29 - The Oath (39 page)

Simon shrugged. ‘It’s all beyond me. I just want there to be no fighting while I’m in the middle wondering what to do. Do you know what we’re supposed to be waiting for here?’

Herv shook his head. ‘I was told to wait here with you, then take you on.’

‘I see,’ Simon said. He did not care overmuch and was simply relishing his freedom. The memory of that chamber with the others was still close to the front of his mind. The light here, the scents – all were glorious reminders of life going on.

Hugh was less cheerful. He stood leaning on the wall, staring dourly at everyone in the street. He mistrusted all city dwellers as a matter of principle, and after being held captive overnight, was even less inclined to change his mind.

‘How long are we to wait?’ Simon asked. ‘I have business on behalf of Sir Roger.’

‘Not long, I hope,’ the guard answered, staring back the way they had come.

There was a shout, the sound of horses whinnying, and an outbreak of laughter. Then two horses were led from the castle’s gates, two large beasts, with a pair of ropes extending back behind them.

And then he saw the hurdle, and the small, sad figure that lay strapped to it.

Earl Hugh was clad in his armour, with a surcoat over it, but on this surcoat his arms had been reversed, the final proof of his guilt. For this signified the end of his arms – the end of his earldom. No man would inherit his estates entire as a matter of course. His son could not.

Simon watched the sad figure pass him by. Later he heard that the Earl was given no opportunity to speak on the gallows. He was taken to the place of execution of common criminals in Bristol, a demeaning enough position for a man who had risen so high in the King’s household. There he was strung up on the oak beams, and throttled until nearly dead, before being cut down, gasping and retching, to be beheaded. There, in front of the crowds, his old body was stripped and rolled off into the kennel, the gutter in the road’s centre. Later, his body fed the dogs of the city. His head, meanwhile, was taken away to be put on display at Winchester.

For all the last long years, Simon had detested the Despenser regime with a passion. He had been attacked, had lost his home, had been nearly killed, and all because of this man’s son. Now the Earl had fallen from his high pedestal and would suffer the death of a traitor.

‘What now?’ Simon said, watching the old man being dragged past on the jerking, jolting hurdle.

‘Now you can go and continue your investigation,’ Roger Mortimer said. He was walking along with three men-at-arms a few yards behind the hurdle.

As the hurdle rattled past, people threw rubbish at the occupant, while some laughed and jeered. A pair of dogs scuttled along, barking, and all the while Earl Hugh stared up at the sky as though it was his fervent wish to imprint that on his mind as his last memory.

‘Come, Hugh,’ Simon said thickly.

‘What did he want us to see
that
for?’ Hugh grumbled as they set off with Herv.

‘To make sure that we behaved,’ Simon said. ‘Another man’s death is a prime example, isn’t it?’

But although he didn’t say so, in his heart he was thinking that Sir Roger Mortimer was no better than the Earl and his son Sir Hugh le Despenser.

The room into which Sir Charles was brought was a large chamber, and he was glad to see that the man sitting on the table was unharmed.

‘Simon, my friend, I am glad to see you well,’ he said effusively. ‘When I saw you were not in the room with all the guards, I immediately thought the worst.’

‘Are you well?’ Simon asked.

‘Oh, yes. I made sure that when the surrender went ahead, I was there to give a warm welcome to the Duke of Aquitaine. He and I know each other from my time in France, and he was very happy to vouch for me, I am glad to say. So I was not held like you.’

‘I have been freed, but I must learn who the killer of that woman was. And I have been advised by Sir Roger to speak with a fosser.’

They crossed the city together, Simon’s servant Hugh still gazing about him with that air of barely controlled disgust, and came to the gaol where the fosser was held. Here it took one penny for the gaoler to realise he would like to introduce them to his prisoner, and they soon reached the chamber where Saul sat on a stool.

‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ he declared mournfully as Sir Charles and Simon walked in. Hugh stood at the door with his staff in his hands.

‘Perhaps it began when you bethought yourself that taking a dagger from a grave might be a good idea?’ Sir Charles said consideringly. ‘What do you think?’

Simon smiled to himseelf, then asked the man to tell him all about the dagger and the man at Cecily’s grave.

‘I told the other one already,’ the fosser complained. ‘Why do you have to keep me here to tell you about it all over again?’

‘Which other one?’ Simon asked sharply.

‘The tall one with the dark hair. He was in here yesterday morning.’

‘What was his name?’

Saul the Fosser screwed up his face in the act of memory. ‘Roger Mortimer, I think – a knight.’

Simon listened carefully to what the gravedigger said. How Mortimer had arrived and questioned him, then left with the strange dagger.

Outside a little later, Simon was baffled. ‘Why would Sir Roger send me here to hear something he already knows?’

Sir Charles smiled widely. ‘Simon, you are a simple soul like me. The reasons why the great fellows of the land do things is far beyond us. What we need to do is look at the murder itself and see what we can learn. Maybe the great Sir Roger felt he didn’t have time to follow this up.’

‘I wonder,’ Simon mused. ‘I wonder . . .’

Cardiff Castle

Baldwin was about to walk from the hall when a page called out to him. ‘Sir Baldwin, sir, the King would like to speak with you. Would you come with me, sir?’

Cursing under his breath, Baldwin strode after the man. The last thing he wanted now was another opportunity to listen to the King or his adviser ranting about the state of the kingdom. It was their own fault that the realm had sunk into this disastrous state, and it would be difficult for Baldwin to maintain a calm demeanour, were they to begin to pass the blame on to others.

The chamber into which he was brought was a pleasant, airy room with a large fire roaring in one wall, while all about were pictures of religious scenes. The king sat in front of the fire with a fur-trimmed cloak pulled over his shoulders. ‘Come in, Sir Baldwin. Please, come here.’

Looking around the room, Baldwin was surprised to see that Despenser was absent. He was alone with the King and three servants, who all stood at one side like statues. They were Edward’s most trusted men, the ones who would never repeat a word that he said.

‘Sir Baldwin, you are loyal to me, I deem. As my crown gradually slips from my head, I learn that the very men I once considered dangerous or unfaithful are those who have grown most dear to me, who have become most close by reason of their loyalty. Those in whom I should have been able to place most trust: my brothers, old companions, my General – all these have become my enemies. But you are still here.’

‘I gave you my oath, my lord. You are my King. I can do no more.’

‘You are a man of integrity and honour, Sir Baldwin. I am most glad.’

The King appeared distracted. He stood up and wandered over to sit at a bench beneath the large window, away from the fire. Without looking at Baldwin, he beckoned.

The knight reckoned that he had come here because this was a private nook, where even the trusted servants could not hear them speak. ‘Sire?’

‘You have been very loyal. Most of those upon whom I have showered rewards and honours have already deserted me. My own household knights have failed to support me, and yet you have remained with me. That shows your nature, Sir Baldwin.’

‘You have my oath, Your Highness.’

‘I would ask one more favour of you, Sir Baldwin. Would you do my bidding?’

‘If it is in my power, Sire.’

‘It is only this: that you will serve and protect my good friend Sir Hugh le Despenser with the same loyalty you have given me.’

Baldwin stiffened. He could recall the pain and hurt in Simon’s face as he described the way that the young Despenser had stolen his home in Lydford, the way that Despenser had attacked Simon’s daughter as a means of blackmailing Simon into doing his bidding . . . He shook his head. ‘Sire, that is impossible.’

‘You say it is not in your power?’

‘I do not know. But I do know the harm that Despenser has done to many, including you yourself and your realm. How could I serve the man who has done so much to ruin my King?’

‘It is your King’s express wish that you do so.’

‘Then I shall of course try to help.’

‘All I ask is that if all goes wrong, you do what you may to protect him.’ The King looked up at Baldwin at last. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there were tears in them. ‘Please, Sir Baldwin. It would make whatever comes to pass for me that much easier to bear, were I to know that good Sir Hugh was safe. I consider you the only man still loyal enough to me to undertake such a task. Will you do that for me, I beg?’

Before Baldwin could answer, the door opened and Sir Hugh himself entered with another page, Sir Ralph walking behind them.

‘Sir Hugh, I am glad to see you again, my friend,’ the King said a little formally.

‘My liege, there is news,’ Hugh said, his face working.

‘Speak!’

Sir Ralph spoke quietly. ‘It seems the castle at Bristol is fallen. A man has arrived to say that the castle was passed to the rebels yesterday. He saw the Duke of Aquitaine’s banner over the gates.’

‘He must be mistaken. My father would never surrender,’ Sir Hugh declared. ‘I will not believe it.’

‘Sir Hugh, the feeling in the castle was surely quite devastated after the capitulation of the city,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘It is not to be wondered at,Your Highness, since the folk were standing against their Queen and your heir.’

‘I should have disinherited the ungrateful wretch! How can my own son do this to me? I would not have dared to attempt such a grave offence against my father.’ Edward shuddered. ‘That is my greatest failing: sympathy to those weaker than me. I am too kindly to those who hardly merit it.’

‘What are your orders, Sire?’ Sir Hugh asked.

‘Eh?’ The King gazed at him for a moment as if he didn’t recognise his own favourite.

‘You will need to move away,’ Baldwin said. ‘You must go to a place of safety as soon as you may, Your Highness.’

‘Safety?’ the King repeated blankly, and then he bellowed the word, bringing a fist down onto the bench beside him with enough force to make the servants turn and stare. ‘
Safety?
And where shall I find this
safety
in my kingdom? Or anywhere? I may not travel to France, because the King would likely arrest me and give me to his sister, my wife, for her sport. To Scotland? Bruce would see me executed.’

‘There is yet Ireland,’ Sir Hugh le Despenser muttered. ‘We can go there and raise another host to retake the country. At least we would be safe there.’

‘Perhaps. For a while,’ the King said heavily. His eyes dropped and his toe tapped on the floor as he considered. ‘And then, what?’

‘As I said, my lord. Raise an army, fight these rebels, remove them, and retake your throne,’ Sir Hugh le Despenser said.

‘You would have me wage war on my Queen, then, and my son? What then, Sir Hugh, when I have retaken my throne, and these rebels have been executed or imprisoned, and I have gained a new reputation for cruelty? What then? For as soon as I have seated my backside on my throne, you may be assured that the next plot to remove me will already have begun. There were hundreds who resisted last time, and after that battle I had many killed for their treachery. And when I won, it gave an impetus to these, who immediately sought to start anew where they had failed. If I win again, events will repeat themselves. Must I always prepare for the next war with my barons?’

‘Perhaps, yes, my lord,’ Despenser said irritably. ‘You must do something, though. You cannot stay here – it is too dangerous.’

‘What is the point of continuously moving about the country?’ the King retorted. ‘All that happens is, our forces erode as the men desert us. I may as well wait here for them. I am sure my wife would not be so cruel as to—’

‘A fig for your wife! The one you should fear is Sir Roger Mortimer,’ Sir Hugh spat. ‘He’s the one you imprisoned in the Tower, he’s the one who had his death warrant signed by you, Your Highness! Forget your Queen. She is a pretty face at the head of the Mortimer’s force, but it is not she, nor yet your son, who directs them. It’s Mortimer who tells them where to go, what to do, and who to kill!’

The King put a hand to his temple. ‘Then prepare the men to leave this place. We shall ride to Caerphilly. At least we should find some peace there. Dear God, I hope so!’

Bristol

Simon, Hugh and Sir Charles crossed the town to return to the castle. On the way, they passed the execution ground where the headsman, liberally beslubbered with gore, was drinking from a great skin filled with wine, humming a tune with a slurred inflection. Sawdust had been liberally spread over the area to soak up the blood, and Earl Hugh’s body was already being fought over by the dogs.