seeing to his horse. The beast was already head down, cropping the grass at the side of the road, and it was difficult to undo the cinch of the saddle and remove the bridle. There were hostlers moving about, but Simon had no idea whether any would be prepared to help him, and it would have been a long job, had not Sir Charles’s groom appeared. He took Simon’s brushes and began to clean the beast. ‘You go and sit, master. I’ll see to this. Sir Charles insists.’
‘I am most grateful,’ Simon murmured, and stumped over to where the knight sat on a log. ‘Thank you, Sir Charles,’ he said, and eased himself down beside him.
‘It did not look as though you were going to be able to stand much longer,’ Sir Charles said with a feeble grin. ‘I wasn’t sure that I could, either.’
Simon took a look around to see if there was a tavern or inn where they could buy some meats or hot broth, but there was nothing nearby.
They were immediately outside the city of Hereford. Sir Roger Mortimer and the leading elements had already crossed the bridge over the Wye and entered, but the force was now so large that there was no space to accommodate so many, and it was clear that Simon and Sir Charles and the others would be forced to remain out here.
Hereford stood on low-lying ground. The River Wye was immediately in front of them, and it curved around, past the bridge and on. Where the river flowed, the town was well-protected, Simon could see, but even where the river did not form a natural defence, the people had recently renewed a system of ditches. The soil in the ditches was dark and stood out clearly, and beyond them the city walls were tall and immensely strong, from the look of them, with a series of huge towers to give more opportunities for the defence to attack an enemy.
However, Simon was less interested in the city, and more keen on the direction he would be taking later. Off to the west he could see the hills rising, thickly wooded, through which he guessed he would have to ride soon, in order to seek the King. With his aching legs, that was a daunting sight.
‘Do you think we’ll have to go today?’
Sir Charles shook his head. ‘I refuse to go anywhere before tomorrow. My backside has been flattened by the shape of that saddle, and I will ride no further until I have allowed it to recover a little. In any case, if we do try to press on at this rate, we will risk the lives of our horses.’
Simon had to agree with that. ‘Have you been to Wales before?’
Sir Charles looked at him suspiciously. ‘Not for a long time.’
‘I just wondered. You see, I have never been there,’ Simon explained, and a little of the tension in Sir Charles seemed to leave him.
‘It is a hilly country, with many woods and copses, and a lot of rolling moorland. It is good land for farming sheep, but very wet at most times of the year.’
‘How easy will it be to find them, do you think?’
Sir Charles gave a chuckle. ‘If the King has managed to persuade anyone to fight for him, he will be very easy to find, but if, as I suspect, he is learning that he has no friends in Wales, it will be much harder, for he must know he is a wanted man: he will have to hide while we ride towards him.’
‘And what then?’ Simon said more quietly.
‘Then? We find him and invite him to join us here for supper.’
‘If he refuses?’
Sir Charles shrugged once more. ‘Perhaps the Hainaulters won’t understand him. They don’t speak very good English or French, do they? They may just feel that it would be better to bring him here anyway so that he can be protected, eh?’
Simon was tempted to ask what they might do if the King refused their invitation, but there was a look in Sir Charles’s eye that dissuaded him. The fact was, Sir Charles had been a mercenary for some years. He had suffered the loss of his lord, and had become a wandering exile for so long that it had coloured his entire outlook. The man probably had reserves of brutality that Simon could only guess at.
Otho and Herv had a fire ready, as did many others all along the roadway. Groups were huddling around them, feeding them with sticks and chatting in a subdued manner as they stared at the flames. Simon and Sir Charles sat with Otho and Herv, and before long they were joined by Sir Laurence and two grooms.
‘Are you to come with us?’ Simon asked Sir Laurence.
‘Me?’ Sir Laurence laughed. ‘I don’t think so. I gave my oath to the King. I would hold to that, and Sir Roger knows it.’
‘I expect he will send a number of us to scout,’ Sir Charles said. He squatted down nearer the fire, his cloak over his shoulders, holding his hands to the warmth. ‘You, Bailiff, me, and one or two other knights. He will have to keep a guard here, and the Queen and Duke will need their own guards for their households, so he will not want to send too many.’
‘He has plenty to keep here
Sir Charles glanced at him. ‘I heard he will send Sir Stephen off so you and he don’t come to blows again.’
‘That would be sensible. If I see him again, I may kill him,’ Sir Laurence said bluntly. ‘I would have nothing to do with a man who was so false to his word.’ He threw a look at Otho and Herv. ‘It was your men there who stopped me.’
‘Was this for surrendering the city?’ Simon said.
‘Yes. He is an evil man. A oath means nothing to him. You may believe that he will behave honourably, but unless there is money in it for him, your wishes will be misplaced.’
Sir Charles pulled a face. ‘I know the chivalric ethos as well as any man, Sir Laurence, and I tried to live by it when I was servant to Earl Thomas of Lancaster. But when a man, even a knight, is forced to fend for himself, he will sometimes take a course he regrets.’
‘My friend, I make no comment about you. I am sure you are an honourable knight,’ Sir Laurence said. ‘Sir Stephen, however, is avaricious – he wants money for its own sake. If he were not noble, I think he would have been happy as a moneylender, loaning money for interest like any other usurer.’
‘Sometimes a man must borrow money,’ Sir Charles argued.
‘Yes, but there are some who use it despicably, especially those who should know better – such as Sir Stephen.’
‘In what way?’ Simon asked.
‘In big cities like Bristol, where there are many merchants, you will always find one or two who need additional funds, and they go to moneylenders to raise the sums required. Sir Stephen used them too.’
‘That is hardly his fault,’ Simon said gently. ‘If a man strikes hardship and needs money, you surely wouldn’t blame him, would you?’
‘No. But there are some who like to live an extravagant life, and when those men go to the moneylenders just to finance a new horse or their gambling, I can condemn them. It is wrong to try to improve your status by borrowing. A knight or a squire should enjoy his rewards as a loyal servant to his master. The feudal system works well for all. When a man decides to take money instead, he unsettles the whole system.’
‘You say that Sir Stephen took money?’
‘He gave away a city to his feudal lord’s enemy,’ Sir Laurence said uncompromisingly. ‘And he enjoys ostentation. Do I know that he took money? No. But do I suspect it? Oh, yes. I would not trust that man within the reach of my sword. I would never allow him within my guard.’
Simon checked the cinch and tugged at the straps holding on his blankets and clothing. Wrapped inside were some dried strips of meat, a few biscuits and a loaf of bread. He wore a new thick jack of padded material over his tunic, with a thinner fustian cotte over the top. A broad-brimmed hat kept his head warm and the worst of the rain from his eyes, while over his back he had a long cloak. The rent made by the felon who had chased his family just before he met Sir Charles had been sewn up. Swinging up on the beast’s back, Simon saw that the
