Michael Jecks - The Prophecy of Death

Some of the King’s men had encircled Peter and John.

‘Look at them! A pair of complete whores, aren’t they? Cock-queans, the pair of them,’ one was shouting exultantly. ‘Come on, let’s take their ballocks. They don’t need ’em!’

‘You sad, little man? You want a kiss?’

‘Ah, look, he’s going to cry, if you’re not careful!’

The ribald comments grew more lewd and less subtle as the courage of the men grew. There was no sign from Peter and John, no evidence of fear, no reaction whatever. And yet Jack was struck again with that sense of immense power and authority in the two. It made him mutter to himself, ‘No, don’t pick on these two.’ He even winced, as though he knew what was about to happen.

And then one of them, the smallest of the six taunters, stepped forward. Jack wasn’t sure what he was going to do, other than tease and torment, but he had no chance to do anything. As soon as he was within range, he was suddenly snatched up, and heaved over Peter’s shoulder. Peter eyed the men watching, while the little man on his back squeaked and threatened, and then Peter hefted the fellow high, and allowed him to fall, flat on his back to the hard, packed earth. The squeak became a squeal.

‘Oh, shit,’ Jack murmured. He had witnessed wrestling before, and he feared that this heavy man might jump at the body on the ground, but then he saw his error. The little body was an obstacle for any others to surmount. It was plain enough the two had fought together before, and now they stood shoulder to shoulder, Peter again with that oddly unsettling smile on his face, almost as though he was a little sad, but if the others wanted to play like this, he would join in. The other just scowled about him as usual.

A pair of men exchanged a glance, and then rushed forward. One drew a dagger. That was an error. In some kind of swift manoeuvre, Peter took his hand with his left, pushed it away from him, and hooked his own right through at the man’s elbow. A jerk towards his chest with his right fist, and Jack could hear the elbow shatter over the man’s shriek of agony. He fell.

John had done nothing, merely waited for the second. He hurtled forwards, swinging a punch at John’s face, feinting, and then snapping his left into John’s belly.

It had no discernible impact. John caught the right fist in his left hand, and merely gripped it. Very tightly. Then he peered down with an expression of near-perplexity at the man as he whimpered, gazing up at him, slowly sinking to his knees, not even attempting to strike John again. That would have been as painful as it would have been futile. When he was down, John looked across at Peter, who gave a short moue of consideration, and then shook his head. John released the man, who fell on to his rump, and then stood with Peter, both blank-faced, and watched the last three.

There was no more fight left in them. The sight of their friends being so swiftly beaten was shocking to men used to bullying others. They took up their fallen friends and helped them to hobble away, the man with the broken arm weeping in a high-pitched tone. If Jack was any judge, that man would never wield a dagger again in that hand. He was ruined.

Jack whistled. He had known that the pair of them were dangerous.

He had no idea who they were, nor what they wanted, but suddenly he was glad that he would before long be leaving this country with the Bishop, to return to the Pope.

Lydford

Bishop Stapledon was not a man who undertook journeys lightly. He was a tall, slightly stooped man, with fading hair and a perpetual peering manner because of his failing eyesight. When reading, he was forced to use spectacles, a fact which never failed to irritate him immensely. As a younger man, he had been possessed of exceptional sight, as he never tired of mentioning. He could read the very smallest script without any aid whatever. No longer, sadly.

He looked up as Edgar bowed at his side, proffering a goblet of Baldwin’s best wine. Taking it, the Bishop eyed Baldwin and Simon carefully over the rim. ‘This is a very serious matter, of course.’

‘I think we were aware of that,’ Baldwin said drily. ‘It is Simon’s house and farm that is at stake, after all.’

‘A little more than only that, now. The man you have captured and placed in my care is Sir Hugh le Despenser’s henchman. Despenser will be furious when he hears that you have had him incarcerated in my gaol. Get off, dog! ’

‘Come here, Wolf,’ Baldwin said quickly. Wolf, seeking an affectionate stroke, had nudged the Bishop’s elbow as he lifted his wine to his lips, almost spilling it over his breast. Baldwin absentmindedly patted Wolf’s head as the dog sat at his side.

‘He was trying to steal my house!’ Simon protested.

‘It has happened before. For some reason, this time Despenser did not use his normal approach,’ Stapledon said, warily eyeing Baldwin’s newest dog.

‘What would that have been?’ Baldwin asked.

‘He would bring a large number of men and attack in main force, or, failing that, he would have no men appear at all, but instead would proceed through the courts. I would think that he wouldn’t dare try that because he knows that the King trusts you, and that I and many other senior members of the Church do too, so any fraudulent claim would be set aside. Usually, if he couldn’t do that, he would turn to overwhelming force. I wonder why on this occasion he did not.’

‘Because he was not serious in intent,’ Baldwin said thoughtfully.

‘How so?’

‘He knew that I would react if he attacked my friend here. But there can be no basis for his assault on Simon. Simon leases his own property. So any legal matter would fail, but so would an all-out attack. This was a little show, a threat. To show what he could do, were he to choose to.’

‘But he failed,’ Bishop Walter said.

‘Did he? He cost Simon many hours of lost sleep, I would guess, and his wife plenty of distress, too.’

‘It’s true,’ Simon admitted. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

‘You have at least gained a pleasing sword,’ Baldwin said. The sword which Simon had taken from Wattere was leaning against the wall, and Baldwin went and took it up. ‘It has a good balance.’

‘It is the second sword I have taken from him,’ Simon said with a grin of shy satisfaction. ‘The first was when he came here. Not that I have a sheath for it, sadly. I didn’t take that from him. Still, I have the sheath for this one.’

‘He appears to be providing you with all the weaponry you could wish for,’ Baldwin said with a chuckle.

‘It will infuriate the Despenser, the fact that you have prevented him,’ Bishop Stapledon said. ‘He is used to having his way.’

‘Not this time,’ Baldwin said. ‘He will not take Simon’s lands. Nor mine. Not while we have friends such as you, Bishop.’

‘No,’ Bishop Walter said.

He smiled at Baldwin, and Baldwin gave a brief grin in return, but not with ease.

At any time in the last eight years or so since he had first met the Bishop, Baldwin would have said that he was a close friend. All over Devon and Cornwall, Bishop Walter II of Exeter was popular and held in high regard for his stalwart defence of the diocese. He visited all the churches and convents, and was a keen supporter of education. In Ashburton he had built a small school, and together with his brother he had founded Stapledon College at Oxford, as well as aiding many poor boys by giving them education if they appeared to merit the investment. All in all, his good works had benefited most of Devon.

But there was another side to his nature which Baldwin had discovered only recently. Stapledon had been involved in national politics for some years, indeed, he had been Lord High Treasurer and reformed much of the administration of the treasury. In the last year, he had taken the side of Despenser and the King against the Queen. It was said, and believably, that it was Stapledon who had argued for the confiscation of her property in Devon and Cornwall, on the basis that this would remove a potential threat to the realm, for if her brother, the King of France, were to try to invade the country, he would undoubtedly try to land there, where his sister held so many assets and had loyal servants.