Michael Jecks - King's Gold

‘As am I,’ concurred Sir Richard.

‘Then, my friends, I recommend that you both bend your efforts to discover the true culprit,’ Sir Ranulf said.

Simon looked at the food on his trencher. He had lost his appetite. The local courts would decide upon the guilt or innocence of Dolwyn, and the comfort of passing the responsibility to another was shattered. He knew he must seek the murderer.

Of the men who had cause to wish to see Sir Jevan dead, he felt sure that the Bardi brothers or Alured were the most likely suspects. He knew that they had motives: Benedetto to punish Sir Jevan for attempting to kill Matteo; Matteo in revenge for his injuries. Both would think Sir Jevan guilty, because Alured had shown them that the man was a murderer.

But whoever had killed him had used an axe and left it in the body, just as Ham had been murdered. And Dolwyn was accused of that murder too.

Sir Ranulf continued, ‘I would aid you, but I have two more corpses to view.’ He sighed, pushed his trencher from him and leaned away from the table. ‘The last year has provided me with more corpses than I ever wished to see.’

‘Aye,’ his clerk said. ‘And it will become worse.’

‘How so?’ Sir Richard said. ‘The kingdom is at ease.’

Rodney looked at Sir Ranulf. ‘Do you really believe the land is at peace? While Sir Edward of Caernarfon lives, there is a rallying point for those who would rebel against the new order. If we are not careful, he will be released and the wars will start again.’

‘War!’ Sir Ranulf said. ‘I know little of war, but I do know murder when I see it. And there are plenty of men willing to free Sir Edward. They say that he is still the legitimate King.’

‘We have to keep him safe,’ Sir Richard said.

‘From harm,’ Sir Ranulf added.

Simon nodded too, but as he glanced at Sir Richard, he thought the knight sent a nod and slight wink in his direction. Sir Richard would help him find the murderer of Sir Jevan, he felt sure.

Cirencester

The news that they had been expecting came all too soon. Frere Thomas was already calmly sitting on a bench in the little tavern when his brother walked in.

Stephen was wearing a short tunic, a cowl and hood, like any number of peasants in the area, and the two brothers nodded to each other imperceptibly as their eyes met, but beyond that there was no sign that they had seen each other.

Thomas watched Stephen walk to the bar and lean on it, asking for ale, while all the time, Thomas’s ears were straining outside. There was nothing to indicate that either had been followed in here, and all his anxiety fled as he realised that their plans had worked. They were safe.

He stood, made a smiling bow at the wench at the bar, giving her the sign of the cross, then walked out to the bench at the door outside. A few moments later a shadow fell over him, and he knew it was Stephen.

‘Well?’

‘As we thought, Tom, the King has demanded that all his men leave to join him up in the north. The lands about here are growing empty.’

‘Good. Then we should begin to make their lives more exciting,’ Thomas said.

Stephen said no more. The men in their gang knew what was expected. He walked away from Thomas, and the latter uttered a short prayer for success. He did not plead his case or that of Stephen, he merely asked that their patron, the man who had once been King, should be returned to his throne. As God must require.

And that thought itself was enough to make him content.

Berkeley Castle

Sir Ralph was surprised when the knock came, and a moment or two later Sir Richard and Sir Ranulf were in the chamber and introducing the coroner to the King.

‘Your Highness,’ Sir Ranulf said, bowing. ‘I hope I find you comfortable?’

Sir Ralph smiled to see the expression on Sir Edward’s face. It was that of a man who has been given a pot of iced water in a desert. ‘As you can see, sir, it is not the accommodation I would have chosen,’ he said deprecatingly, with a gesture around the room. ‘But it suffices.’

‘You have all you need?’ Sir Ranulf asked.

‘I have excellent company, my friend, but I lack books. That is my greatest sorrow.’

‘I shall ensure that books are sent to you, sire.’

Sir Ralph frowned. It was unkind of the coroner to pretend to help. He thought he should interrupt, but was unsure how to.

‘I would be grateful.’

Sir Ranulf glanced about the chamber with a critical eye. ‘You must let me know if there is anything else you need, sire. And one other thing. Her Royal Highness, your wife, wishes me to tell you she thinks of you with fondness, and has asked me to arrange for some presents to be brought. Wine, some clothing, and choice meats. I shall arrange this with the custodian of the castle.’

Sir Richard appeared to stir himself. ‘Hey? Do you have a letter from Her Highness, or anything to confirm all this?’

The coroner smiled. ‘I was asked to visit to enquire about Sir Edward. It was simply fortuitous that you had a death here as well.’

Sir Ralph rose and peered at the letter with Sir Richard when Sir Edward had studied it.

‘It is genuine,’ Sir Edward said. ‘Please tell my wife that I am glad, and grateful for her thoughts and gifts.’

Sir Ranulf spoke with Sir Edward for some little while, and Sir Ralph was glad to see his lord keenly enthusiastic all the while. Only when the guests had left the chamber, did Sir Edward’s mask fall.

He fell into his seat and covered his eyes.

‘Sir Edward?’ Sir Ralph rose to his feet, perturbed.

‘What does she wish to do? Torture me? Promising presents — books, clothes. Why, to remind me of all I have lost? Or does she tease me, showing me all the luxuries that her damned lover enjoys?’

Willersey

The day was overcast and heavy with the threat of rain as Father Luke walked from his church door to the little patch of garden, carrying his hoe.

‘Hello, Jen,’ he called with a smile.

She gave a startled jump like a young foal, and turned a face of tragic misery to him.

‘Jen,’ he said, shocked at the sight. ‘Please, maid, come here and let me hold you.’

She slowly crossed the path to him, and he put his arms about her. ‘Dear child, you are skin and bone,’ he said. ‘You must eat, or you will not flourish.’

‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘I have no hunger.’

‘Jen, your father wouldn’t wish to think that his death would cause yours,’ Luke said firmly. ‘You need to eat and remember how good your father was, so that his memory, and your love for him, will live on.’

‘ I miss him so much!’ she blurted out, sobbing.

He knelt before her, and she put her head on his shoulder, weeping with all the passion of a grown woman.

Father Luke cradled her skinny body and had to blink to keep his own tears at bay. This poor little girl.

He felt as though the despair of the world was resting on his shoulders.

Second Saturday after Easter

Berkeley Castle

Simon and Sir Richard sat on a bench outside the gaol as Dolwyn, Harry and Senchet were brought to them.

The day was warm and humid, but of the three men, Dolwyn shivered like a man with the ague.

‘Do you know why we’ve brought you here?’ Sir Richard asked, his eyes resting on each of them in turn.

Harry spoke first. ‘We know nothing, sir. We were asleep in our beds when the screams woke us, and we followed Master Dolwyn to find the cause, as we should.’

‘You are here because we believe you,’ Simon said. ‘Look, we do not think you are guilty. It makes no sense for any of you to have slain Sir Jevan, so far as we can see. So we wish to do what we may to have you released. But in order to do that, we have to know if you can tell us any more about what happened, the night Sir Jevan died.’