Michael Jecks - King's Gold

Baldwin hoped that they would not be necessary, but in these times it was not possible to be sanguine about their chances of keeping the King safe if they did not take all precautions. The rioting in Cirencester showed all too clearly that the Dunheveds were still a force to be feared. There had come reports of the Dunheved gang raiding other places about Berkeley. Wandering men were robbing travellers, while riders were out stealing cattle and sheep to feed their growing numbers. Meanwhile there had been a pair of murders in the last two days, and one hideous rumour of a woman who was raped repeatedly, while her farm was torched with her husband tied up alive inside it, but Baldwin had not been able to substantiate that.

It was in part due to this last story that Baldwin had taken to riding out across the country with Edgar. He had established a perimeter of farmsteads and villas at about a mile and a half distance all around the castle, and he would visit this each morning to ensure that all was secure. If incursions began to affect these places, he would become more concerned and close up the castle. Fortunately, so far there had been no signs of additional violence within his boundary.

However, for the last few days the atmosphere in the castle had grown more tense. All were aware of the potential for disaster, were the Dunheveds and their gang to get inside. While there was no outbreak yet of complete panic, there were some signs of growing alarm. Baldwin recalled that there had been a similar mood within Acre during the siege. His secret fear was that the men within the castle might themselves react by rebelling.

For his part, at least Sir Edward of Caernarfon appeared to be calm enough. Sir Ralph reported that he sat in his chamber: quiet and unemotional, drinking a quart of wine each afternoon. A kind of fatalism had settled upon him.

Baldwin spent as much time as he could with the man who had been his King, relieving Sir Ralph when possible, but it was wearing. It was one thing to sympathise with a man who knew he was soon to be executed, but quite another to sit with a drunken man. A one-night vigil was sad, but this was a vigil without end. Edward had not been openly condemned to death, but he retained the conviction that someone would kill him, and the strain showed. His face, for all its supernatural calmness, was lined and haggard. His appetite was gone, and without exercise his body was losing its fine tone and strength. It was a relief that Sir Ralph was staying with the King every night and much of the day too. Baldwin would have found the duty too onerous.

Today he rode about the circuit with Simon, the two speaking little as they travelled. There was no news from the vills or the farms, to their relief.

‘I don’t know how much longer I can stand this hanging around,’ Simon said as they cantered gently back towards the castle after their last stop.

‘I am sure that if you wish to, it would be possible for you to go home,’ Baldwin said.

‘It’s an idea I find appealing,’ Simon sighed. ‘But I wouldn’t leave you here with only Sir Richard to keep you company.’

Baldwin pulled a face. ‘The good Sir Richard’s appetite for ale, wine and dreadful jokes does create its own strain.’

‘And there are dangers from these mad brothers.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘The Dunheveds would appear set upon their course. They are determined to enrich themselves, but whether they intend to make a serious attempt upon the castle is a different matter.’

‘If they do,’ Simon said, ‘they will find a warmer welcome in Berkeley than ever they did in Kenilworth.’

‘Perhaps so,’ Baldwin said.

They rode on in companionable silence. Approaching the castle, Baldwin began casting about for any signs of spies in the land, but as usual there was nothing to give him cause for concern.

‘I begin to wonder if they will do anything,’ he muttered. ‘It is almost a week since their riot in Cirencester; months since they tried to raid Kenilworth. Perhaps they are losing men and cannot make an assault. What do you think, Simon?’

They were riding up the straight road to the gate as Simon shrugged. ‘Baldwin, you know the minds of men like them better than I do. If it were me, I would have decided that the old King was a lost cause. It’s been months since his capture. Why would anyone fool themselves into thinking that they could liberate him and return him to his throne when there are so many who would do all in their power to prevent that? Too many have their interests bound up with those of Sir Roger. Even if these Dunheveds did succeed in breaking into the castle and freeing Sir Edward — what then? Would they ride to London with a hundred men-at-arms and hope that the city would welcome them? They might get an unpleasant surprise, if they were to try it.’

Riding under the gatehouse, they swung from their saddles and Baldwin stood pulling his gloves off, when he heard a hail from the porter’s doorway.

‘Sir Baldwin. I am glad to see you again.’

Baldwin gave a slow smile. ‘John. I had not thought you would come here.’

‘I am recovered now, I thank you. The malady did not last long,’ John said.

Baldwin nodded, but could not help thinking that the man looked more unwell than before. ‘It is good to see you once more. You have heard of the threat?’

‘Yes, the Dunheveds are a terror to the whole land. But I will do what I can to help,’ John said — and he meant it with all his heart.

Thursday before Ascension

Willersey

Father Luke had been at the home of William and Margaret to help them to hold vigil over their son Adam, who had died suddenly yesterday. His mood was sombre as he walked the short way home. They would be bringing the body to the church later, and Luke must have everything ready to honour the poor young man. Only two-and-twenty — a terribly young age to die. For William it was doubly shattering, for he had no other sons, and Adam had not yet married. There was no son or grandson to carry on farming his land; no one to look after him and his wife when they grew old. All their hopes and dreams had shattered.

It was the same each time. Bereavement was always appalling.

For instance, Jen was wasting away by the day. The brightness in her eyes had grown dim, and the intelligence which had been her most obvious attribute, seemed to have been swallowed up by her misery.

She was there now, he saw, a small figure at the door to the church. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to meet her. He had so little time to spare now, before the arrival of the funeral party.

‘Hello, Jen,’ he smiled. ‘I am glad to see you.’

‘May I come inside for a little?’

‘Of course! All are welcome in God’s house.’ Luke opened the door, walked inside and held it for her. She followed him, and he noticed that her eyes went straight to the cross. It was good to see a child so sure of her faith, he thought. If it were not for the fact that she was still suffering from the loss of her father, he would have wondered whether she might have a vocation; as it was he would not attempt to test her for such a path, but instead would try to aid her to overcome her sadness.

‘Come, child, would you like to help me clean the floor? There is a funeral today. Adam Williamson — drowned, you know. Would you help me to prepare the church for him?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d like to.’

She was a good helper. While he went about the church preparing the altar, setting out candles, bread, and wine, she took his besom and swept the flagstone floor.

When he cast surreptitious glances at her, Father Luke was pleased to see that she had lost a little of her desolate look. Perhaps he should have her help a little more often. The girl obviously enjoyed being here.