29 - The Oath (50 page)

‘In what manner?’ Simon asked.

‘Sir Laurence was in a position of authority, as Constable of the castle. If he was to need money in order to perform works, he could ask for the city to help – and certain men might find preferential treatment, were they to contribute to the financing of the projects. Capon used to win many of these arrangements, by which he grew more wealthy, as did the Constable.’

‘I see,’ Simon said. ‘It is hard to understand how men can behave so shamelessly.’

Sir Stephen nodded.

‘I suppose many men try to keep such dealings a secret, but news of that sort of fraud is bound to become clear in time,’ Simon continued. ‘It is like the man who tries to conceal his gambling from his wife – it never succeeds. Fraud is the same. You can steal for only so long, before the theft becomes plain. And then a man loses his honour and all.’

‘Some men, Bailiff, are not as honourable as they pretend,’ Sir Stephen said meaningfully.

Neath Abbey

The two walked into the King’s chamber and knelt, but Edward irritably bade them come to him. ‘There’s no time for all that folderol now. I need your brains, not submission!’

Sir Ralph glanced at Baldwin, and the two strode to join the King.

He was sitting at a small table, studying parchments which held commands in crabbed handwriting. Behind him stood the Abbot and some other men whom Sir Ralph did not know, as well as Despenser.

‘These are supposed to guarantee a man’s life,’ the King said, and he chuckled deep in his throat. ‘Orders for safe passage. I wonder who would read them and obey them now?’

He leaned back in his chair and surveyed the two knights with half-lidded eyes, and it was then that Sir Ralph understood that the King was drunk. Heavily intoxicated, in fact.

The King smiled lazily. ‘Well, there is no other way for it, sirs. We have played our best game, and we have lost. There is, apparently, no ship in the whole of Wales. All are off at sea, or safely harboured in towns where my enemies hold all power. There is nowhere for me to go to safety.’

Although his mouth was smiling, Sir Ralph was appalled to see a solitary tear form in his eye. It welled, and then, as the King blinked, it moved off, trickling down his cheek. That was the only sign of Edward’s misery, and it was somehow more shocking than a fit of fury would have been. Just one single tear of despair. The King could not even summon the justifiable rage at the way that his subjects were ignoring his plight.

‘My lord, do not send me from your side,’ Sir Ralph said, and dropped to his knees. ‘I have given you my pledge to live and die in your service. I will remain with you until the end.’

‘Good sir, you are a true, honourable knight, I know that,’ the King said. He smiled absently, and his eyes moved away to stare through the window. ‘Very well then. Sir Baldwin, I have a task for you alone. You will travel with these men. I have issued safe-conducts for them all: for the Abbot of Neath, Rhys ap Gruffydd, Edward de Boun, Oliver de Burdegala and John de Harsyk. They are to act as my emissaries to Sir Roger and my wife. My lovely Isabella. They will not allow all to go to ruin about our ears, or so we hope. You, Sir Baldwin, will travel with them, you will protect them as you can, and you will help to bring them back from the Mortimer with answers.’

‘What answers do you seek?’ Sir Baldwin asked.

King Edward answered flatly, ‘Anything at all, Sir Baldwin. I am in no position to demand terms. I must
beg
for them.’

It was already close to noon when Sir Baldwin and the men were horsed. There were ten horsemen, and the rest were on foot. Among the ambassadors he was surprised to see Robert Vyke, the messenger he had met at Cardiff.

‘How is your leg?’ he asked.

Robert Vyke smiled. ‘Well enough for me to swing a sword, Sir Baldwin.’

‘I am glad indeed to hear it. You are welcome with us.’

‘I’m happy to be doing something, sir. I’m used to being off out and about, not staying indoors all the long day.’

Baldwin nodded, but his mind was already on other matters. He had taken his leave of Sir Ralph, and the two had clasped each other’s hands before giving the other a short hug.

‘Be careful,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘Be wary of ambushes and being hunted, my friend.’

‘I shall,’ Baldwin responded. ‘And you be careful around the King and Despenser. Despenser is desperate and the King is desolate. Either could succumb to foolish suspicions or fancies. They could decide that someone here in their household has been spying, or that there is a traitor in their midst. Keep calm and ensure that they remain reasonable, so far as is possible.’

‘I will,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘But Sir Baldwin, there is another thing. There are men with Mortimer who would benefit from the King’s capture. Be careful of them.’

‘There is a host to fear, then,’ Baldwin said.

‘Some are worse than others. Be on your guard.’

‘I will.’ Baldwin bade him farewell, and soon he and his little group were riding out of the Abbot’s gates and down on the road towards Margam again.

Feast of St Martin
³⁹

Twenty miles west of Hereford

It was at noon that day, that Simon found an opportunity of speaking to Sir Charles.

The men had stopped to warm themselves, the weather having been so miserable all morning. Simon felt as though he would never be dry again. His clothing was sodden and clung to his back so closely he felt as if his chemise had been smeared with honey. It was a relief to loose his horse to crop the grass, while he pulled out his waxed purse from his breast.

His purse was the place where he routinely stored his tinder. Today he had a little roll of birch bark he had taken the previous night, along with some scraps of wool and some well-dried lichen, and fragments of charcloth
⁴⁰
. All about were trees and he snapped off any dead twigs and branches that he could find. When he had enough for a small fire, he lit the charcloth, blowing on it as he wrapped it about with tinder, and held the whole lot in a parcel of birch bark. Soon he had flames, and he could set it down, placing the dead twigs over the top. There was a great deal of spluttering and spitting, but before long the twigs were catching light too.

‘You have spent a lot of time in the wilds, I see,’ Sir Charles said as he joined Simon.

‘You could have helped gather some sticks,’ Simon remonstrated.

‘Ah, but if I were to have done that, I would not have been able to collect this meat and bread,’ Sir Charles said with a chuckle.

Simon was not unhappy with the trade. The dried meat was tough as leather, but it was filling to an empty belly.

‘I spoke with Sir Stephen yesterday,’ Simon said. ‘He was most dismissive of Sir Laurence. What do you think of him?’

‘Sir Laurence? About as honourable as they come. Why?’

‘If Sir Stephen is to be believed, Sir Laurence was less so than you would think. He said that Sir Laurence was taking money in bribes, if I understood him aright. If there was work to be done at the castle, apparently he would give it to those who paid him most.’

‘That’s hardly unusual,’ Sir Charles said with a shrug. ‘It is the normal way of things.’

‘Did he strike you as the sort of man who would live by profiting from usurers? That is what Sir Stephen intimated, and yet I would expect most knights to look down on those who make money that way.’

Sir Charles gave him a lazy smile, and Simon was reminded again that this man was not one to baulk at profit by any means. He had been forced to survive as a renegade for too many years when his lord had been executed.

‘Simon, sometimes men are forced to do things they might regret, for reasons of survival.’

‘I make no comment about that. I would probably do the same. But to ally himself to a usurer, surely would be demeaning to a man who did not go through the same trials as you, Sir Charles? This is a man copying Despenser, I suppose, making money from a merchant who was paying him a fee to recommend his loans. To me, Sir Laurence did not seem so bent on profit that he would do something like that.’

‘Who is he supposed to have made money from?’

‘The banker who died.’

‘Capon, the man killed by Squire William?’

‘Yes. Sir Stephen said that Sir Laurence was doing very well out of his relationship with Capon.’

‘And then Capon died,’ Sir Charles said thoughtfully. ‘Did that happen recently?’

‘I think it was as the Queen was invading the country.’

‘If that is true, then he could have sought to prevent any discovery of his actions with Capon,’ Sir Charles said. ‘In God’s name, it would be a bold act – but surely the Squire William was guilty, was he not?’

Simon stared into the flames. ‘That is what all say,’ he agreed. ‘But I am fascinated by Sir Stephen’s attitude yesterday. He was very definite about Sir Laurence’s dealings with Capon.’

‘I daresay the man Capon had similar business dealings with many men in the city,’ Sir Charles said. ‘And if with Sir Laurence as well, what of it?’

Simon agreed, and before long they were mounted and moving away again. But no matter how he tried to put it from his mind, the matter of Capon and Sir Laurence would keep intruding. Especially since Sir Laurence could have been present at the death of Cecily that night . . . And if the Constable had, in fact, had something to do with the removal of Capon, he would also have wished to silence Cecily, because she might have witnessed his murder of her master.

But no, that was ridiculous, he reminded himself. Cecily had been anxious because of the appearance of Squire William’s men. Simon had heard that himself from Emma, her mistress.

Wednesday, Morrow of the Feast of St Martin
⁴¹

Near Abergavenny

Simon and the Earl of Lancaster’s men had been riding all that morning, and it was good when they reached a stream to be able to get off and stretch their legs. Sir Charles stood with Simon as their mounts drank from the little brook.

‘The trouble with this land is that it is so perfect for ambushes,’ Sir Charles said.

Simon had noticed that he kept his right hand free, ready to grab his sword, but as they were here with more than fifty men, all well-armed, the likelihood of an ambush against them was surely remote?

But a little of Sir Charles’s wariness communicated itself to Simon and to the other men about. They kept together, and there was less chatter and joking than usual. When one man dropped his helmet with a clatter, more than one reached for a dagger or sword, and he was roundly cursed.

A short while after that, Simon saw one of the younger men freeze and stare ahead at the track. The lad had good hearing, because it was an age before Simon could discern anything, but suddenly, there it was: the irregular thud of hooves.

Sir Charles sprang into his saddle, drawing his sword. ‘
Mount
! By Saint Loy! Mount!’

There was a general rush to horses, and the neighing of alarmed or excited beasts, and then the whole group was ready. Sir Charles grinned at Simon. ‘Here we go – glory, or foolishness when we meet a farmer!’ and spurred his horse on.

They rounded the next bend, and almost rode into Baldwin.

‘Baldwin!’ Simon burst out as he saw his old friend. ‘What in God’s name are you doing up here? Weren’t you supposed to be home?’

‘I could say the same to you,’ Baldwin replied, delighted to see his old friend. ‘You were on your way home, too. But where is Margaret – and Peterkin?’

Explaining to each other why they were here whiled away a large part of their journey, and they were already quite close to Hereford before Simon glanced behind him at the other men in the entourage.

‘Baldwin, you know the King is lost, don’t you?’

He nodded. ‘It is clear enough that he cannot win. No one will go to his banner. Not now.’

‘Then why will you not join us now? It would be a great deal safer.’

‘I serve my King,’ Baldwin said simply. ‘I cannot turn from him now, just when he needs my support most.’

‘Sir Baldwin,’ Sir Charles said, riding up alongside him. ‘I do appreciate your loyalty, but there is another consideration in all this. I do not wish to have to kill you when we finally catch up with him. If you are there to defend him, we shall have to draw steel.’

‘I would regret that too,’ Baldwin said. ‘Let us hope that it does not come to that, for I would hate to have to kill
you
, Sir Charles.’

First Thursday after the Feast of St Martin
⁴²

Hereford

The Duke heard of the arrival of the contingent of men from the Earl of Lancaster’s host when he was at his table with his clerks, and immediately took up his sword and hurried from the chamber, down the passageway towards the hall of the castle where Sir Roger Mortimer was directing the efforts to find the King, stopping only when he reached the doors with the men-at-arms on either side.