Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) (39 page)

‘Are you quite sure that this dead killer was not the man who killed Mabilla?’

‘Quite sure. The man who killed Mabilla was witnessed. He was someone who was dressed quite differently from Jack atte Hedge, and interestingly, Mabilla’s killer wore a mask. I feel sure that Jack felt no need of such a device. He would kill any who saw him; as an assassin he could kill without compunction, after all. While the fellow who killed him, and incidentally Mabilla as well, had his face hidden so that the ladies in our Queen’s party would not recognise him.’

‘What reason would this second man have for hurting her, then?’ Stapledon demanded.

Baldwin was saved answering that by the blaring of trumpets. The King was returned.

The rest of the afternoon passed as had the morning. Men stood and made their feelings known, while the matter of whether the Queen should be permitted to cross the water and negotiate with her brother exercised all the minds there in the chamber.

‘This is pointless,’ Simon muttered to Baldwin. ‘Surely they’re all aware that something must be done, and if they want to send anyone, isn’t the sister to the French King the best possible ambassador?’

‘Only for those who are convinced that she will act as a free and fair agent on behalf of the King,’ Baldwin muttered back.

‘Who could doubt that?’

But once more Baldwin was saved from responding to
a difficult question by the King, who nudged Sir Hugh in the ribs and pointed to Baldwin.

Sir Hugh nodded and motioned towards him. ‘Sir Baldwin. The King would hear your opinion.’

To Simon’s eye the whole room became still as people craned their necks to stare at him and his friend. Colouring quickly, he felt more conspicuous than his friend under their steady contemplation. He wished that the ground would just open up so he could wriggle away through the mud and filth which was where, he reckoned, all these grand men assumed he must live.

Baldwin was in no way affected in like manner. He bowed to the King. ‘My Liege, I think that there is no possible alternative to your using your greatest asset in these negotiations. You must either go yourself, or send an ambassador, but if you are to send someone, you should use the one to whom the French King is mostly likely to listen. It is clear who this must be.’

‘You would send the Queen?’

‘Certainly.’

‘And what if she were to prove more devoted to her brother than to her husband?’

Baldwin did not flinch. ‘I am sure that my King would not have given her reason to commit petty treason, any more than I would think her capable of such a betrayal.’

‘You may find yourself nailed to a door by those words, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Perhaps. But I think it better to behave towards others as a Christian should, and hope in that way that others will also treat me honourably, Sir Hugh,’ he said firmly,
and there was a sudden laugh at the rear of the room, quickly stifled.

The King sat in his chair, unspeaking, but pale as he stared at Baldwin. For his part, Baldwin obeyed etiquette and did not meet his gaze, but instead kept his eyes firmly welded to Sir Hugh. And then the moment of tension passed as Sir Hugh moved over to speak to another man behind Baldwin.

Drokensford sniffed and glanced at Baldwin. ‘I have to say, Sir Knight, there are not many in here would have tested their balls against that man. You are a bold fellow, sir.’

‘No. Just one who senses he has little to lose. Backing down before him in a room full of my peers and superiors would not help me.’

‘True enough.’ Drokensford turned away, but as he did so, he rested a hand on Baldwin’s shoulder. He spoke very quietly. ‘You should know that there are many rumours that the woman Mabilla was a spy for Sir Hugh. He didn’t even trust his wife on her own. He had Mabilla watching
his own wife
as well as the Queen.’

The debate in the Great Hall moved on, forwards and back. There were many Bishops who demanded that the King do all in his power to prevent war again. He should go to France to prevent the loss of his French assets. Others were vehemently opposed to such a course, pointing out that their King would be entering a den of thieves and criminals, set upon the destruction of the English throne.

A scowling, black-haired Lord from the North spoke;
Baldwin later learned that he was called Leicester, the brother of Lancaster, although he had not been allowed to inherit the title of ‘Earl’ after his brother’s execution by his cousin, the King.

He agreed with those who counselled against Edward going to France.

‘It is a ridiculous suggestion! You want the King to throw himself upon the mercy of a household of traitors, felons and murderers? The French court is little better than the house of a mercenary knight. In God’s name, if you send our Lord there, you may be sending him to his doom, and I for one oppose it with all my strength.’

It was at this point that Earl Edmund pushed himself forward. He had been talking with a slender, short fellow in a corner, Baldwin had noticed, and now he held up a hand and spoke loudly and clearly. ‘My Liege, my Lords, there is surely an easier option. Rather than disputing whether the King should himself go or not, why should we not seek the easier option? Another who could pay homage in his place?’

‘Whom do you suggest? You want to visit the French King again?’ someone jeered from the rear of the room, and Edmund’s face worked a moment.

‘Since you ask, Stratford, no. I do not propose to return there to be insulted by the man who broke my army while I waited for reinforcements which did not come. No, I suggest that if my Lord the King cannot go to Paris, as indeed he cannot, why do we not perhaps send his wife to negotiate the arrival of another.’

‘We’ve already agreed to send the Queen to discuss
your peace treaty,’ Despenser said with an unkind chuckle.

‘Yes. And would it not make sense for her to negotiate the arrival of the man who holds the Duchy of Guyenne?’

‘The King will not go!’ Despenser spat.

It was interesting, Baldwin thought, that the man was growing so agitated about this. Clearly he was determined that Edward, his protector, should not leave the country. He must appreciate his own danger, were he to let the King away from his side. And no number of safe passages would convince him that it would be safe for him in France, whether with the King or not. Some years before, he had been forced into exile from the King’s side, and he had turned pirate, robbing several French ships. Ever since, he had been a wanted man by powerful French mercantile interests.

‘No,’ Edmund agreed. He turned to glare at Despenser. ‘If you would listen to your betters, you might gain some understanding of my proposal,
sir
! I say, my Lord King, that you allow your good lady Queen to travel to France so that she may negotiate the arrival of her son – your son – whom you shall elevate as Duke of Guyenne. In that capacity, he can give homage to the French King. The French will not harm him, for he is King Charles’s own nephew and has no dispute with him. The Queen will herself aid and protect her son –
your
son. And when it is time, they can travel homewards together. What more elegant and simple solution to our problems could there be?’

It was an enormous relief when the King stood, a short while later. All those in the chamber bowed, facing him, and waited while the King’s footsteps passed through their midst and out to the main doors at the rear of the hall. Then, and only then, did the room begin to empty. Suddenly there was a lessening of tension, the occasional chuckle or muttered joke to relieve the mood.

Baldwin was still musing over Bishop Drokensford’s final words about the Despenser having his own wife watched, as Simon and he made their way through the screens passage and out into the light of the Green Yard.

‘Ach, standing in that place made my head ache,’ Simon groused. ‘Sweet Jesus, but the smell of other men in there was overwhelming.’

‘Did you hear what the Bishop of Bath and Wells said to me?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No. Why?’

Baldwin quickly told him what the Bishop had said about Mabilla being a spy for Sir Hugh.

‘You recall what the Earl told us about her?’ Simon asked.

‘Of course. That she drew him on, and when he showed her some interest, she fled.’

‘But if she was a spy for Despenser, that could all have been an act intended to entice him. But she wasn’t expecting him to be quite so enthusiastic in his response.’

‘Perhaps. But that would still mean that the Earl could have had a wish to kill her, as could many of the women in the Queen’s entourage.’

‘And the Queen, Baldwin. Don’t forget her.’

‘How could I? But of all the people who wanted her dead, most would have had to hire proxies. The women would have known, surely, if it was one of their group who attacked Mabilla. That would be too obvious.’

‘Yes,’ Simon said. The two men were walking further from the crowds now, voices low. ‘So whoever it was who stabbed her, it must have been another paid assassin, or perhaps a man who was known to a woman who serves in the Queen’s household.’

‘Either that or the Earl himself paid someone. But if he did, would he have been quite so honest about his feelings towards her?’

‘Is he intelligent enough to see that?’ Simon wondered. ‘He was not the brightest man we have met here. Although, to be fair, he seemed to astonish everyone in there, myself included, with his idea about sending the Prince to France.’

‘Perhaps he hides his intelligence until he needs to show it.’ Baldwin was quiet a moment. ‘However, what I find most astonishing is that Earl Edmund appears to be one man who is moderately secure from accusations of trying to kill Mabilla. Despenser probably paid Jack to
kill the Queen, but it is clear enough that the man who killed Mabilla was paid by someone else, and I should guess it was someone who had learned about Despenser’s attempt on the Queen, and was determined to thwart it. The idea that it could have been someone who was asked to kill Mabilla, and his attack happened coincidentally on the same night as a second assassin was making an attempt on the Queen’s life … well, that seems to me to be quite ludicrous.’

‘So, we are looking for someone who sought to kill Mabilla for her faithlessness? Or, since she was a spy, someone who sought to punish her for that?’

‘There is one person who may be able to help us,’ Baldwin said ruminatively. ‘Perhaps we should speak again to Lady Eleanor.’

‘What more could she tell us?’

‘Perhaps only a very little, but I would say this: if she found out that she was being watched by her untrusting husband, she may have grown deeply insulted and angry. Who can say but that she might not have decided to pay a man to remove her husband’s spy?’

‘And hired her own man?’

‘Someone did,’ Baldwin said with a shortness that was unlike him, as though he knew that the story sounded implausible, but it was the best he could concoct at the time. ‘Let us at least see whether we can meet the Lady or not.’

Earl Edmund left the hall with a warm conviction that he had done himself some good in the eyes of most of the Lords and Bishops in the room. Perhaps it was not what
his brother, the King, had wanted to hear, but it was the sensible option. What else would simultaneously take the sting from the French demand that the King should go and pay homage while ensuring the King’s safety from the murderous bastards over there who wanted to destroy him? While men like Roger Mortimer were living freely at the expense of the French King in the latter’s court, it was impossible for King Edward to set foot on French soil.

Piers de Wrotham, Edmund’s adviser and spy, had done a wonderful job. Edmund grinned. His proposal today had clearly irked Despenser. The poor fellow! He was only a knight, when all was said and done, and if he ran the risk of crossing verbal swords with men of significantly better position, he shouldn’t be surprised when he came off worst.

Standing in the Green Yard, Edmund felt the February sun on his face and sighed happily. He’d already drunk a good measure of wine in the Great Hall, but he was still thirsty. A small ale might help clear his head.

The gate to the New Palace Yard was crowded, and it took him a few moments to make his way through. He began to march towards the alehouse at the northern wall, and it was then that in the shadow of one of the buildings, he caught sight of Despenser talking to a man with the unmistakable dark looks he knew so well. Piers.

His thirst quite gone, Edmund turned and began to make his way to the gate back out of this yard, his mind racing.

Piers was
his
man. He’d given Edmund so much good advice in the last few weeks, all genuine and clear, and all
aimed at ruining Despenser – so what was he doing, having a cosy little meeting with Sir Hugh now? Piers had told him that Despenser was his own most hated enemy, so to be with him now was surely proof of a terrible deceit! If Piers was so friendly with Despenser that he could stand in a dark shadow and make conversation … what topics would they be discussing?

Edmund had a nasty suspicion what one of them would be: how to make a certain Earl look even more foolish than he already did.

‘You
shit
!’ he snarled, and slammed his fist into his gloved left hand. He’d have his revenge on the bastards, both of them.

Simon and Baldwin found themselves confronted by an apologetic-looking Blaket once more.

‘Sir Baldwin, you know I can’t let you in.’

‘But we don’t want to talk to the Queen, man, we only wish to speak with Lady Eleanor for a little while.’

‘I still cannot let you in. I have my orders.’

They were forced to turn away again, Baldwin muttering imprecations against idiot guards who couldn’t recognise the difference between a cut-throat and a friendly knight.

‘This is farcical,’ he said with disgust. ‘All we need is a few moments with Lady Eleanor, to see whether she can aid us at all, whether she knew of Mabilla’s position or not – and yet even in that we are to be blocked.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Simon said with a nod behind Baldwin.