30 - King's Gold (44 page)

That was understandable, Simon felt, looking up at the tower again. With the only window many feet above ground, and no other gap in the tower’s wall facing this way, it would be hard for a man down here on the ground to know where the cries came from.

‘What of you?’ he asked the latest man to be delivered to him. ‘Did you hear the cries last night?’

‘Yes. But I didn’t know who it was, nor where he was.’

‘Where were you sleeping?’

‘I was down here,’ William said, pointing at the tent’s canopy.

‘With the other masons?’

‘Some of them.’

Simon looked about him. ‘Did you see or hear anything else after the screaming started?’

‘We’d drunk well last night. It was Samuel’s birthday, and we celebrated with a barrel of wine, so I don’t think any of us was fast to waken,’ William said. ‘But when we did, we ran up to see what was happening. We all went together.’

Simon thanked him and sent him away. ‘That is that, Hugh. They were all out here, but so drunk they scarcely knew what was going on. Whoever did it, how did he manage to escape when all the stairs and passages were full of men coming to investigate?’

Hugh shrugged. ‘Maybe the fellow was right, and it was a devil.’

‘And maybe the killer flew away, you mean?’ Simon said, staring about him at the rocks fastened with ropes, ready to be hauled up. ‘I don’t think that there was a flying murderer, Hugh. A magical killer would have no need of an axe, would he? No, this was a normal, flesh and blood murderer. Same as any. But how he did it, that’s a different matter.’

‘
If
anyone cares about the knight dying,’ Hugh shrugged.

‘I care,’ Simon said, but then he remembered Sir Jevan’s face from yesterday, and Sir Richard’s conviction that he was the murderer of at least two others.

‘I care,’ he repeated, with no conviction at all.

Second Wednesday after Easter
⁵³

Berkeley Castle

Simon strode along the court from the hall where he had broken his fast, and up to the corridor.

‘Any sign of him?’ Sir Richard asked.

‘Not yet. I hope the man hasn’t gone to war with the others,’ Simon said.

‘Not too much risk of that, I’d think. There are enough murders down this part of the world to bring in a respectable income for the King. He won’t want to lose that.’

They had sent for the official coroner as soon as light permitted yesterday, but so far there was no sign of the man. Instead the castle was forced to try to run itself without allowing anybody in or out, as the law demanded. When a man was slain in a manor, the people living there were to be held until the coroner had come and held his inquest. Despite being a coroner himself, Sir Richard held no warrant for this county; he could not work here unless he had permission.

‘Doubt if he’ll make much sense o’ this,’ Sir Richard grumbled to himself as he eyed the corpse. ‘A man killed in the middle of the night by an axe. Plenty of axes lying about here, and enough men willing to wield ’em, from what I’ve seen of Sir Jevan.’

‘Do you think it was Dolwyn?’

Sir Richard cocked an eyebrow. ‘Do
you
think it was him? No, of course not! Blasted fellow arrived at the wrong time, that was all. And the fact that the murderer used an axe just means he wasn’t stupid. With all the rumours about the man Ham slaughtered on the way here, and people lookin’ at Dolwyn all askance, it was natural they’d think it was him.’

‘He was the man there when the guards arrived.’

‘He was the man who slept nearest, so naturally he would have been first to wake and first to get to the body. More to the point is, what was Jevan doin’ here anyway? What made him get out of bed in the night and walk over to that place?’

‘Got lost on his way to the garderobe?’ Simon wondered.

‘And happened to meet a maddened axeman on the way? I doubt it, Simon.’ Sir Richard sighed. ‘Did you speak with Alured last night when you said you would?’

‘Yes, but I incline to the view that he wouldn’t have done this.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he seems devoted to the law and justice. He’s a constable, not a maddened axeman.’

‘Whoever killed Jevan,’ Sir Richard said thoughtfully, ‘was seeking to deliver justice. We must talk to Alured, Simon.’

When Simon and Sir Richard enquired, they learned that Alured was in the hall with his master, Matteo di Bardi.

‘Signor Bardi,’ Simon said as they walked to them. ‘I am sorry, but we would like to speak to your man.’

‘There is nothing you can say to him that you cannot tell me,’ Matteo said.

He was sitting on a bench next to Alured like a pleader, Simon thought. All pale and thin, like the clerk he was. Simon had heard much about this man, how he would gather news and use it for the benefit of the bank. It reminded him of how Despenser had used informers all over the country. Simon disliked the idea of spying. Those who were supposed to be loyal should be so, to his mind. There was little point in giving an oath of loyalty if a man was going to renege immediately for Florentine money.

‘Alured, you know what I want to speak about,’ Simon said.

‘Yes. Master Matteo may as well hear it too,’ Alured said. ‘He should be aware.’

‘Tell us again, then, about Sir Jevan.’

Alured looked at Matteo as he answered, ‘The day you were stabbed, master, a short way from you lay two more bodies. Just youngsters, they were. The girl had her head cut off, while the boy was stabbed. It happened while I was with you. I heard something and ran up the alley – and there they were, poor souls. I found a witness – a man who had seen the killer hurrying away.’

‘You told me this. But he saw no face,’ Matteo said.

‘No. He was very drunk and lying at the side of the alley, but he
did
see reddish-brown Cordovan leather boots – like the ones Sir Jevan wore. And the style of death – the girl’s head cut cleanly from her body – that was the act of a man-at-arms, not a peasant. The lad too was stabbed twice about the heart. I think he died in an instant, which also speaks of a killer experienced in war and killing. And Sir Jevan was that.’

‘So?’ Matteo said.

‘A man could easily have stabbed you, then flown up the alley and stood there waiting to see if he was pursued. And if some youngsters came along unexpectedly, he might have killed them before making his way to his meeting.’

‘His meeting – with my brother?’ Matteo said, and his stomach lurched. ‘So my brother did try to kill me. I had suspected it for so long, but to hear this . . .’

‘Not your brother,’ Alured said. ‘Sir Jevan. He was on his way to see your brother, you told me, but he could have stabbed you and then the couple I found before he got there.’

‘My brother . . .’ Matteo said again, his face a mask of tragedy.

‘There is no proof he’s involved,’ Sir Richard said with his low, rumbling voice. ‘He may be completely innocent. Come, Master Bardi, I think before you contemplate an accusation you should be careful to consider the implications.’

‘The “implications”?’ Matteo echoed. ‘The only “implications” I see are that I risk death whenever I see Benedetto!’

‘Meanwhile, Alured,’ Simon said, ‘I would like to know where you were last night.’

‘I slept on a bench outside my master’s chamber,’ Alured said. His expression told what he thought of the arrangement. ‘I was there all night.’

‘Was anyone with you?’ Sir Richard asked.

‘You think to accuse
me
of the murder?’ Alured said. ‘I deny it. I was on my bench and asleep from an early hour. I was tired – I still am!’

‘I heard the screams and opened my door and he was there,’ Matteo confirmed.

‘So, will you arrest me too? You have three men in gaol. Why not make it a quartet?’ Alured asked cynically. ‘You can never have too many suspects, can you?’

‘We ain’t askin’ all this for the fun of it,’ Sir Richard boomed. ‘It’s our duty, and yours, to learn what we can about the murder of a knight.’

Alured looked at him, but he knew better than to pick a fight with Sir Richard.

‘I think you one of the least likely killers in the castle,’ Simon said. ‘But we could hardly ignore the fact that you have been seeking the man for months. If not you, who else?’

‘You know who
I
think it was,’ Matteo said.

‘Yes, your brother was involved with Sir Jevan, Master Matteo.’

‘If he had paid the man to kill me, perhaps Benedetto wanted to see to it that Sir Jevan could not confess and put the blame on him,’ Matteo said.

‘Your brother could be a danger to you. Be aware, and act accordingly. Keep Alured with you at all times; do not go about without a friend whom you can trust.’

‘Surely his brother will not attempt to kill?’ Alured said. ‘He had to enlist the aid of others to try to kill Matteo.’

His face suddenly froze as he realised what Simon was getting at.

‘Yes,’ Simon said gently as he watched Matteo. ‘Be very cautious, because it is possible your brother killed Sir Jevan last night. Perhaps he has no need of agents to perform his killings now. He can do it for himself.’

Second Thursday after Easter
⁵⁴

Berkeley Castle

Benedetto Bardi was anxious and growing all the more so, the longer he was held in this castle. To think that only a few days ago he had felt that the place was pleasing! He had spoken to Matteo about the congenial atmosphere, the efforts which Lord Berkeley was expending to make it still more delightful . . . and now he could not look about him without thinking the place was no better than a midden.

There was a definite feeling of menace. Men on the walls stared down with suspicion, whilst the servants were surly and rude. If Lord Berkeley were here, Benedetto would have demanded of him that his staff remember their duty of courtesy to a guest, but without him, he dared say nothing. Not while the soul of Sir Jevan wandered the corridors. There was far too much death and sadness in this place, he thought.

He knew why they all looked at him askance: they knew that he was guilty. The letter which should never have been written had been found. That man Sir Baldwin had discovered it, and Lord Berkeley had seen it. Clearly that was the cause of all this suspicion.

Lord Berkeley had called for him soon after the arrival of the messenger from the King.

‘Come in, sit down, my friend,’ he had said as Benedetto entered his chamber.

It was a small room, this – dark, but warm.

‘You like my private chambers? Cosy, which is how I prefer it. I don’t like to suffer if I can avoid it,’ Lord Berkeley said.

He sipped from a goblet, and held it out. The only other man in the room was his steward, who stepped forward in an instant to refill it. Oddly enough, he forgot to offer a drink to Benedetto, but the latter assumed it was merely the pressure of work that was distracting him.

Lord Berkeley peered at him over the rim. ‘So, Master Bardi. You are an industrious fellow, I know. You have the difficult task of always being on the side of the men who will be in power – a balancing act that would torment the ability of a juggler. So difficult to maintain perfect harmony while trying to win the favours of Sir Roger Mortimer as well as Sir Edward of Caernarfon.’

Benedetto’s smile was forced as he muttered, ‘I don’t know what you mean, my lord.’

‘No? I suggest you search your memory. I know of the letter your family wrote to Sir Edward when he was King. You promised him your support. At the same time you swore to provide all needful to the Queen and Sir Roger. One letter to one side, another to the other. Did you not pause to reflect that the letters must become known? No matter who was to win, someone from the Queen’s camp would be sure to find out about your letters to the King, and vice versa. And now they
are
discovered, and I have the interesting difficulty that I am not sure what to do with you. Perhaps I should just tell Sir Roger Mortimer and see what he would consider best.’

‘No!’ Benedetto blurted out. ‘There is no need for that. Let me aid you, my lord, and we can—’

‘ “Aid me”, you say? I think that would be a most improper course. You wish to include me in your schemes – entangle me in the web of lies you have constructed? I think not.’

‘My lord, it was Manuele who wrote and signed those letters, not me. And I was already willing the Queen to overwhelm her husband. There must be something, a service I could provide . . .’

Lord Berkeley looked shocked. ‘Do you mean you would offer a bribe to keep my silence?’

It was agreed in a few minutes. Lord Berkeley had very little money. So much had been despoiled when Despenser captured his castle, so many objects stolen, so much damage done to the walls, that the cost of returning the building to its former glory would be exorbitant. And Benedetto must agree to help with those costs. Lord Berkeley drove a hard bargain.

Benedetto knew from the looks which the others here in the castle threw at him that his deal was common knowledge. The steward must have spread the tale far and wide, the son of a whore! If he could, Benedetto would have him killed. Pay Dolwyn or some other fellow to slay him – or even perform the deed himself. The bastard had ruined Benedetto’s position here.

But Dolwyn was in the gaol for killing Sir Jevan. At least it meant that he was secure.

Benedetto disliked having a dangerous man like him loose.

Near Macclesfield

Baldwin felt the cool air penetrating beneath his armour, and took a deep breath, clenching the muscles of his chest and shoulders against the chill.

They were making good time, even with the ox-carts holding them up. Where a horse could walk and take rests to eat and drink, an ox had to eat, then lie down to chew the cud, before being able to walk on. They were immensely powerful brutes, but Baldwin did wonder whether their ability to haul massive wagons was not offset by their slowness.

The party was making its way north around the wild lands, and soon would turn north and east towards York. That was where the King’s Host was gathering. From what Baldwin had heard, it was clear the young King was determined to crush the Scottish. Their raids and depredations upon the innocent farmers and peasants of the north had appalled him, and he had set his heart on destroying them once and for all. He was calling upon all: Hainaulters, Frenchmen, barons, knights and squires, to join him in this great endeavour. Many had already been summoned to meet the King at York for the Monday following Rogation Sunday
⁵⁵
and it was thought that they would soon thereafter march on Scotland.