Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23)

by Michael Jecks

  ‘The moon?’ The Coroner was puzzled by that. ‘What of it? What do you mean?’

  ‘It had a halo. I haven’t seen such a one before. A halo all about it – the man must have come after that.’

  And that, John told himself later, was the most perplexing aspect of it all. The man repeated those words several times – about the moon and its halo. And yet that had no bearing on anything, surely.

  Simon followed Baldwin into the open. A fine rain had begun to fall, but Simon wanted to get as far away from the hall as possible. He stood in the rain with his eyes wide open, staring up at the heavens.

  ‘Sweet Christ, Baldwin! Did you have to antagonise him like that?’

  ‘Simon, he was testing us. Trust me. While we have the King’s favour and he wants us to carry on with this investigation, we are safe from Despenser.’

  ‘What, even down a darkened alleyway? Or near the river? It’s easy for a man like him to pay some felon to loop a rope about our necks, tie us to a rock and just throw us into the Thames. It’s easier still for him to pay a man to slip a dagger between our ribs. Sweet Christ! He threatened Jeanne, man, didn’t he? He more or less warned you off, or he’d burn the manor to the ground.’

  ‘And what would you have had me do, Simon?’ Baldwin asked with torment in his voice. ‘Would you prefer me to have bobbed my head and act obedient, like any number of those fools who work for him? I cannot do that, old friend. I am a knight, when all is said and done.’

  ‘But Baldwin …’

  The knight turned to face him. He stood so close, Simon could see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the way that his beard curled back from the point of his chin to face towards his ears, the small tracery of thin veins that crept across his nose. And last of all, Simon saw the great misery in his eyes. The all-encompassing anxiety.

  ‘Simon, do you think I do not know what danger Jeanne and my children are in? Despenser is the most powerful baron in the country. He has the King’s ear. They could easily destroy me and mine in a moment. But what else could I do? Back down and agree to find nothing? What would the King say, were I to tell him that? Or I could tell Despenser that I would actively do nothing, in which case he would own me and be able to tell the King that I had lied to him. I could do nothing other than what I did, unless I wanted to be owned, body and soul, by Despenser in the future.’

  ‘Our families, Baldwin,’ Simon whispered.

  ‘I know. But what would you have me tell him? That I’d support any lie, that I’d agree to have another man declared guilty, when perhaps he was innocent? That is the sort of sport in which Despenser revels. He would toy with us, find a man who had nothing to do with the killings, and have him hanged just for pure devilment. He is a man without compassion, Simon. All he knows is the abuse of power and how to force others to his will.’

  ‘So what can we do?’

  Baldwin sighed and looked away. ‘My fear, my great fear, is that he was directly responsible. He is the sort of man who would have a multitude of assassins at his beck and call. He can give them money, and he can protect them. If one was found out and arrested, Despenser could use bribery or coercion to have him released. Who else would know where to find a man like that dead one? And then, as you said before, the symbol of the tarse shoved in his mouth – that to me looks like a warning. To the man who is the power behind the throne.’

  ‘But you told me …’

  ‘Simon, old friend, you were talking in front of the Coroner. He is a stranger. He could be an ally of Despenser, for all we know. It was dangerous to speak frankly in his company.’

  Simon privately thought it was a great deal less dangerous than talking back to Despenser as he had just done.

  ‘I am sorry,’ the knight said quietly. ‘I wish to God that we had never come here. I knew it would be dangerous.’

  ‘You never wanted to come.’

  ‘No, but the Bishop persuaded me. I thought, looking at him, listening to him, that it was not possible not to come. The way that the Queen was being treated was too deplorable. I felt I ought to make an effort – that was why I agreed to come to London. It is not a parliament with the representatives of all estates, it is to be a council. But that itself means that each voice will have more authority. I thought I could make a difference, Simon. And the only difference I am likely to make is to alienate my family from the King. Sweet Jesus!’ He clenched his fist. ‘I was a fool, and now I’ve upset the King’s best friend.’

  There was no need for words. All knew how the Despenser was likely to treat an enemy. Simon cleared his throat. ‘Well, we’re still alive for now. Surely the best thing for us to do would be to find the blood, if we can. I don’t know – perhaps if we discover the answer to the killings, we may also find some arrows we can fire back at Sir Hugh le Despenser and protect ourselves?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said. He stared at the ground.

  The rain was steadily worsening. Already little puddles were forming on the thinner gravel, and Simon could feel a rivulet trickling down between his shoulders. He rubbed a hand through his hair and pulled his hood over his head. ‘Come, old friend. Standing here will serve no useful purpose.’

  ‘Where could he have died, though?’

  ‘Baldwin, I do not know. Christ’s pains, perhaps we were right about the chapel? It would explain why Sir Hugh and his man were so interested when we arrived there.’

  ‘True.’

  It would have been good if he was right. Sadly, the two had only chosen that position because they had seen the shadow of the man listening to them and following them. The dim light from the windows had at least served that useful purpose. And when Simon saw the door, he had thought to draw out the spy. It had worked, but there was no indication that a body had lain there, nor that a man had been dragged from the place.

  They found a small shed which had an open door, and sheltered inside. ‘It would be ironic if that was where the man was killed,’ Baldwin said musingly.

  ‘Perhaps it will grow more obvious as we discover more about the killing.’

  ‘How can we learn anything about the murders? We cannot even be sure about the intended victim yet. I can guess – but I cannot know for certain. Perhaps he was an inexperienced assassin, who killed one woman and was afraid to find another woman challenging him.’

  ‘We have learned about other murders often enough when there was less information,’ Simon pointed out in an attempt to cheer him.

  ‘But without the risks to ourselves,’ Baldwin said gloomily. ‘Whether we succeed or fail, I do not know which is the greater danger.’ He slumped against the wall, staring out at the rain.

  Simon had never seen him like this before. His friend had always been strong, purposeful, focused. To see him in this dejected condition was alarming – especially now, when both of them had been warned by Sir Hugh. His concern, not only for his friend, but for the position they found themselves in, lent acid to his tone.

  ‘Then ignore them!’ Simon snapped. ‘Baldwin, we’re in this now. There’s no point complaining. All we can do is our best, and the devil with Despenser. We have a duty to learn the truth and report it to the King. That is our duty – so let us do it!’

  Baldwin looked at him and gave a half-grin. ‘You should have been a general, Simon. You have the gift of motivation.’ He stirred himself and stood again, and suddenly the light was back in his eyes.

  ‘That’s better. I feel like a hound who had lost the scent in a river, who mournfully sat down, unsure where to go next and how to find it again – only to be guided by his berner to greater efforts. You are my expert berner, Simon. I should change your name to that. Right! We have had no joy in seeking the place of the man’s death. We had assumed that it must be near to the place where the body was discovered. Ah! But we think that the same person killed the assassin and then went on to murder the lady-in-waiting. That would mean that the killer had to go from the hall, or wherever the assassin died, to the corridor where t
he Queen’s party was assaulted. Yes! Come, Simon, let us try this new theory.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Great Hall, Thorney Island

  The Coroner made his way to the kitchen, where he learned that the sergeant-cooks could remember nothing about seeing Arch in there on the night of the murder.

  ‘Yeah, he’s usually here before dark, long before he has to get up to his post, but I think he was knackered after the day before, and he didn’t come down as usual. Not that I remember, anyhow.’

  John left the kitchen with a vague feeling that something was beginning to come together into a coherent story. On a whim, he went up to Arch’s post and gazed about him. These walls were solid stone, and stood yards high. When he peered over the top, he shook his head. Anyone throwing a grapnel up here would be heard. If Arch was truly sober, he must have been alerted by the ringing of steel. A man might muffle it with a cloak about the metal, but that held its own dangers, for the metal could miss its mark.

  No. He must have been drunk.

  Returning across the Old Palace Yard, he saw a guard standing at the gate and recognised him as Blaket.

  ‘Do you recall anything special about the moon on the night the Queen’s maid died?’

  Blaket looked at him blankly. ‘The moon?’

  ‘Yes. Did it have a halo?’

  ‘Oh, yes. It was still and cool, and when the clouds cleared late into the evening, there was a great halo about it. That was late, though. About the middle watch.’

  ‘Was it really?’ Coroner John said to himself. He gazed about him, leaving the guard at his post.

  If Arch was awake enough to see the moon that late, then the man couldn’t have been drunk, as had been alleged. He had been knocked down, if his story was to be believed. The assassin must have done that. And then he made his way down to the corridor to kill Mabilla, leaving Arch lying unconscious up on the wall.

  Arch was not guilty of dereliction of his duty. He had been tortured for no purpose. But that was of secondary interest just now. John had to see whether he knew any more.

  Pilk found himself alone. Sir Hugh had entered the King’s private chamber, and Ellis remained outside the door together with one of the King’s own men, both guarding their masters. It left little for Pilk to do, so he wandered aimlessly along the corridor, then went down the staircase to the ground floor. He was about to leave by the Great Hall’s screens passage, when he heard the voices approaching.

  There was nowhere to hide. He could have retraced his steps, but before he could try that, the Bailiff and the knight turned the corner and stood facing him.

  ‘You are with Despenser, then?’ Baldwin said, eyeing Despenser’s arms on Pilk’s breast.

  ‘Yes. I am one of his trusted men.’

  ‘I am sure of it. You look a trustworthy fellow. Tell me, did you know the dead assassin well?’

  Pilk curled his lip. ‘No. I hardly knew him at all.’

  ‘But you did know him?’

  ‘Jack? Many of us did.’

  ‘And by “us” you mean?’

  Pilk was aware of a sharpness in the knight’s voice. It made him wary. ‘Just people. Nothing more.’

  ‘You weren’t thinking of any group in particular?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Your name is?’

  ‘I don’t have to give it you.’

  ‘No, you don’t. However, if I were to go to your master and tell him how grateful I was for all your help, and the fact you told me that all his household knew the dead assassin … do you think he would be happy? You see, Sir Hugh had already told me he knew nothing about the man. I doubt he will be glad to know you’ve shown him to be a liar.’

  Pilk said immediately, ‘Jack was known by some of us, that’s all. Sir Hugh probably never met him.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, fellow! I have been lied to by experts, and you are not one of them. What is your name, I asked.’

  ‘Pilk. William Pilk.’

  ‘Well, now, William Pilk. What did you know of this assassin?’

  ‘Nothing. He was just one of those men you see about occasionally.’

  ‘And when did you last see him?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Days ago? Weeks? Months?’

  ‘Weeks, I suppose.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the …’

  ‘In the Temple,’ Baldwin completed for him. ‘And who was there with him?’

  ‘You ask Sir Hugh. Leave me alone.’

  ‘Good, Pilk. So it was Sir Hugh, then. And who was Jack supposed to kill?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘The Queen?’

  ‘No! If I knew anything like that, I’d not have— I’m no traitor, and I won’t have anyone say I am!’

  ‘Then I must ask you again: who was Jack told to kill?’

  ‘I don’t know! I wasn’t there.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  Pilk looked at him resentfully. ‘I was with Jack when he first got there, but they sent me off. Didn’t want me listening, I expect.’

  ‘A shame. Still, perhaps you could still be of use.’

  ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Where were you on the night that the assassin Jack and the woman Mabilla were killed?’

  ‘Me? I was at the Temple. We all were.’

  ‘Your entire household?’

  ‘Yes, probably.’

  ‘Who was not there – probably?’

  Pilk looked at the knight, bitterly angry. ‘Are you like this all the time? I don’t know. The man, Jack – they say he tried to kill Mabilla and died early in the morning. I’d have been asleep, and so would all sensible folk. I don’t know more than that.’

  ‘You know the palace, though, don’t you?’

  ‘What palace?’

  Baldwin allowed a gentle silkiness to infect his voice. ‘This palace, Pilk. This one in which we stand right now. Do you know the thoroughfares here?’

  ‘I know a few corridors, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘It is precisely what I mean. Can you show us the quickest way from the Great Hall to the Queen’s solar?’

  Pilk looked at him and then shrugged. If that was the way to get rid of them … ‘Yeah. If you want.’

  With his assistance Baldwin and Simon soon reached the Queen’s cloister. They were led along a passageway with windows that looked out over the river, then up some stairs and down others with enough turns to make even Simon confused.

  ‘It is easier in the countryside where you can keep an eye on the sun,’ he grumbled.

  Pilk said nothing, but his contempt for rural peasants who could not make sense of a simple set of corridors was evident in the look he gave Simon. At the door to the Queen’s chambers, he left them with a scowling pair of guards.

  ‘We are looking into the murder of the Queen’s lady-in-waiting, on the orders of the King,’ Baldwin said, but the guard shook his head.

  ‘I’ve been told no one’s to go through here today. If I could, I’d let you pass, Sir Baldwin. I want to know who was responsible for killing Mabilla as much as the next man, but I can’t break my orders.’

  ‘Could you do the next best thing then, and pass a message through to the ladies inside? We wish to speak with Lady Eleanor and Madam Alicia.’

  ‘I can try. If you’ll wait here,’ the guard offered, and when Baldwin and Simon agreed to wait, he opened the gate and passed inside.

  He was gone some little while, and then the gate opened, and a petite blonde woman came through it.

  She was young, with a round face and thinnish lips that could have looked hard, if it were not for her laughing eyes. They were slanted, and the clear blue of cornflowers in the summer. When she looked at Simon, he was convinced that she was a flirt. She had that kind of slightly over-wide eye, an appraising look to her, that spoke of a maid keen on the natural pleasures.

  ‘I am Alicia. You wanted to speak to my mistress, Lady Eleanor? I am afraid that my Lady received a mes
sage this morning advising her against aiding you, gentles. Perhaps it was thought that your interrogation might unsettle her delicate spirits?’

  ‘Perhaps it was,’ Baldwin agreed. He smiled. ‘I assume you would not suffer in a similar manner, then?’

  ‘Oh, Sir Knight, I do not think that there is anything a man could do would alarm me overmuch.’

  ‘I believe you, if all I have heard is true.’

  ‘You mean the attack when Mabilla died? Yes. That was a dreadful experience.’

  ‘Can you describe the man?’

  ‘No. I am afraid I didn’t take much in – I was so shocked and fearful. All of us were.’

  Simon frowned. ‘But we heard that you were fine. You stood up to the man boldly enough.’

  ‘Ah, but I am only a woman, sir. He was a fearsome man, masked and armed. The picture of masculinity and malice. I could not recall anything about him.’

  ‘You are sure of this?’

  She looked up at him with wide, less-than-innocent eyes. ‘But of course, Sir Baldwin. Why, would you like to put me to the test?’

  There was a lazy eroticism in the way she spoke, tilting her head and moving ever so slightly, the skirts of her tunic swaying suggestively. And as he coloured, she laughed with genuine delight, walking back through the gate, nodding to the guard, and glancing once over her shoulder at them, before she disappeared.

  ‘You shouldn’t trust all she says.’

  Simon and Baldwin turned to see Joan. She was the lady-in-waiting to the Queen who had fled at the sight of the man, Baldwin recalled. ‘Mistress?’

  Unlike Alicia, who appeared fully recovered, Joan had clearly not got over her shock yet. Baldwin supposed that it was natural enough in the circumstances. Sadly, it made almost anything she could tell them largely irrelevant. Baldwin had often found that eyewitnesses were unreliable, but the worst were those like this woman, who had been so terrified that, after a mere glimpse of the scene of horror, she had run away.

  ‘Alicia says things to spice up her life,’ Joan explained. ‘She likes to flirt, Sir Baldwin.’

  ‘What would you not trust about her evidence?’

  ‘She said she did not remember the man? I think she did.’