Michael Jecks - The King of Thieves

And so, it would appear that a man had managed to kill the boy, and then threw him into the chest in the kitchen when no one was there. It would be easy enough, the cook had said. Any time of the night up until the later watches when the bread-makers arrived, the kitchen would be empty.

‘And the chest? Would it have been locked?’

‘Why, yes. But I sleep in the side room there, and someone could have come and removed my keys from beside my bed without waking me.’

‘You do realise how this makes you look, Cook?’ Jean had said sternly.

‘What? Me sleeping there, me having the key to the chest, me being the one who shouted at him most, that sort of thing?’

Jean had grinned slightly at that. ‘Well, yes. Why should I not think you guilty of this crime?’

‘First, if you can find a single man to say that I beat the boys more than they deserve, the man’s a liar; second, do you think I’m stupid enough to kill a boy and then hide him for some days, only bringing him into my own place of work when no one had already found him?’

‘You mean he wasn’t there for long?’

‘I don’t know. But he wasn’t there when the King was still here. The chest was in use all the time until the King left the castle to go to meet his nephew. Ask any of the kitchen staff, they can all confirm that.’

‘I thank you. I shall do so,’ Jean had said.

And now he reflected on all he had heard. There was a great deal to absorb, though, and as the rain began to fall again, he started to hurry his steps.

Since the arrest of Nicholas the Stammerer, he had for some days walked cautiously with Stephen behind him, but in the last few days his caution had left him. Stephen was behind him, he knew, and that knowledge in itself was enough to make him confident.

Jacquot saw him approach from six hundred yards away. His hearing was not good, but his eyesight was adequate to recognise a man by his gait and bearing from many yards away, and today he recognised his quarry.

He eased himself out of sight in among some shadows at a doorway. The street was becoming quieter as men hurried home to avoid the curfew, and now he saw the Procureur’s servant striding along. A strange man, this, with his vacant expression and loping walk, because Jacquot had heard him talking to his master, and there was clearly a good brain in his head. He probably enjoyed leading others to assume he had little in his skull.

There was no point in killing him. Jacquot’s main ambition was to remove him as a threat. He couldn’t allow him to prevent his assault on the other man, nor to cry out or alert him.

Jacquot waited silently as Jean walked past, head down, and it was not until Stephen passed by him that he sprang out. In his hand was a small leather sack with a clod of earth inside. Jacquot cast a look about him for anyone watching, and then took three swift steps and swung.

At the last moment, Stephen turned and saw him. He was about to shout — he got so far as to open his mouth — to warn his master, when the clod of earth struck his head. His legs wobbled and he toppled.

Jacquot did not stop. He had removed the guard, now his attack was safe. There was a bend in the lane coming up, and he dropped his chin, hurrying his pace, eyes fixed upon the target. Jean was a dark blur in the distance. A torch was alight at the corner, where a tradesman felt anxious about waylayers in the entrance to an alley, and the Procureur walked around the light, staring into the alleyway, aware of dangers.

There was another torch at the next entry, and Jacquot hurried his steps, bouncing high to reduce the sound of his approach. Jean appeared to pay no attention, but as they came close to the next alley, he walked away from the entrance again, staring in for any danger there.

He would never have seen Jacquot, who slid in between his back and the opposite wall, never have noticed the quick flash of the blade, and possibly, very possibly, he was dead before his brain had realised that the blade had been thrust home so expertly. All he knew was that a hand had grasped his breast for an instant, and then the sliver of steel, darkened over a candle flame, pressed down, and there was a sharp pain in his shoulder, his muscles, and then his heart … and Jacquot gripped his body as it collapsed, easing it gently into the shadows. The blade was released, the knife wiped twice, briefly, on Jean’s shirt, and Jacquot muttered the Pater Noster as he watched the trembling of the corpse, listened to the rattling of the heels and heard the snoring of the last breath.

Then Jacquot rose and walked quickly up the lane to the next street. He was content. The job was done and he was about to become considerably wealthier.

Feast of Archangel Michael *

Louvre, Paris

Baldwin and Simon enjoyed a quiet day. They participated in the Mass held in the castle’s chapel, although Baldwin was keen to remove himself afterwards. There were many churches in Paris, he told Simon, and all were more elegant than this one in their appearance, more religious in their devotions, and a damned sight warmer to boot.

There was no doubt that the weather had changed now. Even the Duke wore a thicker tunic and a cloak lined with a band of glorious tan fur. It was that time of year when a man stopped thinking about what might be fashionable, and set his heart on more practical wear.

The Queen was ever religious, of course, and Baldwin was sure that she would be spending her day of rest reading some of the Gospels and remaining quiet until the hour of the meals. Meanwhile, he determined that Simon and he would take their ease among the streets of Paris.

‘It is a great city, this, Simon. One of the very finest the world can show us. All about you there are magnificent buildings, as befits the city of Philip Augustus and Charles Martel. There are few in the world who could equal the exploits of those two.’

‘Who was Charles Martel?’ Simon asked.

‘Martel was a great warrior. It was he who stopped the Moslem invasions of the Christian lands. If not for him, the Saracens might even now rule France, Simon. And if that, what would have prevented them from overrunning England too? He met them in a battle at Tours, which is where they were stopped, and Martel pushed them back until they were over the other side of the Spanish March. Then he turned his attention to the Germans, and fought them until they were kept away over the Weser, and brought safety and stability to the northern borders too. That was all many hundreds of years ago, but we owe our Christian faith to him, in large part. God chose him to protect His lands.’

Simon was wearing a sceptical expression.

‘At all times, the French have been the guardians of our religion,’ Baldwin added helpfully. ‘Philip Augustus was the first Holy Roman Emperor. He conquered all the heathens and created the Christian lands we know today.’

Simon grunted.

‘Come, Simon, at least attempt a display of interest. I have been forced to learn much in order to entertain you today.’

‘Oh, this is new to you?’

‘Not entirely,’ Baldwin grinned.

Simon grimaced. ‘I am worried, Baldwin, and walking about here will not help.’

‘What troubles you? Is it Meg?’

‘Yes. Every moment I spend over here I begrudge. I want to be at home again. I am anxious that she could be in danger, or at the least, fearful of attack from Despenser and his men.’

Baldwin was about to make a comment when there was a loud roar. ‘There you are! I was lookin’ for you both. You going out for a walk about the city? Excellent. I will be with you in a moment.’

‘Sweet Jesus,’ Simon groaned.

‘Do not be so antisocial, Simon,’ Baldwin said. ‘The good Sir Richard de Welles is a kindly man, and he is a loyal servant, too.’