Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

Pilk settled back, trying to look forbidding and strong, as he should now he had the Despenser’s full trust. A man like him was powerful. There were few others who could hope to emulate him. This was the sort of thing he’d dreamed of when he was younger, that he’d get to be the senior man in a great household like Sir Hugh’s. And now it was coming true — Sir Hugh was giving him responsibility.

His master didn’t trust Ellis any more than he should — that was obvious from the way he had asked Pilk to watch the man. No surprise there. Anyone with a brain could see he was unreliable, whereas Pilk had never failed. He was clever, he knew that. With a little luck and by using his brain, he would make his fortune.

With such cheering thoughts, he scarcely noticed their way. Long before he expected it, he could see the enormous belfry tower of the Abbey up ahead, and then they were off King Street and were riding in under the great gatehouse.

All here knew Sir Hugh, of course. The porters ducked their heads as he passed, whether he noticed or not. If they had not, he would have noticed, and as soon as he saw a dereliction of respect for a knight like himself, he would have them arrested instantly. He could make use of his authority as a household knight and member of the King’s inner council to ensure that any servant’s life could grow uncomfortable or downright painful. And any man who tried to complain would have the King to contend with, which would usually mean an even greater punishment, because Edward was ruthless towards any who caused trouble for his friends. Since the capture and murder of Gaveston, no one had been in any doubt that Edward would visit unequalled retribution upon them.

Pilk was still feeling that sense of warmth as he dropped from his mount and threw the reins to a waiting groom. The fellow caught them, frowning slightly at the arrogance of the action, but Pilk knew he was safe. Even grooms knew their places here, and the man’s eyes flashed to Despenser briefly before he took the horse away to the stables.

As Sir Hugh dismounted and made his way towards the Green Yard, tugging off his gauntlets as he went, Pilk walked to the Exchequer to see where Ellis could have gone. There was no sign of anyone there, though. The door was locked. So Pilk walked out to the Green Yard, and from there, he went in by the screens door to the Great Hall.

There he immediately saw his master standing before the knight Sir Baldwin.

‘I demand to know the meaning of this!’ Sir Hugh was bellowing.

Sir Baldwin was calm, but his eyes did not blink, which Pilk immediately thought made him look dangerous, as did the sword which was in his hand. Behind him on the floor lay Ellis, while another sword lay resting on his breast, the grinning Bailiff holding the hilt.

‘I was asking this man why he was following me and eavesdropping on my conversations with the Bailiff here.’

‘And you had to knock him down to do that, I suppose?’

‘Yes. I didn’t want him to try to attack me,’ Baldwin said. He still hadn’t blinked, Pilk noticed. The man stood very still, his sword’s point towards the ground, across his front, so that whenever he needed to, he could flick it straight up at his opponent.

‘Let him up at once!’

‘Certainly, but it will be your responsibility if he tries anything foolish,’ Baldwin said. He stepped back swiftly, and nodded to his companion, who withdrew his own sword.

Ellis looked up at the two men, and as soon as he was sure that he was safe, he rolled over and pushed himself upwards. His sword was in his scabbard still, and for an instant he thought about drawing it. Sir Hugh was silent, and Pilk wondered whether this was a part of the Despenser’s plan, to see Sir Baldwin provoke Ellis into an indiscreet attack. It would be sure to be helpful either way — whether Ellis killed Sir Baldwin or the other way about. Best, of course, would be for both to kill each other.

But Ellis was not angry enough to miss the danger in the Devon knight’s eyes. There were plenty of knights who bought their knighthoods with money that they had accumulated through their mercantile ventures. As soon as a man reached a certain value of income, he was expected and required to become a knight. It was how the nation kept its stock of warriors. Not this man. Although the sword looked almost new, without the scratches and nicks that spoke of past battles, that proved nothing. Plenty of men had nice, new, shiny swords because they had over-used their old ones. If he had to guess, he’d say this man was in possession of two or three swords that had seen good service.

‘I’ll ask you again: what were you doing following us?’

‘I was just walking along the hall, and when I reached this door, you knocked me down for no reason,’ Ellis growled.

‘There. Clearly this has been a misunderstanding,’ Sir Hugh said with a smile. ‘I suggest you put up your swords, lordings. We aren’t in the West Country now. It must be good for you to come to civilisation once in a while. Oh … Sir Baldwin. How is Iddesleigh? Have you been to see my manor at Monkleigh recently? It is not in very good shape since you were there last. Still, your little manor at Furnshill is all right, is it not? A nice place, so I am told. And I believe that you have a lovely wife and child there.’

Baldwin’s face did not alter. Pilk could have sworn it was graven in stone, he was so still. And then he smiled gently, and carefully pushed his sworn into the scabbard. ‘My Lord, I have a wonderful family. They are so precious to me that if any man were to try to touch them, I would see to his immediate destruction.’

‘You think to threaten me, man?’ Sir Hugh said. Pilk reckoned there was no anger in his voice, only a kind of mingled wonder and amusement. ‘And what would you do if I, for example, burned your house to the ground with your family inside it, eh? And Sir Baldwin, I could do just that, if I chose. So don’t make me choose. Let me remain contented and at peace, so that you and I do not fall out. I am a good master to my vassals and friends, you know. There is no need for you or your companion there to look for strife. Consider it. We could be friends.’

‘Why do you seek to offer me this, Sir Hugh?’ Baldwin said. ‘What use could my friendship have for you? What value, what utility, would I have for a great magnate, the King’s own friend?’

‘Nothing. I make the offer freely,’ Sir Hugh said, his hands outspread, palms up in sign of openness.

‘No,’ Baldwin said consideringly. ‘You wish to have something concealed about these murders. Perhaps it could be convenient for you to have me silenced.’

‘I think that things would be rather more advantageous for you, if you were to listen. It will mean you have a strong ally. Of course, if you prefer, I could be an enemy.’

Pilk smiled at that. The last few words had been spoken in that gruff voice which he and the others in the household recognised only too clearly. When he spoke like that, Sir Hugh le Despenser meant that he’d break someone’s leg if they didn’t do exactly as he wished.

Baldwin’s eyes narrowed. ‘So clearly it is something you are very worried about. I think that will make our investigation more interesting.’

‘It will,’ Sir Hugh said. He smiled. ‘Indeed, it will.’

Coroner John was unhappy. This new Keeper, Sir Baldwin, was a companion of Bishop Walter of Exeter, and that meant he was a close ally of Despenser, so his words could scarcely be trusted on any level. A friend of Despenser was an enemy of justice, in Sir John’s simple belief.

Yet the man had been instructed to find out what had happened to Mabilla, and who had killed the assassin. That should have been a weight off John’s mind, but in many ways it left him feeling that the entire investigation was to be whitewashed. Nothing of any importance would be discovered by men like that Sir Baldwin. The Bishop and Despenser had carved up the realm between them, and they were not the sort of men who would threaten their own positions. If there was skulduggery afoot, it was more than likely due to those two, so their own placemen would uncover nothing.