Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) (42 page)

Simon frowned. Baldwin had plenty of experience with horses and lances, but the Bailiff’s knowledge of bows and shooting was more extensive.

Noticing his friend’s expression, Sir Baldwin set his head to one side enquiringly. ‘What is it, Simon?’

‘Just that if this fellow here was out in front, there’d be no need for the archer to aim around him. He would already be out of the point of aim. Look at the ground there. The gate from the Green Yard is out near the Abbey’s wall, and the main gate is a little in front. A man aiming from the alehouse would only have to lean out a short way to cover the whole area. Certainly this fellow wouldn’t impede his aim.’

‘Then why’d he do it, then?’ Pilk demanded truculently. ‘I definitely saw him lean out to aim around me.’

‘So Despenser was near the wall?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No. He was off to the left as I looked back at him. Away from the wall. It was Ellis who was nearest the wall.’

Simon shook his head. ‘That makes no sense. Perhaps there was a cart or something in front of you? Or at least in front of Sir Hugh?’

‘Aw, I don’t care. This is so much ballocks! You have no right to keep me here, do you? I think I ought to report you to my master for wasting my time.’ He stood this time, grimacing from the pain all over his body, and barged between Simon and Baldwin.

‘Baldwin, I don’t like that man,’ Simon said.

‘Nor do I. I rather think that this matter of the bowman attacking his master has upset him, although I have no idea why.’

Simon drew a triangle in the ground. ‘It makes little sense for the bowman to have had to lean out to attack Despenser, not if he was out in the open and this idiot was heading straight for the gate.’

‘He probably made a mistake. Still, do you think that Pilk could have killed Jack.’

‘Yes, he could have. But if so,
where
did he do it? Wherever Jack died, there must have been plenty of blood. We’ve still not found it yet.’

Baldwin sighed and spoke quietly. ‘Simon, we have looked fairly carefully about the palace, haven’t we? There are only two areas which we haven’t considered.’

‘You aren’t serious, are you?’ Simon breathed. ‘The two royal chambers?’

‘Yes. It must have been either in the King’s or the
Queen’s chambers. There is nowhere else.’

‘And how can we check them?’ Simon asked.

‘I think we need someone who can get us into the palace again,’ Baldwin said, and turned to look over Simon’s shoulder.

Simon followed his gaze, and gradually a smile spread over his face.

‘Yes? What are you two smiling at?’ Peter asked, suddenly nervous.

Ellis was tired, and the back of his head, where Coroner John’s cudgel had whacked it, hurt like buggery. He was in torment. The loss of his sister was one thing, but the lack of any evidence to show who was responsible was worse. He was her brother, it was his duty to find the guilty man and make him pay, but instead he had almost seen his master killed by a bolt, and had had his own position weakened by that donkey’s arse Pilk.

Mabilla – how he missed her. Who on earth could have killed her? It could have been Jack, he supposed, but he didn’t think Jack would have stopped there. If he’d been told to kill the Queen, he’d have gone right on and done it. So it wasn’t Jack, unless he had suddenly decided he didn’t like the idea of killing anyone else. Not very likely.

He couldn’t stay at the palace. It was growing late, and his head was hurting too much to think clearly. His body ached where that fucker Pilk had hit him. He’d return the favour when he had an opportunity. Later. For now, his bed was appealing. Sir Hugh had told him he would be staying here tonight, and there were enough bloody guards set around the place to protect his master. He
needed to get his head down for a little. There was a palliasse in the gatehouse where he could rest.

With that decision made, he walked over the court towards the gatehouse, but while doing so, he saw Earl Edmund walking back in.

There was something about the masterful manner of his gait that stopped Ellis in his tracks. Usually the fellow was so pathetic, he could be entirely discounted, but today he was like a man renewed. His head was set high and proud, his back was straight, and he covered the ground like a warrior in a hurry. It was enough to set a warning bell tolling in Ellis’s bruised and battered head. He wasn’t aware of anything that could have made the Earl develop a spine all of a sudden.

As Edmund walked through a couple of waiting men, he pushed them from his path like a dog scattering cattle. The warning bell clamoured again.

And then the Earl looked over and saw him. ‘So, you’re still here, loyal to your master to the end, eh?’ he sneered. ‘Miss Mabilla, do you?’

Ellis set his jaw. How dare this man insult his sister! She was hardly cold yet, and this pathetic churl thought he could …

‘You don’t realise, do you?’ Edmund went on, and gave a bark of laughter. ‘You don’t see what’s in front of you, man. Your sister was
exchanged
, Ellis. A fair deal. She dies, and the Queen won’t tell her husband that your master dared to try to have her killed. That was the deal, because your sister was a spy in the Queen’s camp. You heard about her leading me on and then dropping me? That was all part of the same game. The Despenser set
her on me, and when I responded she grew afraid. But don’t worry. You continue to serve your master as only you know how, my friend. You do that. Don’t worry about avenging your sister. What does
she
matter?’

Ellis was turned to stone, unable to move. Meanwhile, having said his piece, the Earl had walked on through the gate into the Green Yard and was gone.

‘No.’
It wasn’t possible. The man was tormenting him because he hated Despenser and all his men. It was a lie – an evil lie. There could be nothing in it.

‘Ellis?’ It was a young messenger in the King’s livery. ‘Your master wants you to go to the Bishop of Exeter’s house and fetch something for him. He said to give this to the Bishop’s steward.’

The lad thrust a note into his hand and disappeared.

Ellis stood staring down at the slip, still without moving for a moment or two, and then he turned and made his way to the gatehouse. All he knew was obedience to his master. Without that, there was nothing. Time enough later to learn whether the Earl had been telling the truth.

Earl Edmund did not care about the impact of his words. All he knew was an overwhelming rage that he had been so duped by that worm Piers, and his master the Despenser.

‘Shit!’ he muttered. All the advice given to him by Piers was the result of devious plotting by Despenser, was created solely for his benefit. The Earl’s closest man, the adviser he depended upon most of all was in fact an agent of his enemy, so the line he had taken recently to promote the Queen’s journey to France – that must also have been
what Despenser wanted. It wasn’t going to hurt him at all, if Piers had promoted it.

Hell’s teeth! He needed someone to help him. Standing here in the middle of the yard, he stared about him, and all he saw was hostility. Not a friendly face among the multitude.

At least there was no risk of an imminent attempt on him here. After the crossbowman’s near-assassination of Sir Hugh le Despenser, his men had been all over the palace, and even now the Earl could see four of them on the walkway at the north wall and six more at the wall nearer the Thames. The guards were taking no risks, and anyone who so much as showed a bow in the yard would be pierced by a dozen arrows before he could nock his first one.

Earl Edmund did study a few of the men from beneath his brows, but it seemed that Despenser had not ordered his death yet. There was no apparent interest in him, and he didn’t feel endangered as he saw armed men gazing down into the crowds. No, it was just good to see that there were men who were keen to stop any more nonsense. Three deaths in only – what? – four days? First Mabilla and the murderer, and then the second assassin with the crossbow last evening. It was becoming almost embarrassing, that the King’s palace should have so many men expiring.

And now there was a fourth dead man, of course. Mustn’t forget him, Edmund told himself.

No, that dog’s turd. Piers was the most deserving of the lot of them.

There was a time, Pilk reckoned, when life had been easier. When he was a lad, for example. Those days, he’d never worried too much about anything, except where his next ale was coming from. Now his head was throbbing, and he was unpleasantly certain that Ellis was going to want to cut out his bowels and strangle him with them. It was the sort of thing he’d enjoy.

Slowly, he walked through the crowds beginning to pack up their wares and leave for their lodgings or homes. When he spotted Ellis among them, he quickly turned – God, he couldn’t take any more punishment today – but the man didn’t see him, was hurrying through the gates, as if he couldn’t get away from the palace fast enough.

Everyone was running about today, William reflected. Not him, though. He just wasn’t up to it. The bastard Ellis could go and swyve a mule. If he tried anything with William again, he wouldn’t hesitate – not this time. No, he’d grab a knife and gut the bastard. As long as it wasn’t today.

It had been a dreadful day. Not only because of the fight with Ellis, but also because of the questioning: those two appearing and accusing him of killing the girl and
perhaps Jack too. Christ, that had been unsettling. Even now, his bowels felt as if a rock was stuck in them, a heavy ball that wouldn’t move, no matter what. That was how fear always affected him.

With any luck, Pilk thought wearily, he’d be able to see the back of Ellis for good soon. That’d make his day.

‘I really should not be doing this.’

‘No, Chaplain. You oughtn’t,’ Simon said with happy agreement. He poked his head around a doorway and beckoned the other two.

They had entered the palace from a doorway beneath the Lesser Chamber, which had led them to a small corridor going southwards through a small range of storage chambers. The other side of them, Peter explained, was the King’s cloister, and that itself met with the Queen’s. This passage would end there, and there was a small gate to allow them inside. A guard would be stationed there, of course, but Peter had learned that the guards were not aware of all the entrances. For example, he knew of a stair that led to the second floor just before the Queen’s cloister.

‘If we go up there, we can easily get into the upper corridors, and thence to the place where Mabilla died.’

‘That is good,’ Baldwin said. ‘Even better would be to get inside the connecting passage from the King’s to the Queen’s chambers. What I wish to do is look to see whether there is any evidence of murder having happened in the King’s chamber or near it.’

‘Why? I don’t understand.’

‘Because someone,’ Simon said, ‘killed this man Jack
atte Hedge. Whoever it was killed him somewhere else, and then carried him through to the Great Hall. There wasn’t enough blood where he was found for him to have died there.’

‘So you say he died somewhere else and was carried there? Why?’

‘That, as they say, is the interesting question,’ Baldwin said. ‘If he was found in the King’s chamber, perhaps that would have made for embarrassment.’

‘Especially with his tarse in his mouth,’ Simon grunted.

‘That is the reason why I feel that the King’s chamber is not so likely,’ Baldwin said. ‘Whoever killed him left that mark upon him as a symbol of contempt for Despenser, I am sure.’

‘So you don’t want to go there?’

‘The Queen’s chamber first would perhaps be more sensible,’ Baldwin said.

‘Apart from the fact that if the man
was
killed in her chamber, or near her, the killer would have had to carry his corpse all the way along the corridors to the Great Hall where he was found,’ Simon pointed out. ‘How could someone do that and hope to escape without being detected?’

‘Maybe he bribed the guards,’ Peter offered. ‘Or he was simply an enormously bold, courageous fellow.’

‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin agreed. They had reached a staircase. ‘This is it?’

‘Let me go first and make sure all is safe,’ Peter said. He walked up the stairs and opened a heavy little door at the top. ‘It’s fine.’

Baldwin and Simon followed him and stood at the top.
Baldwin thrust his head through the gap and found himself in a narrow passageway that led off towards the river and met up with an upper storey in the old palace building. Soon he was up and standing beside Peter, Simon clambering after them.

‘It is usually safe here. That is why it’s sometimes popular.’

Simon tilted his head. ‘With whom?’

‘Lovers. They use this route when they want secrecy. I’ve seen some few.’

‘Such as?’

He looked at Simon with a smile. ‘I mentioned Alicia and the guard before. They have been along here, when Alicia should have remained in the Queen’s quarters and Richard Blaket should have been in the guardroom. But lovers cannot be kept apart, eh?’

This new corridor ended in a small chamber, in the next wall of which was another small door. Peter again went ahead and peered through. He jerked his head at them, and they walked along the flagged way after him. Periodically, on their right, were a series of tall, narrow windows which gave out over the Queen’s cloister. At this time of the evening no one was there. They would be eating, Baldwin thought, from the odours that rose to his nostrils.

Peter led them to a door set into the wall at the end. Here he looked at them seriously, then drew a key from a chain about his neck, and put it in the lock. The door opened easily and silently, and Simon and Baldwin found themselves in the chapel once more, this time in the upper storey.

‘Here you are.’

‘The Queen will be eating? I suppose that means we cannot enter her chamber,’ Baldwin mused.

‘No, she’s dining with the King in the old palace just now.’

‘Why?’

‘They are putting on a show of matrimonial normality,’ Peter said cynically. ‘There are too many who would like to portray them as loathing each other, so they sometimes put on a little display to frustrate all of them.’