30 - King's Gold (37 page)

He faced Baldwin, and the latter saw the authority in his eyes again.

‘Sir Baldwin, this is the place where I will die. Mortimer detests me, and he knows that if I am released, I will ensure his destruction. I would not have him live a day in my kingdom, and never,
never
would I allow him to escape the realm again to raise a host against me. So there is no other conclusion: when he may, he must see me dead.’

Baldwin said nothing. He was not persuaded because he saw the risks to Mortimer: he would lose the Queen’s support, the support of his leading Earls and Barons, the support of King Edward III; all would revile him, were he to stoop to regicide.

‘So, Sir Baldwin, if I am to live,’ Sir Edward said, carefully modulating his tones, ‘I must escape.’

‘I see.’

‘Do you?’ Sir Edward stared at him. ‘There are many here who would happily slit my throat. I am in danger all the time I remain here.’

‘You have loyal men here to protect you,’ Baldwin said.

‘There are plans to rescue me,’ Sir Edward said. ‘If I can survive one month, I may yet vanquish Mortimer. And after that, I will be freed, with God’s help.’ He fixed Baldwin with a stern look. ‘I will be out of here within two months. It is your duty, and that of Sir Ralph, to ensure that I am safe until then. I have heard from those who would see me return to the throne. And afterwards, those who have aided me will be richly rewarded.’

Baldwin smiled and nodded. But he felt a dreadful pang as he walked from that chamber.

It seemed plain to him that the man who had been King was losing his mind.

Sir Jevan was disgusted by the behaviour of those fools. They had no idea how to get the truth from peasants! It was better to beat them, or cut them a little, if you wanted their co-operation. The cretins were not capable of opening their vile mouths without incentives. Any knight knew that.

He strode to the buttery and demanded a pot of wine, which he drank off in a couple of gulps. Rage was still simmering in his breast at the thought of that blasted carter – the idiot who had delayed him so much when he was trying to capture that felon and outlaw . . .

That was when he recalled the curious incident yesterday on the way here. The man whose eyes had seemed so familiar. The man riding at the rear of the party who had looked so similar to the fellow he had hunted: John of Shulton. Perhaps it was his imagination – after all, even the most foolhardy outlaw would avoid joining a party like the guard from Kenilworth. It would take a man of incomparable stupidity to try such a thing.

Or a most cunning one
, he reflected.

Wednesday before Easter
³⁹

Berkeley Castle

John was out in the yard a short while before the noontime meal; he whittled at a stick near the hall as he waited, hungry, his eyes watchful for any sign of Sir Jevan.

‘An exciting time yesterday,’ William atte Hull said, walking up to him, wiping his hands on his jerkin.

‘The felon?’

‘Yes. Always satisfying to see a criminal brought to justice,’ William said. ‘They will convene a court for him, no doubt. That will encourage good behaviour. There’s nothing like seeing a wrongdoer dangle by the neck.’

All in the castle had heard of the interrogation of Dolwyn the day before, but it gave John little pleasure. He threw his stick aside and sheathed his knife. He didn’t feel as though there was anything to celebrate about yet another man who was doomed to die.

‘You disagree? The fellow deserves his end,’ William continued, seeing John’s expression. ‘And in any case, he’s only a common churl from a vill somewhere far away. Who will miss him?’

‘His wife, his children, if he has any,’ John said.

‘He shouldn’t have killed a man and tried to hide his crime then, should he?’ William countered. He glanced about them. ‘Listen – I have spoken to the masons here, and there is work for at least another five men. If we can get even one more of ours into the castle, it will help a great deal.’

‘Right,’ John said. He felt his spirits sinking as he looked about him at the strong keep, the massive curtain walls and defences. And you think this could work?’

William ignored his pessimism. ‘I can get a message to one of our men. Then it will be up to you to keep an ear out for any suggestion amongst the garrison that a man in among them could be suspected. You understand?’

‘You really think one extra man in here will help?’

‘One additional man will always be better than none,’ William said with confidence. ‘And soon, very soon, there will be news of Stephen and Brother Thomas. They are preparing for a new battle. Yes, soon, very soon we shall be ready.’

The castle was quiet that afternoon as Baldwin and Simon and their servants left the hall, replete after their lunch.

‘Sir Ralph is with Sir Edward?’ Simon asked.

‘Yes. I agreed with him that he would look after the King—’

‘King?’

Baldwin gave a shamefaced grin. ‘If you prefer, then, Sir Edward of Caernarfon, in the mornings, while I would see him in the afternoons. There is no need for both of us to be with him all the time. And I doubt most strongly that Lord Berkeley would want more than one knight in with Sir Edward.’

‘He would not trust you to keep the knight in his chamber, then,’ Simon said lightly.

‘No,’ Baldwin said with a grin. ‘I think that he does not trust any who has shown loyalty to Sir Edward. It can scarcely be wondered at. If Sir Edward were to be rescued, what would happen to the lord? As the gaoler of our former King, I think he could imagine with great ease what his end would be, were the good knight to recover his throne. So while he is responsible for Sir Edward, he will keep those who are loyal well away from him.’

‘How long must you remain here, Baldwin?’ Simon asked.

Baldwin smiled sadly. ‘I do not know,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps a month, perhaps two. It is not a very long sojourn, I trust. What about you?’

‘Oh, I hope to leave before too long,’ Simon said. ‘I promised I would return home before the summer is well under way.’

Baldwin nodded, but then he gave a fleeting frown. ‘What do you think of her, Simon?’

Following his gaze, Simon saw the figure of Agatha. ‘Her? Just a peasant’s widow.’

‘And upset to learn that her horse and cart were gone. So upset she travelled all the way here to try to find them.’

‘What of it?’

‘The theft of the cart surprises me,’ Baldwin said. ‘Just think: a man comes across a fellow with a cart and decides to steal it. How would he do so?’

‘Knock him on the head or stab him,’ Simon said with certainty.

‘Yes. He would not rummage through the man’s cart to find an axe. If he did, he would immediately go to the parcel at the back that clearly held weapons, wouldn’t he?’

‘Perhaps it was dark, and he couldn’t see the weapons?’

‘But if it were dark, it is even more surprising. Let us assume that it was. Ham was asleep. The killer went to his cart and felt around for a weapon. He would first have found those wrapped in the blanket, would he not? If the hatchet was under the plank, it would be the last weapon he would come across. Also, Dolwyn had a sword at his belt. Why on earth hunt for a new weapon when he already wore one?’

‘Because he didn’t want to have his guilt demonstrated? You know as well as I do that a sword can be matched to the wound it makes.’

‘Yes, but not with accuracy. No one could affirm it with certainty – and he would know that. An assailant in the dark will wish to attack first and make sure of his victim, rather than riffling through a cart in the hope of finding a weapon.’

‘But this man Dolwyn knew that there were weapons there,’ Simon said.

‘True enough. But did he know that there was a hatchet as well?’ Baldwin wondered.

‘He had been with Ham for some time, so he probably discovered that Ham kept a small axe there, and when he found Ham, he took that as being the nearest weapon to hand. Unwrapping the others would knock one against the other and make a noise,’ Simon said.

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said. ‘You must be right.’

But he was not convinced.

Father Luke rose from his place before the little altar in the chapel, and crossed himself devoutly.

He hated being here in this great castle. The place felt like a prison. Luke was used to the countryside about Willersey and Broadway. If he had wanted to be secluded, he would have joined a monastery.

Outside, the bustle of the men at the walls made his head hurt. He eyed the men on the scaffolding, the masons hacking at rocks with their sharp hammers and chisels, men up higher with only a hammer, tapping here or there at a recalcitrant stone as they tried to make the wall secure. Chips and small flakes of rock pattered to the ground like hail.

He was not used to all this noise. He was out of place, and this was not where he should be. He should be in his little church back at Willersey.

‘Father?’ Agatha was approaching him with a look of resolve on her face.

‘Yes, my daughter?’

‘How long do you think it will be before I can get my horse and cart?’

‘As long as it takes for my Lord Berkeley to decide that it truly was yours and that it should be returned,’ he said testily. ‘It is not in my hands.’

‘I know, but I want to get home again to my little girl.’

He wanted to shout that he too had no desire to remain here. The trip had turned out to be worthwhile because of recovering the King’s gold, but now that he was here, he was as sure as he could be that he would never be able to touch the coins. Lord Berkeley would never let a parish priest and a peasant woman take any of the money back.

‘You are right,’ he said. ‘It would be good to return to her.’

‘I can’t leave without my horse and cart. It would make all my trouble pointless,’ she said.

‘And mine,’ he agreed. He set his jaw. He would have hoped that Agatha would show a little more appreciation for the lengths to which he had gone. Then again, he had never told her that he was intending to find the money so that he could use some of it to make her life and that of Jen easier. Why should she be grateful?

He about to walk off when he heard his name called again. Turning, he found himself confronted by a man-at-arms.

‘You!’

‘Father, I have sinned and I need you to hear my confession.’

‘I will
not!
After what you did?’

‘Father Luke, I must make confession. You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?’ John said, and gave a twisted grin.

Maundy Thursday
⁴⁰

Berkeley Castle

Dolwyn was sitting apart from the other two. They had shunned him since learning he had been accused of murder. Perhaps, he thought sullenly, they expected him to spring upon them during the night and slay them with bare hands and teeth.

The morning was well advanced when the upper door opened and five men unlocked their cell, calling on all three to follow them.

Traipsing up the stairway, Dolwyn was surprised at how leaden his feet felt. He had done without food for longer than this before, when he had been on the run, but that did not compare to this feeling.

The sudden glare made him cover his eyes as it had two days before, but today there was no direct sunlight, only bright clouds that gleamed like balls of spun silver high overhead.

There were two more men out here, both with staffs at the ready, and he eyed them as he passed. Seven guards for three weak and hungry men, Dolwyn thought to himself. It was heavy-handed.

They were brought to the hall. There was no fire today. Instead, the blackened hearth in the middle of the broad flagstoned room had been cleared, and the three prisoners were placed before it. A shame it was not lit. The stone walls absorbed any heat the sun might provide; in here it was perpetual autumn.

At the far end of the hall, sitting on his great seat on his dais, was Lord Berkeley, looking solemn. Ranged about the walls were men from the castle’s garrison, and Dolwyn saw the priest, Agatha, Baldwin and the others. He eyed them with a feeling of apprehension. This was not to be a quick and easy hearing with allies to protect him; this was a dangerous chamber.

‘You have been accused of the murder of Ham Carter of Willersey. How do you plead?’

Dolwyn knew that this court was convened to see to it that he was executed. A simple means for a lord to ensure that peasants would obey his laws was to hang a malefactor every so often.

‘I am innocent.’

‘What of the other two? How do they plead?’ Lord Berkeley called, staring at Harry and Senchet.

‘Innocent,’ they both responded quickly.

Dolwyn looked at them. ‘I did not find these two until after I had taken the cart. I was riding along the road alone when Sir Jevan there,’ he nodded in Sir Jevan’s direction, ‘saw me and stabbed me. They have nothing to do with the matter.’

‘Is there anyone who can speak for these two?’ Lord Berkeley asked.

Gilbert nodded. ‘My lord, I know them both. They were loyal servants to Sir Edward when he was King. He would speak for them, if you wish, I am sure.’

There was some annoyance in the face of Lord Berkeley when he heard that, but after a muttered discussion it was decided by the lord and his steward that the two could be released.

‘What do you have to say for yourself then, Master Dolwyn?’ the steward asked with a sneer. He was a medium-height man in his forties, with a protuberant pot belly. Grey eyes watched closely as Dolwyn responded to his questions, narrowing slightly when the answers he received were not to his liking. It was plain that he had at one time been given some legal training from the way he posed his questions, glancing down at the clerk who scratched away with his reeds as he spoke, making sure of the facts. He enjoyed his task as prosecutor.

Naturally there was no defence pleader. An innocent man had no need of a specialist: innocence spoke for itself.

‘So, your name is Dolwyn of Guildford. And you stole a horse and cart.’

‘I stole nothing. I
found
a horse and cart. There was no one with them. It’s not stealing to take something that’s been left.’