Michael Jecks - King's Gold

‘My duties are to Him. And He would see me fed!’

‘Ach! Then yes, Sir Richard, we will break bread with you. You can tell us about the man found dead while we eat, if you would be so kind.’

Near Macclesfield

John watched the body slump and tumble to the ground. When he was a lad and had helped the local warrener net and kill his rabbits, John had seen bodies fall like that. Not a twitch, not a sign of the passing spirit, just one moment alive, the next dead. The arrow must have penetrated his spine to kill him so swiftly, he thought, and he stared down in shock at the sight of David Monteith’s body lying on the grass.

The rest of the Scottish knew as soon as their leader fell that their own position was hopeless. The archer sat in his saddle with his bow still in his hand, incapable of speech. Instead he stared at the body on the ground.

Baldwin rode over and took the bow from his unresisting fingers. ‘You will come with us. Edgar and John, place the dead man on his horse. We shall take his body to Lord Berkeley. You, archer, what is your name?’

‘I’m James, sir.’

Baldwin looked at the fellow. He was young, probably not yet twenty summers old. He had been aiming at Baldwin, John knew, and steeled himself for the knight’s anger.

But he did not kill the boy. Instead, to John’s amazement, Sir Baldwin put his hand on the archer’s. ‘You are to come with us. You have done enough in this war. Your arrow was directed by God.’

John was troubled as they rode back to the column. He knew that Monteith’s men were due to join the Dunheveds at Berkeley. If Lord Berkeley spoke with James, he might learn of their plan to save Sir Edward of Caernarfon.

He listened as the men were questioned, and when James was released from Lord Berkeley’s interrogation, badly beaten, he knew he must warn the Dunheveds.

A short while later, Lord Berkeley came and spoke to Sir Baldwin.

‘Sir, you have an interest in protecting Sir Edward of Caernarfon, I think.’

‘I feel it my duty,’ Baldwin said levelly.

‘I have a task that should be to your taste, then. I require you to ride back to Berkeley and warn the castellan that there are men gathering about the castle. These fellows would tell us nothing about their reasons for travelling, but I think that itself is an indication.’

‘I don’t understand, my lord.’

‘Monteith was a vassal of Donald, the Earl of Mar. You know of him?’

‘Yes.’

He would be known by all, John thought. A strong, fearless and resourceful Scottish knight, he was intensely loyal to King Edward II.

‘He was at Bristol, I heard, before the city was captured by Queen Isabella,’ Baldwin said.

‘Yes, but he escaped. He rode to Scotland to demand aid for Sir Edward,’ Lord Berkeley said, ‘and if his men are riding down here, away from York, avoiding larger towns and cities, Mar is near too. I can see no other purpose in his journey but the rescue of Sir Edward.’

Baldwin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Excuse my bluntness, my lord. You know that I am devoted to Sir Edward of Caernarfon, yet you tell me to ride with messages to ensure that he will be kept confined?’

‘Sir Baldwin, I do not wish it said I colluded in the murder of Sir Edward! Imagine, were a band of thieves, cut-throats and outlaws to raid my castle, what would happen to Sir Edward? He would try to escape, and entering the mêlée be cut down or shot full of arrows. My little castle may not be the largest in the land, but it is sufficient as a defensive fortress. I would not have him die there. I know your loyalty to Sir Edward, and you know your duty. Protect him. Ride to Berkeley, ensure they are aware that the castle is at risk, and you may save Sir Edward’s life.’

Baldwin nodded, and glanced about him. ‘Edgar, we return south,’ he said wearily.

John had no wish to return to Berkeley, but he must. Someone had to warn the others that their plot was unravelling. He cleared his throat. ‘Sir Baldwin, you may need a spare man if the castle is attacked. May I accompany you?’

‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said, and now those dark, intense eyes were turned upon John. It felt as though the knight could see through to John’s heart.

Berkeley Castle

The little hallway in which Sir Jevan’s body lay was beginning to stink. Simon, walking behind the two coroners, was struck by the odour long before they reached the corpse. Flies were everywhere.

‘Damn these fiends,’ Sir Richard said, waving his hand to keep them from his face, which bore a wholly untypical glower of disgust.

Simon had known Sir Richard for some years now, and had never seen him flinch at the sight of a corpse before, however ancient and noisome. But this was different. The stench in here was overpowering.

Sir Ranulf and his clerk walked with Sir Richard to stare down at the body.

‘I think,’ Sir Ranulf said, ‘we should conduct this inquest as soon as we may.’

The clerk had thrust his face into the elbow of his sleeve. His voice was was muffled as he replied, ‘Yes. And then have the poor fellow buried.’

The coroner nodded, still staring down at the ravaged figure, and then turned on his heel and was marching away. ‘Right, Sir Richard, could you aid me in collecting together all the men in the castle and in the town for our jury. We shall require them to gather here in the morning. With luck we can expedite matters and have the body delivered to the priest by luncheon.’

‘Of course.’

Sir Ranulf looked about him as they emerged into the daylight again. ‘This is a good little fortress, isn’t it? And I believe you have a prisoner here.’

‘True. Sir Edward of Caernarfon is held in the back over there,’ Sir Richard replied.

‘I should like to see him,’ Sir Ranulf said.

Sir Richard smiled. ‘There would be no trouble with that, Sir Ranulf. But anyone visiting Sir Edward must remain tolerably polite.’

‘But of course,’ said Sir Ranulf. ‘How else would one behave to our last King?’

Second Friday after Easter

Berkeley Castle

The castle had returned to its accustomed quietness after the inquest, and the men of the jury had dispersed back to their fields and labours by early afternoon.

Simon and Sir Richard sat with the coroner and his clerk in the hall while the two ate.

Sir Ranulf was an astute man, Simon learned. This was another in the mould of Sir Richard, who appeared to have a genuine interest in discovering who was guilty of a crime.

‘The man Dolwyn was not convincing,’ Sir Ranulf said meditatively. ‘And he is owed a hanging, I hear.’

‘He had the manner of a man determined to remain in gaol,’ Sir Richard commented, pulling the thigh from the chicken on the board before him and taking a gargantuan bite. ‘I think he has a lot of secrets to keep.’

‘But do you think he killed Sir Jevan?’ Sir Ranulf asked.

‘No. And I’m glad that the task of deciding his guilt or innocence is up to a Justice and not me,’ Sir Richard told him.

Simon shook his head. Dolwyn had cut a mean figure. He had the pallor of a gaol-bird already, and his responses to all questions were insolent, as though he was already convinced he would hang for this murder. ‘I think him innocent.’

Sir Richard glanced at him. ‘Perhaps. Not our place to decide.’

The coroner for the county stared at his trencher with a frown. ‘There would appear to be few friends of this Sir Jevan. Soon all the men here who could have committed the crime will be flown. Then justice will be difficult to pursue.’

‘I am sure that Harry and Senchet had nothing to do with the murder,’ Simon said.