Baldwin found Richard of Bury clutching at his sleeve as he and Simon left the great hall. ‘Yes?’
‘My Lord. The Earl of Chester would appreciate a few moments of your time, Sir Baldwin.’
‘Would he? Very well. Take us to him,’ Baldwin said. However, he rested his hand on his belt like a man ready to draw steel in his own defence.
Bury took them along a long corridor, up to a second level, and thence to a chamber that lay near the Queen’s cloister. Here they found themselves entering a pleasantly lit and warmed room that was filled with hallings of rich colours. There were hunting scenes on the wall near the door, but it was noticeable that the tapestries on the other three walls all contained scenes from the Gospels.
There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and the Earl stood before it, with his back to the flames.
‘Today has been the wettest this year,’ he grumbled. ‘Miserable weather. I got drenched on the way to the audience first thing, and I’m still not dry.’
‘Your Highness,’ Baldwin said, bowing, Simon copying him at his side.
‘You know all, I believe.’
‘We have spoken with your men, your Highness.’
‘You think there is more to learn, then?’ Earl Edward said testily.
‘No, no, my Lord. I am sure that your men will have been entirely honest with me,’ Baldwin said.
The young Earl suddenly giggled, and for the first time Baldwin appreciated just how young he was.
‘Well, if Peter was, it’ll be the first time in his life.’
‘That was rather the impression I formed as well.’
‘But you do know much. I would ask that you don’t share what you know with my Lord Despenser, nor with the King. It is a matter for me, not for him.’
‘It is the King’s oil, your Highness,’ Baldwin pointed out.
‘Actually, no, it’s not. I believe the prophecy spoke of the King after him rather than he himself. In any case, he had it for his coronation and chose not to use it. Now it is up to me to be able to use it for my own coronation, I think.’
‘What if the King learns of it? He is most angry already, is he not?’
‘I think I can satisfy him on that,’ the Earl said.
And he could. His father was always gullible. He would soon be presented with a phial containing a little oil, its scent altered by the addition of a little oil of sandalwood and myrrh. He would be content with that. And meanwhile Earl Edward would keep the real oil in his own little phial, ready to be used on the day that he went to the abbey and knelt to be crowned in his place.
‘So what do we tell Despenser?’ Simon demanded as they walked from the Earl’s chamber.
Baldwin shook his head, desperate to think clearly. ‘What can we tell him? That the King’s son has it? That would be ludicrous. The Despenser would laugh at us, and then renew his assault on your house, Simon. We cannot do that.’
‘Maybe he won’t? He might bow to the fact that he was unable to do anything and subside quietly.’
‘Simon, he asked us to look into the matter. Have you not wondered why?’
‘No.’
‘I think it’s because he wants to have a little victory for the King. A small proof that he is still the King’s greatest ally and confidant. If we go to him and tell him that the victory has actually been stolen from him, and that the King’s son has the oil, I can envisage him considering even removing the son in order to get his own way.’
‘That is a large supposition.’
‘Yes. But he has an enormous awareness of his own self-value. Do not underestimate him as an enemy, Simon. He is very dangerous!’
‘I do understand. So what do you propose, Baldwin?’
‘First, I will tell him that we have investigated as far as we can. Second, that so far as we know, the herald who stole the oil is dead. Third, that he acted on behalf of another, but the oil was one of the items stolen from his body when he was killed. And fourth, that it was lost. Perhaps the outlaws had it, perhaps not. But either way, the man died and his secret died with him.’
‘You believe that?’
Baldwin looked at him, and then a little smile crossed his lips. ‘No.’
Vigil of St Boniface34
Despenser was already looking up when Baldwin entered the room. ‘And?’
‘You wanted us to report.’
‘Yes. What has happened to the oil?’
Baldwin looked about him. There was a stool at the wall behind the door, so he took it and sat before Despenser. ‘You have lost it.’
‘I have lost it? And how did I manage that, precisely?’
‘It was stolen by the herald we found dead at the side of the road in the great forest, Sir Hugh. I have no idea what became of it then. Perhaps he sought to save it, and threw it from the outlaws? I have heard of other men who have done the same, throwing their money away to ensure that it never benefits those who sought to steal it. Perhaps he did that, and threw the oil deeper into the forest. With the undergrowth there, you could well seek it for years and never find it. I am sorry. I think you have lost it.’
‘The King has lost it, not I.’
‘Of course. If you do not find it, how can he?’
Despenser nodded slowly. ‘I do not think I like this conclusion, Sir Baldwin. I told you that I would leave your friend Puttock and you alone, if you helped me on this matter – and yet I get the feeling that you are not being entirely truthful. Why should that be?’
‘I am being as truthful as possible.’
‘I wonder. I shall be forced to cope with the King’s temper over the matter, but perhaps it is all for the best. The King would have liked to have had himself anointed again, but for him to do so would expose himself and the kingdom to risks he barely comprehends.
‘If he were to seek the oil and then have another ceremony, it could lead the ill-disposed to believe that he had no faith in his initial coronation. And that itself could prove to be a disaster for him. If others got the impression that he was less than confident of his original crowning, they might wonder whether he was in truth anointed by God. All sorts of treasonous and dangerous ideas might begin to circulate. We cannot allow that, Sir Baldwin. I will not allow it!’
Baldwin nodded. ‘I do not intend mentioning this matter to anybody whomsoever, Sir Hugh. It is closed, so far as I am concerned. I seek no more information about it.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Despenser said. The two said nothing more. There was no mutual trust, no companionship, no friendliness between them. And there never could be. One sought his own aggrandisement at the expense of any who stood in his path, while the other had witnessed and experienced the most appalling injustice. Baldwin had seen all his friends murdered to satisfy the greed of the French King. There was no point at which their minds and values could meet.
Baldwin rose and left Despenser there a few minutes later, aware of a great relief that he had at least averted one potential danger.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘And?’ Simon demanded when Baldwin appeared in the doorway.
‘I do not believe that he trusted my word. But I do not think that there is anything I could have said which he would have accepted wholeheartedly. It is the sadness of a man like him that he is forced to look always for the motivation of men like you and me. He cannot understand that we merely want our lives to move on, unimpeded by difficulties of royalty or barons.’
‘He is mad.’
‘No, I am afraid not. He is merely a man driven by lusts, lusts which I am glad to say, you and I cannot understand.’
‘So what happens now?’
Baldwin looked at him very seriously. ‘For the present, we sidle away from the stage and hide ourselves back in Devon. Personally, I hope that we shall be able to do so and remain safe from being asked to intervene in national affairs again.’
‘And him?’
Baldwin sighed. ‘If Despenser wishes to make our lives hard, he can do so, Simon. There i
s no point pretending otherwise. He is the most powerful man in England after the King. We have to hope that we have satisfied his curiosity and anger against us for now.’
‘And if we haven’t?’
‘Keep your sword oiled and easy in the sheath, Simon. If he’s not content, we will soon know all about it.’
Morrow of the Feast of St Boniface35
The King studied the little phial with interest. ‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as we can be, your Highness,’ Earl Edward said, still facing the ground.
‘Get up, boy, get up!’ the King snapped. ‘There’s no need to keep staring at your feet like that. When have I ever been unkind to you? So you are sure that this is the real oil of St Thomas?’
‘I believe so, Father.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ Despenser demanded. His voice was like a well-oiled blade: well-formed, polished, and lethal.
‘I relied on some of my men to find it, Sir Hugh,’ Earl Edward said, with just the level of contempt to annoy without upsetting. He was the King’s son, after all.
The King stood up and motioned to Despenser. ‘Sir Hugh, please come here a moment.’
He waited until his closest friend was at his side, and then murmured softly, ‘Do not ever presume to insult my son in that manner again in my presence, Sir Hugh. I will not have the future King of England browbeaten. Is that clear?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘Good. Now,’ he said, turning back to his son. ‘You may leave us, Sir Hugh.’
‘What did you say to him, Father?’ Earl Edward said as the door closed.
‘It was a private matter. A private talk.’
‘Yes. What did you say to him?’
The King smiled thinly. ‘I warned him against insulting you. I will not have the future King of our land made to look foolish by him.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now. About this oil,’ the King said. He hefted the phial in his hand. ‘It is a pretty bottle, is it not? Anything in a bottle like this must be enormously valuable.’
‘I think so, my Lord.’
‘Yes. It is the way that a boy would think. The more valuable the covering, the more important the oil.’ As he spoke he pulled the cork and sniffed at it. He nodded approvingly before tipping the phial upside-down, and watching his son as the oil dribbled out on to the slabs of the floor.
‘But, Father!’
‘Do not assume me to be a fool. The oil was stolen, it was taken by that ingrate Yatton and lost in the forest when he was attacked by the outlaws there. I know this as well as any. I shall never see it again. This, this is an insult to me.’
‘Father, I am sorry. I only—’
His voice softened. ‘I know, my son. You wanted to make me happy by providing me with another phial. But I can accept the failure and the loss. My reign is a mess, Edward. When you accede to the throne, promise me this: you will reign more cautiously than me.’
‘I swear it, Father.’
The King stared down at the phial in his hand. ‘I shall keep this, though. It is a good little container. I have not seen its like before.’
‘Really, Father?’ said his son. He wondered at that, for it was the same phial in which the oil had arrived with him. Still, no matter. He was only relieved that he had rescued the real oil before coming here.
‘And now, please leave me. There is still much for me to consider about this new treaty with the French,’ the King said heavily.
‘Yes, Father. Father? I am sorry.’
‘So am I, my son. I could almost bend my knees now and beseech the Almighty to send me another phial of the same oil, just to try to protect us. Because I am as sure as I can be that the King of France is not going to aid us. Not from the look of the treaty he proposes.’
Friday after Feast of St Boniface36
Baldwin and Simon clattered thankfully out of the great gate of the royal palace, and set their heads down Thieving Lane, and on towards the west.
‘Home again at last,’ Baldwin said.
‘I am looking forward to seeing Meg again,’ Simon said, smiling.
‘And I Jeanne,’ Baldwin said. He was quiet a moment. ‘You know that the forest where the herald’s body was found has now been cleared of all the outlaws who infested the place?’
‘I would hope so!’
‘It is a safe area to visit now – until the next marauding group settles there.’
‘Good. I am glad to hear it.’
‘I suppose it would be a great deal out of our way,’ Baldwin said musingly, gazing down at his new dog.
Simon gaped at him. ‘Are you serious? The woods are straight south from here, while home is westwards. What would be the point of going down there?’
‘I had a mind to see that woman again. You remember her?’
‘Yes. The scared one. What of her?’
Baldwin looked at him. ‘I wanted to visit them and tell the man that he is safe now. Everyone believes him dead.’
Simon opened his mouth to speak, but Baldwin continued in his quiet, insistent manner.
‘You see, Simon, we were right in the beginning. I think it might have been you who said it. I wondered about it when I was looking at the tabard and pondering what on earth someone would have been doing, pulling the tabard on over his head, but we had the confirmation that it was Yatton, because of the other messengers and heralds telling us it was him.
‘But as Joseph said – even his own mother wouldn’t have recognised him in that state. No one could. He was so badly decomposed that it was mere guesswork to see who it was.’
‘Who was the man, then?’
‘Again, you had the right idea. It was the husband of the woman we met in the woods, I think. I don’t know, but I’d assume she was unhappily married, and gradually over time she grew to hate her man. And at the same time she came to know a man who kept riding past, a King’s herald, a fine man on horseback, always smart and with coin in his purse. Is it any surprise that she and he began to talk? You set my mind on that path when you asked me about his being so religious. You recall, we were told originally that he was intensely religious, and then we heard that it was untrue. If that was the case, why was he spending so much time away from his duties? I think he was spending as much time as he could with his woman, the woman in the forest.’
‘So he rode past, all the way to Canterbury, stole the oil from Gilbert …’
‘Who then tried to blackmail him into paying more for the oil, threatening to tell his father’s best friend, Despenser.’
‘And then rode back to the forest, where he set upon the man and killed him, dumping his body in the woods, and, as an afterthought, placed his own tabard over him?
‘But not before he had given the oil to someone else. Perhaps to the castellan at Canterbury, or the coroner. Then, when we passed through, the oil was given to Peter and John, who carried it with them in our party, and only when we reached Beaulieu did they realise that the Earl was not to arrive, so they proposed to the Bishop of Orange that they should continue with him and come to London too. And once here they could give the oil to Earl Edward.’
‘And the true murderer lives on in a wood south of London?’
Baldwin pulled a grimace. ‘Perhaps. And yet, who can tell? Perhaps Gilbert sought to attack him, and he killed the brother in self-defence? And the husband was murdered by his own wife. Or perhaps died naturally, and she dragged his body into the woods, anxious that anyone finding it at her home would automatically assume her to be guilty of his death? It may have been nothing to do with Yatton whatever.’
‘And I may be a bishop.’
‘Do you want to know the truth of it?’
Simon looked south towards the Thames. The river flowed sluggishly here, grey and slumberous, but it was an obstacle he preferred not to dare. ‘No,’ he said with certainty. ‘The man is alive or dead. It matters not a whit to me. All I know is, I want to see my wife again and make sure that she is perfectly safe. If yo
u want to follow this fellow, I think I shall have to ride on alone, Baldwin.’
Baldwin stared west, then south, and at last he nodded. ‘You know, I think you may be right this once.’
Despenser walked back into his chamber and saw that Wattere was already there. ‘Well? What do you want?’
‘I have been investigating that bailiff you wanted me to remove. If you still wish it, my Lord, I think I have found a way to remove him legally.’
‘Speak!’
‘His house is not his own outright. He owns it on a seven-year lease. Usually, it would be perfectly safe for him, but he has spent so much time this year in France and here, that I am sure he will be in arrears with the rent.’
‘Who owns it?’
‘A man who could be persuaded to sell it to you.’
Despenser nodded to himself. He walked to his chair and sat. ‘Buy the lease, and then begin efforts to recover the full amount. And if he cannot pay at once, I suppose I shall have to evict him.’
‘That is what I thought, my Lord,’ Wattere said, bowing his way out.
And what I hoped, he added to himself. Now, Bailiff, let’s see who’s still laughing when we’re done with you!
1 Saturday, 8 July 1307
2 Thursday, 3 April 1320
3 Tuesday, 2 April 1325
4 Monday, 8 April 1325
5 Night of Monday, 8 and Tuesday, 9 April 1325
6 Tuesday, 9 April 1325
7 Wednesday, 10 April 1325
8 Thursday, 11 April 1325
9 Friday, 12 April 1325
10 Monday, 15 April 1325
11 Tuesday, 16 April 1325
12 Wednesday, 17 April 1325
13 Thursday, 18 April 1325
14 Friday, 19 April 1325
The Prophecy of Death: (Knights Templar 25) Page 35