Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

‘Yes — you are absolutely right. He would have to be staying in a place where his movements would be easily concealed — possibly somewhere that was already so busy, that he could justifiably demand space in a barn or hayloft,’ Baldwin said thoughtfully.

‘Because then he could slip away in the darkness and no one would see him,’ Simon agreed.

Baldwin set off across the yard.

‘Hey — where are you going?’ Simon called out.

‘We need some men to search all the little inns and taverns hereabouts. If I understand my orders, I have been instructed to find out all I may about this man. I shall do so, then. I will command the King’s Sergeant to send riders to seek this place.’

Ellis had been at the palace from an early hour, and at midday he was in the main hall again, leaning against one of the pillars and staring at the throne. There had to be some reason why Jack had been killed and left here to be found. What that reason might be, he had no idea. All he was certain of was that if Jack had been there when the Queen passed by, he would have killed her. Of course, if another woman was in his way, like Mabilla, he might have been forced to hurt her, perhaps even kill her, in order to achieve his end. But none of those women would have been able to stop him.

Which meant that the man who attacked Mabilla was not Jack; thus her murderer was still abroad.

He was about to go and study Jack’s body again, just to see if anything else occurred to him, when he heard shouts and the rattle of horses’ hooves in the New Palace Yard. No man who was handy with a weapon could ignore the sound of cavalry. He hurried out to watch, and saw thirty or forty men on horseback streaming from the gate. Another twenty or so marched out with pikes on their shoulders.

‘Where are they going?’ he asked a cleric nearby.

‘They’ve been ordered to look for the place where the assassin may have been staying.’

‘Who ordered them to do so?’

‘Those two.’

Ellis took in the sight of Baldwin and Simon over at the far side of the yard. He was not surprised. However, when he saw the pair of them make their way to the Exchequer, he was intrigued. They must surely be going back to the hall as well, just as he had. There was a connecting door from the Exchequer to the dais behind the throne.

On a whim, he decided to listen to them, and he hurried off into the Green Yard before entering the Great Hall at the screens. Peering within, he could see the two men crouched behind the throne, and he slipped inside silently, walking up along the line of pillars, out of their sight, until he was only a matter of yards from them and could hear their conversation.

The Bailiff was saying, ‘Look at it. There is not enough.’

‘Let us take a look behind the tapestry. No — nothing there either. But the fact remains that the man was stabbed, had his tarse cut off and shoved into his mouth. Any of those wounds will have caused a deal of bleeding, but there is nothing in here.’

‘It’s hardly surprising, of course,’ Simon Puttock said sensibly. ‘This hall is constantly being used as a corridor between one or another chamber. No one in his right mind would come here and do something like that to a man’s body in full view of anyone who might walk in.’

‘Well, the lack of blood bears out your thoughts, Simon. So, the next question has to be: where on earth is all the blood? Where was he killed?’

‘If the killer was a man from here, from the palace itself, he could know any number of little nooks and crannies.’

‘And yet …’

‘Yes?’

‘If the man knew his victim was an assassin, we can suppose that the assassin was killed on his way to the killing or on the way back. If it was on the way back, we know that he did not intend to hurt the Queen, but was merely attempting to worry her, or had another motive and was always planning to kill the girl who died. The Queen in that case becomes merely an innocent witness.’

‘So where was he killed?’

‘Well, Simon, there are two entrances to this hall. We came in through one, the Exchequer. The only other one is the main entrance at that end there. The man was not too heavy, but I’d guess that even he would have been an uncomfortable weight to drag or carry too far. I would bet that he was near here when he died.’

‘In the hall here?’

‘That would be one possibility, but I have looked about the place a little, and have seen no sign of blood. No, I think we should look outside in the screens passage, the service chambers and the lower rooms near the King’s rooms.’

Ellis listened as they marched along the hall, gradually sidling about the pillar as they grew level and passed by him. Then he walked down the outer aisle, careful to move quietly and keep from the view of the entrance. Soon he heard them again.

‘Nothing here. If there were, we’d have seen it when we were in here the other day.’

‘Very well, Simon. Come, we must check in the buttery and pantry.’

There was a pause, and then a call full of dejection. ‘Nothing here, either, Baldwin.’

‘Nor here, Simon. This is madness. Logic says that the man must have been killed nearby. To carry a dead weight in the middle of the night with no candle or other aid would be extremely difficult.’

‘Baldwin …’

‘What, Simon?’

‘What of that door there?’

‘It leads to the King’s chapel, I believe.’

‘Is it locked?’

There was a pause for a few moments. ‘It is open, Simon. Come on.’

Ellis sneaked to the opening and listened carefully. He knew the door in question. It led into the ground-floor level of the King’s chapel. It was always locked usually, to ensure the King’s privacy, and his steward would only unlock it for Masses during which the King’s household would join him in prayers. It oughtn’t to be open.

As he peeped around the doorway, he heard them again.

‘Look here, Baldwin.’

Ellis leaned forward to see what Simon was speaking of, but as he did so, he felt a boot hit his ankle, and his leg was swept away, in an instant he was on the ground. He snarled as he rolled over to spring up, only to find himself gazing along the length of Sir Baldwin’s sword into the knight’s dark eyes.

‘I would like to speak with you, friend.’

William Pilk was with his master as Sir Hugh le Despenser left the Temple and set off along the road towards the Great Hall at Thorney Island. Not solely William, naturally. The Despenser was so convinced of his importance that he always tried to travel with a large entourage of men.

A good thing too, if the events of yesterday were anything to go by. The Bishop could have been dead with all those men throwing rocks at him. It would only take one to knock him down and the mob would have been on him. Pilk had seen it often enough before. When someone in power could be shown to be vulnerable, the crowds would enjoy ripping them limb from limb.

‘Pilk. Here.’

‘My Lord?’

‘When we get there, go and see how Ellis is doing. I want someone to keep an eye on him.’

‘Eh?’ Pilk stared at him.

Despenser favoured him with a look. ‘I don’t entirely distrust him, Pilk. But if I am to have a replacement for my steward and henchman soon, I’d best make sure that the man whom I trust is the one who watches him, eh?’

William Pilk felt his breast swell with pride. The idea that his master could think of installing him in Ellis’s place had never occurred to him. It was a proof, as if he needed it, of how much trust his master was putting in him now.

‘I’ll do it.’

‘Good. If there’s something urgent, come to tell me. I’ll be in the King’s private chamber, I expect.’