Michael JECKS - The Oath

‘I see. I am glad of that at least,’ Emma said. She dried her eyes and sniffed a little, then sat back. ‘So, master, will you search for her murderer?’

Simon gave a sad smile. ‘If ever a man picked a good time to commit a crime, it was this fellow. If you are right and the Squire has long since left the city, it will be difficult to accuse him. Also, he could not return with the gates locked. And if Squire William did not kill her – who did? Cecily was only a maidservant, so I do not imagine that she had anything of great value to attract a thief. Did she carry a purse?’

‘Only a small one.’

‘So the motive was unlikely to be robbery.’

‘Perhaps the Squire is here? He could have got back yesterday before the gates were locked,’ Emma said.

‘Perhaps so,’ Simon said, unconvinced.

‘So you will seek the murderer? Please?’

‘I will do what I may,’ Simon said. While the city holds , he wanted to add, but he could not be so unkind. Meanwhile, he would need to speak with the castellan.

River Avon near Bristol

Baldwin and Jack fretted as they waited, although Redcliffe was quick enough, throwing clothes into a leather satchel while his servants were packing the few belongings of any value and concealing them about the house. A hostler prepared his mare, and soon he was with them again. ‘I am ready, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Then let us go!’ Baldwin said, keen to be off.

‘One moment.’

There was a clatter of hooves, and Baldwin turned to see Roisea trotting around the corner on a great bay mare.

Baldwin turned to stare at Redcliffe. ‘You think to bring your wife?’

‘Would you expect me to leave her here, so that she can be raped and perhaps slain?’ Redcliffe said anxiously. ‘Come, follow me!’

They were soon out of the suburb and hurrying along towards the west. It was dark and grim, the rain still falling heavily. Baldwin’s rounsey twitched his ears irritably as the rain began to soak his coat, but beside him, Baldwin saw, Wolf wandered contentedly. There was no weather that could upset him. Still, it was a relief when the rain began to ease a little, just as they were making their way down towards the river.

It swept about here in a great arc, bulging northwards into the belly of the city but, following Redcliffe, Baldwin rode westwards towards the lower level of the river. They cantered along a track by the banks and soon came across a little shed with a thatched roof over cob walls. Down at the water’s edge, a large boat lay rocking gently.

‘Ferryman? Is there a ferryman here?’ Baldwin called, and dropped from his horse.

The door opened a little, and a bearded face peered out at him suspiciously. ‘What do you want?’

‘What should I want with a ferryman?’ Baldwin asked reasonably. ‘I want to cross to the other side of the river. How much for us and our horses?’

‘Just the four of you?’ the man asked.

Redcliffe sprang from his horse. ‘You know me, don’t you, old man? Remember Thomas who used to pay you in wine when my ships came in?’

‘Oh, Master Redcliffe. Course I remember you.’

‘Have you space for we four? The Queen’s men are behind us.’

‘Suppose so. There aren’t any others, then?’

‘What, do you expect me to bring the King’s host with me?’

‘Wouldn’t be surprised to find some o’ them trying to escape,’ the man grunted. ‘It’ll be getting exciting enough for anyone soon.’

‘I hope it will,’ Jack said.

The ferryman shot a look at Baldwin. ‘Aye, well, those who’ve not fought are always keenest for a fight,’ he muttered, and set about preparing his boat.

‘What did he mean?’ Jack asked.

‘Just what he said,’ Baldwin said. ‘Jack, war is not easy or pleasant. It’s not something to hope for.’

‘But I want to help the King!’

‘Perhaps so. And I do as well. But if there is a war, it means many good men will die on either side.’

‘If they are fighting against our King, they can’t be good,’ Jack said, and Redcliffe nodded.

‘The boy’s right,’ he said ‘The King’s enemies are the enemies of all.’

‘Men are men. On both sides there are good and bad. It is not the side on which they fight, it is the way that they live their lives and honour their responsibilities and duties. Remember that, if you can.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Jack frowned.

‘Yes, well, I doubt fewer than half the men who go to war will either,’ Baldwin said with a sigh.

It was Roisea who comprehended best. She dropped lightly from her mare and looked up at him sympathetically, but without speaking.

‘You lot ready?’ the ferryman called out sourly. ‘I don’t want to be waiting here all day.’

Baldwin helped his horse down the bank and into the boat, then stood soothing the worried beast while the others brought their own down, and then, as the ferry edged into the water, he watched the bank behind them gradually fade away. It seemed to him then that his old life was being left behind in some way, and there was no possibility of his ever finding it again. It was a deeply sad feeling.

Bristol Castle

It was the beginning of the end, Sir Laurence Ashby told himself. From here on the tower’s battlements, he could see the mass of men appear. They arrived like dark ink flowing over a page – men on horses in the centre, while at the edges were bowmen and men-at-arms. All wandered closer in their centaignes while their Captains rode about, agreeing the dispositions of the host.

There was one figure whom Sir Laurence noted in particular: a big man on his destrier, with armour that shone even in this grey light. He sat on his horse staring fixedly at the castle and city, and Sir Laurence saw him pointing at specific locations. They were the places he himself would have chosen for placement of artillery. That must surely be Sir Roger Mortimer.

‘So they’ve arrived at last,’ Earl Hugh said, coming to join him. ‘They have taken their time.’

Sir Stephen then emerged through the little door, peering about the landscape with interest. ‘They have chosen their places with skill.’

‘Don’t forget Mortimer was here only ten years ago. He knows all the weaker points of the castle and city,’ Sir Laurence said glooomily.

‘Ah, of course. So he will try to attack from the same positions as before.’

‘The city can withstand the assault better now,’ Sir Laurence said. ‘He destroyed much of the walls, and they have been rebuilt since.’

‘What quality is the rebuilding?’ Sir Stephen asked.

‘Not first quality, perhaps, but good,’ Sir Laurence said defensively. The Coroner’s words sounded like a criticism, and that wounded his pride. ‘The city is strong enough to withstand a serious enemy for some weeks; the castle is stronger still.’

He ran though the items in his stores. Food was good, while water was better, for with all this rain, the cisterns would be full. He had store of brimstone, charcoal and saltpetre, and barrels of pitch to be heated. When the enemy tried to storm the place, they would find themselves meeting with stronger resistance than they could have expected.

‘The garrison is ready?’ Sir Stephen asked languidly.

‘They’ll serve,’ Sir Laurence responded.

‘I hope so,’ Earl Hugh said.

Sir Laurence could see in his face that same determination mingled with despair. It made him sorry for the old man, but he had no time to worry about him. The Earl would have to resolve his concerns some other way.

‘Do not worry, my lord Earl,’ Sir Stephen said. ‘They look terrible in such an order, but they will have the devil’s own task if they want to break in here. You will be safe for a while.’