Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

The Chaplain looked up as soon as she appeared, and stared behind her to make sure that she was for once alone, before slowly closing an eye in a wink.

Another letter was on its way to her brother.

Baldwin glanced about him with interest, but for him there was far less novelty value. Simon was new to this world, whereas Baldwin had been in London and here to Thorney Island before.

In those days, of course, he had been a man of power and authority, a Knight Templar. On occasion he had been sent here to England to discuss issues with the knights of the London Temple or, more rarely, the English King, Edward I, because it was understood that a knight who spoke the common language of those with whom he was to negotiate would have a greater understanding of the finer points.

That was all a long time ago. Yet he could not but help glancing up along the line of King Street, northwards, to where it met Straunde. Up there, he knew, was the outer wall of the City of London, with the great wall and defences. And just west of it lay the Temple. His heart and soul ached to see it again.

Not today, though. The Bishop was in a hurry to get inside the wall of the Great Hall and begin his discussions. It was no surprise.

Baldwin had been given plenty to think about after his talk with the Bishop of Salisbury.

‘I fear I heard you last night,’ he had said in the morning at Salisbury, while Simon was still asleep.

Martival looked at him, smiling wryly. ‘I dare say most of the servants here heard us arguing the other night.’

‘The Queen suffers greatly, so I have heard.’

‘It is said by some that she could be a traitor.’

‘Only by those who would see her destroyed. Perhaps their actions have made her an enemy to them. But to the King? She has had his children. I refuse to believe that she could be so dishonourable as to be the enemy of their father.’

‘There are examples of other women who have been still more … unnatural.’

‘Bishop, you do not believe that our Queen is capable of such acts any more than I. I heard you, remember.’

Martival had studied him carefully over the rim of his goblet at that. At last he set the drink down. ‘You overheard much that you should not have. But very well — no, I do not. This smacks of politicking, and taking advantage of those who are weak or incapable of defending themselves in order to protect others.’

‘Is it true, that there are moves to annul the marriage?’

Martival pulled a grimace. ‘That is what is said. That the King would seek to have his marriage declared null so that he might seek another wife. Perhaps.’

Baldwin did not rise to that bait. All knew the rumours of the homosexual nature of the King’s relationship with Sir Hugh le Despenser. ‘That would mean that all their issue …’

‘Yes. All the Queen’s children would become bastards. Our own Edward, the Prince of Wales would be disinherited, no more to be considered than the King’s other bastards.’

For all the accusations of homosexuality that had eddied about the King, there was no disputing that he was a virile man. He not only had the four children by Isabella, but all had heard how distraught he had been to hear of the death of Adam, his natural son, while they were on campaign against the Scots some years before.

‘They say that he can’t father children now. Since the birth of Joan he has grown so infatuated with Despenser that he can’t sire another with a woman. It’s been some years,’ Martival muttered contemplatively.

‘There are many couples who cannot breed to command,’ Baldwin pointed out.

‘We all know that. However, he is the King, and it is his duty.’

‘Things have come to such a pass that it is unlikely his Queen would happily accept his advances now, surely?’

‘True enough.’ The Bishop was quiet for a few minutes, and then he said, ‘You are an intelligent man, Sir Baldwin. I get the impression that you are not entirely in accordance with the opinions of Bishop Walter? He would seek to have the marriage annulled. He actually requested my support for such an action.’

‘I should consider such an annulment to be a cynical denial of oaths made before God,’ Baldwin said heavily.

‘You should be aware, then. I would not have you launching yourself into a void without aid. There are other rumours: that Despenser may have tried to force himself upon the Queen,’ Martival said.

That stilled Baldwin. All knew how dangerous an enemy Sir Hugh le Despenser could be, and for the Bishop to repeat a story like that, was either astonishingly foolhardy, or meant that it was common knowledge.

‘Yes, I know the dangers of repeating such rumours,’ said Bishop John, reading the knight’s expression correctly, ‘but you are going to speak with men such as he, and I would not have you advising the Bishop or others without being fully informed. The Queen has enemies — and chief among them is Despenser. You know what Bishop Adam Orleton called him?’ The Bishop cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps that is one detail I should not impart. Suffice it to say that the man is viewed with alarm by many of us in the Church, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Why are you so assured that I am a safe person in whom you may confide all this? I could be a Despenser ally, or someone seeking preferment.’

‘You could — I agree,’ Martival shrugged. ‘However, I do not think so. Your reputation has reached here. It is said that you detest any form of injustice, that you prefer to see men go free than convict an innocent man. Someone like that is hardly in the same mould as Gilbert Middleton or the other felons from the King’s household.’

Baldwin smiled wryly at that. Middleton, a knight from the King’s household had been upset when a relation was gaoled for making deprecating comments about Edward and his northern policies. In revenge, Middleton set out on a spree of robbing and killing that culminated in the capture and assault of two papal legates on their way to Scotland to try to agree a new truce between Bruce and King Edward. ‘No, I hope I am not made in the same way as him.’

‘So do I,’ Martival said, and would have continued, but then Simon walked in, and both men turned the conversation to less turbulent matters.

It was interesting, though, Baldwin thought now, that the two Bishops disagreed so radically; maybe that in itself was an indication of the kind of dispute he could expect here at the King’s council. Although, of course, he could not be sure of the reason for the Bishop of Salisbury’s extraordinary frankness. Perhaps it was largely because members of the Church were growing alarmed at the increasing tyranny of the Despenser family, father and son.

The country needed a counterweight to balance their power. Sadly, at the same time it needed to resolve the dispute with the French King in order to rescue English territories over the water.

All of which should make for an interesting time, Baldwin told himself. He glanced back at the Abbey and the palace area. Both were close enough now that only the grander buildings could be seen above the walls: the enormous belfry in the Abbey’s precinct, and the roof and towers of the main abbey church. Beyond was the roofline of the mighty hall behind its own walls.

There was the abbey gatehouse right ahead of them. Baldwin had thought that they would enter here, but instead the Bishop took them about the walls, into Thieving Lane, and up to the gatehouse where King Street met the Great Hall’s wall. Here there were houses built for the merchants who came each year for the Abbey’s fair, as well as smaller dwellings for the servants who worked in the Abbey or the palace.

The Bishop’s party rode past, entered the King’s palace area at the main gate, trotted past an inn, and then all dismounted at the rail near a stable-block.