The Prophecy of Death: (Knights Templar 25) (28 page)

Not the only thing that went wrong, either. There were other problems. The barons all deprecated the fabulous riches worn
by the King’s past lover, Piers Gaveston, the smarmy son of an impoverished Breton knight, whom the old King had exiled. Gaveston
was cocky and rude, and he seemed to set out to upset all the most powerful in the land, giving them insulting nicknames and
then using them in front of others. And it wasn’t helped that he was enormously competent in the lists. He beat all the older
barons in a tournament.

But on that coronation day, he inspired more than jealousy
or contempt. He may have set the scene for the difficulties between the King and Queen – and France.

The Queen had arrived with a fabulous dowry, not only lands, but many jewels as well. And on the evening of the coronation,
she saw that Gaveston was wearing them. This was a mortal insult to her, and to those members of her family who were also
there. It was a miracle, so she said later, that no one had demanded to know how the primping fool had acquired them all.
But then, no one needed to. They all saw perfectly clearly how the King fawned on his ‘brother’. Sickening.

Yes, the Queen had the patience and kindness of a saint to have coped with her husband for so long. His infidelities, his
deceits, his conceits, and his string of friends and advisers, on whom he lavished ever more inappropriate gifts – he could
not help himself.

Thomas shook his head, hefted his little pack and blankets, and continued on his way out to his horse. He was to ride off
with the King and his men, and had best hurry, for the King and his companions had almost finished their meal.

He walked from his room, down a narrow staircase, and along the passage at the side of the hall, until he came to the open
air again – and was suddenly shouldered back inside.

‘What in God’s name—’ he spluttered, reaching for his sword.

Immediately a knife was at his throat, just behind his chin, pointing upwards, making him lift his head and stop struggling.
There was a man at his back, who said slyly, ‘Didn’t you hear me, Herald?’

A Welshman, Thomas noted, but that didn’t mean anything for a moment. Then he heard footsteps, and he rolled his eyes to see
who it might be. As he did so, he saw Sir Hugh le
Despenser appear. He was ready for the journey, cloaked and gloved, but as he approached Thomas, he tugged at the fingers
of his left glove, gently easing it off. At last in front of Thomas, he gripped it in his right hand and slapped Thomas twice
on each side of his face. The heavy leather made his cheeks smart, and there was a loose rivet, which slashed his cheek open
near his jaw.

‘That, Herald, is merely a beginning,’ Despenser said. ‘I want to know where the oil is. Where did you hide it?’

‘What oil? I don’t know what you mean, Sir Hugh.’

‘I’m glad to see you know who I am. Now listen to me carefully, Herald.’ Despenser approached closely and leaned near to Thomas,
so that Thomas could see little other than his eyes, peering into his own with a look of mild enquiry. ‘You were coming back
that way, weren’t you? You met with Richard de Yatton, and you killed him. Why do that? Just because he saw you there?’

Thomas frowned up at him. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about, Sir Hugh. I went up to—’

‘Canterbury. I know. And while there, you stole oil from the monks and killed one. I don’t know why, but I am not bothered
about him. What is one monk, more or less? Nothing. But the oil you took, that is valuable, my friend. And murdering a king’s
herald, that is still more terrible. The King has a habit of not forgiving those who shame him, and he does, I fear, consider
men who steal from him to be profoundly embarrassing to him personally. He will not be pleased with you, I fear.’

‘Then take me to him now. I have done nothing.’

‘I don’t know if I believe you.’

Thomas shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘Open his bags,’ Despenser commanded.

Thomas watched silently, keeping absolutely still as the knife under his jaw pressed upwards. He was sure he could feel the
dribble of blood at the tip as the second man with Despenser took his dagger to the roll of blankets. He cut through the hempen
string binding them, and unrolled them. There was nothing inside, but the man was nothing if not thorough. He ran his blade
along the blankets until there was nothing but a shredded mess. Nothing useable.

The pack was a simple canvas one with a single strap. He took his knife to this too, opening the material and laying the lining
bare. All the items inside were taken out and studied, before being crushed or ruined. There was nothing inside of real value,
for Thomas had never owned anything of genuine worth, but the sight of the man merely ravaging his property for no reason
was enough to set Thomas’s blood racing.

‘Not here, then, eh? We’ll find it,’ Despenser said coolly. ‘And when we do, I’ll take you to the King myself for judgement.
You’d best be ready for that.’

‘I do not have it.’

‘What made you kill Richard? Eh? What had he done to you to deserve such ill-use? Or the monk, come to that? And after the
poor devil had brought you the oil in the first place. It doesn’t seem very kindly to accept his aid, and then cut his throat.’

Suddenly there was a shout, and Thomas felt the man behind him slowly release his hold, the knife blade running slowly to
the line of his jaw-bone, then backwards to beneath his ear, where it remained a short while. Then it was gone. Meanwhile
Despenser and his other man had retreated, and now were out of sight.

He was alone again. Gradually he sank to his knees, then
fell forwards to all fours, choking and retching with shame and rage, as another man hurried to him.

‘Are you all right?’ Jack demanded.

Thomas was so relieved, he could not speak, but instead closed his eyes and allowed his head to droop.

Lydford

‘Baldwin! Baldwin, stop, please,’ Margaret called, running from the house to him. He was already astride his horse, his wife
nearby; Edgar tightening the saddle a short distance away, while Wolf capered with one of Simon’s hounds on the grass beside
the road.

‘Baldwin, don’t, please. There’s no need for you to do anything which might lead to more danger for you!’

‘Margaret, do not worry about me, my dear. I am perfectly content that I am doing the correct thing.’

‘You cannot go alone,’ Margaret said.

Jeanne had heard their words, but was unsure of their import. ‘What is this? Baldwin, tell me what is happening? Why do you
want to leave so soon?’

‘He has decided that he will go to the Despenser and fight him!’ Margaret said.

‘No, I have not,’ Baldwin said reasonably. ‘I have decided I need to return to speak with him, though, to try to ensure that
there is no further risk to Simon and Margaret from his men. There is no point in his attacking people who have nothing whatever
to do with his affairs. If that itself will not work, I shall petition the King himself.’

‘When you say there’s no point in his attacking someone, you mean yourself?’

‘Jeanne, I have not picked a fight with the man. Not intentionally, at least. Yet he now appears to blame me for something
which he is solely responsible for. If he proposed to hound us to death, I may as well ask why. And if I can deflect a little
of his ire from Simon and Margaret, that is worth attempting.’

‘You are going again, then? How long will you be gone this time?’

‘In honesty, I do not know. All I can say is, I shall be home again as soon as I may be,’ Baldwin said.

‘Husband, I ask you not to go,’ Jeanne said. Her face was pale, and she leaned towards him beseechingly. ‘Please, Baldwin,
don’t do this. I have already missed you so much this year, and I do not want to have to live as your widow yet.’

‘I will not be gone for too long. Hopefully only a week or so,’ Baldwin said. ‘Now, Margaret, do not fret, and don’t think
of moving from here yet. Leave it to me, and I shall let you know the best thing to do.’

‘But I have already decided to leave Lydford and return to Sandford. It is more sensible. It is safer there, and nearer to
you.’

‘That itself does make sense,’ Baldwin muttered.

Another horse clattered over the cobbles, and Simon crossed to Baldwin’s side. ‘I can’t leave you to go alone, Baldwin.’

‘In heaven’s name,’ Baldwin cried. ‘Is there anybody else? Do you want to bring your chickens, too?’

‘You are both determined?’ Jeanne said, looking from one to the other. ‘Is there nothing that your wives can say to you both
that would cause you to reconsider? Not our sorrow, nor our fears? How safe will Margaret be here if you go away, Simon? How
safe will I be, if Baldwin’s gone from his home?’

That was also in Baldwin’s mind. He sat on his horse a moment, considering. ‘Simon, could you have Hugh travel? Good. Then
let him accompany Margaret and Jeanne along with Edgar. Your Peterkin will go with them, as well as any valuables, and Edgar
will deposit them at my house. They will be safe enough at Furnshill, won’t they, Edgar?’

‘Aye. Especially if I can recruit a couple of men from the vill.’

‘Then it is settled. Margaret, you are to bring your boy to Furnshill, where you will have a peaceful time. Meanwhile, I should
install someone else here in your house, someone who can defend it,’ Baldwin continued.

Simon grinned. ‘There is another bailiff from the moors who’d like the chance to live here: Ham Upcott. I’ll ask him to come.
He’d enjoy beating up a king’s officer or a man from Despenser.’

‘Make sure he realises the sort of men we’re talking of, Simon,’ Baldwin warned. ‘These are harder men than many about here.’

‘Christ’s cods – do you really think so?’ Simon asked. ‘You’ve forgotten what sort of men they are who mine for tin on the
moors. I’d have more sympathy for the next poor fool Despenser sends down here, than for a moorland bailiff.’

Vigil of Ascension Day
³⁰

Guildford

Jack’s worst fears were not realised.

To his amazement, the men who were with the King were so efficient and organised that every day, the majority of the
men set off before dawn, and the next lodgings were always ready before they stopped travelling. This meant that they were
outpacing Jack and the Bishop’s journey from Canterbury to Beaulieu, which was only helped by the fact that the roads were
much better here. The King was often about this part of his realm, Jack assumed, and the Keepers of the King’s Peace maintained
the roads and verges with more care than elsewhere in the country.

‘Are you all right?’

Thomas was at his side, riding along with a fixed expression of distaste on his face every time he caught sight of the Despenser
or his men. ‘I am fine.’

It was fortunate that Jack had possessed two blankets, for having seen what Despenser had done to Thomas’s own, he was able
to share one of his. It did mean he grew a little chilly on some of the evenings, but for the most part he was fine, and it
was good to feel that he had performed an act of kindness. A strange feeling, but curiously warming to the soul. ‘You should
try not to keep staring at him.’

‘Despenser? Why not? He ravaged my belongings, accused me of murder, suggested I stole the King’s possessions, and you think
I should forgive and forget?’

‘Neither. But I do recommend that you leave him alone. He’s too powerful, too rich, for you to think of hurting him.’

‘Perhaps so – but I can dream!’

‘Save your dreams for the night. You don’t want to fall from your horse.’

‘No. And thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘For helping to keep me sane. Without you helping me, I daresay I would have tried to jump on him and kill him. And that wouldn’t
help me a great deal.’

‘It would be one way of ending all your wordly problems,’ Jack said with ponderous humour.

‘I’d rather find another means of resolving them.’

‘Good. Now, since he says you stole a possession from the King – can you tell me what this was supposed to be?’

‘There is a phial of oil at Canterbury – or was. It was given by St Thomas, they say, to help our King.’

‘So it was that? I heard about the robbery – it was the week before I got to Canterbury with the Bishop. Who would want to
steal it?’ Jack asked.

‘Only someone who intends the King harm. Or someone who wants to do someone else good, I suppose.’

‘If this is holy oil from St Thomas, then it must be marvellous indeed, and very potent.’

‘I believe so. But since it’s been stolen, we may never know.’

‘Why does he say you stole it?’

‘I happened to be there at the priory a few days before the theft.’

‘So were many, I daresay. That’s no reason to accuse you.’

‘Yes. I don’t know why he thinks I may have taken it. I can’t see any reason to.’

‘You don’t hate the King, then?’ Jack said lightly, but regretted his words as soon as he spoke them. ‘Ignore my words. I
sound like a cheap spy trying to have you confess to treason just so I can have you arrested.’

‘It is all right. No, I don’t hate the King. And I love our Queen. Those two I would do much for.’

‘But not Despenser, eh?’

‘Him, I would not piss on him if he was on fire,’ Thomas said, and in his mind’s eye he saw that cruel, arrogant face
once more, spitting at the ground after he had cuffed Thomas for reaching to his dying brother during the coronation.

If he could, he would happily kill any number of Despenser’s men – and Despenser himself, if he had the chance.

It was late that night, when Thomas had rolled himself up in his blanket and cloak to keep the night chill off, sharing some
straw for his bedding with a number of other men and some rats, that he suddenly woke.

He was not usually good at waking up. To him early mornings were a form of unpleasant torture that must perforce be endured,
rather than enjoyed. But this time he woke with a start as though suddenly hearing the last trumpet.

It was no trumpet, though. Perhaps a rat had scrabbled past, too close to ignore, too fast to see? Or was it a random thought,
something which had sparked like flint and steel in his brain and made him wake?

He was aware of the talk he had had with Jack earlier in the day, and suddenly he felt a wariness. Jack had said that he sounded
like a spy, and in truth, yes, he did. It was precisely the kind of conversation which a spy would have had with a man, letting
his words ramble on until enough had been said and the spy could denounce him.

But it did not seem right with Jack. Jack had been so helpful, so friendly, that he surely couldn’t be involved with Despenser.

He
couldn’t
be.

Near Sherborne, Dorset

Simon could not help but keep casting sidelong glances at Baldwin all the way as they rode, Wolf reluctantly loping along
behind them.

They had made good time so far. Two days ago, after Baldwin had stated his desire to hurry, their little party had reached
Okehampton by evening. Yesterday they had reached Furnshill fairly early, and then Simon and Baldwin carried on at a more
urgent pace, and to Simon’s surprise they reached the old town of Ilminster. With luck today they might get as far as Shaftsbury,
and tomorrow, perhaps, they would get to Winchester, although Baldwin had already said that they would be best served by making
sure that they reached Stockbridge and then letting their mounts have a good rest.

Baldwin had been a good friend for so long now that Simon could hardly remember a time when they had not been companions.
It was nearly ten years ago when they first met, over the fire at the little vill. They had discovered a band of trail bastons,
‘club men’ who were ravaging the countryside and killing wantonly. There were so many men who took to violence in those terrible
days. The famine was hitting everybody hard, and there were starving families all over the country. Although Devon was not
so badly affected as some regions, that only meant that there was an incentive to foreigners from up-country – Somerset and
Wiltshire and beyond – to travel to Devon to steal what they could. That was what it felt like at the time, anyway.

Simon had been new to his elevated position as bailiff. It had been largely due to Baldwin’s help that he had caught the trail
bastons and firmly secured himself to his post at Lydford. How ironic it would be if he was now to lose everything because
of his friendship with Baldwin.

‘I don’t know that this is the best thing to do, Baldwin,’ he said at last. ‘Despenser is an irrational creature. He knows
that you and I are thorns in his flesh. What if he decides that the best way to remove us both is to have us murdered?’

‘If he were likely to reach that conclusion, and thought he might get away with it,’ Baldwin said, ‘he would already have
done so. No, he is a shrewd and cunning man. If there was merit in killing us, he would have sent that man Wattere with more
men and killed you as soon as possible. But he did not. All he did in truth was send you warning that he intended to deal
with you at some time in the future.’

‘True enough, but if he finds that we’ve followed him to London, won’t he think that we’re just growing too annoying to be
supported? He’d rather just remove us.’

‘So you think you’d be best served by remaining at home and hiding?’

Simon wanted to make a sharp rejoinder, but instead he looked away. The idea of running from any man was repugnant to him,
but there were some situations which deserved caution, and this was one such. The man Despenser was the most dangerous in
the whole country. He had money, men, and the ear of the King. ‘Running away has never been part of my character.’

‘Nor mine. You could run away from him, Simon, but if you do, you will be forced to run for ever. Yes, if you were to sell
the house in Lydford and return to Sandford, he would be thwarted for a little while, but he’d soon find you. He has spies
all over the country. But it’s not you he wants, I don’t think. I hope I do not suffer from unjustified arrogance when I say
that I think he is more concerned about me.’

‘So what do you intend to do?’

Baldwin gave a twisted grin. ‘I
hope
to have a chance to have a frank talk with him. I have never sought to be thrown into politics. At every possible opportunity
I have tried to avoid it. And he may not realise that, nor that I have done all in my power to keep away from him. It is not
that I mean to
harm his interests, only that I have barged into his affairs wherever I have gone. He is strangely ubiquitous.’

‘And then, because you have always seen that his affairs tend to be unjust and unfair to the others who are affected, that
is the only reason you have deliberately thwarted him?’ Simon said. ‘I don’t think that is entirely the right way to convince
him to leave you alone, Baldwin!’

‘Perhaps not. But I would have an accommodation with him if it were possible. I do not wish to live with a permanent fear
of him, dreading what he may do to Jeanne or the children; nor what he might do to you and your family. That is unbearable.
So if I am forced, I will beg of him that he leaves me in peace.’

‘Beg?’

‘For the peace of my family and yours, yes I would beg,’ Baldwin said firmly.

‘Well, if we are to endure such an unpleasant experience, let’s get it over with,’ Simon said.

‘Yes. If only we had something we could use against him,’ Baldwin said. ‘I would feel much happier entering negotiations with
him knowing that I had something more than begging as a last resort.’

‘I think you will have to wish for that.’

‘Yes … and yet we did wonder about the oil, didn’t we? The oil stolen from the King.’

‘Yes. And we agreed to avoid Despenser.’

‘We would be happy to do so, Simon, if only he had left us alone. But when we considered the murder and the theft of the oil,
you were asking me about the dead man in the woods, weren’t you? Do you remember, I said that perhaps the killer of that man
was the same as the murderer of Gilbert at the priory? The man killed Gilbert, stole the oil, and took to horse
through the woods towards the King. He met with a man in the woods, and sought to …’