Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

Baldwin saw how he threw another significant look towards Despenser. Sir Hugh le Despenser was meanwhile watching Baldwin. ‘You said your name was Furnshill — and you are the Keeper of the King’s Peace in Devon. Have you visited my estates in Iddesleigh recently?’

‘I have visited much of Devon,’ Baldwin said stolidly. Then, bringing the conversation back to the matter in hand. ‘Do you know anything of an attempt upon the life of the Queen?’

‘I consider that an offensive suggestion, Sir Baldwin,’ Despenser said softly. ‘If I had heard of such a treasonous attempt, I should immediately have reported it to the King and the Queen herself. But there is only one man who would seek an assassin to remove someone from power just now. That treacherous hound, the Earl of Wigmore, Roger Mortimer.’

Baldwin nodded. He was glad at least to have deflected the present discussion away from talk of Iddesleigh. There he had thwarted the Despenser plans to evict other landowners, and prevented a minor war from breaking out between Despenser and Hugh de Courtenay. He was pleased with what he had achieved, but to bring it up now could make Sir Hugh le Despenser into a very dangerous enemy. Once Sir Hugh took against a man, his life could be significantly shortened.

‘What more can you tell me about the attempt on the Queen’s life?’ Baldwin said, trying to put that thought from his mind.

‘I can provide you with witnesses, should you require them,’ Despenser said. ‘My wife was there.’

‘I shall need to do that. They may be able to provide a clue as to who killed this man.’

‘What does that matter?’ Despenser asked irritably. ‘He was clearly a felon. He murdered a lady-in-waiting, and then was seen and killed. Who cares who killed him? He was a murderer himself.’

‘Perhaps he was,’ Baldwin said, ‘but we have no proof of that as yet. He could have been an innocent. The true assassin may have attacked him, dressed him in his own clothes, and then made good his escape in his new outfit.’

‘A far-fetched story!’ Despenser sneered.

‘But in case this man was intending to kill our Queen,’ Baldwin went on, ignoring him, ‘I shall ensure that no stone is left unturned in finding out whether the right man is dead.’

Despenser narrowed his eyes. ‘Surely this must have been the assassin, Sir Knight. Your suggestion is highly unlikely.’

‘You are happier to consider that some competent assassin tried to murder the Queen, but failed and was instead himself killed by a retiring manservant? And that the manservant in question has sought anonymity? That is surely more unlikely! His executioner must know that his King would shower money and titles on him for saving the Queen’s life?’

Despenser allowed his head to drop. ‘Perhaps.’

‘You mentioned Mortimer,’ Sir Baldwin went on. ‘He is a resourceful man. Perhaps he did order this assassin to attack the Queen. But if so, would he have left anything to chance? From all I have heard of him, when one attack fails, he would be likely to have a second ready to try. He was a master of strategy, I think, when he was the King’s General.’

A voice behind him answered, ‘Yes. He was.’

Baldwin turned, but even as he took in the tall, fair-haired man with the handsome features marred by one drooping eyelid, he was already aware that the rest of the men in the chamber had already bent their knees in submission, and he hurriedly followed suit, relieved to see that Simon had done likewise. Rob stood gaping for a moment, until Baldwin signalled to him with an urgent jerk of his head. Then the servant almost tumbled to the ground, he bent so swiftly.

‘My Lord.’

King Edward looked about the room, and when he spoke it was in fluent Norman. ‘We are concerned that someone could have made an attempt on a lady-in-waiting to our Queen. It is intolerable that an assassin should feel able to break into our palace and commit such a foul act. If there is the remotest possibility that this could have been an attack from the Mortimer, we must learn it.’

Bishop Stapledon was crouched low. It sounded to Baldwin as though he was speaking directly to the floor as he responded in Norman. ‘My Liege, we do not have many who would be capable of learning such secrets.’

‘Is there no one used to investigating crimes among you?’

‘There is this man, Sir Baldwin de Furnshill,’ the Bishop said, and as he spoke Baldwin set his teeth. He did not wish to become the King’s own spy and be set to investigate crimes here near London, many leagues from his home. He wanted to interrupt, but he daren’t offend his monarch.

‘Stand, Sir Baldwin. Let me look at you.’ Baldwin took a deep breath and obeyed. He found himself subjected to a lengthy study, and while the King glanced with some distaste at his scuffed and muddy boots, his sweat-stained and threadbare hosen, and his worn and faded red tunic, he felt himself flush a little.

The King was taller than him, but not by much. Edward II was just over six feet tall, and he had the frame to carry the height, being muscular and powerful. His shoulders were square, with none of the slouching that older knights sometimes displayed. His hair was golden and curling, and hung to his shoulders, while his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. He was handsome, but there was a kindliness that shone from the crow’s feet at his blue eyes, and the broad, high forehead showed that he was no fool. Any man with a head that size, Baldwin felt, must have something inside it.

‘You have had success in seeking felons?’

‘In my native land, my Lord. In Devon.’

‘Then you will exercise your mind here too, and we can say that you have had success in my territories, no matter where they lie,’ the King smiled. He glanced at Despenser. ‘I desire you to come with me, Sir Hugh. There are matters to discuss.’

‘My Lord!’ Baldwin said hurriedly. The King glanced back at him, frankly surprised to be delayed. ‘My Lord King, if you wish me to investigate, you must allow me to question all whom I deem necessary.’

‘Of course,’ he said with a nod, and began to walk away.

‘My Lord, that includes your wife. May I speak with her?’

The King hesitated. Then he slowly turned and stared hard at Baldwin.

Suddenly Baldwin saw the other side to this man. The blue in his eyes had frozen to ice. ‘You may speak to all you wish, Sir Knight, but if my wife chooses to evade you, that is her right. You may not command my Queen.’

Baldwin dropped his eyes and bowed again. ‘I have given offence. I apologise, my Liege.’

But the King made no further comment. He gestured to Sir Hugh le Despenser again and swept from the room, leaving Baldwin feeling drained and slightly shivery.

Sir Hugh le Despenser followed the King along the corridors and up the stairs into Edward’s private chamber. From here, in the warm room with the blazing fire, Despenser could see out through the tall, narrow windows over the Thames. Below, vessels of all types and sizes were plying their trade, oars and sails propelling them up- and downriver. In the past he had found the view to be a pleasant, relaxing sight, and he and the King had enjoyed many a evening up here. Not today, though. There was an edge to the King’s expression and his voice.

‘Sir Hugh, that man. Is he competent? I need no more upsets with my wife.’

‘My Lord, I am sure that he is capable, if the good Bishop says so. Bishop Walter is a most wise man.’

‘Meaning you accept no responsibility for anything that goes wrong, eh?’ Edward muttered petulantly. He walked to the window and put an arm up to the thick stone mullion as he stared out. ‘This … this attack, and now a man discovered dead. It is a dreadful day. I have never seen such things, not in my palace. I do not like it and I will not have it!’ He span on his heel and stared at Despenser. ‘Answer me honestly, Hugh. Was it you? Did you instruct an assassin to kill my Isabella?’