander a man because he’s unwell?’ she spat. ‘That is cowardice of the worst sort. You are contemptible.’

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed easily. ‘But I’m also alive, vigorous and soon to be wealthy when I have married you.’

‘I will never marry you!’ she screamed, standing.

The room fell silent, and William realised too late that everyone was listening to their conversation. He gave a nervous smile to the watching men and women and tried to walk away before Alice could embarrass him further.

‘I will never marry you,’ she repeated, then fell sobbing back on her bench. The men at either side pulled away a little, unwilling to become involved in the woman’s problem. That could only lead to trouble with their own wives, were they to challenge Alice’s tormenter.

She had no one. No one. Except…

Except her messenger.

It was a few moments later that Baldwin entered the hall with his servant. There was a tense atmosphere, he thought, glancing about him, despite all the finery.

Alice swept from the place as he walked inside; behind her Baldwin saw William, chatting to some of his friends. The din they were making did not please Baldwin, who thought that youths should learn to control their drinking. He deliberately chose a seat at a more peaceful table.

Simon and his family had not yet arrived, he saw. Nor had Lord Hugh. Baldwin stopped a servant and took a cup of wine, sipping idly while his attention ranged over the guests already gathered for this important meal, hoping to spot a friendly face, but not even Coroner Roger had appeared.

At last he saw a man he recognised. Andrew, Sir Edmund’s squire, walked towards him with a set expression. ‘Sir Baldwin, may I speak to you a moment?’

‘Of course.’

‘Outside, perhaps – where it is quiet?’

Baldwin raised his eyebrows, but assented and followed the man out to the court, accompanied by his own man Edgar.

‘Sir, I must first apologise. I have seen your sword. Seen the cross.’

Baldwin pursed his lips, but said nothing, gazing fixedly at Edgar. Templars were heretics and outlaw; any who didn’t confess and join another Order were to be punished. It hadn’t occurred to Sir Baldwin that he could run too much of a risk of discovery here in Devon, but now someone had seen the evidence of his ‘guilt’. ‘So?’ he grated.

‘Sir, that is how I know you can be trusted. I was a Templar myself – a sergeant. I wanted to warn you about Squire William.’ He told Baldwin what had happened out in the yard and how Hugh had prevented the molestation of Lady Helen.

‘Thank you for the information, but what do you expect me to do about this?’ Baldwin protested. ‘It is nothing to do with me.’

‘It was the Bailiff I wanted to warn, Sir Baldwin. It is said that his daughter is enamoured of Squire William, that she might intend to marry him. Many heard the Bailiff and his daughter arguing about Squire William – yet only just now, Squire William told Lady Alice that she must wed him. He is playing with the Bailiff’s daughter. He will seduce her and toss her aside. That is the measure of the man.’

‘You are sure of this?’

‘Sir, if you doubt me, ask anyone in this company – or speak to the Bailiff’s man. He saw it all.’

‘I am grateful to you,’ Baldwin said, but in fact he was reluctant to become involved in the family of any man, even his best friend. Simon would be sure to resent his interference, quite rightly. ‘Why do you not go straight to the Bailiff yourself?’

‘He would be more likely to listen to you, Sir Baldwin.’ Andrew looked earnestly at him. ‘Sir, I know all the squires. They are young – I am older. I could not be made knight, not with my meagre lands, so I remain a squire, but I think I understand chivalry even so. If William is prepared to molest Lady Helen, is prepared to swear that he will marry Lady Alice, then how honourable can his intentions be towards the Bailiff’s daughter? He would ruin that young woman, merely to satisfy his own momentary lust.’

Baldwin looked at Edgar. The servant nodded and Baldwin grunted. ‘Very well. I suppose I shall have to look into it.’

‘You will speak to the Bailiff tonight?’

‘No. I shall consider what action to take and when I have decided, I shall see to it that young Edith is safe from whatever the danger. Precipitate action tonight might not be wise. No. I shall have to think carefully.’

‘I thank you, Sir Baldwin.’

Baldwin watched the squire bow and return to the hall. ‘What do you make of that, Edgar?’

‘I think that he would prefer to see knights and squires behaving decently.’

‘Then he wishes for bloody miracles,’ Baldwin said. ‘Come! I believe there is to be a meal shortly. Let us eat.’

He walked to the door, and was about to step inside when he caught a glimpse of white. Off near the chapel door he saw Alice, her head bowed, talking to Odo. The herald looked magnificent in his tabard, the gold wires and purple silks catching the torchlight and glittering with each breath of wind, but Baldwin’s keen glance took in Alice’s miserable expression; she had a look of near-despair.

‘Yet how should she look while she waits to hear from the physician about her husband?’ he mused.

There was no comfort he could offer her. He left her with Odo and strode indoors, taking his seat at Simon’s side.

Odo was saddened to see the look on Alice’s face. She looked like a young girl who has become separated from her parents, bewildered and overwhelmed.

He followed her out to the yard, and was pleased to see how her face eased ever so slightly to come across a friend and ally.

‘How is Geoffrey?’ she asked.

‘Last I saw, he was no better, I fear, my Lady,’ he said gently.

‘Oh, God! How can You do this? Why take his life when there are so many others who deserve death?’ she demanded, clenching her fists impotently at the stars.

‘Lady, it isn’t for us to say who deserves life and who doesn’t.’

‘Don’t chide me, Odo. My husband lies dying and his killer wants me to marry him.’

‘Refuse him.’

‘I am ward to his father.’

‘Perhaps he would make a good husband,’ Odo ventured tentatively.

‘William? Never!’ she spat. ‘I need Geoffrey. If he dies, I shall have no other husband. God, that this should have happened! Tomorrow, once he was knighted, he was going to declare our marriage. One day more and I would have been safe. Now I can’t even declare my love, for Lord Hugh must listen to Sir John if he denies me. Sir John is a man,’ she added with vitriolic emphasis that quite unnerved Odo.

Then she realised how her words might have upset him. ‘My friend, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any concern. You have been a good and loyal accomplice to my husband and I.’

‘I am a herald and wish only to serve honourable men and their wives.’

‘Thank you. I only wish you could serve us now.’

Those words rang in his ears now as he watched the knighting of William and five of his friends.

All had bathed in scented water and eaten liquorice to cleanse their breath, before visiting the chapel to confess their sins ready for this ceremony.

Now they stood arrayed before Lord Hugh in fine clothes, all of which held deep symbolic importance, for Lord Hugh wanted all to witness that he sought to ensure that knights dubbed by him would recognise their responsibilities. As a herald Odo could note each stage and its importance.

The selection of clothing came first. The six wore white robes to remined them of the cleanliness of their bodies; crimson cloaks because they must shed their blood when God commanded it; stockings as brown as the earth in which they would be buried, to remind them to prepare for their own deaths.

Servants bound pure white belts about their waists to show that they must exercise restraint and chastity. Then there was a short delay and a few moments later a line of squires entered the hall with pillows in their hands. On the pillows were their new spurs, all gleaming gold in the candlelight. They flashed and shone as they were fixed to the boots of the waiting men, each of them looking a little awed as the significance of the moment caught at their imagination.

More squires moved forward now, with the swords. They went to the respective owners and tied the belts about their waists. As all knew, the sword was the most important symbol of all: the two edges showed that justice and loyalty should always go together, that a knight must always protect a poor or weakly man from a bully, while the cross of the quillons showed that all served Christ.

It was at this moment that Lord Hugh moved forward. His sword was sheathed at his side and he stood a moment contemplating the six. When the room had fallen absolutely silent, Lord Hugh stepped up to the men and struck each on the shoulder with his clenched fist. Each bowed his head while the blow was given, and when they looked up again, each truly did appear to have been reborn. Pride and the knowledge of the honour done to them shone in their eyes.

Odo nodded to himself. All were knights. Each had been dubbed. It was a day none of them would ever forget.

Nor would the others, he decided as he took in the faces around him. Most of the audience was composed of families or friends of the new knights, with one or two women watching, thrilled, as their betrothed men became marriageable. Among the remaining squires he saw boredom, amusement and yes, some envy, but little else until he came to Andrew’s face and saw the naked hatred there as the older squire stared straight at William.

That was enough to depress Odo. What had begun as a powerful display of chivalry and honour had been spoiled by that expression on Andrew’s face, but just as he thought that, any remaining pleasure was shattered as the physician entered the hall and peered about the place.

As he approached Alice, she began to shake her head in frantic denial, and gave a shriek of horror.

The next morning, Simon was in a filthy temper after a poor night’s sleep. Although Lord Hugh had celebrated the knighting of so many youths along with everyone else, the discovery of the second body had made him thoughtful, while whenever Simon caught the eye of the King Herald, the man’s manner left no ambiguity about his opinion of the Bailiff.

As if that was not sufficient, he also had the matter of his daughter’s deception and apparent love affair with the insolent, overbearing heir of Sir John of Crukerne. It was not a match Simon could sanction, not after the way that Edith and William had deceived him. Edith’s behaviour had hurt him – although William’s was no surprise. He was his father’s son.

Edith might not be quite the apple of Simon’s eye as once she had been, but she was still his daughter, and Simon was convinced that a father-in-law like Sir John would make her life miserable. Also there was another factor to be measured: Simon had always felt that a man’s son often grew to be like his father, and he had a fear that, should Edith marry William, the latter would, in years to come, be more rough, more casually violent and cruel. Especially when given a focus for his bile – the daughter of a Bailiff. Simon could almost hear the scorn in his voice: ‘And your father was little better than a peasant, was he? No wonder you don’t know how to behave among the nobility!’ In his mind’s eye he could see Edith weeping herself to sleep after he had taken her roughly and unkindly, too filled with wine to care about her feelings.

Simon was certain that she would have a miserable time of it should she wed the boy, but that didn’t stop her proudly declaring her love for him. The Bailiff only prayed that she hadn’t been stupid enough to spread her legs for him.

He walked out of the castle and down to the tented area, and here he saw Baldwin. The knight was resting on a low stool with a cup in his hand, while to his side sat a very hungover-looking Coroner Roger. ‘Wine, Simon?’ Baldwin said heartily. ‘I hear it takes away sour tastes from too much food the night before.’

‘A jug would be better,’ Simon said, noticing how Roger winced and swallowed on hearing wine mentioned. ‘Ale for you, Coroner?’

‘Bailiff, you are a cruel and vicious man. Has anyone told you that before?’

Baldwin jerked his head to his servant, but it was unnecessary. Edgar had already marched into the tent to fetch the men their drink.

‘How is Margaret this fine morning?’ he enquired once Simon had taken his ease on the trestle table holding Baldwin’s armour.

‘She’s all right – if you ignore her tiredness and annoyance at Edith’s attitude.’

‘So there has been no truce?’

‘Truce be buggered! There’ll be no peace until I take a belt to her backside. Even Hugh has given up. He left Edith to my tender care last evening. Usually he would guard her to her chamber, but not in her present mood!’

Baldwin shrugged. Sometimes young creatures had to be punished, but he wasn’t sure that a beating would achieve much in Edith’s case. ‘What of the murders? Is there anything new?’ he asked, trying to delay the moment when he would have to impart the unpalatable information Squire Andrew had given to him about William’s behaviour and intentions.

‘Christ’s bones! I am baffled,’ Simon grunted into his jug. ‘What do you think?’

Baldwin glanced up at his servant’s face. ‘You’ve heard the gossips talk, Edgar. What do they say?’

Edgar spoke reluctantly. ‘Many here still seem to believe that the Bailiff killed the two men, because they heard the King Herald accuse him; and there is a belief that Lord Hugh only protected him because Lord Hugh himself told you to kill them, sir.’

‘Me! Me!’ Simon exclaimed. ‘Why should I agree to murder that pair of galloping sodomites?’

Edgar coughed. ‘They say you were paid exceedingly well, Bailiff.’

‘But that is ridiculous! Why should Lord Hugh want to punish them? Has anyone an explanation for that?’

‘They say that the collapse of the stands reflects badly upon him personally. Even the failure at Crukerne, which was paid for by Sir John, enraged Lord Hugh because he had guests of his own in the stand. And any man who insults or steals from Lord Hugh’s vassal is stealing from Lord Hugh himself. He is proud of his status.’

‘You see how these things get about?’ Baldwin grumbled. ‘We must solve the matter as swiftly as possible – not only as a matter of justice to the two dead men, but also to wipe the dirt from your name, old friend.’

‘I have paid a fellow to ask questions at the taverns and alehouses, and one innkeeper says he saw Hal in his inn, drinking with another man. He didn’t get a good look at the man that Hal was with, but the pair of ’em left late at night. Where could they have gone?’ Coroner Roger asked, adding thoughtfully, ‘We haven’t yet spoken to the watchman who guarded Hal’s tent.’

‘A good point, Coroner,’ Baldwin said. ‘What facts do we have? We know the killer must be fit and healthy. Anyone who could carry Wymond down from the hill and back inside his tent must have a certain amount of strength.’

‘Wonderful! So almost anyone among all the contestants here could be the man,’ Simon said sarcastically. ‘And the servants, and most of the local farmers – and many of the townspeople. That makes our task so much easier.’

‘Simon, calm yourself. We shall prove your innocence,’ Baldwin said seriously.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve never felt like this before,’ Simon muttered, passing a hand over his brow. He felt fractious and peppery from lack of sleep and a surfeit of worry.

Baldwin said patiently, ‘Let us just whittle the possible culprits down a little, shall we? We know that Hal and Wymond could have been at the site at any hour of the day or night. Who else could have been there? At night there is a nominal curfew, and no one but Lord Hugh’s men should be in the area.’

‘So?’ Simon demanded.

‘The watchmen may have seen someone. Surely if there was a stranger about, they’d know.’

‘And what if they didn’t?’ Coroner Roger scoffed.

‘We have a number of possible motives for these murders,’ Baldwin said slowly. ‘We know that the three were thought of as spies, which would have made them enemies; we know that people reckon Lord Hugh could have wanted them dead… ’

‘That’s rubbish!’ Simon protested.

‘Possibly,’ Baldwin agreed, ‘but we have to consider it nonetheless. Then there is the point that these men have all in their time been involved with building stands which have collapsed.’

‘What of it?’ Coroner Roger said.

‘I cannot stop myself from returning to the idea that there could be a desire for revenge, and that it is that which is causing these murders.’

Odo saw them leave Baldwin’s tent and was tempted to join them, but decided against it. He had passed a cold, lonely night, wishing that he had a warm, comforting woman in his bed with him.

When he had told Baldwin that he needed only a tune, his ready wit, some poetry and a purse of money, he hadn’t counted on having all four thwarted by a malicious King Herald. Most of the diseurs were living up at the castle, but not Odo. Mark had set him to stay in the field in his inadequate tent, keeping an eye on the people to stop fights while Mark himself took full advantage of Lord Hugh’s hospitality and wine.

No, Odo had woken up, shivering and lonely. He wouldn’t be good company for anyone. Besides, Simon and Baldwin had the appearance of men who were about to perform an unpleasant duty – especially since they were joined by the Coroner – and Odo was happy to leave them to it. He already had enough on his mind from the previous night.

Poor Alice had been overwhelmed when she heard of Geoffrey’s death. She had fallen to the floor and had to be carried out and taken to a chamber in the bailey, which had necessarily dampened the festivities. People whispered that she would be unlikely to survive her young husband’s death by many days. Odo, who had acted as the couple’s go-between, was upset to see such beauty devastated by so great a sorrow.

Still, the sun was already warm, even this early, and he had bought a pot of warmed wine and a hot pastry to break his fast. To Odo there was nothing more delightful than a good breakfast, with the knowledge that the day held little in the way of work. After all, no one in their right mind could call the job of diseur strenuous.

It was pleasant here near the river. The water rushing past was noisy but comforting. Even at night it was soothing, although Odo would have preferred to sleep at the castle, which he would have done, had it not been for that fool, King Herald.

‘Talk of the devil,’ Odo murmured to himself as a shadow fell over his open tent-flap.

‘Still eating?’ Mark Tyler snapped. ‘You’ve got work to get on with.’

‘I am just finishing my meal,’ Odo said calmly.

‘Didn’t you eat enough last night?’

‘No, I didn’t have time. As you well know.’ Odo had been ordered by Mark to play music to Lord Hugh and his guests, and when he had finished there was practically no food left. Another of Tyler’s little jokes. Mark himself had retired early.

‘Oh, I was thinking that perhaps you didn’t sleep well, and that gave you an appetite!’

Odo smiled. ‘It was very quiet here, King Herald. All the knights and their squires were tired and slept soundly, and so did I. Any noise was drowned by that lovely river. It smothers even the loudest snores.’

As he had expected, a tremor of annoyance passed over Tyler’s face on hearing this, and with a stern command to finish his food and get to the field ready for the day’s jousting, Tyler whirled around and – well, if he had been a woman, Odo would have said he flounced off. Tyler wanted Odo to sleep badly. That was why he had installed him here, in the midst of the squires and knights.

Mark Tyler had instinctively disliked Odo from the first moment they had met. He had let his eyes run slowly down the other herald’s tabard, taking in the rich cloth before sneeringly asking how long he had been a herald, as if its freshness was proof of his incompetence. His words to Odo had been insulting, sly digs at his background and training. Mark Tyler had been in the Courtenay service for many long years, whereas Odo had learned his trade in the King’s continental lands, wandering from one lord to another.

Yet for all Mark’s apparent contempt for Odo, his fear of him was almost palpable. He was petrified that he could lose his position, and saw Odo as the threat that could topple him from his perch.

This privately amused Odo. He had not taken any interest in Mark’s position when he first arrived. He was happier wandering, as so many heralds and diseurs did, learning new songs, new tunes, and constantly looking out for deeds to record, new coats-of-arms to memorise. Every so often he would hear of a tournament and ride to it, offering his services to the lord who was patronising the event. He would remain there a while, partaking of the lord’s generosity, but always happy to be moving on again.

Mark’s antipathy towards him had made him react, and once having sensed the possibility of taking over the post of King Herald, he was tempted. Lord Hugh looked after his men, and those in his household lacked nothing: good food, new suits of clothing each year, quantities of wine or ale each day… and wherever the Lord stayed, warm rooms and even palliasses. As King Herald, Odo could even expect a decent bed on occasion. The prospect was appealing.

Of course Mark Tyler would have to leave first, but that was no problem. From the little that Odo had heard from Sir Peregrine, the knight banneret clearly considered the King Herald to be incompetent and thought Mark Tyler should be replaced. He had said as much only yesterday. When Simon and Baldwin had rushed away to seek Edith, Sir Peregrine had muttered to Odo, ‘That cretin Tyler will have to go. He’s a liability – useless and an embarrassment. After your efforts, I’ll be happy to drop a good word in Lord Hugh’s ear for you.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ he had replied, ‘but I am content.’

‘Content to wander for the rest of your life? Don’t be a fool. Here you’d have an easy life, and with your singing and playing, you’d please Lord Hugh. Take my advice: when you’re asked, accept the post with gratitude.’

Odo stood and stretched. His future was all very well, but right now he was a mere herald set to control knights and squires during their jousting and here, in the tented area afterwards, he was a watchman responsible for preventing fights escalating into pitched battles.

Setting his mazer on a small table, he left his tent, nodding to a servant at the tent opposite and making for the fighting area.

Everyone was awake now and the noise was all-but deafening. Hawkers bellowed their wares, girls cried out about the quality of their bread or fruits, dogs barked and horses whinnied. As he progressed towards the jousting field, Odo could hear the snarling from a ring in which two dogs fought, the hoarse calls of cocks fighting, men cursing and swearing, cart-wheels creaking and groaning under the weight of cloth or food. And all about was the chatter of people discussing the coming events.

No, he corrected himself. Not all were discussing the events: several were talking about the murders.

It had been odd to see the Bailiff turn pale and then redden yesterday when Mark had accused him of murder. True, Bailiff Puttock had threatened the two dead men – but only in the same way that others could have done. In fact, even as Mark Tyler accused Simon of murder, Odo had thought that of the two men, the red, porcine features of the King Herald looked infinitely more likely to be those of a murderer than the tall and pleasant-featured Bailiff. Odo wondered whether Sir Peregrine had also thought that. In any case, it was plain that Lord Hugh did not intend to have his hired Bailiff accused during his tournament. He had stepped in sharply enough when Odo had pointed at the confrontation.

Odo would be interested to know why Lord Hugh was so keen to protect Simon. But it was probably for no special reason.

He carried on to the stands and stood with arms akimbo, considering the watchmen as they strolled about the place, thrusting their heavy staffs into the longer grasses in a lacklustre manner. They might have been told to look about for possible assassins or dead bodies, but their every movement showed that they would prefer to be in their rooms with jugs of ale.

Yes, it would be interesting to be a member of Lord Hugh’s household, he reckoned. And as this reflection occurred to him, he caught sight of a slim, frail-looking figure walking along the riverbank. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed with real pleasure. ‘I’m glad you’ve recovered a little, Lady Alice.’