Michael Jecks - The Bishop Must Die

‘And that is all?’ Baldwin asked.

The bishop licked his lips, then shot a look at his nephew and appeared to make a resolution. ‘No. I was keen to acquire certain lands. There were two manors which his mother would have held, but since her son and her husband were both traitors, they were taken. The king settled both of her manors on me.’

‘Her husband and son are dead?’

‘To the best of my knowledge.’

‘What of this case — John Biset?’

The bishop could feel William Walle’s eyes on him as he answered. ‘Oh, he was a young landowner who wanted wardship of a tenant’s grandson, and I fought it. With good reason, too — the fellow was too young. Biset had hardly come of age when the wardship came up.’

‘So he was of age? You said “hardly”.’

‘Yes, he was technically old enough. But he had to have his age proven, and couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

The bishop shrugged. ‘I confess, I and Sir Hugh le Despenser arranged matters so that he could not prove his age until late in June of that year, three years ago now. It meant that the wardship was automatically secured by the king. When the inquest was held, he could prove his age, but it is taking him time to win it back.’

‘Why deprive the fellow of his rightful possessions?’ Baldwin asked pointedly.

‘I was content to be reasonable, Sir Baldwin, but he was not. I would have settled happily for the wardship, or for a manor or two. But he wouldn’t agree.’

Baldwin closed the book gently, but he couldn’t help the anger showing in his eyes. ‘So you took from this boy his income, because he wouldn’t submit to you and Despenser trying to steal his manors? I find your innocence a little hard to square with the facts of the case.’

‘We did not, perhaps, cover ourselves with glory,’ the bishop admitted. ‘But the fellow was utterly determined. It was frustrating to have him thwart us in that manner.’

‘Is he alive?’

‘I believe so. Unless he has seriously annoyed the Despenser, there is no reason to think he would have expired,’ the bishop said.

‘Those are the cases I found which showed most promise,’ Baldwin said. ‘It is possible, I suppose, that Biset found your attempt to steal his manor to be so reprehensible that he sent you the notes and his old seal. Or, perhaps the seal belonged to the ward’s father?’

‘He was only a tenant. He may have possessed his own seal, I suppose, but I would doubt that it would have been kept in such a valuable purse.’

‘The poor will often value objects that the rich consider pointless,’ Baldwin said. ‘The Crok family would seem to have more use for a seal though, or this man Biset. They were landowners themselves, so if one of them survived, he may carry the urge for revenge for your theft.’

‘I consider that word to be most harsh,’ the bishop protested.

‘Then what term would you seek to use?’ Baldwin demanded. ‘In God’s name, I declare, I have never heard such a litany of crimes confessed in all my years on the bench listening to the gaol delivery sessions! So, we have the Crok family, if any survive, and the Biset family too. I would concentrate your efforts there, Bishop.’

William nodded. ‘I’ll have messengers sent to learn from the local sheriffs whether the men are alive or not.’

‘Any others you’ve forborne to record, my lord Bishop?’ Baldwin asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

‘There is no one else. Occasionally there are some who will grow irritable with me,’ Bishop Walter said, ‘but that is natural when you are in a position of some power like me. That doesn’t mean that I need to listen to all of them.’

‘Such as whom?’

‘Sir Baldwin,’ the bishop expostulated, his hands thrown out in a gesture of openness, ‘how can I count them? Be reasonable! In London alone, I was hated by the commonality. All loathed me for I was the man who instigated the Grand Eyre of five years ago. It wasn’t my fault, but it was imposed on London while I had the position of Treasurer, so all blamed me. It is natural. Now, do you wish me to bring you a list of all the thousands of men who live in London? Of course not! Perhaps you would like me to compile a full audit of those who have cause to dislike my exactions in taxes in York, or in Winchester? It would leave you with many tens of thousands. That is the scale of the problem, you see. Any number could seek to assassinate me.’

‘In that case, my lord bishop, I would send my messengers, and hope to learn that all the enemies are dead or gone away. For those who have fled the nation are no danger to you, while those who are dead should also be safe, unless they have children who have decided to take on the feud.’

‘This is plainly someone who lives close,’ William said. ‘Might it be some other man who resents the cathedral for some reason, and has chosen to alarm the man who controls the canons?’

‘I had wondered that,’ Baldwin said, ‘but I can find no matters which could give cause for a man to try to attack the bishop. Are there any cases of fighting between the city and the cathedral in recent years?’

‘No, the city and we have been on most cordial terms. It is the advantage of being a Devon man through and through,’ the bishop said.

‘That being so, my Lord Bishop, I would urge you to be most cautious about your security and safety,’ Baldwin said. ‘I would suggest that you leave Devonshire for a little while, perhaps visit London, if it were not for the fact that you have told me you have alienated the whole population.’

‘There are some there who still appreciate me,’ the bishop smiled.

‘Bishop, there are many who appreciate you, I am sure. But there is one who doesn’t, and he is the one I am worried about. He has a good reason to want to kill you, I believe, and that means that I would prefer you to be far away from him. Since he knows you’re here, if you could move somewhere else, that may make you safer. It all depends.’

‘On what?’

‘If we learn that one of these men is still alive, and could be trying to attack you in earnest, then it would be easier for all if you were to travel while your guards watched for him. And if a man tried to follow you, and he had the appearance of one of these enemies, your men would be able to guess that he is the guilty one. So send men to learn about all these fellows, and to make sure if they can, that all these suspects are dead. Because dead men don’t kill.’

Montreuil

They all trotted from the town and made their way along the ridge beside the river, the curiously named Canche , which flowed westwards to Étaples. The duke did not want to go so far as that. Instead he took them to the old town of Berck, where they stopped at a wine shop and refreshed themselves. It had been a very easy canter from Montreuil, but the dust on the roads had clogged all of their throats, and the pints of wine they bought were very welcome, as were the thick slices of sausage and pottage fragrant with rosemary and sage. All felt considerably better afterwards.

Richard de Folville for one was glad to be away from Montreuil. Like Paul, he felt he was under surveillance. However, Mortimer was gone for now. He had ridden off earlier in the morning, apparently to meet with spies who had messages from England. He wasn’t expected back for two or three days.

The idea that any man might look at Folville and think him either untrustworthy or churlish was so insulting that he was tempted to take a knife to the bastard’s throat. Damn Mortimer! He was no better than Despenser! But Richard de Folville knew he had best not try any such attack. Better to be circumspect, for after all, he was a guest in this country. He could hardly kill a man here too, and run the risk of being forced to flee. Where could he go from here? Only to the outlandish wilds of the east, perhaps with the Teutonic Knights in their expansion along the coast, or down to the hot lands of the Portuguese or the Spaniards, helping protect them against the Moorish incursions. Neither was particularly attractive. Far better to return to Teigh and his church.