The King of Thieves: (33 page)

Baldwin smiled but forbore to mention the Bishop’s own wealth. ‘I suppose you mean that there was not enough space for two
men of such greed in the King’s household at the same time?’

‘I do not think so, no,’ the Bishop said. He was sitting, peering out of the window with a slight frown on his face.

‘My Lord Bishop?’

‘I was reflecting on the nature of Mortimer. The King has declared him a traitor and enemy of the realm – I just wonder how
dangerous he is. If he is so confident of his welcome here in Paris, has he been plotting something new? If he has, it must
surely be to the detriment of the King.’

‘What could
he
do, that could harm the King?’ Baldwin shrugged. And his judgement was that Mortimer could indeed do little. The man was
broken: his lands confiscated, his treasure taken, his men scattered.

‘I have no doubt you are right,’ the Bishop agreed, but Baldwin could see that a little frown remained on his brow.

Alley near St Jacques la Boucherie

Jacquot tapped Little Hound on the shoulder and took a delight in the sight of the man springing about, startled as a faun
when the dogs appear. ‘Oh, it’s you!’

‘I want to know what you have learned,’ Jacquot said softly.

The Hound looked up briefly at the darkening sky, then nodded and led the way to a small tavern. It was quiet in there, and
the only light came from stinking tallow candles and a few thin rushlights set about the walls.

‘She is a hard worker, that Amélie. And she knows a great deal.’

‘Such as?’

‘She has some pillow-talk from the castellan, you know? And she isn’t above boasting about what he lets on. Did you know he
made his money by robbing a Pope? Yes, thought that would surprise you. Our Sieur Hugues was one of a small force King Philippe
sent to some town near Rome to capture a Pope, but instead he found the Pope’s treasure, and stole it away. Enterprising fellow,
that. And he has much to lose, if news of that robbery ever comes to the ear of our King, who might think it would be a good
idea to take all that money for himself.’

‘What of it?’

‘Well, Guillaume de Nogaret, the dead man’s name, was also the name of the man in charge of the force sent to Rome, or wherever
it was. This is going back some twenty odd years, mind. Perhaps this fellow who was killed in the Louvre was his son, come
to blackmail Sieur Hugues. The castellan would have good cause to remove and silence him then, wouldn’t he?’

Jacquot whistled. Then he reached into his purse and slid a coin over the table. ‘Well done.’

The Hound sat back and eyed Jacquot speculatively, as
though assessing what he would think of the next piece of information. ‘There is more. This same Amélie had met the young
de Nogaret when he first arrived here in the city. I wouldn’t mind betting she gave the castellan warning about the man’s
appearance, and—’

‘And gave him time to plan to kill the lad,’ Jacquot said. ‘Yes, that makes much sense!’

Saturday after the Feast of the Archangel Michael
^*

Tavern near Grand Châtelet

Pons lifted his tankard in a toast, and Vital did the same in return. There was a celebratory air to their meal as they broke
their thick loaves and soaked up the juices from the pottage that morning. It was satisfying enough merely to have captured
the man who had killed Jean the Procureur, but at the same time they were both content that their efforts had seen to the
destruction of a larger force of criminals. The King of Thieves was a man who had controlled much of the crime in Paris, and
without him, it was likely that the city would grow more peaceful.

After a leisurely breakfast, they strolled together northwards, until they came to the wall. From here they carried on to
the bleak fortress of the Temple, where they entered and made their way to the gaols.

‘Fetch them,’ Pons ordered.

Two gaolers hurried about their business, bringing one after the other of the men and latching their irons to rings in the
walls. The last to be brought was the King.

In this darkened chamber, his ribs stood out more, and the hollows at his cheeks looked deeper, the lines at brow and
mouth more heavily engraved, perhaps, but the night in the cold and damp of the gaol had not served to break his spirit.

‘You have never been found guilty of a crime here in the King’s demesne,’ Pons said, walking about the King. ‘You have not
been branded, or had your nose, lips or ears clipped. How can that be, I wonder?’

There was no answer. The King spent his time staring into the distance as though listening to another conversation.

‘There are many like you,’ Pons said contemptuously, ‘who prefer to pay someone else to do their dirty work for them. No need
for you to risk your own precious skin, is there?’

‘He’s not listening, Pons,’ Vital said, walking over to the King and eyeing him. ‘Now, that’s not very respectful, is it?’
All of a sudden, he slammed his fist into the King’s belly. ‘André was a friend of mine,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I
want to know who killed him, you scum.’

The gaolers heard a knock at the door, and one hurried to open it. Outside were two more men, one wearing a shirt that was
filthy with stains, while the other had on a thick, smith’s leather apron. They walked in and began to make a fire at the
pit. Metal tools were set about this, just as they would be at a smithy, but the tools were lighter. Their purpose was not
to bend hot metal but to sear human flesh.

‘Do you know these two men?’ Pons asked politely. He waved a hand at the newcomers. ‘They are the King’s executioners. You
have your own men, I am sure, Your Highness, but no one who is quite so expert at squeezing responses from the recalcitrant.
And that is what they will do with you. You had our friend Jean the Procureur killed. I will know why, and who paid you for
that.’

For the first time, the King turned to him. There was a flickering rage in his eyes, and he gave the impression of danger
still – no, Pons had to amend that. It wasn’t danger,
exactly. It was more the aura of power and command. Like some General captured after a battle – bloody and beaten, perhaps,
but still a man confident of his own position.

‘Someone betrayed me,’ he said. ‘The fool who gave away my house at the Seine, he was one.’

‘And you murdered him. That will cost you your life,’ Pons said affably.

‘And now there is another. Someone who told you where to find me yesterday. Few knew where I would be.’ His voice was cold,
but rational as he mused on the problem.

‘It was her – the whore, Amélie.
She
led you to me, didn’t she?’ he said of a sudden. ‘No one else would have known where to go – only her. When I see her again,
I shall show her her own entrails.’

Pons smiled without humour. ‘An interesting suggestion. However, you are here to answer, not gain answers. Who paid you to
have Jean le Procureur killed? Who paid you to have Guillaume de Nogaret and his wife killed? Oh, and who was it who slew
André? Was it you?’

The King slowly let his gaze fall from Pons’s face, to run down his old green tunic, all the way to his boots, and then up
again to his face. There was no emotion in his look, only a cold disdain. And then, he turned his attention from Pons to the
wall.

‘You won’t answer? No matter,’ Pons said with a shrug. ‘Get the fires good and hot, lads. We’ll be able to show this so-called
“King” what will be waiting for him after the hangman’s finished with him at Montfaucon.’

Louvre

The Cardinal crossed the great hall with his clerks, his head bowed as he absorbed the news he had received.

That Sir Roger Mortimer had returned was not so
surprising. It was something, in fact, which he and the Pope had urged upon the King of France. King Charles was less keen
to have the man here, but then he was also unhappy about his sister remaining in France. It was one thing to have her irritating
the hell out of her husband, a man for whom Charles had little respect and less liking, but quite another to keep her here.
The King of England was correct – it was wrong for her to remain away from him. Her place was at his side.

However, the Cardinal thought that the Queen could herself usefully become the focus of all those who had cause to resent
the King and his associate – his ‘friend’, Sir Hugh le Despenser, may God fill his bones with liquid lead! That foul pirate
deserved to be deposed, and were the Queen able to build a small force, the Cardinal felt sure that it would be received well
in England. There were so many desperate to see an end to the reign of the disreputable Despenser. That was also what the
Pope and Cardinal Thomas fervently desired. And whatever the Pope wanted must be good for all Christendom.

The Cardinal prided himself on his worldliness. He was a practical man, when all was said and done. Among those in the Church,
there were some few who were able, like him, to take harsh political decisions, but few who also had the clarity of purpose
and the determination to do all they might for the good of the Church. The Pope himself appreciated his single-mindedness.

But now he had a strange feeling that there were matters which were advancing without his involvement, which was a little
alarming.

In one of the King of France’s smaller chambers, there was a gathering already when he arrived.

‘Cardinal,’ Queen Isabella said, rising from her chair and bowing, as gracious as ever. She was a lovely thing, this
Queen, quite the sort of woman who could tempt a saint, the Cardinal considered. She kissed his ring with every sign of humility,
but none of her display convinced the Cardinal. Women were utterly dangerous, and ones like this, with brains and beauty as
well as the heady air of command which surrounded her like a canopy, were the most dangerous of all.

The Duke of Aquitaine was next. The young man bowed with as much respect as the Cardinal could hope for. His tutor was behind
him, and Lord Cromwell too. But it was the other man who attracted the Cardinal’s attention.

‘Sir Roger,’ he said.

The Queen smiled winningly. ‘Cardinal, we hope and pray that you will listen to us for a moment or two.’

‘I am happy to listen,’ the Cardinal said flatly. He would certainly make no further commitment.

‘Sir Roger and I are desolate at the terrible way that the kingdom of England has been laid waste by the avarice of one man,’
she said. ‘There is every risk that my son’s inheritance will be thrown away. If the Despenser saw an opportunity, he would
not hesitate to kill my son; if he saw profit, I believe he would even slay my husband. I hope I do not shock you?’

‘On the contrary. I am fully convinced of the truth of your words.’

‘In order to protect my son, I do not dare send him back to his own land. I think it would be dangerous in the extreme. And
I dare not leave him here alone. There are enemies in the pay of the Despenser all over France. I am sure you understand this?’

‘So you intend to remain here in Paris? What of your expenses, my Lady?’

‘Cardinal, I confess, I rely on the support of my brother in his kindness.’

‘And you intend to remain here for how long? Until your
husband is dead? Would you deprive him of your companionship, of the companionship of his son?’

‘I can see no other way to protect my son.’

The Cardinal nodded, glancing at the boy. And he
was
only a boy. In God’s name, he might be a Duke, but the title had been bestowed on a child. Not yet thirteen, was he?

‘You wonder at my commitment, Cardinal?’ Duke Edward asked calmly.

‘I entertain no such doubts, Duke. No, I was reflecting that yours is a hard choice.’

‘You mean, to stay here with my mother, or go home to my father?’ the Duke said with a wry grin. ‘Is it so hard? I have the
choice of a loving, gentle and kindly mother, or a father who is so twisted with his fears and his love of his adviser that
he has no time to speak to me. He spends all his waking moments fearing the plots of his enemies within his realm, and cannot
see that the one sure means of protecting himself is to remove the man whom all despise. To remain here, or to return home
– the choice is easy.’

‘And if your father should disinherit you for your betrayal?’

The Queen said sharply, ‘If he were to try that, his attempt would …’

It was Sir Roger who took a half-pace forward. ‘His attempt would fail. I would take the country in the defence of the Duke.’
So saying, he bent his knee and bowed his head at the Duke.

‘Very impressive. But if you intend to do that, you will need men,’ the Cardinal said.

‘I will ask my brother,’ the Queen said eagerly.

‘And he will refuse you.’

‘He may not – he may allow me to use some of his men.’

‘No, because I will speak with him and advise him not to,’ the Cardinal said firmly. He looked at the Duke, then at Sir
Roger. ‘You must understand, this is one venture that the King of France cannot assist. For him to intervene in the national
affairs of your country would be seen as despicable, for he would be harming his own brother-in-law. It may not be.’

‘But I am his sister,’ the Queen said with a winning smile.

It did not disarm the Cardinal. He was immune to such wiles. ‘You are the responsibility of his brother-in-law. You are King
Edward’s wife.’

‘So the King will not aid us?’ Duke Edward asked.

There was a coldness in his manner which the Cardinal did not like to hear. The boy should have been whipped more often if
he would show such disrespect to his betters. ‘I shall advise him not to,’ he repeated.

‘What of other Christian Kings?’ the Queen asked quietly.

‘If you were to seek assistance from others, that would be no business of the King of France,’ the Cardinal said. ‘I only
advise the King.’

‘That is good,’ the Duke said, with a quick look at his mother. ‘Then our future is clear. We must bide our time.’

The Cardinal shook his head. ‘Not for long. I declare, I do not trust the Despenser to remain satisfied for long.’

Queen Isabella averted her face slightly. ‘My husband was a good father, a good King for a while. But now his friendships
are perverted by that evil man. I would that I could command that Despenser had never been born. Without him, my husband might
have remained at my side, and not sought the affection of others.’

‘I fear that had he not found Despenser, he would have found another.’

‘True,’ the Queen sighed. She dabbed at her eye. ‘So, there! I must remain here in exile, clad as a widow for a while longer.
And I require a General who can find me a band of men to
wrest the kingdom from the Despenser, to save the King, and to save the realm for my son.’

The Cardinal nodded. ‘So be it.’

But as he looked at Mortimer, the Queen, and the Duke her son, he was sure he could see a different tale unfolding. And he
saw that there could be good profit for a man who was prepared to help.