Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) (43 page)

‘Then let us see her chamber.’

Peter chewed at his lip. ‘What will you do if there is blood in there?’ he asked without moving. ‘You mean to accuse the Queen of murder?’

‘No. There is no doubt that the man who died was an assassin. We have had him confirmed in his profession,’ Baldwin said. ‘My interest is to learn about Mabilla and who actually killed her.’

Peter led the way slowly out through the rear of the chapel and along another corridor. ‘But if you find blood in her chamber …’ he said again, still anxious.

‘It will simply mean that someone killed the assassin in order to protect her.’

‘Ah. Good point. That man should be rewarded,’ the Chaplain smiled. He threw open a door. ‘Here it is.’

They were in a long chamber that looked out over the Thames. The walls were decorated with a pattern of tiles, the floor comprised good broad elm boards, and there were decorative tapestries and hangings to stop the draughts. Baldwin glanced about him once, and was then off along the chamber, his eyes to the ground, walking from side to side like a questing hound.

‘Is he always like this?’ Peter asked.

Simon, who was finding it hard to drag his eyes from the hangings, from the gilded carvings at the ceiling, from the fabulous tableware and the gleaming plates and bowls of silver, could only nod.

‘Stop! In the name of the King!’

Peter winced and threw a look at Simon.

‘Oh! Hello, Master Blaket,’ Simon said, and attempted a sickly smile as the long pike’s spear-point came to a halt at his breastbone.

Sir Hugh le Despenser watched as the two men were pushed in, the Chaplain apologising profusely behind them, all of them bowing low as they came into the King’s presence.

King Edward could have been unaware of their arrival. He was sitting at his comfortable seat and eating, making no comment, but Sir Hugh knew that studied disinterest of old: it was a certain indication of his extreme anger.

Studying them himself, Sir Hugh saw that the Chaplain had every appearance of fear. Good. So he should! He’d been found leading these two in among the corridors to the Queen’s quarters when they’d been told to leave the place alone. If nothing else, he’d lose his comfortable little posting here. No matter that he had ‘benefit of clergy,’ his crime was one that would undoubtedly lead to a punishment. That was a sly little game for clerics who were guilty of fondling some matron’s titties, but it wouldn’t serve for a man considered a traitor to the King. And leading strangers into the Queen’s accommodation was surely a treacherous act.

These two rural officers! Look at them! One a country-knight with barely enough money to keep himself in equipment and horses, while the other was a mere peasant. Pathetic! Yet they had challenged his authority and now they sought to embarrass the King himself. Good God – what a pair of
cretins
!

The Bailiff was worried. It was there in his quickening breath, the narrowed eyes, the slight flushing at his cheeks. As he walked in, he had looked calm, perhaps a little anxious, but not more than that. Now, though, he stood with his eyes downcast, a man who knew his peril and daren’t meet the eyes of his judges in case he saw death in them. He’d be fun to break! If the bastard didn’t confess to his crime in five minutes of first meeting Ellis and his tools of torture, Sir Hugh would be happy to eat his cap!

It was then that he saw Sir Baldwin’s gaze on him. The man had the nerve to meet his eye! Sweet Christ, he’d have the man’s ballocks off for that! And there was no fear in his face. If anything, he was like a man who had already lost all he cared about and now was prepared to stand up for what he believed.

The King finished his meal in a leisurely manner, and beckoned a laver, who hurried forward with a bowl and towel as the Chaplain behind the King read a short Grace giving thanks for God’s bounty.

Dabbing at his lips, the King did not so much as cast a look in their general direction. ‘You were in my lady wife’s parlour. You had been told not to go there, but you did so.’

Sir Hugh stared from one to the other. He saw the
Bailiff glance at his friend, but Sir Baldwin made no sign; he merely stood utterly still, his brows lowered as he listened.

‘I had asked you to investigate the murderous attack upon my good friend Sir Hugh here, but you chose to slight me and suggest that I should be more careful of my wife’s life. And then you broke into her chambers.’

‘You asked me to investigate the murder of Mabilla and the death of the assassin in the Great Hall. I am doing that to the best of my ability, my Liege.’

‘You seek to correct me? You presume to tell me I am wrong again?’ King Edward snapped.

All in the room stiffened. Despenser could
feel
it: the sudden gathering for the explosion of violence that would surely ignite in the King’s breast. He’d seen it so often since the Battle of Boroughbridge. The King had made it his mission to seek out all those who’d decided to challenge his holy authority, his God-given right to rule in his own name, in the manner which he chose. They had been hunted down, every one, and destroyed. Broken, ravaged, they were hanged until almost dead, and then their pricks and ballocks were cut from them and burned before their eyes to show that their line was cursed. While they choked and struggled, gagging, the noose about their necks, the executioner would hack open their breasts and rip out their still-beating hearts and throw them onto the fire. Only then were they beheaded, their corpses butchered so that their limbs could be displayed on the city walls as a deterrent to others.

‘I intend to seek the man who could have sought to murder your Queen, my Lord,’ Sir Baldwin said flatly.
‘This is the task you gave me, and I will serve you as best I may.’

‘I told you I wanted the man who intended my friend here to be killed.
That
was the man I wanted you to find for me.’

‘And I said that your friend here had enough men of his own. The Queen suffers from the loss of her household. Who is to protect her?’

‘She has my protection!’ the King snapped.

Baldwin set his head slightly to one side and said nothing, but his manner was clear.

Sir Hugh intervened with acid in his tone. ‘You mean to accuse your King of deceit? You say that he seeks to harm his wife?’

Sir Baldwin looked at him. ‘No man could dream of such a thing! I merely state the obvious, my Lord. You have your household to protect you. The King’s household exists to serve him. Yet the Queen, who is the lady whose life must be in peril, has had all her guards dispersed, her friends and knights removed. She is little better than a petitioner at the court where she is supposed to rule. If a man were to make an attempt on her life again, it would be easy enough.’

‘My men guard her!’ Sir Hugh spat.

‘I am sure Her Ladyship would be comforted to know that,’ Sir Baldwin said expressionlessly.

‘You doubt his integrity?’ the King demanded. ‘Sir Hugh is my fondest companion. I trust him entirely.’

‘I am glad to hear it, Your Majesty.’

‘You disbelieve me?’

‘Your Majesty, no man could doubt your honour.’

‘That scarcely answers my question.’

Sir Baldwin said nothing, but his dark eyes changed subtly. Sir Hugh saw it: there was a sudden chill in them. All warmth left them, and all that remained was like the black ice that formed on the paved ways in winter. Even Sir Hugh was affected by them, and felt compelled to look over at the guards and make sure that they were all ready in case of an attack.

‘You are a bold fellow, Sir Baldwin.’

‘There are times when a man must choose integrity compared with living a lie, Your Majesty. I feel sure I would be uncomfortable behaving any other way.’

‘Yes. Perhaps you would,’ the King muttered. He subsided into his chair, and now his anger appeared to have left him. He studied the two men before him with a quizzical expression in his eyes. ‘What were you doing there? You sought to search her rooms. That doesn’t sound as though you were seeking to protect her – quite the opposite. Are you guilty of treason against your Queen, Sir Knight?’

There was a teasing note in his voice which Sir Hugh did not like to hear. ‘Your Majesty—’ he began.

‘Let him answer, Hugh. Does he look like a burglar to you? No. Nor the good Bailiff, I’ll be bound. Come, Sir Baldwin. Answer: do you mean her some harm?’

‘Your Majesty,’ Baldwin said, ‘I would never dream of harming her or you. I am a loyal servant of the Crown.’ He inclined his head. ‘If you have any doubts about me, you must immediately take away my writ to serve you as your Keeper of the King’s Peace in Devon.’

‘Come now!’ the King said a little testily. ‘If I was that
worried, you wouldn’t still be standing here before me, Sir Baldwin. Plainly I do not distrust you altogether. No, I am inclined to believe you. But what were you doing in her rooms?’

‘I sought blood.’

‘Blood?’ The King’s eyes widened. ‘What?’

‘The assassin died somewhere. One of only a few places where I had not yet searched for his place of death was in the Queen’s chamber.’

‘And did you find it?’

‘I fear, Your Majesty, I was interrupted before I could complete my search. But I do not think I shall find anything there. There was nothing to indicate that there had been a fight. Surely wherever this man Jack atte Hedge was murdered, he will have left traces of his death.’

‘Perhaps. So you will not be feloniously persuading some mischievous Chaplain to grant you access to her rooms again?’

Baldwin allowed himself a small smile. ‘I rather think that my experiences tonight with your most efficient guards would put me off the idea of further enquiries.’

‘Good. Oh, rise, rise, all of you!’

They did so with relief. Simon always suffered from a bad back, and after bending for so long he was uncomfortably certain that he would soon be suffering again.

‘What will you do now?’ the King asked.

‘I think I am close to a decision on the matter of the murder.’

‘But have done nothing about the attempt on my good friend Sir Hugh’s life?’

Baldwin smiled. ‘I have discovered an interest in that too, my Liege.’

‘You have!’ the King exclaimed. ‘What tempted you to start to think of this?’

‘Naturally your desire to see me look into it, Your Majesty. That, and a chance comment from a man earlier. It has made me look at the matter afresh.’

‘Ah. Very good. You may leave us, then, and continue your search for the truth.’

Baldwin nudged Simon, and the three men backed away, bowing low. They managed to reach the door without stumbling, and once outside the room they looked at each other, Simon blowing out his cheeks as he sighed with relief. ‘Baldwin, Brother Peter, I thought I was going to have to compose a letter to Meg to say, “Farewell”!’

‘Come, Simon. Don’t exaggerate! There was little enough to fear in there.’

‘Little? When we were hauled in front of the King?’ Peter squeaked.

‘It was to be expected.’ Baldwin sighed. ‘Only it does mean that further investigation will be difficult. How can we learn where the assassin died if we cannot look in the King’s and Queen’s own chambers?’

Simon shot him a look. The guards were still close, but as he and Baldwin walked away from the last door, Chaplain Peter behind them, he leaned to the knight.

‘You mean you didn’t see?’

Baldwin was puzzled. ‘See what? I was looking at the King.’

‘On the floor beside the table, near Despenser’s foot. A large stain on the flags and carpet.’

‘Was it blood?’

‘I’d bet on it.
That
was where he died.’

‘Good. In that case we have almost all the chain of events in our hands, Simon,’ Baldwin said, and rubbed his hands together with glee.

Ellis was almost back at the palace when the man stopped him.

The fellow was young, and quite slim for a man-at-arms, but from the heraldry on his breast, he was a servant of Earl Edmund. He wasn’t the sort of man to upset, but Ellis didn’t care.

‘What?’ he demanded ungraciously.

‘A present. For your master from mine,’ the man said. ‘Do not open it yourself, though, it is for Sir Hugh le Despenser and him alone’

Ellis took the leather package and hefted it. It was quite heavy, for all that it was about the size and shape of a pig’s bladder. He jerked his head to have the man move out of his path, then strode onwards.

The gate was busy, as ever. There were always traders entering, politicians idling their way past, guards sitting and gossiping with pots of ale or wine, and the sound of thousands of men and women talking as loudly as possible, selling wares, shouting for attention, demanding people stop and consider their goods.

Not for him today, though. He had been sent to the Bishop’s house with an urgent mission, and now he had a
gift for his master too. He shouldered his way through the crowds and out to the Green Yard gate. ‘For Sir Hugh le Despenser,’ he said, holding up the package, and was soon through.

He had been told to bring his message to the King’s chambers, so he made his way there now, easily getting past the different guards. All knew him. All worked for him. All were paid by him.

The last pair were at the King’s doors. Ellis motioned for them to stand aside, then rapped smartly on the timbers. Hearing the King’s command to enter, he opened the door and walked in.

‘Ah, Ellis,’ Despenser said. ‘You have it for me?’

‘Yes. I went there as you asked, and his servant gave it to me.’

‘Good. Where is it?’ He took the small scrap from Ellis and glanced at it with relief. Then he saw the leather parcel slung from Ellis’s shoulder. It was a simple bag, with a thong that passed about the mouth, and this had been tied firmly. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a gift from Earl Edmund.’

‘Really?’ Despenser said. He was intrigued. The Earl was more likely to send an assassin, like the one who had tried to kill him on Sunday.

The King was surprised too. ‘I didn’t think my brother would usually consider sending you a present, Sir Hugh.’

‘Nor did I, my Liege,’ Sir Hugh said, but added with a smile, ‘yet he and I have discussed many matters recently, and we find ourselves often in agreement.’ He set the package down on a table and fumbled with the bindings.
It felt like a pot of wine or something. It was quite a weight.