Michael Jecks - The Prophecy of Death

‘This is most interesting. I shall need to consider. Do you have any other message for me?’

‘Only this, that the Pope himself has heard of this proposal, and he views it as commendable. He wishes me to make clear to you that it would be a most desirable means of resolving the foolish state of friction that exists between France and England.’

‘I thank you,’ the King said more coolly. He had no need of that popinjay’s thoughts. So far as he was concerned, the Pope had let him down too often. He had not helped when King Edward asked to be re-anointed with St Thomas’s oil, and nor had he helped poor Hugh when the Despenser had heard that Mortimer had enlisted the help of a necromancer to bring about his death by use of magic. Instead, he had sent a terse reply suggesting that if Hugh were to embrace God, live more honourably and kindly, and stop seeking to advance his own position at the expense of others, he may find himself with fewer enemies. As if that was likely to help him, just when a necromancer had been paid to kill him!

It was a vicious response to a man who was fearful of his life, and the King felt sure that it demonstrated a papal contempt for his own position. The Pope knew how close Hugh Despenser and he were. It was a simple rebuff of the rudest kind. The Pope was arrogant, swollen up with his own importance and pride. He had installed himself as the most powerful man in Christendom, and felt he could even command kings. Yet kings were selected by God, not by popes. If God thought Edward should be King, then no man, neither cardinal nor pope, could have any right to gainsay him.

Not that such arguments held any sway with the Pope himself.

‘You may leave me now.’ He waited while the Bishop respectfully reversed from the chamber, showing the correct deference by not turning his back, before motioning to a servant. ‘Fetch me Ayrminne and Bishop Stratford. Tell them I would have the benefit of their advice.’

Baldwin was happily repacking his satchel of clothing when the servant arrived for him.

‘Sir Baldwin, I have been asked to conduct you to Sir Hugh Despenser.’

‘What does he want?’ Baldwin asked. There was a slight tension in his back at the name. No one could hear the name of the King’s chief adviser and friend without trepidation.

There was no answer, though, and Baldwin finished his packing before joining the servant and walking along behind him to the Prior’s lodgings. Here, he was ushered into a small chamber.

‘Sir Baldwin. I am glad to see you once more. You enjoyed your little journey to Paris?’

‘Yes, Sir Hugh. It was pleasant.’

‘I would imagine it must have been. Perhaps you would enjoy a life of more privilege.’

‘I fear not. I am keen to leave behind all affairs of such great importance and find some peace in my little manor once more. So much more restful than all this travel and high living. As soon as my latest task is done, I shall be happy to return to my home.’

‘What is that latest task?’

‘I have personal messages for the King.’

‘You may give them to me.’

‘I was asked to give them to the King.’

‘I am the King’s adviser.’

‘I know who you are, Sir Hugh,’ Baldwin said firmly.

‘I am not a good man to make your enemy, Sir Baldwin.’ Sir Hugh eyed him without any obvious emotion for a moment.

‘So I have heard — and seen.’

‘You have been an irritant to me.’

‘I have not intended to be.’

‘You say that? Do you take me for a fool?’ Despenser’s voice grew colder. ‘I say this: do not thwart me, Sir Knight, else I shall crush you.’

‘You have tried already,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I shall oppose injustice while I may.’

Sir Hugh le Despenser nodded, although whether agreeing with this sentiment or merely accepting that this was Baldwin’s view, the knight couldn’t tell. Despenser said, ‘I have heard that you conducted yourself well while out there.’

‘Some perhaps did not expect me to return,’ Baldwin said.

‘I cannot think who.’

It was Baldwin’s turn to be silent. A short while before leaving England for France, Sir Hugh had become aware that he had once been a Poor Fellow Soldier of Christ and the Temple of Solomon , a Knight Templar. He had then intentionally told the French King of Baldwin’s past affiliation, expecting the French King to capture and possibly execute him. But the French King had shown himself more honourable and generous than Despenser, and had warned Baldwin that he knew of Baldwin’s past.

‘So you have come back with Queen Isabella’s ambassador to her husband?’

There was a wealth of cynicism in those few words. The man was certain of himself, that much was obvious. He knew that Baldwin had been involved in some of the discussions. Perhaps he wanted Baldwin to give him some insights into the way that the Queen had conducted herself, or was looking for some juicy snippet of another sort?

Whatever his wish, Baldwin was not prepared to aid him. ‘I am merely a guard to the Pope’s emissary, who has been asked to bring some messages.’

‘Oh, a humble guard, Sir Baldwin? And you had no idea of anything curious whilst on your travels?’

‘I do not know what you mean, nor what you wish me to say.’

‘I would have thought I was clear enough. Did anything unusual strike you during your travels, Sir Baldwin?’

Baldwin was about to respond sharply that there was nothing, when he suddenly wondered what the man was asking about. At first, Baldwin thought Despenser was enquiring about the Queen or the Bishop of Orange — but now, he wondered.

The theft of the oil from Canterbury was certainly curious enough, and the discovery of the man in the woods, a filthy royal tabard thrown hurriedly over him, that was curious in the extreme — but Despenser could not have known of either of them. Could he? If Despenser was responsible for the theft of the oil, he might certainly know. His man could have returned here already and given Despenser the oil. But what on earth could Despenser have wanted with a phial of oil for anointing the King?

Nothing, unless the King desperately desired it, and Despenser sought to enhance his position by providing it. Especially if he could keep concealed the fact that he had stolen it originally.

‘Sir Hugh, what do you mean by “unusual”?’

He contemplated for a moment or two. ‘I mean, you were in France. Among our enemies. Was Mortimer there? Was there anyone who could be a threat to the Queen or the King?’

‘I do not involve myself in matters of-’

‘In God’s name, Knight! Do you not realise we are on the precipice of war again?’

‘The strangest thing I encountered was here in England. I found a dead man on my way,’ Baldwin said, watching him closely. ‘It was a man who was clad in a king’s tabard, but it would not be easy to identify him.’

‘Why?’

‘You have seen dead bodies after being left in the open for a week or more.’

Sir Hugh nodded. All had. ‘We shall have to enquire as to whether any of the King’s men have disappeared, then.’

‘I should be grateful if you would. He was dressed as a herald.’

‘A herald? A king’s man?’ Despenser said with a frown.

‘Yes. I think it likely he was waylaid by outlaws. There are many in those woods, apparently. He had no money or belongings on him, except one. And that makes me think he was most religious.’

‘Why do you say that?’

In answer, Baldwin brought out the necklace of pilgrim badges. ‘He went to Canterbury, to St Thomas, to Santiago de Compostela, to Our Lady of … he has been all over. So it would be good to learn if any religious heralds are missing, wouldn’t it?’