‘Sir Laurence! Wait, please!’
The knight turned at once, his heart still pounding painfully. Without the release of actual fighting, he felt weak, as though the explosion of rage that had flooded him had torn all energy from his soul. It was a huge relief to see that the person hailing him was David, his clerk.
‘Yes, old friend?’
‘Redcliffe, you remember? – you asked me to learn what I could. Good God, you look awful. Been back to the garderobes to get a whiff of the stench?’
‘Not now, David.’
‘Very well. The man you asked about was a merchant here in the city until he lost all his money. He was closed down some months ago. There were rumours that he was going to try to start again, but he had no money to begin.’
‘I see.’
‘There was a story I heard…’
‘What?’
‘Some say that he had been used by the King as a messenger, that he was especially trusted. He had been a purveyor of Spanish horses for the King, and used to take messages abroad for His Highness.’
Sir Laurence nodded, but he still felt numb and couldn’t quite grasp the significance of this. ‘What would that matter to Sir Roger, then?’
‘There is one possibility, sir.’ The clerk looked around cautiously before speaking. ‘This man could have been suborned by Sir Roger. If he was truly a man with access to the King, he could, perhaps, have been sent to try to assassinate him…’
‘No, surely not!’
Then Sir Laurence remembered the look on Sir Roger’s face, and thought about the latter’s strenuous efforts to be gone from here and chase after his quarry.
‘David, you keep this to yourself. Don’t mention it to anyone.’
In its own way, the note was thoroughly unremarkable. A short line it read simply:
And yet nothing could have been more shocking to Sir Baldwin. This scrap of parchment was, in effect, a letter of safe-conduct for the man. A man who was supposed to be a loyal messenger to the King.
‘I don’t understand,’ Roisea protested. ‘How could he have something like this?’
It made no sense. Unless… ‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said, ‘Sir Roger Mortimer gave him free passage so that negotiations could continue?’
But he knew perfectly well that Sir Roger would be highly unwilling to negotiate with the King. There could be no discussions about how to surrender. The whole process of war for Sir Roger Mortimer was concentrated on destroying the King, utterly.
‘I don’t think so,’ Roisea said. ‘Thomas was never that close to the King. He was a merchant, that was all.’ Her face reflected her terror. ‘How could he do this? He was a traitor, wasn’t he? He must have been!’
Baldwin put a hand on hers. ‘There is nothing to say that. One line on a strip of parchment like this is not proof.’
‘What would the King say? Would
He took the strip and set it inside his chemise, passing her the purse again. ‘You keep that, and I shall keep this for now. It is nothing to do with you, and if you are asked, say you have no idea about it. You have not seen it. You do not know anything about your husband’s work.’
‘So you think he was a traitor, too.’
‘It is difficult to know what else to think,’ the knight admitted.
Jack was nearby, and Baldwin lowered his voice so that only Roisea could hear him. ‘Whatever your husband was trying to accomplish, it is too late now. He cannot be punished, and there is no point in making you suffer for his actions. So try to forget all about it, madame.’
She could not, of course. As Baldwin rode on, he could see the tears falling down her cheeks. This was the first time he had seen her weeping with such passion, he noted. The death of her husband had not affected her thus, but this discovery, which could potentially threaten her own safety, was different.
He put her from his mind. She was not important – but the note was. It showed that all he had done since meeting that evil, lying fool in Winchester had been based on deceit. He had diverted himself from his home in order to protect the man who was plotting to kill the King! Instead of bringing a messenger, he had brought an assassin. That was how he read the message, and he could see that Roisea thought the same. It was terrifying. But at least Thomas had been killed.
Which then brought another thought to his mind: if that man whom he had injured at Winchester, and then killed at the Severn, was actually determined to kill Thomas Redcliffe, then surely he had been ordered to do so by someone who was supporting the King and had learned something about the plot to hurt him. Which meant that Baldwin himself had tried to protect the assassin. If he had succeeded… A shiver of dread went through his frame.
The castle was before them now, the great keep rising up to a monstrous height. With such a small force as this, it looked enormous. So many of the King’s men had already disappeared, Baldwin wondered how long they could actually survive.
So long as he could keep silent about the note in his chemise, he would be safe. As soon as they arrived in the castle, he would seek a fire on which to burn it.
It was raining when they woke. It rained as they breakfasted; it rained as they packed their few belongings; it rained as they walked to their horses and saw them saddled and bridled; it rained as they mounted in the courtyard; it rained as they waited for the Queen and Mortimer to appear with the Duke of Aquitaine. The castle was an echoing chamber as heavy drops fell on helmets, armour, leather and the tiles of the roofs.
Simon wiped a hand over his face. ‘This is going to be absolute misery,’ he grunted.
At his side, Sir Charles, wearing a broad-brimmed hat that was already absorbing too much water, nodded. ‘I can scarcely remember a storm like this. It is, indeed, very unpleasant.’
Simon waved to the group standing at the door. There, he saw Margaret and Peterkin, with Hugh and Rob behind them. It was a wrench to be going, but Sir Roger had flatly refused to countenance releasing him.
‘I need you and every other spare man, Bailiff.’
‘But I–’
‘Will not be permitted to see the King by riding on ahead, Master Puttock. If you wish to do that, you will run the risk of your wife and child being kept here for a long time. I think that is plain enough.’
Sir Roger recollected something and lifted a hand to stay him.
‘Master Puttock – I recall that you were in France with another man. A knight.’
‘Sir Baldwin, you mean?’
‘A little while ago, a horse dealer and confidential agent of mine was murdered on the banks of the Severn. Do you think you know anyone who could have been there? No? Interesting. Well, it shows how even my agents can be killed. The assassin was, I think, on his way to the King. You may try to do the same if I release you. So do I trust you? No. But this way, you come with me, and your wife and child remain here in Bristol as hostages. You will serve me until I release you, Master Puttock, and you will do so with all your heart.’
The scene came back to Simon out in the ward. He turned back to the gates as the first men began to leave. This was not what he had hoped for when he had prayed that Despenser might be removed from power. The man was a poison at the heart of government, and Simon had wanted to see him destroyed – but now that his replacement was here, Simon was beginning to wonder whether he was any better. Perhaps Mortimer would
