Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) (48 page)

‘True enough. But I fear you will have to enquire yourself about those aspects. I am only seeking to tell you the story as I understand it,’ Baldwin said.

Sir John nodded thoughtfully. Then he sprang lightly
from the table, and addressed the two. ‘I thank you for the tale, in any case. It is quite entertaining.’

‘It is the only one you will have on the affair, I think,’ Baldwin said.

Later that night, Baldwin was lying back on his bed when Simon challenged him.

‘That was a whole cartload of garbage, wasn’t it?’

‘What was, Simon?’

‘The tale you gave to John. There was hardly any truth in it, was there?’

‘Simon, look at it this way: we set out to seek a killer, and in the end it became clear that the killer knew his way about the palace, that he was a man who could conceal himself, that he was someone known to Alicia, in all probability, and someone who was removing a woman whom the Queen wanted taken away.’

‘Yes.’

‘Blaket was plainly the man who killed Mabilla. He confessed as much. Jack was killed in the King’s chamber. We know that too. However, Despenser is not so good an actor that he could feign anxiety and rage. He did not know what had happened to his assassin. I am sure of that.’

‘But then … Oh, in Christ’s name, you don’t mean—’

‘Of course. The King is no fool. He heard about the spying and was none too pleased about it. I dare say he was happy enough to see Mabilla removed. But no matter what, he is a politician too. He was furious to learn that an assassin had been hired to kill his wife. It would ruin any chance of regaining Guyenne.’

‘How would he learn of the assassin?’

‘Simon, we already know of one double-agent – that man Piers. There are others here who would act in the same manner, finding all they can from one master to sell to another. But let us assume this Piers realised that there was such a plan in motion, and he told the King. Edward saw how much damage this must do, so he himself sought the assassin. He warned a few trusted guards to keep their eyes open. One of them was Blaket. He met Jack and persuaded him to meet with Despenser in a small chamber, near the King’s hall. But inside was not Despenser but the King himself. There Jack was murdered, and that obscene mutilation committed.’

‘Why that, though? If the King is so fond of other men as you have said, why do that?’

‘It was nothing to do with sodomy, Simon. That was a sign of the King’s great displeasure at such treason. Castration is common for those who try to commit such offences, as the Queen herself told us.’

‘So you mean that Blaket saw all this, and then returned to the Queen’s door to kill Mabilla?’

‘That was his duty, as he saw it. He loves two ladies, Simon. Alicia with his body, but the Queen with his heart. You saw how devoted he was to her. When she wanted peace, we could approach no further than to him. Passage beyond him would have involved someone’s death. Yet he took us to the
King
when he found us in the Queen’s rooms.’

‘So will you denounce him?’

‘What, Blaket or the King? To denounce one means also affirming the guilt of the other. Would you and I live
if we succeeded in that, Simon? I do not think so. No. We should consider ourselves fortunate to have escaped this place with our lives.’

‘One point, though,’ Simon said after a few moments. ‘You said that Despenser could not act well, that he wouldn’t be able to dissemble in that manner, but you’re happy to accuse the King of exactly that. What makes you think that our Liege could do so when Despenser could not?’

‘Simon, do you remember the day we first arrived here and saw the roads? I mentioned the King’s pastimes, didn’t I?’

‘Ah – you said that he enjoyed acting!’

‘Precisely.’

And that, Baldwin had hoped, would be an end to the matter. He was disgusted with the council of the King, distrusted all those who sought power and advancement from the King, and felt threatened by the King’s own most trusted adviser.

There was nothing here for him. He could not alter the decisions being made, because the decisions were made by a few powerful people before ever any meeting was held. Even men whom he had once trusted, like Bishop Walter Stapledon, were proven to be more interested in preserving their own power than in seeing justice done. That might be a harsh view of the Bishop’s motives in concealing the indenture, but all Baldwin knew was that the Bishop had held that scrap in trust, and had then passed it on to Despenser, the man whom it accused.

But although Baldwin’s own desire was to leave the
city and make his way back to Devon, to his wife and children, at all possible speed, events were shortly to take a turn which he had not predicted.

Wednesday after the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary
¹

The Queen was the first to be told of the new proposal – after Sir Hugh, the Bishops, her son and the King’s ambassadors.

She was startled to receive an invitation to see her husband. His chambers were so close, and yet she had grown accustomed to the fact of their separation over the last months.

‘You are sure he wants me?’ was her only response to the request.

The marvellous painted hall in which he waited for her was a welcoming chamber. The fire in the hearth was roaring, and although she had left a pleasantly warmed room behind her, this was so much hotter that Isabella was forced to shed her cloak.

‘My Lord, you asked to see me?’ she enquired, giving him a courtesy and keeping her eyes demurely downcast
so he might not read the anger in her eyes.

‘Lady, I have come to a conclusion.’ It sounded as though he had drunk poison, for the words almost choked him. ‘Your
brother
has demanded that I should go to him to swear homage for Guyenne and the Duchy. I feel I cannot go at present, not while our countries are at daggers drawn. So I have decided that you shall go in my place.’

‘You have?’

‘I and the parliament. We are sure that your good offices will aid our negotiations. I wish you to leave within the month.’

‘But there is so much to prepare! Surely the Pope could send another to act for you? Would not a Bishop or Archbishop carry more weight than a mere woman?’

‘The Pope suggested you,’ the King spat.

She looked up then, so that he could read the contempt in her eyes. She had known that all along. It was pathetic of him not to think of the many ways in which a prisoner might learn news of the world. For her part, it was easy. Drokensford kept her well-informed, as always.

‘You will go in the first week in March,’ the King said, containing his own rage with difficulty. This woman was a she-wolf. Cunning, evil, cruel, she was the embodiment of all that was unnatural in a woman. He could see that she had known about all this beforehand – well, let her think that she had won. When she came back from the French court, when she had done his will over there and won back Guyenne for him, she would return to her prison in England. Not here, though, where she could plot with her friends. Somewhere else, farther away from power. Perhaps in Castle Acre. Norfolk was a county for
which she had always asserted a liking. She could go there and fester.

‘I suppose I shall be forced to travel with people chosen for me?’ she said after a moment.

‘I will wish to keep the costs of the embassy at a minimum.’

‘Naturally. Yet I would have some men I can trust.’

‘You have my word that all will be honourable and trustworthy.’

‘Your word? I am reassured.’

He grated his teeth, but swallowed his anger at her sarcasm. ‘You wish for a senior man? A Bishop? Earl?’

‘Will our son travel with me?’

The King smiled. ‘No. He will come later, provided that all the negotiations are successful. I will send him on to you when all the plans have been set out clearly.’

For Sir Hugh, it was the best of all worlds. As he had hoped when he first tried to tempt Earl Edmund into plotting against him, persuading the fool through Piers that Sir Hugh did not want the Queen to leave the country, in reality it was clearly impossible for him to be seen to attempt to prevent her going. The only effective manner of his preserving his power was for the Queen to be apparently supported by him so that the French did not have any more incentive to seek his death.

It would have been best for him to have seen her killed here, but it was not to be.

‘My Liege.’

The King took his arm with a smile. ‘Come, look at this, Sir Hugh.’

At the window, Sir Hugh looked out. From here they had a view of a magnificent royal barge. ‘That is marvellous!’

‘Isn’t it?’

It was painted in red, with glints of gold where gilt licked the decoration. Cushions were spread about, and Sir Hugh could see that there was a great awning to keep the King and his guests sheltered in the worst of weathers. At the stern was a comfortable-looking seat with padded arms and thick cushions for the King. Beside it, a comfy, but lower chair.

‘I had it made for the summer, and wanted to view it beforehand. I hope you and I will be able to use it in the warm months.’

‘Yes, I am sure …’

‘So no more attempts on the Queen’s life, Sir Hugh,’ the King murmured.

Sir Hugh smiled. ‘You need not worry about that.’

‘No, I do not – do I?’ the King said, but this time – for the first time – Sir Hugh heard that special note in his tone: it was the same tone he had used when pronouncing death on Sir Andrew Harclay; when he told his cousin, Earl Thomas of Lancaster, that he must die; when he spoke to his wife. It was the sort of voice he used for people whom he had once trusted, when he learned of their faithlessness.

There was only one thing for Sir Hugh to do, and he did so hurriedly. Dropping to his knees, he bent his head almost to the floor. ‘My Lord, don’t blame me! I only sought what I was sure was best for you.’

‘Yes –
and
you, eh? No more, Sir Hugh. It is tedious
to have to seek out such men. And they do bleed an inordinate amount.’

Sir Hugh looked up at his lord and lover. ‘It was you?’

‘So no more, Sir Hugh. I have lost my wife. I would not lose you too.’ He paused. ‘You must pay. You will buy me a new carpet. My last one was soiled.’

Richard Blaket stood aside as the Queen returned to her chamber, Alicia in attendance. As the Queen entered, Alicia remained outside with him.

‘We shall be travelling soon,’ she said.

‘To Eltham?’ Richard asked. He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, but failed. The guards set about this island were all selected from the area and would not travel with the household when it was moving across the countryside.

‘No. We are to go to France.
France!’
She clapped her hands and smiled in delight.

‘France?’ he said dully. ‘How long for?’

‘We won’t be there all that long,’ she said, suddenly quiet as she saw his pain. ‘The Queen has to go to discuss things with their King, and then we’ll be back.’

He nodded sadly. It was natural that she would be glad to travel to France. It was the centre of culture, of beauty, all that was lovely to a woman.

‘You aren’t happy?’

‘How can I be happy when I’m going to have to wave you goodbye?’

‘I will be returning.’

‘Yes,’ he said. But all he could think of was the long months of loneliness while she was gone.

Thursday after the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary
¹

It was a foul morning. Even as Baldwin and Simon threw their belongings over their mounts and bound them tightly ready for the journey, Rob at Simon’s side, swearing as his frozen fingers fumbled with the straps and buckles, a sleeting rain greyed the heavens and Simon had to stop and pull on his broad-brimmed hat to keep the icy chill from seeping down the back of his neck.

‘Simon, Sir Baldwin; I wish you God speed,’ the Bishop called from the shelter of his doorway. He made the sign of the cross as the three crouched before him. ‘Be careful in your journeying, and may you return safely.’

Baldwin and Simon crossed themselves, and Rob hurriedly copied them, before all three mounted their horses and prepared to make their way homewards.

Before they could ride away, though, a messenger clattered through the gateway. ‘Sir Baldwin, the King
wishes to speak with you before you go.’

Baldwin would say nothing as they made their way along Straunde and down King Street, but Simon could see his tension. The knight was wound up like a hempen cord, ready to snap in a moment.

‘You had best wait here,’ Baldwin said at the gatehouse to the New Palace Yard.

‘No. I am coming too,’ Simon said.

‘You weren’t called for.’

‘People often forget me. I am too insignificant,’ Simon grinned.

In the end Baldwin agreed, but as he passed his reins to Rob, he felt as though his boots were made of lead. He had no idea what the summons presaged, but was convinced that the King must have some reason that would not be to Baldwin’s benefit.

The guards stood aside as the two approached, their polearms held upright, and Baldwin and Simon were ushered into the King’s chamber by the steward.

‘Sir Baldwin. I am glad to see you again.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Baldwin said, bowing low. He half-expected to be arrested as he stood there.

‘You helped my wife a great deal over this strange attempted murder. Do you like her?’

‘My Lord? I … she is a wonderful lady.’

‘But do you
like
her?’

‘Me? My Lord, how could I aspire to like her? She is a lady so superior to me, that I would not know what to say to her.’

‘You are returning to your homes?’

Baldwin and Simon exchanged confused looks. ‘Ah,
yes, my Liege,’ Baldwin managed after a short while.

‘Good. Well, God speed. I look forward to meeting you both again.’

‘Yes, my Liege.’

The King nodded and then astonished both men. He took a purse from his belt and gave it to Baldwin. ‘You have been of some service to me and my wife. This will compensate you for the travel and for your efforts when you arrived here.’