Michael Jecks - Dispensation of Death

‘No. We are to go to France. France!’ She clapped her hands and smiled in delight.

‘France?’ he said dully. ‘How long for?’

‘We won’t be there all that long,’ she said, suddenly quiet as she saw his pain. ‘The Queen has to go to discuss things with their King, and then we’ll be back.’

He nodded sadly. It was natural that she would be glad to travel to France. It was the centre of culture, of beauty, all that was lovely to a woman.

‘You aren’t happy?’

‘How can I be happy when I’m going to have to wave you goodbye?’

‘I will be returning.’

‘Yes,’ he said. But all he could think of was the long months of loneliness while she was gone.

Thursday after the Feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary 1

Bishop of Exeter’s house, Straunde

It was a foul morning. Even as Baldwin and Simon threw their belongings over their mounts and bound them tightly ready for the journey, Rob at Simon’s side, swearing as his frozen fingers fumbled with the straps and buckles, a sleeting rain greyed the heavens and Simon had to stop and pull on his broad-brimmed hat to keep the icy chill from seeping down the back of his neck.

‘Simon, Sir Baldwin; I wish you God speed,’ the Bishop called from the shelter of his doorway. He made the sign of the cross as the three crouched before him. ‘Be careful in your journeying, and may you return safely.’

Baldwin and Simon crossed themselves, and Rob hurriedly copied them, before all three mounted their horses and prepared to make their way homewards.

Before they could ride away, though, a messenger clattered through the gateway. ‘Sir Baldwin, the King wishes to speak with you before you go.’

Baldwin would say nothing as they made their way along Straunde and down King Street, but Simon could see his tension. The knight was wound up like a hempen cord, ready to snap in a moment.

‘You had best wait here,’ Baldwin said at the gatehouse to the New Palace Yard.

‘No. I am coming too,’ Simon said.

‘You weren’t called for.’

‘People often forget me. I am too insignificant,’ Simon grinned.

In the end Baldwin agreed, but as he passed his reins to Rob, he felt as though his boots were made of lead. He had no idea what the summons presaged, but was convinced that the King must have some reason that would not be to Baldwin’s benefit.

The guards stood aside as the two approached, their polearms held upright, and Baldwin and Simon were ushered into the King’s chamber by the steward.

‘Sir Baldwin. I am glad to see you again.’

‘Your Majesty,’ Baldwin said, bowing low. He half-expected to be arrested as he stood there.

‘You helped my wife a great deal over this strange attempted murder. Do you like her?’

‘My Lord? I … she is a wonderful lady.’

‘But do you like her?’

‘Me? My Lord, how could I aspire to like her? She is a lady so superior to me, that I would not know what to say to her.’

‘You are returning to your homes?’

Baldwin and Simon exchanged confused looks. ‘Ah, yes, my Liege,’ Baldwin managed after a short while.

‘Good. Well, God speed. I look forward to meeting you both again.’

‘Yes, my Liege.’

The King nodded and then astonished both men. He took a purse from his belt and gave it to Baldwin. ‘You have been of some service to me and my wife. This will compensate you for the travel and for your efforts when you arrived here.’

‘There is no need for this, Your Majesty!’ Baldwin gasped as he looked inside.

‘I think that there is. Travel is not cheap in my realm, and in any case, this is to compensate you for the return journey.’

‘What return?’

‘When I send you with my wife to France, Sir Baldwin. You will go with her to protect her on the way. And mind you do protect her — and advise me of any threats to my son when he joins my Queen to pay homage to his uncle.’

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