Michael Jecks - The Bishop Must Die

Watching, Simon saw a number of stevedores lining up. One in particular caught his eye. He nudged the oarsman and pointed. ‘Those men. What are they doing?’

‘They unload the ships that come in here.’

‘They’re all Londoners?’

‘I don’t know. Mostly, I suppose. There’s always one or two from outside, maybe, but most should be from London.’

‘They were carrying goods into the Tower the other day. I saw one of them there.’

‘They’re stevedores,’ the man said pointedly. ‘That’s what they do: carry things.’

‘Yes,’ Simon said. He could hear the contempt for this foolish foreigner in the man’s voice, but ignored it. He was sure there was something about that particular man that spoke of danger. Even as he had the thought, the fellow seemed to notice him in turn, and he saw the man’s eyes follow the boat down the river as though he had recognised Simon as well.

Recognised him as an enemy.

Tuesday, Morrow of the Feast of St Michael *

Tower of London

It was a grim family who gathered for their morning meal, and although Margaret did all she could to lighten the mood, she knew in her heart that it was not possible.

The departure of the king, together with his Treasury, had been preying on her mind. It was some relief when, later, the vessel returned, with the king and his adviser still aboard, but Margaret had heard the comments of the people in the Tower.

‘They all said he was running,’ she said in a low voice to Simon as she served him with ale.

‘What — from the realm?’ Baldwin asked.

‘They thought he was running because his wife would soon be here,’ Margaret said.

‘I did too,’ Simon admitted, ‘but if he runs, he will lose all. He has to remain here. At least here in the fort he is safe enough. And gradually, if he is besieged, he will find that his loyal subjects will come to support him. They wouldn’t let their anointed king be captured.’

‘You think so?’ Baldwin murmured. ‘Would you stay to defend Sir Hugh le Despenser if you were asked?’

‘No!’ Simon said, remembering the time months ago when the bishop had asked the same thing.

‘And that is the problem for the king. He, I think, believes that the kingdom will rally about him, but he has his principal adviser speaking words of caution in his ear all the time, because Sir Hugh knows perfectly well that as soon as he is captured, whether the king is with him or not, he will be executed for the manifest crimes for which he is responsible. He cannot live. There is nowhere for him to flee to in exile, save perhaps the Holy Roman Empire or beyond. Certainly, if he was found in France, he would be killed on sight.’

‘So you think Sir Hugh will persuade him to leave London?’ Margaret asked.

Baldwin nodded. He shot her a glance, and she knew he was trying to keep her spirits up when he said, ‘I think that Despenser will try to get him away, and that the city will go to the queen as soon as she deigns to show her face.’

‘Will she have the king arrested?’ Margaret said. It came out without her thinking, just a random thought, but as soon as she spoke, the hideous idea took hold of her.

It was unthinkable that a man anointed by God Himself should be thrown aside by mere men. There were times when a man set himself against God, but that was his own fault, of course. That a man might break God’s commandments and take the king’s throne, that was appalling. When the man involved had made his own oath of allegiance to the king, and now was committing adultery with the queen, the matter rose from the merely shocking to … Well, she didn’t have words to express her feelings.

Baldwin was looking at her again. ‘The main thing is, Margaret, I think you will be safe here with Perkin. If there were to be a siege, there is food enough in this fortress, but I don’t think it will come to that. Despenser will want to get away, and he dare not fly without the king at his side, for the limited protection Edward can provide him. And once they are gone, the Tower will become a secure and safe place for us all.’

Margaret nodded, and she sat at her husband’s side with a smile. But although she set bread and meats on her trencher, she found it impossible to eat. She had no appetite.

When the knock came on the door, Simon and Baldwin were sitting before the fire. The two of them watched as Hugh padded across the floor and pulled it wide.

‘It’s Sir Peregrine,’ he announced with a scowl as he stood back to let the knight walk in.

‘Simon, Sir Baldwin, I hope I see you well. Ah, Mistress Puttock, I trust you will not mind if I ask that I may make use of your men for a short while? Eh?’

In a few minutes, the men were all outside, Baldwin armed with a spare sword Sir Peregrine had brought for him, and then the coroner marched them across the green towards the drawbridge.

‘Where do you want to take us?’ Simon asked.

‘We are to walk to the cathedral. There is to be an announcement at St Paul’s Cross,’ the knight said, and although he was perfectly polite, he spent the time looking about them, eyeing the walls of the fortress, glancing at the keep, up at the towers, and over to the river.

‘Sir Peregrine? What is it that troubles you so?’ Baldwin said.

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘You have the look of a man about to ascend the steps to the executioner’s block,’ Baldwin chided him mildly.

‘I think you should ask this fellow, rather than me,’ Sir Peregrine said.

At the first gate they found William Walle waiting. His face lit up as soon as he saw the three approaching, and he stepped forward. ‘I am so glad you’re coming too. I was really worried when it was only me.’

‘What is happening?’ Baldwin asked, and Simon could see that he was becoming alarmed. ‘What are all these for?’ He jerked a thumb at the men behind them. There were about twenty of them, all men-at-arms with mail and some plate, and all carrying polearms. ‘They look like the garrison’s men, but they aren’t in the king’s tabards. What is going on, William?’

‘I thought that Sir Peregrine would have told you,’ Walle said. ‘No matter. There is to be a reading at St Paul’s Cross.’

He explained as they marched off. The king had issued a papal bull of excommunication to be read at the cathedral. It stated that invaders of England would become excommunicate and forfeit their souls.

‘That should settle the mood of the kingdom,’ Walle said, and rubbed his gloved hands gleefully. ‘You wait and see how the mob reacts to that!’

The mob had already begun to disperse as they trooped on to the bridge itself, then made their way up to La Tourstrate, and then along to Candelwryhttestrate, and from there to the cathedral.

This was fully deserving of its reputation for magnificence and beauty, Simon reckoned. A glorious, soaring building, set atop the Ludgate Hill, the first and most prominent hill in the city itself, it showed God’s glory in all its splendour. However, the place had sour memories for him, because last year he had been here with Baldwin when the Bishop of Exeter was almost attacked by a small mob. At the time Simon and Baldwin had thought that it could be another manifestation of Despenser’s ill-will, but it was as likely to be a mere mischance. The London populace were ever forward and troublesome.

Today at least they appeared less determined to disrupt. There was quite a crowd of men and women at the ancient folk moot.

It was a roughly shaped area of grassy land bounded to the south by the north-eastern wall of the cathedral, and to the north by the charnel chapel, and hemmed in by the massive belfry to the east. Simon and Baldwin went with the squire and Sir Peregrine to stand near the cathedral’s wall, where they should have a good view of events.