30 - King's Gold (45 page)

But to reach York would take time. All he could think of as he rode was his manor, his wife and his children. He was riding ever further from them with every passing hour. It felt as though he was being torn in two: his heart was with his family, while his head demanded that he carry on to York and to battle as a warrior. Baldwin had a duty to fight for the greater good.

They were in a broad plain when he saw a small contingent of men-at-arms veering off to the left. There were seven all told, and Baldwin frowned at the sight. There were all too many men who would ‘ride out’, foraging amongst peasants’ houses for tidbits of food or drink. It was natural that a knight would expect those whom he protected to reward him for his efforts, but some took advantage of their position and would steal and harry without mercy. Baldwin had seen it in the Holy Land, in Italy, and in France, and recently he had witnessed it in England.

On a whim, he clucked his tongue and spurred his horse. Leading Edgar and John, he rode at a moderate canter towards the men. But he had misjudged them. They were not riding out; they had simply spotted a party of men trying to hide, and had encircled them with lances at the ready.

‘What is this?’ Baldwin demanded as he approached. There were eleven all told, and well-dressed in soft wools and linens. The leader was a little younger than Baldwin. He had dark hair and hazel eyes in a sunburned face that was square and as uncompromising as granite. As he eyed the men encircling him, his attention was more with the rest of the column than the men about him, Baldwin noticed.

‘You!’ he said to the man. ‘What is your name?’

‘David of Monteith. Who are you?’

‘Sir Baldwin de Furnshill,’ Baldwin said. ‘You are many leagues from home, friend.’

‘We travel south. To family in Wales.’

‘Aye?’ Baldwin eyed the men’s clothing. They had all travelled in foul weather, from the look of the mud that had splattered about their boots and up their horses’ legs. They were particularly well armed, too, but that was no surprise – travellers needed the means of protecting themselves. ‘You have met with inclement weather.’

‘What of it?’

‘Not many would carry on in the worst of weathers. They would rest themselves and their horses in an inn. You must have great need to ride so far so fast. What is the cause?’

‘We have no great urgency,’ the man insisted. His companions murmured and their sturdy horses moved uneasily.

Edgar was at his side, and Baldwin knew that there was no need to trouble himself on that flank. Nobody would pass Edgar unless they killed him first, and that would require a more resolute man than most Baldwin had met.

‘John, ride to my Lord Berkeley and tell him there are Scottish forces riding to spy on us,’ Baldwin said calmly.

There was a moment’s silence after his words. Baldwin was filled with a heightened awareness – of the men around him, but more, of the sound of bees among the flowers and grasses at his feet, the song of larks high overhead, the wind soughing through the branches of the furze.

And then Monteith dragged his sword free and bellowed his war-cry, spurring his beast at Baldwin.

Baldwin grabbed at his sword but it seemed to take a dreadful amount of time to clear it from the scabbard. Too slow: he must be run through by Monteith’s sword, and then his new blade was out and flashing wickedly in the pale daylight. A gleam caught it, and it sparked in blue fire.

He was about to ride on to meet Monteith when Edgar flew past him, and Baldwin saw another man with a bow aiming it at him. He readied himself for the arrow, fully expecting to feel it in his breast at any moment, but before Edgar could reach the archer, Monteith was at his side, and had raised his sword. Baldwin lifted his own and parried, and as he was about to turn his steel to attack, Monteith coughed and groaned, and tumbled from his horse, the arrow planted in the back of his neck at the base of his skull.

Berkeley Castle

Simon and Sir Richard de Welles were pleased to hear the sound of horses approaching. The confinement in the castle was an intense irritation to all concerned. However, it was natural that the people of the household should remain together when a murder was discovered, so that the malefactor was prevented from running away. A killer abroad was a danger to all, because if a man would kill once, clearly he was likely to do so again. It was a basic premise of the law that a murderer should be punished by the loss of his life. Otherwise what was the point of laws? Such a man was a threat to the whole order of society. That was Simon’s belief.

The law itself was, as he knew, more pragmatic. It required that the body remain where it was when it was discovered; this also applied to the people who had been near when the man was killed, so that their names could be registered. Then, when a Justice arrived on his tourn, the correct fines could be imposed on each of them.

‘Sounds like him now,’ Sir Richard said, standing up. The maid, who had been sitting on his lap, squeaked as he unceremoniously dumped her on the ground. ‘Sorry, wench. Coroner’s comin’ and I need to have a word or two with him.’

Simon helped the girl to her feet before hurrying after Sir Richard.

He found the knight at the gateway, speaking with a slender, short man with grizzled hair and a thin, oval face. From his size and fine features, he looked more like a clerk than a coroner and knight, especially in comparison with the man behind him who travelled on a donkey. He was a clerk, from his tonsure and habit, but he had the build of a wrestler, and his black eyes were suspicious.

‘Sir Ranulf, I am well indeed. And you?’

‘My health has not been good of late,’ the coroner said, and sprang lightly from his horse. ‘I am plagued by afflictions that will, I have no doubt, carry me off before long. I must make the most of the time God has seen fit to give to me. It is not easy when you are prey to so many ailments.’

‘It must be a torment,’ Sir Richard said seriously.

‘It is. Where is the body?’

‘Come, take a little wine or ale first. You have had a long, wearisome journey, I make no doubt.’

‘It has been wearisome, yes,’ the coroner said. ‘But a man must accept the trials imposed upon him.’

‘So, food and drink first?’ Sir Richard said hopefully.

‘Sir Ranulf, if you refuse him, there could be another murder in this castle,’ the clerk said.

‘Master Rodney, kindly remember that I am the coroner, you are the clerk. I speak, you record. That is the basis of our collaboration. You recall?’

‘Oh, yes. I recall. But, Sir Knight, if you want me to record for you, you will do very badly unless I have eaten first. My reeds will all break and smudge the pages, unless your amiable, obedient servant is fed.’

‘In God’s name, what a trial this fellow is. I swear,’ Coroner Ranulf said. He eyed the clerk with a stern look. ‘Come, man, have you no sense of duty?’

‘My duties are to Him. And He would see me fed!’

‘Ach! Then yes, Sir Richard, we will break bread with you. You can tell us about the man found dead while we eat, if you would be so kind.’

Near Macclesfield

John watched the body slump and tumble to the ground. When he was a lad and had helped the local warrener net and kill his rabbits, John had seen bodies fall like that. Not a twitch, not a sign of the passing spirit, just one moment alive, the next dead. The arrow must have penetrated his spine to kill him so swiftly, he thought, and he stared down in shock at the sight of David Monteith’s body lying on the grass.

The rest of the Scottish knew as soon as their leader fell that their own position was hopeless. The archer sat in his saddle with his bow still in his hand, incapable of speech. Instead he stared at the body on the ground.

Baldwin rode over and took the bow from his unresisting fingers. ‘You will come with us. Edgar and John, place the dead man on his horse. We shall take his body to Lord Berkeley. You, archer, what is your name?’

‘I’m James, sir.’

Baldwin looked at the fellow. He was young, probably not yet twenty summers old. He had been aiming at Baldwin, John knew, and steeled himself for the knight’s anger.

But he did not kill the boy. Instead, to John’s amazement, Sir Baldwin put his hand on the archer’s. ‘You are to come with us. You have done enough in this war. Your arrow was directed by God.’

John was troubled as they rode back to the column. He knew that Monteith’s men were due to join the Dunheveds at Berkeley. If Lord Berkeley spoke with James, he might learn of their plan to save Sir Edward of Caernarfon.

He listened as the men were questioned, and when James was released from Lord Berkeley’s interrogation, badly beaten, he knew he must warn the Dunheveds.

A short while later, Lord Berkeley came and spoke to Sir Baldwin.

‘Sir, you have an interest in protecting Sir Edward of Caernarfon, I think.’

‘I feel it my duty,’ Baldwin said levelly.

‘I have a task that should be to your taste, then. I require you to ride back to Berkeley and warn the castellan that there are men gathering about the castle. These fellows would tell us nothing about their reasons for travelling, but I think that itself is an indication.’

‘I don’t understand, my lord.’

‘Monteith was a vassal of Donald, the Earl of Mar. You know of him?’

‘Yes.’

He would be known by all, John thought. A strong, fearless and resourceful Scottish knight, he was intensely loyal to King Edward II.

‘He was at Bristol, I heard, before the city was captured by Queen Isabella,’ Baldwin said.

‘Yes, but he escaped. He rode to Scotland to demand aid for Sir Edward,’ Lord Berkeley said, ‘and if his men are riding down here, away from York, avoiding larger towns and cities, Mar is near too. I can see no other purpose in his journey but the rescue of Sir Edward.’

Baldwin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Excuse my bluntness, my lord. You know that I am devoted to Sir Edward of Caernarfon, yet you tell me to ride with messages to ensure that he will be kept confined?’

‘Sir Baldwin, I do not wish it said I colluded in the murder of Sir Edward! Imagine, were a band of thieves, cut-throats and outlaws to raid my castle, what would happen to Sir Edward? He would try to escape, and entering the mêlée be cut down or shot full of arrows. My little castle may not be the largest in the land, but it is sufficient as a defensive fortress. I would not have him die there. I know your loyalty to Sir Edward, and you know your duty. Protect him. Ride to Berkeley, ensure they are aware that the castle is at risk, and you may save Sir Edward’s life.’

Baldwin nodded, and glanced about him. ‘Edgar, we return south,’ he said wearily.

John had no wish to return to Berkeley, but he must. Someone had to warn the others that their plot was unravelling. He cleared his throat. ‘Sir Baldwin, you may need a spare man if the castle is attacked. May I accompany you?’

‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said, and now those dark, intense eyes were turned upon John. It felt as though the knight could see through to John’s heart.

Berkeley Castle

The little hallway in which Sir Jevan’s body lay was beginning to stink. Simon, walking behind the two coroners, was struck by the odour long before they reached the corpse. Flies were everywhere.

‘Damn these fiends,’ Sir Richard said, waving his hand to keep them from his face, which bore a wholly untypical glower of disgust.

Simon had known Sir Richard for some years now, and had never seen him flinch at the sight of a corpse before, however ancient and noisome. But this was different. The stench in here was overpowering.

Sir Ranulf and his clerk walked with Sir Richard to stare down at the body.

‘I think,’ Sir Ranulf said, ‘we should conduct this inquest as soon as we may.’

The clerk had thrust his face into the elbow of his sleeve. His voice was was muffled as he replied, ‘Yes. And then have the poor fellow buried.’

The coroner nodded, still staring down at the ravaged figure, and then turned on his heel and was marching away. ‘Right, Sir Richard, could you aid me in collecting together all the men in the castle and in the town for our jury. We shall require them to gather here in the morning. With luck we can expedite matters and have the body delivered to the priest by luncheon.’

‘Of course.’

Sir Ranulf looked about him as they emerged into the daylight again. ‘This is a good little fortress, isn’t it? And I believe you have a prisoner here.’

‘True. Sir Edward of Caernarfon is held in the back over there,’ Sir Richard replied.

‘I should like to see him,’ Sir Ranulf said.

Sir Richard smiled. ‘There would be no trouble with that, Sir Ranulf. But anyone visiting Sir Edward must remain tolerably polite.’

‘But of course,’ said Sir Ranulf. ‘How else would one behave to our last King?’

Second Friday after Easter
⁵⁶

Berkeley Castle

The castle had returned to its accustomed quietness after the inquest, and the men of the jury had dispersed back to their fields and labours by early afternoon.

Simon and Sir Richard sat with the coroner and his clerk in the hall while the two ate.

Sir Ranulf was an astute man, Simon learned. This was another in the mould of Sir Richard, who appeared to have a genuine interest in discovering who was guilty of a crime.

‘The man Dolwyn was not convincing,’ Sir Ranulf said meditatively. ‘And he is owed a hanging, I hear.’

‘He had the manner of a man determined to remain in gaol,’ Sir Richard commented, pulling the thigh from the chicken on the board before him and taking a gargantuan bite. ‘I think he has a lot of secrets to keep.’

‘But do you think he killed Sir Jevan?’ Sir Ranulf asked.

‘No. And I’m glad that the task of deciding his guilt or innocence is up to a Justice and not me,’ Sir Richard told him.

Simon shook his head. Dolwyn had cut a mean figure. He had the pallor of a gaol-bird already, and his responses to all questions were insolent, as though he was already convinced he would hang for this murder. ‘I think him innocent.’