Michael Jecks - The Prophecy of Death

But it did not seem right with Jack. Jack had been so helpful, so friendly, that he surely couldn’t be involved with Despenser.

He couldn’t be.

Near Sherborne, Dorset

Simon could not help but keep casting sidelong glances at Baldwin all the way as they rode, Wolf reluctantly loping along behind them.

They had made good time so far. Two days ago, after Baldwin had stated his desire to hurry, their little party had reached Okehampton by evening. Yesterday they had reached Furnshill fairly early, and then Simon and Baldwin carried on at a more urgent pace, and to Simon’s surprise they reached the old town of Ilminster. With luck today they might get as far as Shaftsbury, and tomorrow, perhaps, they would get to Winchester, although Baldwin had already said that they would be best served by making sure that they reached Stockbridge and then letting their mounts have a good rest.

Baldwin had been a good friend for so long now that Simon could hardly remember a time when they had not been companions. It was nearly ten years ago when they first met, over the fire at the little vill. They had discovered a band of trail bastons, ‘club men’ who were ravaging the countryside and killing wantonly. There were so many men who took to violence in those terrible days. The famine was hitting everybody hard, and there were starving families all over the country. Although Devon was not so badly affected as some regions, that only meant that there was an incentive to foreigners from up-country — Somerset and Wiltshire and beyond — to travel to Devon to steal what they could. That was what it felt like at the time, anyway.

Simon had been new to his elevated position as bailiff. It had been largely due to Baldwin’s help that he had caught the trail bastons and firmly secured himself to his post at Lydford. How ironic it would be if he was now to lose everything because of his friendship with Baldwin.

‘I don’t know that this is the best thing to do, Baldwin,’ he said at last. ‘Despenser is an irrational creature. He knows that you and I are thorns in his flesh. What if he decides that the best way to remove us both is to have us murdered?’

‘If he were likely to reach that conclusion, and thought he might get away with it,’ Baldwin said, ‘he would already have done so. No, he is a shrewd and cunning man. If there was merit in killing us, he would have sent that man Wattere with more men and killed you as soon as possible. But he did not. All he did in truth was send you warning that he intended to deal with you at some time in the future.’

‘True enough, but if he finds that we’ve followed him to London, won’t he think that we’re just growing too annoying to be supported? He’d rather just remove us.’

‘So you think you’d be best served by remaining at home and hiding?’

Simon wanted to make a sharp rejoinder, but instead he looked away. The idea of running from any man was repugnant to him, but there were some situations which deserved caution, and this was one such. The man Despenser was the most dangerous in the whole country. He had money, men, and the ear of the King. ‘Running away has never been part of my character.’

‘Nor mine. You could run away from him, Simon, but if you do, you will be forced to run for ever. Yes, if you were to sell the house in Lydford and return to Sandford, he would be thwarted for a little while, but he’d soon find you. He has spies all over the country. But it’s not you he wants, I don’t think. I hope I do not suffer from unjustified arrogance when I say that I think he is more concerned about me.’

‘So what do you intend to do?’

Baldwin gave a twisted grin. ‘I hope to have a chance to have a frank talk with him. I have never sought to be thrown into politics. At every possible opportunity I have tried to avoid it. And he may not realise that, nor that I have done all in my power to keep away from him. It is not that I mean to harm his interests, only that I have barged into his affairs wherever I have gone. He is strangely ubiquitous.’

‘And then, because you have always seen that his affairs tend to be unjust and unfair to the others who are affected, that is the only reason you have deliberately thwarted him?’ Simon said. ‘I don’t think that is entirely the right way to convince him to leave you alone, Baldwin!’

‘Perhaps not. But I would have an accommodation with him if it were possible. I do not wish to live with a permanent fear of him, dreading what he may do to Jeanne or the children; nor what he might do to you and your family. That is unbearable. So if I am forced, I will beg of him that he leaves me in peace.’

‘Beg?’

‘For the peace of my family and yours, yes I would beg,’ Baldwin said firmly.

‘Well, if we are to endure such an unpleasant experience, let’s get it over with,’ Simon said.

‘Yes. If only we had something we could use against him,’ Baldwin said. ‘I would feel much happier entering negotiations with him knowing that I had something more than begging as a last resort.’

‘I think you will have to wish for that.’

‘Yes … and yet we did wonder about the oil, didn’t we? The oil stolen from the King.’

‘Yes. And we agreed to avoid Despenser.’

‘We would be happy to do so, Simon, if only he had left us alone. But when we considered the murder and the theft of the oil, you were asking me about the dead man in the woods, weren’t you? Do you remember, I said that perhaps the killer of that man was the same as the murderer of Gilbert at the priory? The man killed Gilbert, stole the oil, and took to horse through the woods towards the King. He met with a man in the woods, and sought to …’

‘Sought to what?’ Simon demanded irritably.

‘I just had a most curious thought,’ Baldwin said. ‘What if he sought to conceal his identity by throwing his tabard on to the dead man he saw at the side of the road?’

‘How would that work? Unless he was a herald himself, of course,’ Simon scoffed, and then frowned.

‘Yes, it would make sense, wouldn’t it? A man who was dressed as a herald would know that a king’s herald would be sought for the murder of Gilbert, so as soon as he could, he threw aside that uniform. From that moment he would be seen as an innocent when it came to the murder. People would seek a man in that tabard, and failing that, they would assume the murderer was dead. They wouldn’t know who to seek.’

Simon frowned. ‘But they would still search for the murderer of the herald.’

‘Perhaps so. But it would be some local man, not a fellow from the King’s household, wouldn’t it? So they would hardly realise who it was they questioned. And in fact, so long as the murdrum fine was paid, there would be little need for them to investigate further. The coroner and King would be content so long as the money was in the King’s coffers.’

‘So the herald killed a stranger, and then ran into the woods with his oil?’

‘It is one possibility. I say no more than that.’

‘Then we need to consider who had a desire for the oil.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘And we already considered that, didn’t we? We both felt it was likely that only one man would have dared such a bold theft.’

‘But why should Despenser want the oil?’ Simon said. ‘It makes no sense. He could not hope to be crowned, so the oil would have no benefit to him.’

‘The only advantage it might hold would lie in the properties of the oil itself. Perhaps he thought that such a blessed unguent might help him?’ Baldwin guessed. ‘Or the alternative would be that he sought to hold on to it until the King’s need became overwhelming, and then intended to blackmail the King.’