The Prophecy of Death: (Knights Templar 25) (38 page)

‘And yet—’ Baldwin stopped suddenly. His eyes narrowed. ‘Simon, Despenser told us where Yatton was riding when he was killed.
Do you remember where he said?’

‘Leeds Castle, wasn’t it?’

‘Leeds, yes. The castle of Badlesmere, until he lost favour with the King. You remember that, Simon? He was one of King Edward’s
most respected men, but he grew despairing
about Despenser’s influence, so he threw in his lot with Earl Thomas of Lancaster, just before the Lords Marcher rose in rebellion.
At about that time, the Queen was passing by on her way to Canterbury, and asked for lodging for a night. Since Badlesmere
was away, his wife rightly refused entry, saying that she could not allow anyone inside without her lord’s permission. When
the Queen tried to force her way inside, Lady Badlesmere had her garrison open fire, and six or seven of the Queen’s men were
slain. The castle was taken, and the King exacted a vicious price for their rebellion.’

Peter was still smiling. ‘He had Badlesmere’s wife and children taken to the Tower. First women ever to be held there.’

‘And gave the castle itself to his consort,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘The Queen held it since then, and only gave it up recently.’

‘It’s wrong to take away all her possessions for something her brother did,’ John said.

Simon glanced at him. ‘Oh, he can speak?’

‘Hush, Simon.’ Baldwin was watching Peter closely. ‘You were in the castle for the Queen?’

‘Aye. And then I went to Canterbury. No point staying in a castle when your patron’s gone, eh?’

‘Now I understand,’ Baldwin said quietly. ‘De Yatton was on his way
back
when he was killed. He had gone to Leeds – did he go on to Canterbury?’

‘I think so. I think he was there.’

‘And someone stole the oil there. Presumably, someone who also wanted to take it somewhere safe. For example to the Queen
herself?’

‘Yatton didn’t want to kill that monk, you know,’ Peter said. ‘He really didn’t. He was a gentle soul. But when he was there,
the monk told him that he was going to tell Despenser
unless he was paid. No one knew it before, but that bastard Brother Gilbert was the son of one of Despenser’s closest friends.
A small country, this!’

‘Despenser has allies all over it,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘So he took the oil, and brought it to you two?’

‘What’re you suggesting,
knight
?’ John demanded.

Peter looked at John, ‘There’s no need for that, John. We’re safe enough now. Yes, sir. That’s right. And we took responsibility
for it, taking it with us to Beaulieu.’

‘On behalf of the Bishop of Orange so he could take it with him to France,’ Baldwin finished with a sneering tone.

Peter blinked. ‘What?’

‘Isn’t that what you intended?’

‘Christ’s beard, no!’ Peter burst out, and then laughed quietly. ‘Dear God, our master wouldn’t be happy after going to all
that trouble, if we were merely to pass it on to someone else!’

‘But it was the Queen who—’ Baldwin stopped and closed his eyes. ‘The Earl,’ he said.

‘Aye.’

‘I should have realised,’ Baldwin breathed. ‘So you intended bringing it here all along?’

‘Not exactly, no. We thought he would be meeting us at Beaulieu. And then things in France grew worse, and the King decided
to hold this set of meetings up here at Westminster. That made us change our plans.’

‘So instead you brought it here? Where is it?’

‘Delivered.’

‘The Earl has it already, then?’

Peter smiled again. ‘If you wish to think so, I am sure that is fine. So long as you keep it to yourself. The Earl wouldn’t
want it discussed too widely. A man who spoke to others about
whether or not he had the oil would soon learn whether or not the young Earl has the spirit of his grandfather.’

Baldwin ignored the threat. ‘What of Yatton? Was it him who was at Canterbury?’

‘He was there, he collected the oil for us, and then he left.’

‘Why him, though? Why use him to fetch it for you? Surely there were others who would have been less conspicuous?’

Peter shrugged and threw a look at John.

It was John who replied after a moment’s silence. ‘He wasn’t selected at random. Richard de Yatton was keen to help the Earl.
We all were.’

‘What could he have had against the King? Why would he want to steal the King’s oil?’

‘Richard de Yatton was named for his birthplace, Sir Baldwin,’ Peter said.

‘Where is Yatton?’

‘Just down the road from Wigmore. Where Mortimer comes from,’ John told him with a curl of his lip.

‘You mean to tell me that the Earl was happy to make use of a man loyal to his father’s worst enemy?’ Baldwin said, torn between
being aghast that his son could treat the King in such a manner, and doubt that John was speaking the truth.

‘Not entirely, no,’ Peter said, glancing at his companion with an expression that bordered on frustration, Baldwin thought.
He continued, ‘The Earl didn’t know Yatton was one of Mortimer’s men, but that doesn’t matter. Men change their allegiance
all the time. Especially knights in the King’s household, eh?’

‘Some men change their allegiance, yes. Not all,’ Baldwin said pointedly. ‘So the Earl wasn’t aware of Yatton’s background?’

‘Master Yatton made his oath to the Earl,’ Peter said. He
toyed with a splinter of wood on the table in front of him. ‘Yatton wasn’t exactly happy when Mortimer stood against the King.
What else would a man do, when something of that nature happens? Once Mortimer was arrested, he immediately had to seek a
new patron. And he thought it would be best for him to serve the Earl.’

‘Why not the King?’ Simon asked. ‘Or was he too religious to want to serve such a man?’

‘What would religion have to do with it?’ John snapped. ‘You mean because the King is more interested in men than women?’

‘I meant because he has deserted his wife,’ Simon said coldly.

‘His religion would hardly get in his way anyhow,’ Peter said. ‘I never saw him as a greatly religious man.’

‘But,’ Baldwin frowned, ‘he had the necklace full of pilgrim badges. I saw it.’

‘Oh, I know he had that, yes. He collected the badges quite seriously, but I don’t think that had any bearing on his religion.
Like any man, he would go to church on a Sunday, but he wasn’t one of those who wrapped themselves up in Christianity every
day of the week like a warm robe. He could happily sit in a church, but when I saw him, it was often because he wanted a doze,
nothing more.’

Baldwin shook his head. ‘Everyone else has said how religious he was.’

‘They didn’t know him, then. He was no more deeply committed than I.’

Simon looked at Baldwin. ‘Then why did he take so long on his journeys?’

Peter shrugged. ‘It’s not my concern. All I know is that my earl wants the matter forgotten.’

‘And that’s why you’ve just told us all?’ Baldwin said directly.

‘No. I’ve told you this to stop you asking about the oil,’ Peter said. ‘I had a choice of telling you the truth and hoping
to silence you, or removing you. The Earl seemed to feel it were better to feed your inquisitiveness, rather than kill you.
He told us to tell you all, and ask you to hold this secret.’

‘We should tell the King,’ Baldwin said.

‘It’s up to you. The Earl asks that you don’t. The matter is soon to be irrelevant, anyway. Why stir up such nonsense again?’

‘Because the King wants to have it returned.’

‘He’s already anointed. He had his chance to use it before,’ Peter said. The bells were tolling for the next session with
the King, and all four stood. ‘He didn’t believe in it and so he didn’t make use of it. The Earl, however, is determined that
his own coronation will be more auspicious. He will make a good king.’

The King walked through the assembled nobles and took his seat on his throne once more, letting his gaze range coldly over
the men before him.

Once again, Despenser stood and read from a scroll, calling on all present to speak without fear or favour, his tone that
of a steward in court, confident, strong, full of authority.

I wish I could speak with such a voice, the King thought. But he couldn’t. His authority was eroded by the wars with the Scottish,
the losses in France, and the rumours which persisted – that he was a supposititious king, a peasant’s child inserted into
the cot in order to weaken the Crown. He was nothing in the eyes of so many. His barons despised him: he could see it now
in their eyes. The Church abhorred him for his frivolity, as they put it. Singing, dancing, swimming, all were frowned upon.
His brother-in-law in France detested him for his friendship with Sir Hugh.

If there had been a little more respect for him, perhaps he would have enjoyed more success as a king. As it was, there was
nothing he could do now. It felt as though his reign was set on a road that would end ultimately in shamefulness. Appalling
to think that he could be responsible for the loss of so many territories. First he had the trouble with the Scottish, and
now with his lands in France. There was no let up. Enemies were on all sides.

Men spoke. Their voices washed all around him, and there was no conclusion. He should go to France; he should remain in England.
And all the while at the back of his mind was the proposal that his son should go in his place. Would that help him? How could
he tell? All he did know was that his closest and best friend, Despenser, feared for his life were he, the King, to go.

The pressure was intolerable. He wished only to do what was best, but the competing demands were so insufferable that he hardly
knew where to turn. If he could, he would throw it all up. There was no one in the land who could comprehend the immensity
of the stress that a man must endure in his position. It was not something that he
could
give up, though. He was in a position granted to him by God. Not some secular body:
God
. What God had given, no man could take away.

Not that there weren’t plenty of men there in that room who’d have been only too happy to take it away from him, he thought,
looking about him at them all.

His gaze landed upon his son, the Earl of Chester. Twelve years old … or was he thirteen now? It was so hard to keep track.
How could he send the boy over to France on his own? It would be madness. Apart from anything else, he didn’t want to see
his boy over there while Isabella was still there. She had to come back first. That was certain.

Baldwin found Richard of Bury clutching at his sleeve as he and Simon left the great hall. ‘Yes?’

‘My Lord. The Earl of Chester would appreciate a few moments of your time, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Would he? Very well. Take us to him,’ Baldwin said. However, he rested his hand on his belt like a man ready to draw steel
in his own defence.

Bury took them along a long corridor, up to a second level, and thence to a chamber that lay near the Queen’s cloister. Here
they found themselves entering a pleasantly lit and warmed room that was filled with hallings of rich colours. There were
hunting scenes on the wall near the door, but it was noticeable that the tapestries on the other three walls all contained
scenes from the Gospels.

There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and the Earl stood before it, with his back to the flames.

‘Today has been the wettest this year,’ he grumbled. ‘Miserable weather. I got drenched on the way to the audience first thing,
and I’m still not dry.’

‘Your Highness,’ Baldwin said, bowing, Simon copying him at his side.

‘You know all, I believe.’

‘We have spoken with your men, your Highness.’

‘You think there is more to learn, then?’ Earl Edward said testily.

‘No, no, my Lord. I am sure that your men will have been entirely honest with me,’ Baldwin said.

The young Earl suddenly giggled, and for the first time Baldwin appreciated just how young he was.

‘Well, if Peter was, it’ll be the first time in his life.’

‘That was rather the impression I formed as well.’

‘But you do know much. I would ask that you don’t share what you know with my Lord Despenser, nor with the King. It is a matter
for me, not for him.’

‘It is the King’s oil, your Highness,’ Baldwin pointed out.

‘Actually, no, it’s not. I believe the prophecy spoke of the King after him rather than he himself. In any case, he had it
for his coronation and chose not to use it. Now it is up to me to be able to use it for my own coronation, I think.’

‘What if the King learns of it? He is most angry already, is he not?’

‘I think I can satisfy him on that,’ the Earl said.

And he could. His father was always gullible. He would soon be presented with a phial containing a little oil, its scent altered
by the addition of a little oil of sandalwood and myrrh. He would be content with that. And meanwhile Earl Edward would keep
the real oil in his own little phial, ready to be used on the day that he went to the abbey and knelt to be crowned in his
place.

‘So what do we tell Despenser?’ Simon demanded as they walked from the Earl’s chamber.

Baldwin shook his head, desperate to think clearly. ‘What can we tell him? That the King’s son has it? That would be ludicrous.
The Despenser would laugh at us, and then renew his assault on your house, Simon. We cannot do that.’

‘Maybe he won’t? He might bow to the fact that he was unable to do anything and subside quietly.’

‘Simon, he asked us to look into the matter. Have you not wondered why?’

‘No.’

‘I think it’s because he wants to have a little victory for the King. A small proof that he is still the King’s greatest ally
and confidant. If we go to him and tell him that the victory has actually been stolen from him, and that the King’s son has
the oil, I can envisage him considering even removing the son in order to get his own way.’

‘That is a large supposition.’

‘Yes. But he has an enormous awareness of his own self-value. Do not underestimate him as an enemy, Simon. He is very dangerous!’

‘I do understand. So what do you propose, Baldwin?’

‘First, I will tell him that we have investigated as far as we can. Second, that so far as we know, the herald who stole the
oil is dead. Third, that he acted on behalf of another, but the oil was one of the items stolen from his body when he was
killed. And fourth, that it was lost. Perhaps the outlaws had it, perhaps not. But either way, the man died and his secret
died with him.’

‘You believe that?’

Baldwin looked at him, and then a little smile crossed his lips. ‘No.’

Vigil of St Boniface
³⁴

Despenser was already looking up when Baldwin entered the room. ‘And?’

‘You wanted us to report.’

‘Yes. What has happened to the oil?’

Baldwin looked about him. There was a stool at the wall behind the door, so he took it and sat before Despenser. ‘You have
lost it.’

‘
I
have lost it? And how did I manage that, precisely?’

‘It was stolen by the herald we found dead at the side of the road in the great forest, Sir Hugh. I have no idea what became
of it then. Perhaps he sought to save it, and threw it from the outlaws? I have heard of other men who have done the same,
throwing their money away to ensure that it never benefits those who sought to steal it. Perhaps he did that, and threw the
oil deeper into the forest. With the undergrowth there, you could well seek it for years and never find it. I am sorry. I
think you have lost it.’

‘The King has lost it, not I.’

‘Of course. If you do not find it, how can he?’

Despenser nodded slowly. ‘I do not think I like this conclusion, Sir Baldwin. I told you that I would leave your friend Puttock
and you alone, if you helped me on this matter – and yet I get the feeling that you are not being entirely truthful. Why should
that be?’

‘I am being as truthful as possible.’

‘I wonder. I shall be forced to cope with the King’s temper over the matter, but perhaps it is all for the best. The King
would have liked to have had himself anointed again, but for him to do so would expose himself and the kingdom to risks he
barely comprehends.

‘If he were to seek the oil and then have another ceremony, it could lead the ill-disposed to believe that he had no faith
in his initial coronation. And that itself could prove to be a disaster for him. If others got the impression that he was
less than confident of his original crowning, they might wonder whether he was in truth anointed by God. All sorts of treasonous
and dangerous ideas might begin to circulate. We cannot allow that, Sir Baldwin.
I
will not allow it!’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I do not intend mentioning this matter to anybody whomsoever, Sir Hugh. It is closed, so far as I am concerned.
I seek no more information about it.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ Despenser said. The two said nothing more. There was no mutual trust, no companionship, no friendliness
between them. And there never could be. One sought his own aggrandisement at the expense of any who stood in his path, while
the other had witnessed and experienced the most appalling injustice. Baldwin had seen all his friends murdered to satisfy
the greed of the French King. There was no point at which their minds and values could meet.

Baldwin rose and left Despenser there a few minutes later, aware of a great relief that he had at least averted one potential
danger.