The King’s Assassin (46 page)

My wound healed well over the next few days of idleness, while London celebrated and lords Fitzwalter, de Vesci and Locksley sent out messengers to all parts of the country urging great men to join our cause. The barons were still coming to our side in increasing numbers, now that we held London. And in other parts of the country, most notably in Lincoln and Exeter, but also in towns and manors from the Welsh marshes to the Kent coast, from the Humber to Hampshire, rebels were challenging the King’s officials – particularly in the afforested areas – seizing royal castles, torching royal manors and executing sheriffs, foresters, verderers and other cruel and corrupt officials out of hand. After decades of oppression, it seemed, the whole country had united against the King. The English are slow to anger, I have always found, but when sufficiently roused an Englishman’s ire is more terrible than any other man’s. And during those joyous, victorious weeks in early June, England burned.

Meanwhile, I was snug in Friday Street. I swallowed the possets Boot brought me, drank down my potions and began to give the big man a few rudimentary lessons in the vielle – and found to my surprise that he had a natural aptitude for the instrument, an affinity with the notes and their combinations that was beautiful, indeed not all that far from magical.

I also had plenty of time on my hands to think.

Two questions were exercising my thoughts more than any other: who was this informant who had revealed to the Templars that we had given them the wrong Grail? And was this person the same man who had told King John that I was planning to attack him outside St Paul’s and so caused my arrest and downfall?

The second question was more easily answered. No. There was no reason to assume these were the same men. It was perfectly possible for two men to hate Robin and myself so much that they would wish our destruction – indeed, it was extremely likely, as my lord and I had made more enemies in our lives than either of us could easily contemplate. So I decided to treat the two questions as separate and see if that took me any further forward. Who had known that I would make my attempt on the King on that precise day in St Paul’s Courtyard? Fitzwalter and De Vesci knew, and perhaps some of their men knew. I knew. No one else knew the exact time and place. I had told nobody what I was planning. Had I? A few others close to me such as Thomas and Robin might have guessed, but nobody else
knew
. I puzzled over this for the best part of a day and still could not find a solution.

The answer came from Robert’s lips. He came to see me one morning, to see how my wound was healing and to show me his new dog. It was a lurcher bitch with almost the same colouring as the one that had died after the battle outside the walls of Westbury. He had bought it that very morning. I admired the dog, even after it pissed all over the floor of my chamber, and told Robert that he must take good care of it and make sure that he paid attention to its training.

‘I will, Father,’ said Robert. ‘But it was no fault of mine that Vixen died. She was poisoned, I am sure of it. The swiftness with which she died, her death agonies, the wild contortions of her body. There can be no other explanation.’

Then everything fell into place. With a dreadful sinking sensation, I had the answer. I had been a blind fool. The person who had betrayed me to the King was the same person who had poisoned Robert’s dog. I could hardly bear to think about it; indeed, for several hours my mind refused to accept it. But it was undoubtedly true, and there was no escaping the dismal truth.

When Robert had gone, later that same day, I turned my mind to the first question: the identity of the Grail informer. That proved almost as painful as the first. I was lying abed, it being long past nightfall, when the second solution came to me, more slowly this time but with equal surety. I did not sleep a wink that night as my mind wrestled with itself. For as I recalled exactly what Brother Geoffrey had said to me, the precise words, I knew who it must be who had betrayed us to the Order. I knew the informant must be one of two people – and that Robin dearly loved them both.

That long sleepless night, as I considered betrayal in all its forms, I also spent a number of the hours of darkness thinking about courage. I still believed that Little John had come to me from beyond the grave and given me his strength in my hour of need; he had killed all my fear and given me the power to face the blades of my enemies. But there are many kinds of courage, I reflected, and I knew that I was still sorely lacking in one particular kind. Would that my dead friend could grant me that. For I knew that in the morning, I had to go to Robin and give him the fruits of my sad deliberations, and I dreaded it. All that night I twisted the idea in my mind, trying to find a way to tell him that would not end our long friendship. I could not see one. In the end, sleepless, as I heard the cocks announcing the arrival of dawn, I prayed to God and begged Little John to stand beside me once more, as I pulled on my hose, tunic and cloak, and made my way through the quiet dawn streets of London to the house where Robin – and the informant – both lived.

A servant let me into the big house at Queen’s Hythe – it was a wine merchant’s abode and more than spacious – and he offered to take me to the hall where Robin was breaking his fast with his two sons and Robert. I demurred. I wished to speak to Robin in private, I said, and the servant, looking perplexed, ushered me into a small parlour and bade me wait there.

I helped myself to a cup of wine from the sideboard. It was only a little after dawn but I sorely needed the drink.

Robin came striding into the room in a gust of energy and happiness: ‘Alan, there you are,’ he said, ‘I have no idea why Piers put you in here – don’t be offended, I beg you. You look put out. I have news that will lift your spirits no end: King John has capitulated. He has agreed to the charter. Can you believe it?’

Robin’s words wiped all other thoughts from my mind.

‘Is this true? When did this happen?’ I said.

‘Well, he has not set his seal on the document yet – but he will. Archbishop Langton has worn out a dozen horses going back and forth between us and the King at Windsor, and John, of course, squirmed, prevaricated and protested a great deal – but finally we have an agreement. The archbishop put it to him that, the way things are going with the rebellion, he would surely not remain King for much longer if he refused to sign. Is that not wonderful? We have a meeting agreed: all the barons are to meet the King under a flag of truce at a place halfway between Staines and Windsor, by the river, someplace called Runnymede. I see you have already started celebrating,’ he said with a nod at the empty cup of wine in my hand. ‘Come through to the hall and have another drink and some breakfast.’

It was indeed the most wonderful news, but I had my painful duty to perform first – and once I had told Robin what I knew in my heart I did not believe I would be invited to breakfast or any other meal with him again.

‘I must talk to you, my lord, in private,’ I said.

‘You seem awfully serious, Alan, what is it?’

‘I know the identity of the informant – I know now who told the Templars about the Grail, or rather I know that it must be one of two men. I must tell you now, with the greatest regret, that the informant must be either Miles or Hugh.’

‘Hmm,’ said Robin. ‘That’s what you truly think, is it? Tell me your reasoning, Alan. And this had better be good.’

I swallowed: ‘The Templar Brother Geoffrey told me in Nottingham Castle that the informant was young – “our young informant”, he called him. And the only people who could honestly be described as young and who also knew about the false Grail were Miles and Hugh. It must be one of them.’

Robin was very quiet then, but I took that as a good sign: he could have been calling for his sword or for armed guards to have me thrown into the street. He said: ‘I suppose your reasoning is that Miles has long worshipped the Templars; he was even trained by some of the Brothers, and so he decided to betray me because he loves them more than me – is that it? And Hugh, well, we all know Hugh is illegitimate, the bastard son of Ralph Murdac, so he must be a villain. Is that your reasoning, Alan? Is that really it?’

It was, and in bed the night before it had seemed irrefutable proof. Now when Robin said the words out loud it seemed utterly fanciful and ridiculous. I nodded but said nothing.

Robin said: ‘I think you are wrong. But even if you are not – what has this wicked informant of ours actually done? Do you think he was the man who betrayed you to the King at St Paul’s?’

I managed to say no; that I thought that was someone else.

‘So all this informant has done is let slip that we played a trick on the Templars a dozen years ago. Yet the Order would have discovered our ruse in time, I am sure of it, I was sure of it then. So – to me – it does not feel like this informant has committed
such
a terrible crime. In fact, even if it were another man who informed on me, and not one of my sons, I do not think I would seek revenge. Perhaps I am getting old, but a little tattle-taling does not seem a worthwhile cause in which to spill a man’s blood. And if the informant truly is one of my sons, do you not think I would forgive them? My own sons?’

‘They did cause the deaths of several men when the Templars attacked Kirkton and Westbury,’ I said.

I felt disconcertingly off-balance. I remembered a time when Robin would have had a man’s tongue torn from his mouth for informing on him. Now, apparently, he merely shrugged it away. How my lord had changed with the blessing of time.

‘Alan, Alan, those deaths were not fully the informant’s fault. So he blabbed a little, the Templars got the wrong idea, we fought them and some men died. Fighting men die all the time, that is what they do. One day you and I will die in battle. Is that a reason to take a sword to my sons, break Marie-Anne’s heart with grief, and spoil the harmony of my household? I think not.’

I knew he was right. And it was slowly dawning on me that I had made a colossal idiot of myself yet again.

‘I would like to know the answer to the riddle,’ I mumbled.

‘Very well, Alan, come and we shall ask them to their faces.’ My lord strode from the parlour and along the corridor to the hall.

The three young men were seated at one end of the long table, all convulsed with some jest that Miles had made, or at least so I guessed. Miles had a sly satisfied grin on his face; tears were streaming down Robert’s cheeks, and even Hugh was guffawing, and unusually loudly for such a normally sober fellow.

‘Boys, I have a question for you,’ said Robin, when the tumult had died down. ‘As Miles and Hugh both know, some years back I played a low trick on the Knights of the Temple and exchanged a gold cup with them for our lives when we were in a tight situation. They believed it was the true Cup of Christ, although it most certainly was not. I have told you this story before, yes?’

Miles and Hugh both nodded.

‘I also swore you to secrecy, if I remember rightly,’ said Robin. ‘So tell me honestly, and I swear I will not be angry so long as you give me the truth – have either of you told anyone else this tale?’

Miles and Hugh looked at each other. Hugh shrugged. But Miles turned to Robin and lifted his hand.

‘You told someone, Miles?’ said Robin.

‘I did, Father,’ said Miles, looking uncharacteristically shamefaced. ‘I told one person – and I’m sorry for breaking my word to you. But I thought it would be all right – he being sort of family, in a way, and his father being involved, too.’

‘He told me,’ said Robert. I could see that he was trying to keep a bold face, but a corner of his mouth was wobbling.

‘And have you told anyone else this tale?’ I asked. ‘Tell me truthfully, Robert, and I too swear I shall not be angry.’

‘Oh, Father, I’m sorry, but I told some of the boys at Pembroke Castle. The other squires were all so nasty to me and I wanted to impress them. So I told then that my father had the true, the only Holy Grail in his possession. It was a black lie – I know it, know it was very wrong and I am so sorry, Father, but I told them the story of the Grail at Montségur, the wonderful tale that Miles told me; all the rest I just made up.’

The boy burst into anguished tears.

I had no difficulty in forgiving Robert for his boyish indiscretion. I understood entirely how it must have come about. Friendless in Pembroke and far behind the other boys in his military training, Robert, the newcomer, had sought to gain approval of the other squires with the only coin he had. The other boys had no doubt passed on the tale to Brother Geoffrey – mayhap taunting the Templar mischievously with his Order’s blind stupidity over the affair.

We had our breakfast, a merry meal, all reconciled, and myself feeling greatly abashed. My fears that one of Robin’s sons was secretly working against him had been proved groundless, and Robin’s news that the rebellion was won and that the King would seal the charter lifted my spirits no end. I understood, too, who Brother Geoffrey had been indicating with a jerk of his chin when he had told me that the informant said we still had the Grail. Not Thomas. He had been indicating Robert. He did not know that the boy had simply been lying.

I asked Robert, quite casually, if he had told Brother Geoffrey about the Grail or if he had just told the other boys at Pembroke, and Robert’s reaction startled me. His face went pale as chalk and he refused to meet my gaze.

‘I would not tell that man anything willingly,’ he said.

‘Was he so very hard on you while you were there?’ I asked.

‘It is not that – he was a stern master, to be sure, but he was hard on all of us alike. It was not that. He did … other things. Sinful things. At night, he’d call me to his cell and then…’ He stopped.

And after that I could not get another word out of him.

My heart had turned to ice. I saw that Robin was listening to the boy’s talk with a face like stone. My lord said: ‘Miles, Hugh, take Robert with you and see to the pavilion. It needs to be thoroughly aired before we depart tomorrow. And I want you to check the horses and also make sure the servants have packed suitable amounts of wine – if all goes according to plan with the King, we shall be celebrating.’ And yet Robin’s voice did not sound in the slightest as if he were planning a celebration.