Michael JECKS - The Oath

‘Yes,’ Simon said. He wanted to ask about his servants again, but there was something in Sir Roger Mortimer’s face that put him off for the moment.

‘No one can be above the law, don’t you agree?’ Mortimer repeated.

‘Yes, I do,’ Simon said. ‘I have served the law all my life.’

‘Then I would like you to find this murderer and bring him to me for justice,’ Mortimer said.

Simon nodded, but he was doubtful as he eyed the tall knight. ‘Sir Roger, there is clearly more to this than is apparent. If it is not disrespectful, may I know the reason for your interest in the woman’s murder?’

‘All you need know is that this dagger,’ Mortimer said, pulling the bent knife from under his tunic, ‘was thrown into the grave by a man who came to witness the woman’s burial. The fosser himself retrieved it. Speak to him. He may be able to help you.’

Cardiff

The excitement in the town was palpable as the ship was seen approaching early that morning.

Like the day before, the weather was sunny, and warm when the sun touched a man’s face or hand, but the breeze was chilly, and Baldwin saw Jack pulling his cloak tighter about his body as the wind from the sea picked up.

They had slept the previous night in a stable. Hunt as they might, there seemed to be no beds available for any money. Cardiff was packed with men who had depended upon the King for their livelihoods. With the turmoil in the country, they were hoping for some form of rescue before Mortimer arrived, which they were all convinced would not be long.

It was a smooth sea that the King’s cog sailed on. It came about the harbour, and then put in at the quay a little before noon, the timbers scraping and echoing hollowly. Sailors idled on the ropes about the sails, hauling on the canvas and tugging it up before lashing it in place, while others lounged about the deck in attitudes of boredom. Theirs had been a short journey, but with the weather they must have endured, Baldwin was sure that they would have had enough excitement.

After docking, although some of the crew strolled ashore, and a tall sailor with a large axe waited at the gangplank as though preparing to guard it against any who would dare to attack, the ship remained quiet for some while, and Baldwin began to wonder whether this was the right one after all. Sir Ralph was nearby, the friars behind him, and all were waiting with tension in the air. Nobody knew how the King would react to the news the friars brought.

At last the ship’s little cabin door opened, and two men stepped out. They walked to the gangplank, and then Despenser himself strode into the air, staring about him with a furious eye. It was that which made Baldwin think that he was beginning to lose his mind.

It wouldn’t be a surprise after the last weeks. Everything which Sir Hugh le Despenser had built up – his money, his properties, his lands – all were at risk now, because he had thrown his hand in with the King. In the last month, he had seen the whole of his empire topple and fall. It would be enough to make any man despair.

However, Despenser’s present pallor was not caused by the losses he was incurring; they sprang from a more mundane cause. As Baldwin watched, he saw how the man’s attention kept wandering to the ship’s rail, and then realised that he was suffering from sea-sickness.

The King came to the deck a short while afterwards, and sprang up onto the gangplank with the enthusiasm of a much younger man. Once he was on land, the other men joined him.

‘Sir Ralph, I am glad to see you!’ the King said, striding up to them.

Baldwin, bowing as low as Sir Ralph, was slightly surprised by the effusiveness of the greeting. It was as though Edward had decided to become the most popular monarch the realm had known.

‘Sir Baldwin too, I am most pleased to see you. I trust you are both well?’

‘Very well,’ both men said, shooting a glance at each other.

‘Good. And the two estimable Brothers. My friends, I hope I find you unharmed after your travels? Excellent!’

‘Your Royal Highn–’ Sir Ralph began, but the King cut him off.

‘No, Sir Ralph. Surely we need a little wine and food first. Poor Sir Hugh has been terribly upset by the voyage. It was particularly rough until yesterday, and I am very afraid that he has lost his sea legs. You know, we were almost hurled against the rocks at Lundy; a ferocious wind, it was.’

The King’s men had already prepared him a chamber in the castle, and it was to this that they went, the King marching briskly along as though finding it hard to suppress his enthusiasm. Despenser was a pale, anxious wraith in comparison, his whole demeanour that of a man who knows he is cursed.

When they reached the chambers, the King strode to his seat near the fire and sat, stretching luxuriously. His handsome face was a little burned by sun and wind, and his blue eyes appeared to gleam with more intelligence than before. The journey by water had done him good, Baldwin thought. To escape the immediate risks and dangers had apparently worked like a tonic on his frayed nerves.

‘You know, Sir Baldwin, I was intending to break our journey on Lundy Island, just to be away and rest. We could not stop, though, for the wind and high seas threatened to dash the vessel on the rocks, and so it came into my head that we should aim direct for Ireland, but that too did not work. The winds were quite contrary for us, and we beat up and down, but made no headway – is that not so, Sir Hugh?’

Sir Hugh mumbled something, and when Baldwin glanced his way, he saw that the adviser had a finger in his mouth and was worrying at the remains of a nail. The repetition of his tale of the rocks surprised Baldwin, and then he realised: the King was not refreshed at all. He was merely acting the part, demonstrating his confidence so that those about him would not guess at his inner desperation.

The King was talking again.

‘And then it came to me, Sir Baldwin. You see, I am the King. I cannot leave my realm, can I? That would be to deny my duty, which is to protect my kingdom. And if the kingdom ever needed protection, it is now. With my poor wife so woefully misguided, and my son led unthinking into the clutches of Sir Roger Mortimer, that evil traitor, clearly the worst thing I can do is sail off to Ireland. After all, by the time I return, Mortimer might have done untold harm to my people. So it is better, I think, that I return. And it is God’s will, that is clear, for his wind blew me straight back here.’

‘I see.’ Baldwin did not look at Sir Ralph, but was keenly aware of the knight at his side.

‘Now, I trust that the Queen had a message for me?’

The friars tensed, and then both bowed their heads.

‘Your Highness,’ Mark began. ‘She did not promise to protect those who are with you. She swore that those who were guilty of crimes against the realm, against her or your son, would be punished. There would be no safe-conduct for any of them.’

‘None?’ the King asked, the smile still on his face. Behind him, Sir Hugh le Despenser began to worry at another nail.

‘None at all,’ the friar said quietly. He had his eyes closed, Baldwin saw, as though expecting to receive a sword-blow at any moment that would end his life.

‘Then we shall have to ensure that none are captured by that harpy!’ the King suddenly exploded. He rose, stalking about the room, a hand on his sword hilt, while he gesticulated wildly with his right. ‘The bitch chooses to threaten us – all of us? When did she accumulate such authority in my realm? Does she seriously believe that the mere possession of my son will force me to accept the threats of rebels, traitors and foreign mercenaries? The bitch will soon learn: she will learn that my will is the will of the King ! If she seeks to pit herself against me in battle, she shall do so! I will stand with my banner, if there is only one herald who will hold it with me! I will never submit to such foul threats and dishonour, damn her soul forever! Sweet Jesu, as You sit at the right hand of God, hear my prayer! Protect my son, save him from her wiles, and aid me to strike down the foul traitor Mortimer. God help me in this. I will not rest until he is dead.’