Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

‘Baldwin, you look as though you have had a shock. Is it true that the King asked to see you?’

‘I fear so, my Lord.’ He studied the Bishop. To his eye, Walter looked even more careworn and weary than he himself felt.

‘Why “fear”?’

‘The King asked me to stop enquiring about the attempted murder on his wife, and instead commanded me to look into the attempt on Sir Hugh last night. I left him in no doubt as to where I thought my responsibilities should lie.’

‘Did he see you alone?’

The Bishop was peering at him in that short-sighted manner which was so familiar to Baldwin. If they were in his parlour, Walter would by now have reached for his enormous spectacles, and even now would be holding them at the join over his nose, staring at Baldwin with eyes magnified to giant proportions.

It was a curious question, Baldwin thought, but he shrugged and nodded. ‘There was only a door-guard in the room with us. No one else.’

‘He was angry, you would say?’

‘Absolutely. He was quivering with rage at the thought that someone could be so bold as to attack his favourite in his own palace yard. I think the audacity of the attack was what affected him so dramatically.’

‘Perhaps,’ the Bishop said musingly.

Baldwin cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. ‘You know more of this than you are telling. Why do you question my view?’

‘You are an astute reader of a man’s mind, Sir Baldwin,’ the Bishop acknowledged. Then his face grew more serious even as he dropped his voice. Simon had to lean forward to hear him. ‘Let me put it like this: if a man were to attack your wife in your yard, how would you respond?’

‘I would be enraged … I see.’

‘But he cares little!’ Simon protested.

Baldwin shook his head. ‘His affection is given to another, Simon. He is most angry because of the attempt on the life of his beloved.’

Simon’s mouth fell open in comprehension. Of course: Despenser was the King’s especial lover, if all he had heard and seen was correct.

‘That could explain it,’ the Bishop said.

Shortly afterwards, another Bishop, a man whom Baldwin heard described as Bath and Wells, arrived and engaged Stapledon in conversation. Suddenly his mind was taken back to the Chaplain in the Queen’s chapel. He said he had been installed by Drokensford, the Bishop of Bath and Wells, and Baldwin studied the latter with interest.

He was a tall, handsome man, with curling grey hair that almost sprayed out from beneath his mitre. Grey it may have been, but it was thick and gleaming. There was no weakness in his face, either. Baldwin saw astute eyes set in a face that gave nothing away, but clearly the man missed little. Even as Baldwin studied him, Drokensford looked across at him and murmured a question to Stapledon. Soon afterwards the Bishops were before Baldwin and Simon, and the two had to kiss another Episcopal ring.

‘I believe you are the knight who was looking into the attempt on the Queen’s life?’

‘That is right, my Lord Bishop,’ Baldwin agreed. He was surprised that this great Lord would have any interest in the affair. It appeared to have all the hallmarks of a rather grubby attempt, not the sort of thing that should have appealed to a man in Drokensford’s position. He was intrigued to learn what his interest was.

‘I have heard from my Lord Walter that you are not to look into the man who last night made an attempt upon the King’s especial adviser.’

‘I take the view that the person of the King’s consort is of more moment than a man who, though he is important, is nonetheless merely a knight,’ Baldwin said firmly.

Drokensford smiled at the certainty in his voice. ‘Your judgement shows great honour, Sir Baldwin. However, I simply wonder whether there are aspects which may have evaded you?’

‘I am scarcely omniscient!’

‘Perhaps. I merely wonder whether it could be advantageous to seek the attempted assassin of Sir Hugh, since I should have thought that two assassins in one palace in a week is enough of a coincidence for anyone.’

‘I do not think I follow you, my Lord Bishop.’

‘Come — I think you follow me perfectly well! We have passed many years without a single assassin appearing. Then within a week we have two. Surely both should merit investigation, in case this unseemly rash of murderers might have a logical explanation behind them.’

‘Of course,’ Baldwin nodded.

‘I merely leave the thought with you, Sir Baldwin. If you look into one assassin, why not look into both?’

‘And if I seek neither?’

His words took both the Bishops by surprise. Stapledon thrust his chin at Baldwin and scowled with the attempt to see his face, while Drokensford’s mouth fell open for a moment before he realised how unedifying his expression must appear. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Both assassins are dead. The second, it is true, died in his attempt on the life of Sir Hugh. The first, though, was killed without any comment. No one claimed responsibility. That is curious, is it not? If a guard had come across him in the palace in the middle of the night, recognised him as an intruder and killed him, would he not be in front of the King’s steward the very next morning, demanding a reward for his selfless devotion to his duty? And he would have raised the roof that night with elation, for having done a job so well. Have you ever known a guard do the right thing and then conceal it? Have you known any servant hide his behaviour when it only redounds to the benefit of his reputation? Good heaven, Bishop, the more I think about this matter, the more certain I am that the man who killed the assassin was desperate to hide his part in the matter. And he killed the assassin to protect someone — perhaps even to protect his true prey.’

‘The assassin killed that lady, Sir Baldwin.’

‘No — someone did. And I have to wonder why. It is stretching credulity too far to consider that Mabilla was being sought out by one assassin, a second was seeking another victim, and the two met in the palace with disastrous consequences for the one found dead.’

‘I agree. That scarcely holds water.’

‘Yet there was an assassin. And he was killed. So somebody in the Palace wished to stop his murderous attempt. I think it is fair to consider that the man who killed Mabilla was almost certainly the same man as he who killed Jack, the assassin.’

‘You have his name?’ Drokensford was shocked. ‘I had thought he was a complete stranger to all in the Palace.’

‘Oh no. He was commissioned by someone here to go and make his daring assault.’

‘Then who could have ordered that?’

Baldwin felt Stapledon’s eye on him warningly. ‘Somebody who wished for the Queen to be killed,’ he replied. ‘You may have more idea of that than me.’

The Bishop eyed him doubtfully. ‘I have a feeling that the sooner the poor lady, our Queen, is away from here and back at her home in France, the safer she must be.’

‘I cannot argue with that, my Lord Bishop.’

‘Are you quite sure that this dead killer was not the man who killed Mabilla?’

‘Quite sure. The man who killed Mabilla was witnessed. He was someone who was dressed quite differently from Jack atte Hedge, and interestingly, Mabilla’s killer wore a mask. I feel sure that Jack felt no need of such a device. He would kill any who saw him; as an assassin he could kill without compunction, after all. While the fellow who killed him, and incidentally Mabilla as well, had his face hidden so that the ladies in our Queen’s party would not recognise him.’

‘What reason would this second man have for hurting her, then?’ Stapledon demanded.

Baldwin was saved answering that by the blaring of trumpets. The King was returned.