He preferred not to dwell on James’s end. The poor fellow had tried to protect his friend, and his ever more desperate defence of Newt had only meant his death had been more painful and slower. At least it showed that James was a man of honour.
‘What now, Will?’ Simon asked.
He smiled. ‘You arrest me and I hang. What else is there?’
Baldwin thought of this man’s wife, scarred and maddened. Where was the profit in killing Will too? He shook his head bitterly. ‘So you want to die too? What then? No. You go home, Will. There’s been enough death already. But there is one thing I do want to know. Where are the other models which John made? Do you know?’
‘No. He took them with him when he left the undercroft. I don’t know where he went with them.’
Baldwin nodded, and waved dismissively. ‘Go. There’s nothing to be served by having you punished any further. Go away and try to have a life again. See if you can’t cease hating, and try to start forgiving.’
‘Forgive?’ Will stared at him. ‘Would you?’
Simon was intrigued when Baldwin stopped in the street, head down towards the cobbles, and then made off westwards beside the Fleshfold. ‘Where now?’
‘I want to talk to the man Michael. Let us go and visit him.’
It took little time to walk along the street to Michael’s house. There was a beadle standing outside as they arrived, and Baldwin frowned and walked up to him. ‘We wanted to talk to Michael Tanner – is he here?’
‘No, sir. He’s off at the castle. He was wounded by the madman here. Had his fingers cut off, would you believe? The sheriff himself ordered that he ought to be brought to safety.’
Exeter Castle
Matthew puffed out his cheeks. The reports he had received seemed to show that the man was dead at last, and thank Christ, the wench was out of his hair as well. Sweet Jesus, but the last week had been dreadful.
‘Husband? Are you well?’
Alice had walked in behind him without his hearing, his mind was so far distracted with other matters. ‘My love, of course!’
She evaded his encircling arms, walked to her chair and sat down, watching him cautiously. ‘You did it, didn’t you?’
‘What?’ His mind was still on the last issue from which he had been rescued, and he smiled openly. ‘The girl? I swear to you on the gospels, dear lady, that I never so much as touched her.’
‘You really swear this?’
‘Of course I do, Alice. I could not look at a woman such as her when I have you, could I?’
Her relief was so palpable, it made his heart warm to see it.
‘Now, my love,’ he said. ‘I think that when I next travel to London, I should like you to come with me.’
‘Will you be going there soon?’
‘There is a new parliament being called, and I think that I shall be asked go to it.’
She pulled a wry face. ‘It is so very far.’
‘And the roads are dreadful in the winter, I know. But it would be good for you to get away from this city for a few weeks, and it would make my journey so much more pleasing.’
‘Very well, my husband. Of course I shall come with you.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’
His pleasure was so entirely natural and unfeigned that she felt herself flushed with a warmth that rose from her belly and flooded every part of her. It was such a relief to see that he did indeed still love her.
It was ridiculous. She ought to have realised from the outset that her man could not have loved that wench. If anything, Alice should have instantly guessed the child was insane. Her behaviour was entirely demented, after all. Yes, in the future she would always trust her man. If Matthew was at all interested in other women, would he have insisted that she went with him to London? Of course not! He would want her far away so that he could go and visit the stews of Southwark alone and not have to explain why he had been out all night.
He was a lovely man. She adored him. No more nonsense about distrusting him.
There was a clattering of weapons outside, and she saw her man roll his eyes heavenwards. ‘That fool! I swear I shall have him thrown into the gaol to rot for a week if he does that once more!’
‘Sir Matthew?’
They looked at the doorway.
Sir Matthew groaned inwardly to see Sir Baldwin and that bailiff marching in. ‘Yes?’ he asked curtly. ‘I am busy.’
‘Yes. So am I. I would like to speak to you in private for a little,’ Baldwin said tersely.
‘I am listening.’
Baldwin smiled, but then turned to Alice. ‘My lady, if you could leave us a little while.’
She shot a look at her husband. He was fuming, she saw, but there was no point in causing an argument here in the hall. ‘Don’t worry, husband. I have affairs too. Perhaps almost as urgent!’
Her barb had struck, she saw. The keeper and this bailiff both looked a little ashamed to have been so rude. It was all you could expect from an uncouth rural knight, she reflected as she left the room. Manners and chivalry came from exposure to Court and the fashions that pertained there. Sir Baldwin was too coarse to have spent time with ladies in a court.
With that happy thought, she left the hall and went about her business.
‘Well? You have insulted my wife. I hope you have good reason.’
‘My problem is whether I ought to arrest you myself, or merely tell the bishop about you and leave all to him,’ Baldwin said.
Sir Matthew leaned forward. ‘I could have you arrested for that. It is a gross slander to say that I deserve arrest! I could call my guard now and have you both taken from here and …’
‘Call him in by all means,’ Baldwin said, baring his teeth. ‘But as soon as you do, this affair becomes publicly aired. Do you want your guards to know what you have been up to?’
‘I have only ever done my duty. I think you should go now!’
Simon, watching from beside Baldwin, was taken by his demeanour. There was much bluster about him, but it was evident that he spoke more quietly, and that he did not call his guards into the room.
Baldwin nodded as though he was in accord with Simon. He walked to a stool and sat comfortably. ‘Naturally some of this is conjecture – I do not know all the details – but I think I have put together the bulk of the story.
‘This all began some while ago, didn’t it? I do not know when you first became disillusioned with the government of the Despensers and the king, but you and others felt that you ought to hasten the end of a system that had done so much damage to the nation. Your friends found out about a necromancer of power, and they instructed him in what to do. He had to kill seven people. The king, the two Despensers, father and son, and several others from the nearby convent.
‘When the attempt failed, because one man grew anxious and blurted the truth to his sheriff, he could hardly have known that the sheriff himself was in agreement with the band of conspirators.
‘They were all arrested, and then, soon afterwards, released. Except for two. One of these was the necromancer himself, of course. The other was the man who warned of the attempt. How close am I so far?’
‘Please continue. The story is fascinating.’
‘John of Nottingham somehow managed to escape from the gaol. Yet – and this is the curious part – the gaol at Warwick is all but impregnable. I know it well enough. Be that as it may, John of Nottingham came here. And as soon as he arrived, he was able to find a man who could give him rooms. Not only that, but in the same house was a man who had the tools necessary for a necromancer to perform his trade. That was most fortunate. What was more, he was introduced to a man who would be happy to help him kill even a king’s messenger, if ordered.’
‘And I suppose you think all this was my plan?’ the sheriff asked. He had paled, and his hand gripped the armrest of his chair.
‘Not all, no. But much of it. You wanted the assassination to succeed, didn’t you?’
‘I have come to this
position because of the goodwill and support of my Lord Despenser. What would I want him harmed for?’
‘There are many who fear him. Any man who can accumulate so much power in so short a space of time is to be feared.’
‘So what exactly are you accusing me of? Trying to kill the king and his adviser? The man who had me placed in post?’
‘Someone had to tell Will that his family had been killed by Walter. Who was it told him that? You don’t want to say? Then let me guess. Perhaps it was Michael. I have a feeling that Michael is quite deeply involved in all this.’
‘Why?’
‘We have heard that he is here with you, Sheriff. Where exactly?’
‘He is resting. I would prefer you didn’t disturb him.’
‘Why is he here?’
‘I took pity upon him. Is that a surprise? He had his fingers cut off by that lunatic!’
‘You mean the king’s man? The man who was trying to catch the necromancer who was determined to kill your king?’
The sheriff nodded. ‘So you condone torturing the innocent? Interesting.’
Simon reached forward and placed a hand upon Baldwin’s shoulder. He could feel his friend’s muscles writhing with eagerness to strike the sheriff, but then they became rigid. After witnessing the destruction of his order, Baldwin had a deep hatred of any forms of torture or injustice.
‘How well do you know the Sheriff of Warwick?’ Baldwin asked.
‘This is all most interesting, Keeper, but I have matters of real importance to occupy me. I think our meeting is at an end.’
Baldwin stood. ‘Then I shall leave you, Sheriff. But be aware that I will investigate any fresh murders with vigour. Especially if I hear of any harm coming to Will Skinner or to … Robinet. I feel sure I have an interesting story to tell my Lord Despenser. And the king, of course.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Exeter Castle
While they were talking, Alice walked out in the court. She had no friendly maid now, but she was content with her own thoughts. Apart from anything else, there was no confidante whom she could trust with news of her brother.
She had not seen him since Jen’s slaughter of poor Sarra. He had appeared as though from nowhere that day, but then he had slipped away as she was taken up to Langatre’s house.
It was probably for the best. Sarra had been able to take him food and drink on occasion, and she said that he had been very grateful, but since her death there was no one whom Alice could trust. Perhaps, though, it was better this way. She could not keep on following him, hoping against hope that she might see him in town. Better that they should keep apart, and prevent any additional risk to her husband. She had done enough to worry him already, poor Matthew.
But she would like to see her brother once more. Just to talk. She missed him.
Outside, Baldwin was about to cross the court when he saw Lady Alice with a maidservant. He licked his lips, hesitated, and then crossed to her. ‘Lady, I am sorry for my rudeness just now. There were matters which had to be discussed.’
She did not pretend that she liked him. ‘Sir Baldwin, you bullied me at Master Langatre’s house, and now you have insulted me again. I have enough to worry about, after my maid tried to kill me, without worrying about you.’
‘You are quite right. I am deeply sorry, my lady, and only hope that next time we meet, we shall do so in happier circumstances.’
‘So do I.’
She watched him turn and walk from the place. All she felt, though, was an overwhelming relief that Baldwin and the bailiff had not realised that her brother was in the city. He – and she – were safe for now. Only her husband knew of Maurice, and he would not do anything to harm her brother while he remained in the city.
Sir Matthew had actually seemed quite relieved to hear that the strange person whom she was seeing was only a traitor and outlaw, and not a lover.
Thursday, Vigil of the Feast of St Andrew10
Polsloe Priory
Jen felt the shackles slip off her wrists and stood a moment rubbing her chafed skin. The sun was a thin, weakly reminder of summer, and in her thin tunic and worn cloak she was frozen.
‘You are the mad girl from Exeter?’
This was a large, cheery woman with a red face and perpetual smile. Under her nun’s wimple, her blue eyes twinkled merrily.
‘I am called Jen,’ she admitted.
‘Good! At least you know your name. Come here, child. The bishop has asked us to look after you and try to make your demons leave you.’ She spoke as she led Jen into the convent, under a great stone arch, and into a broad courtyard. ‘So that is what we must do, isn’t it?’
Jen nodded. Since the day she had been exorcised in the cathedral by the bishop himself, she had felt weary, but a little better. The only strange thing, to her, was that she could not understand why her love would allow her to leave Exeter. Surely he wouldn’t wish her to be away from him for very long?
She was led along a pathway to a little chamber. ‘This is your home now, child. You are to stay here with us until you are cured or God takes you to His own.’
That was all she knew. Matthew would soon have her out of here.
He loved her.
Wednesday, Vigil of the Feast of St Nicholas11
The Bishop’s Palace
‘Sir Baldwin, I am glad you could visit me one last time.’
The bishop sat at his table, and rose as Baldwin entered, waving to the servant behind him. Soon they were alone.
‘You wished to see me?’
‘Sir Baldwin, the date of the next parliament has been set. It will be early in the New Year.’
‘And you still wish me to go?’
‘Of course. Who else would be so able to serve the interests of our country so well? Others may offer their strong right arms in battle, but some, like you and I, must use our brains.’
‘I do so already. I perform a useful function here, where I feel comfortable, and where I flatter myself I can do some good.’
‘Sir Baldwin, you know already that the country is in turmoil. There are enemies of the king who would have him destroyed. You know this.’
‘My Lord Bishop, I know well that I could be thrown into the turmoil. And I would die. I am a lowly rural knight, not some great baron. If I am hurled headlong into politics, it may cost me my life. What then would happen to my wife and children? Would you see them protected? Or would you watch another man take my little manor and deprive my family of their holdings?’
‘This need not happen. If you are honourable in your dealings …’
‘There are honourable men in parliament?’ Baldwin asked scathingly.
‘If there are too few, you could help! Become a member of the government, and do the good you crave!’
‘One man against the rest?’ Baldwin smiled. ‘How refreshing that one can be so influential.’
‘The king needs sensible, level-headed advisers. If you join his parliament you can do much good. Help him make the right decisions.’
‘By advising him to do whatever he wishes, you mean? His friends the Despensers would soon have my head if I recommended any action which they deemed against their interests.’
‘You must appreciate the danger which surrounds the realm, Sir Baldwin. We are a small nation. The world’s greatest army is only a few leagues over the sea. The king of France could attempt to invade us at any time, and can you imagine how well our host would acquit itself against his men? Armoured knights in their thousands. Bowmen from Genoa and Lorraine, men-at-arms from all over France, Lombardy, you name it, all will flock to his banner to take a piece of the profits of stealing our king’s inheritance. Do you want to see that?’
‘He has the best ambassador he could wish, yet he holds her prisoner.’
‘The queen’s loyalty is not absolute. Her brother is king of France. Which man should she support?’
‘Her king – but he is the very man who has humiliated her recently. He must make ame
nds.’
‘And it requires men of standing and character to make sure he realises that.’
Baldwin smiled thinly. ‘You think he would listen to a knight from his shires?’
‘If enough in parliament said the same, then yes. He might.’
‘What of you, Bishop? Would you support the queen?’
Stapledon looked away for a moment, but then said quietly, ‘Yes. I would help anyone who could ease our affairs abroad.’ He looked across at Baldwin and smiled thinly. ‘Does that surprise you?’
To answer a question like that directly was dangerous. ‘It was only a short while ago that you told me you had suggested that our queen’s household should be dispersed. Then you told me that you thought you were to be asked to administer her estates in Devon and Cornwall. What is next? Her children to be taken from her?’
Bishop Stapledon nodded slowly. ‘They are heirs to the English crown. They must be protected.’
‘You would have them removed from their mother?’
‘For their protection – yes.’
That was the moment when Baldwin changed his mind, he realised later. At the time he simply left the bishop without agreeing or refusing, but later he knew he would have to go. It was while he was sitting in his hall, his daughter Richalda on his knee, listening to her cooing and singing. The thought that the king could accept the advice of others and have his wife deprived of her children was so repugnant, it made him feel physically sickened. If the best advice the king was receiving led him to take his children from their mother, Baldwin could hardly do less good. He could sit back in comfort here in Furnshill and complain, easing his soul with the reflection that it would do little good for him to lose his own life and thereby lose his children. Better to be in at the fight.
‘I will go,’ he muttered.
‘What was that, my love?’ his wife asked.
Baldwin looked at her and then he smiled. The decision was made. His fate was sealed. ‘Would you like to travel to London, wife?’
The Malice of Unnatural Death: Page 41