The Oath aktm-29

by Michael Jecks

  The Oath

  ( A Knights Templar Mystery - 29 )

  Michael JECKS

  The Twenty-Ninth Knights Templar Mystery

  1326. In an England riven with conflict, knight and peasant alike find their lives turned upside down by the warring factions of Edward II, with his hated favourite, Hugh le Despenser, and Edward's estranged queen Isabella and her lover, Sir Roger Mortimer. Yet even in such times the brutal slaughter of an entire family, right down to a babe in arms, still has the power to shock. Three further murders follow, and bailiff Simon Puttock is drawn into a web of intrigue, vengeance, power and greed as Roger Mortimer charges him to investigate the killings. Michael Jecks brilliantly evokes the turmoil of fourteenth-century England, as his well-loved characters Simon Puttock and Sir Baldwin de Furnshill strive to maintain the principles of loyalty and truth.

  Michael Jecks

  THE OATH

  2010

  For

  Beryl and Peter

  The best parents possible!

  With much love

  GLOSSARY

  Aketon – a thick tunic, originally padded or quilted, that was worn over the shirt but underneath a man-at-arms’ hauberk.

  Alaunt – a hunting dog, like a greyhound but larger, with a broad head and shorter snout. Known for their ferocity, these dogs were used to hunt big game, even bears.

  Ambler – horses for gentle riding were trained to ‘amble’, swinging both left legs together, then both right legs.

  Amerce – a financial penalty that was a type of bond. For example, a man would be ‘amerced’ to attend court, and if he failed to appear, the sum was his fine.

  Attach – to secure a man’s attendance at court by means of sureties.

  Berner – the attendant in charge of hounds.

  Centaine – a unit of men-at-arms in the King’s host: a hundred men.

  Chevauchée – a technical military term, generally meaning to ride out and pillage an area.

  Deodand – a tax, based on the value of a murder weapon, payable as a fine. This tax remained in force until the nineteenth century, when railway companies complained at the value of entire trains being levied for accidental homicides!

  Fosser – the sexton, a gravedigger.

  Garbage – animal offal used for food.

  Guyenne – that part of France still ruled by the British King: Aquitaine, Anjou, etc.

  Hainaulter – man from Hainault in Flanders.

  Hauberk – the mail shirt that was worn over the aketon but beneath the pair of plates.

  Heriot – a fine of the best beast, rendered to a serf’s lord when the serf died.

  Hobelar – armed man who rode upon a ‘hobby’, a small riding horse.

  Kennel – the central gulley or gutter in a medieval street.

  Leyrwite – this was the fine imposed on women for adultery or sexual incontinence.

  Lurdan – a term of opprobrium – a sluggard, a laggard, a dimwit.

  Mastiff – a large dog, used as a guard and sometimes for baiting.

  Murdrum – the fine imposed on a vill when none could prove ‘Englishry’ for a corpse. It had been a means of fining the English rebels after the Norman invasion, and was imposed when a body was thought to be Norman, as a way of punishing the community.

  Pair of Plates – a form of body armour made by fixing overlapping plates of steel to the inside of a cloth or leather tunic. It was worn over the mail hauberk.

  Palfrey – a small to medium-sized horse noted for its comfort.

  Posse Comitatus – the force of the county, available to keep the peace or help hunt down felons.

  Rache – a running dog, which we would probably call a greyhound today.

  Rounsey – the common horse for general use: also used as a warhorse by men-at-arms, and as a packhorse.

  Schiltrom – troops drawn up in battle order.

  Vill – a territorial unit, comprising a number of houses and the land adjacent, which was the basic unit of administration under feudal law.

  Vingtaine – a military unit of twenty men.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Sir Baldwin de Furnshill – Keeper of the King’s Peace, Baldwin was once a Templar, but now seeks a quiet life in Devon.

  Simon Puttock – Baldwin’s closest friend, Simon has worked with him on many murder investigations.

  Margaret (Meg) – Simon’s wife.

  Peterkin (Perkin) – Simon and Margaret’s son.

  Hugh – Simon’s long-suffering servant.

  Rob – son of a prostitute in Dartmouth, Rob has become Simon’s servant too.

  Jack – a young fellow accompanying Baldwin.

  NOBLES

  King Edward II – King of England.

  Edward, Duke of Aquitaine, (also Earl of Chester) – the King’s eldest son, the future Edward III, who was never made a prince.

  Sir Hugh le Despenser – Sir Hugh ‘The Younger’, the closest adviser to the King, his best friend, and alleged lover. Known for his outrageous greed and ambition.

  Earl Hugh of Winchester – Sir Hugh’s father, known as ‘The Elder’, a loyal servant of King Edward I, but a man keen to enrich himself.

  Queen Isabella – wife to the King, and figurehead of the rebellion against him.

  Sir Roger Mortimer – lover to Queen Isabella and, with her, leader of the rebels.

  Sir Ralph of Evesham – a knight in the service of the King.

  Sir Charles of Lancaster – formerly a loyal servant of Earl Thomas of Lancaster, now he is in the service of the King.

  BRISTOL

  Arthur Capon – a wealthy burgess in Bristol.

  Madame Capon – wife to Arthur.

  Petronilla – Arthur’s daughter.

  Cecily – maidservant to the Capon family.

  Squire William de Bar – husband of Petronilla.

  Father Paul – priest who became Petronilla’s lover.

  Emma Wrey – widow of a successful merchant in Bristol.

  Sir Stephen Siward – Coroner in Bristol.

  Sir Laurence Ashby – the Constable of Bristol Castle.

  Thomas Redcliffe – a merchant of Bristol ruined by pirates.

  Roisea Redcliffe – Thomas’s wife.

  SOLDIERS

  Robert Vyke – a serf brought into the King’s host.

  Otho – Sergeant from Vyke’s vill.

  Herv Tyrel – a friend to Vyke.

  Walerand of Guildford – also Walerand the Tranter, a carter pressed into the King’s service to help transport goods for the troops.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The idea for this book has had a lengthy gestation. It all began when I picked up an Everyman edition of The Old Yellow Book, which was the source for Robert Browning’s The Ring and the Book. It is not an easy book to read, because it revolves around a series of legal documents, but for a novelist it is sheer gold dust!

  Browning’s piece is a poetic reworking of a story he discovered while staying in Florence in 1860. As he tells it, he was wandering round the Piazza of San Lorenzo, past a bookseller in a booth, when the soiled old yellow tome caught his eye. He bought it and took it home, where he devoured it, translating the full story over a number of days.

  The book gave the record of an astonishing murder case from 1698 – the assassination of an entire family. The vile behaviour of both groom and father-in-law, set beside the misery of the poor girl-bride and her pathetic lover, were as absorbing as any Shakespearean tragedy, and I could not put it out of my mind, trying to figure out how best to use it in one of my novels.

  However, it was only when looking at that other wonderfully dysfunctional family – that of King Edward II and his wife Queen Isabella – that the comparison between the two families stru
ck a chord, and I had to go and look up Browning’s source again. Pretty soon it was clear to me that this was the book I wanted to write. There are changes, however, so anyone familiar with Browning’s work can relax – there is no way they will guess how my story ends!

  While I have tried, as usual, to be as true to history as I possibly can be, it’s always the small details that give me the biggest headaches. For example, we know that the King set off from London in October 1326 with a small force of men, on the run from Sir Roger Mortimer and the Queen. He may have only had a few men with him, but he had barrels of money, somewhere in the region of £20,000. That was more than the income of England’s king in a year, so he must have had guards. How many? Don’t know.

  Likewise, he set off towards Cardiff with even fewer men. He still had his money, but we know that his men were going AWOL and that no one was coming to replace them and fill the ranks. But when he quitted Caerphilly, he left behind a garrison, and still had a force of men about him with whom to travel to Margam and Neath Abbey. How many? Again, I don’t know.

  The tale of Despenser’s decline and death is pretty well documented. I am especially grateful to Jules Frusher for the pointer on Edward being, perhaps, at Hereford during Despenser’s execution. No one else has spotted this, but the King’s journey was to Kenilworth Castle, with Lancaster guarding him. Yet Lancaster was present at Hugh Despenser’s hearing and execution. If so, where was the King? It’s perfectly logical to think that Lancaster came with the King and Despenser to Hereford, and at the time, it would have been thought perfectly acceptable to force the King to watch his favourite being executed.

  I refer in this book to Edward’s son as the Duke of Aquitaine, which may confuse some readers. Why don’t I call him Prince Edward and be done with it? Well, young Edward had been made Earl of Chester by the King only a short while after his birth, and he was known as such throughout his childhood. Later, at the age of almost thirteen, he was sent to France to pay homage to the French King, in his father’s place, for the English territories in France. For that, he received the gift of Aquitaine, and became a duke. However, he was never actually made Prince of the Realm. To become a prince was not automatic, it was an honour that the King alone could grant. So I use the most senior title that Edward was given.

  For that last detail, I am grateful to Ian Mortimer. His The Greatest Traitor: The Life of Sir Roger Mortimer, and The Perfect King: The Life of Edward III, and also his excellent The Time Traveller’s Guide to Medieval England have been regularly referred to. I often have to flick through Harold F. Hutchinson’s Edward II, as well as Mary Saaler’s book, and that of Roy Martin Haines – all with the same title! Among my more esoteric sources, Terry Brown’s English Martial Arts ranks highly, as does The Medieval Coroner by R.F. Hunnisett, and John Leland’s Itinerary, which is wonderful for those who want to see a landscape through the eyes of someone who was alive 500 years ago. I am also hugely indebted to Jules Frusher for her website ‘Lady Despenser’s Scribery’ at http://despenser.blogspot.com. Jules has given me enormous help.

  Which is why I have to quickly add that no matter how good all these, and other individuals are, the errors are sadly still all my own.

  But errors and omissions aside, I hope that this tale, which is still thrilling to me, nearly 700 years after the events I describe, will take you back in time to a period when life was undoubtedly nastier, colder, wetter, more painful and more dangerous. And in so many ways, still extremely attractive.

  Michael Jecks

  North Dartmoor

  November 2009

  CHAPTER ONE

  Bristol

  Her nightmare always began in the same way.

  It started with the urgent cry.

  ‘Cecily? Cecily, help me!’

  Cecily hurried to her mistress’s door as soon as she heard the summons. A maid of almost thirty, short and mousy-haired under her wimple, she had an oval-shaped face and smiling green eyes. She walked in to find Petronilla Capon sitting on her bed’s edge, waving a hand in the direction of the cot, from which all the screaming emanated.

  ‘Good Cecily, can you do anything with him?’

  Her mistress was almost eighteen years old. Quite tall, she had the sort of figure that men eyed with unconcealed lust, their wives with simple jealousy. Her face was unmarked with fear or sadness, which was a miracle after the last four years, but now there was an expression of mild panic on it which did not so much mar her beauty as add to it.

  ‘Let me, mistress,’ Cecily said comfortably, crossing the floor.

  Cecily had been her maid for years now and was as much a part of Petronilla’s life as the cross which hung from the silver chain about her neck. Everyone who knew Petronilla knew how devoted Cecily was to her and, since the birth of Little Harry, the maid had grown still more attentive.

  Little Harry looked up at Cecily with his blue-black eyes still fogged with despair. ‘Hush, little one,’ Cecily said, beginning to wipe away the worst of the vomit with his slavering clout.[1]

  ‘I did what you said,’ Petronilla stated with weary conviction. ‘He had finished feeding, and I just had him over my shoulder…’

  ‘You should have stopped feeding him a little earlier, mistress. Then, perhaps, you could have burped him before he was sick.’

  Petronilla gave her a wretched smile. ‘I don’t understand the boy. He cries all night, sleeps all day, and when he whimpers and I try to feed him, he does this to me. Ungrateful little monster, aren’t you? Oh no, what now? Why is he crying now, Cecily?’

  In answer, her maid picked him up and sniffed at his backside before pulling a face. ‘Why do you think?’

  Her mistress often behaved as though she was a child herself still, thought Cecily. When she had married and moved to her husband’s house near Hanham, despite the fact that it was only some three miles outside Bristol, the girl had reacted as if it were the edge of the world. Cecily had looked after Petronilla from her eighth year, and when the girl had married Squire William de Bar nearly four years ago, Cecily had gone to Hanham with her. When Petronilla’s husband had evicted Cecily, forcing her from his young bride’s side, the maid had been distraught.

  It had been an awful time. When Cecily was dismissed and sent back to Bristol, Arthur Capon was reluctant to give her house room, seeing her as a waste of space.

  Cecily carefully unwrapped the boy, taking off the swaddling-bands then cleaning him with the old tail-clout.[2] The soiled bands were dropped into the bucket ready for soaking and washing, and then she massaged his limbs tenderly with a little oil of myrtle. It was hideously expensive, but there was nothing too costly for the young master. She wrapped him in fresh swaddling bands, then, cooing and shushing, she cuddled him close.

  Petronilla watched her with a wan smile. The birth had been easy enough, but like so many new mothers, she was exhausted after too little sleep in the last two weeks.

  ‘Mistress, sit and rest. I can look after the little master for you. He just wants company, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘All I want is my sleep,’ Petronilla said with some acid. ‘Harry keeps me awake all night.’

  Cecily said nothing. There was no need – both knew that it was Cecily who most often went to the baby in the watches of the night.

  Taking the little mite with her as she left her mistress, Cecily quietly closed the door. Petronilla was already on her bed, her eyes closed, and young master Harry snuffled and nuzzled against Cecily’s breast. He seemed happy to accept her as a surrogate mother.

  She murmured to him as she walked through the passageway to the hall. Little Harry looked up at her with those wide, trusting eyes, and she smiled as he burped.

  Cecily had sworn to serve his mother and protect Harry, and she would not break that vow.

  That part of her dream was always so happy. She had been content, then, easy in her mind. Before that, while Petronilla was away in Hanham, her life had been empty, her existence anxious, because unnecessary servants
were easily discarded. Now, with Petronilla back once more, it seemed that Cecily could count on a secure future.

  Later that same morning, Cecily respectfully ducked her head to Petronilla’s parents as she passed through the hall on her way towards the screens.

  Arthur Capon sat near the fire, ignoring Cecily as he spoke with his wife who was sitting in the light near the window’s bars and working on a fine cap for her grandson, peering closely with her poor eyesight.

  Cecily went to the little pantry near the front door. Here she could dandle the boy on her knee while chatting to the bottler. It was always best to keep a child busy. Just as he needed his arms and legs restrained so that they might grow firm and straight, there were other risks: a child might stare too long at a single bright light, and that would produce a squint in later years. Or a babe set to sleep in a hanging cot might wriggle free of the bindings, and fall and hang himself. There were so many dangers. But at least people tried to protect children. No one would hurt a child on purpose, would they? That would be wicked.