Michael Jecks - The King of Thieves

‘What is it?’ Jeanne asked, walking to his side as Baldwin stood in the doorway, watching.

‘Quiet, Wolf! I am not sure. I cannot see their flags from here. I would guess that they are men called to fight.’

‘For whom, though?’

Baldwin shook his head. The cavalcade continued on its way, heading southwards and west, towards Crediton, or maybe Exeter. They could have been from Tiverton, from Lord Hugh de Courtenay’s castle, or perhaps they were from some further manor. All told there were seven-and-twenty, by his count. A fair-sized entourage for a minor lord.

It left him feeling unsettled.

‘They’re gone, Baldwin,’ Jeanne said soothingly. She could see that he was distracted by the sight.

‘It worries me, Jeanne. There are so many men riding about the land now, and many have no care for the law.’

‘We are safe enough here,’ she countered.

‘Are we? If Despenser took it into his head to crush us, he could do so in a moment. There are many thousands at his command.’

‘You fear for us, I know, husband, but there is no need to. Remain here with us, and all will be well.’

Baldwin nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on the small cloud of dust that enclosed the men-at-arms until they were out of sight between the trees. There was a clutching fear in his belly.

Louvre, Paris

Jean de Poissy was allowed in before the Cardinal had arrived, and he stood in the great room studying his surroundings.

It was the room of a man of power and authority, that was clear. There was the large desk, with books and parchments scattered all about it. A pair of spectacles lay folded on top of one large book, which Jean assumed was a Bible. The fireplace was made ready, although there were no flames. Today was so warm, it was good to enter a room like this and feel the soothing coolness. A large sideboard stood at one wall, and upon it were many silver plates and some goblets which adequately demonstrated the wealth of the man. Large tapestries covered the bare walls on two sides, while on a third there were many paintings of scenes from the Gospels. All designed, so Jean felt, to demonstrate the man’s position in the world, like the large goblet with gilding all about it. Interested, Jean walked over and picked it up.

‘You wish for wine?’

The door had been thrust wide, and the Cardinal marched in like a General. He was pulling off gloves as he strode past Jean, throwing them on the table and calling loudly for his steward. Soon the servant appeared with a large pewter jug, from which he swiftly dispensed wine and brought it to the two men, Jean’s in a smaller, pewter cup rather than the fine goblet he had admired. That was given to the Cardinal. Equally swiftly, the servant walked backwards to the wall, where he stood, jug still in his hands, head bowed.

‘This is a fine goblet, is it not? One of a group I once found. I gave the rest to the Pope himself, Pope Clement of blessed memory.’

‘The gift was appreciated?’

‘It brought me the position I hold today,’ the Cardinal said without boastfulness. ‘It often helps to achieve things when you have the ability to smooth the way with money, don’t you find?’

‘Not in my world,’ Jean said.

‘No. I suppose not.’

‘You wished to see me?’ Jean said.

‘Yes. I wanted to know whether you had managed to proceed with the investigation?’

Jean studied him. The Cardinal was clad in a Cardinal’s clothes, but they had been cut from fine velvets and silks, their colours somehow brighter and more expensive-looking than Jean was used to seeing. The Cardinal was a tall man, with a face that had a certain severity about it. He had the deep brown hair of a man from the far south, and the olive complexion to go with it. He peered at Jean now from narrowed eyes.

‘Yes, my Lord Cardinal,’ Jean responded coolly.

‘And?’

‘I am attempting all I may.’

‘Also, this theft — I trust you have heard of it?’

‘My apologies, what theft?’

The Cardinal made a dismissive gesture. ‘There has been a purse stolen from one of my clerks. Any place this size must have its share of thieves, I suppose, but to think that a man would dare take a purse within the walls of the Louvre … you must admit, that is alarming.’

‘I fear I have not been made aware of this crime, Cardinal. If you are concerned about it, you should report it to the castellan, not me. Now, I know you told me all you could about the man whom you discovered dead, but I hoped that you might have a little more information for me.’

‘Such as?’

‘Perhaps you can remember something about this man. Were you expecting to hear from somebody about treasure?’

‘Did I mention treasure?’

‘No, but the servant who came to seek you and brought you to the dead man, told me that the fellow had asked to see you on a matter of extreme urgency — about some treasure. Perhaps you had forgotten this?’

‘I do not recall it. Perhaps he did say something, but the sight of the dead man drove all other thoughts from my mind.’

‘I see.’

‘You seem to believe I know something about this man,’ the Cardinal said with a trace of testiness.

‘I would expect you to, yes. The man came here from some distance away. He was not from the local garrison, nor, so far as we can discover, was he from any of the households nearby. A foreigner, and yet he could ask for you by name. He plainly knew of you, if nothing more.’

‘Mon Sieur, many, many people know me. They know me by sight, they know of me by name. I am a man of God, and high in the Church’s establishment. All know me, and yet you surely do not think I know them in return?’

‘You are of course quite right. Now, this treasure. What could he refer to?’

‘I have no idea. As I said, I do not know the man, I do not know where he came from, nor why he asked to see me. Plainly, I also do not know what he spoke about.’

‘Naturally. So you cannot help me in any way about this fellow.’ Jean nodded to himself. ‘Tell me, do you often have men come here to speak with you like this?’

‘No.’

‘Very strange that he should have come, then,’ Jean noted. He glanced about him at the tapestries. ‘Very pleasant chamber you have, Cardinal.’

‘Thank you. I find it pleasant.’

‘Fortunate the man didn’t come straight here, isn’t it? If he’d been killed here, there’d be blood all over the place.’

‘Yes? Well, perhaps it is a good thing, as you say. There was much blood?’

Jean nodded. ‘Enough.’

‘Oh. I truly did not notice.’

Outside, Jean stopped and looked up at the walls behind him. On the second storey, where he had just been talking to the Cardinal, he was sure that there was a shadow in the window, a shadow that swiftly moved out of sight.

The servant who had escorted him here from the chapel was lounging at a wall, and Jean beckoned him.

‘Boy? You look like the sort of fellow who’d be happy to earn a few sous.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘It involves nothing too strenuous. What is your name?’

‘Philippe.’

‘Very well, Philippe. I require your help. You will be aiding me in learning all we may about this dead man.’

‘No one knows anything about him, though.’

‘No. So anything we learn will be an improvement, will it not?’

‘But I have my duties!’

‘And so do I. Mine have just been altered, as have yours. In God’s name, boy, I am seeking a murderer. And now, so are you .’

‘They won’t like it in the kitchen. They’re short-staffed as it is.’

‘Less sulking, boy. The staffing levels in the Louvre are not our concern. The fact that a man has been killed in the King’s castle is more important to us. Especially since we have no idea who he was. That is the first question: who may know him?’