Michael JECKS - The Oath

‘No, surely not!’

Then Sir Laurence remembered the look on Sir Roger’s face, and thought about the latter’s strenuous efforts to be gone from here and chase after his quarry.

‘David, you keep this to yourself. Don’t mention it to anyone.’

Caerphilly Castle

In its own way, the note was thoroughly unremarkable. A short line it read simply: This man has my confidence. Give him all help. Roger Mortimer .

And yet nothing could have been more shocking to Sir Baldwin. This scrap of parchment was, in effect, a letter of safe-conduct for the man. A man who was supposed to be a loyal messenger to the King.

‘I don’t understand,’ Roisea protested. ‘How could he have something like this?’

It made no sense. Unless… ‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said, ‘Sir Roger Mortimer gave him free passage so that negotiations could continue?’

But he knew perfectly well that Sir Roger would be highly unwilling to negotiate with the King. There could be no discussions about how to surrender. The whole process of war for Sir Roger Mortimer was concentrated on destroying the King, utterly.

‘I don’t think so,’ Roisea said. ‘Thomas was never that close to the King. He was a merchant, that was all.’ Her face reflected her terror. ‘How could he do this? He was a traitor, wasn’t he? He must have been!’

Baldwin put a hand on hers. ‘There is nothing to say that. One line on a strip of parchment like this is not proof.’

‘What would the King say? Would he need a great deal of extra proof?’ she said agitatedly. ‘Destroy it! Please, Sir Baldwin, burn it!’

He took the strip and set it inside his chemise, passing her the purse again. ‘You keep that, and I shall keep this for now. It is nothing to do with you, and if you are asked, say you have no idea about it. You have not seen it. You do not know anything about your husband’s work.’

‘So you think he was a traitor, too.’

‘It is difficult to know what else to think,’ the knight admitted.

Jack was nearby, and Baldwin lowered his voice so that only Roisea could hear him. ‘Whatever your husband was trying to accomplish, it is too late now. He cannot be punished, and there is no point in making you suffer for his actions. So try to forget all about it, madame.’

She could not, of course. As Baldwin rode on, he could see the tears falling down her cheeks. This was the first time he had seen her weeping with such passion, he noted. The death of her husband had not affected her thus, but this discovery, which could potentially threaten her own safety, was different.

He put her from his mind. She was not important – but the note was. It showed that all he had done since meeting that evil, lying fool in Winchester had been based on deceit. He had diverted himself from his home in order to protect the man who was plotting to kill the King! Instead of bringing a messenger, he had brought an assassin. That was how he read the message, and he could see that Roisea thought the same. It was terrifying. But at least Thomas had been killed.

Which then brought another thought to his mind: if that man whom he had injured at Winchester, and then killed at the Severn, was actually determined to kill Thomas Redcliffe, then surely he had been ordered to do so by someone who was supporting the King and had learned something about the plot to hurt him. Which meant that Baldwin himself had tried to protect the assassin. If he had succeeded… A shiver of dread went through his frame.

The castle was before them now, the great keep rising up to a monstrous height. With such a small force as this, it looked enormous. So many of the King’s men had already disappeared, Baldwin wondered how long they could actually survive.

So long as he could keep silent about the note in his chemise, he would be safe. As soon as they arrived in the castle, he would seek a fire on which to burn it.

Bristol Castle

It was raining when they woke. It rained as they breakfasted; it rained as they packed their few belongings; it rained as they walked to their horses and saw them saddled and bridled; it rained as they mounted in the courtyard; it rained as they waited for the Queen and Mortimer to appear with the Duke of Aquitaine. The castle was an echoing chamber as heavy drops fell on helmets, armour, leather and the tiles of the roofs.

Simon wiped a hand over his face. ‘This is going to be absolute misery,’ he grunted.

At his side, Sir Charles, wearing a broad-brimmed hat that was already absorbing too much water, nodded. ‘I can scarcely remember a storm like this. It is, indeed, very unpleasant.’

Simon waved to the group standing at the door. There, he saw Margaret and Peterkin, with Hugh and Rob behind them. It was a wrench to be going, but Sir Roger had flatly refused to countenance releasing him.

‘I need you and every other spare man, Bailiff.’

‘But I–’

‘Will not be permitted to see the King by riding on ahead, Master Puttock. If you wish to do that, you will run the risk of your wife and child being kept here for a long time. I think that is plain enough.’

Sir Roger recollected something and lifted a hand to stay him.

‘Master Puttock – I recall that you were in France with another man. A knight.’

‘Sir Baldwin, you mean?’

‘A little while ago, a horse dealer and confidential agent of mine was murdered on the banks of the Severn. Do you think you know anyone who could have been there? No? Interesting. Well, it shows how even my agents can be killed. The assassin was, I think, on his way to the King. You may try to do the same if I release you. So do I trust you? No. But this way, you come with me, and your wife and child remain here in Bristol as hostages. You will serve me until I release you, Master Puttock, and you will do so with all your heart.’

The scene came back to Simon out in the ward. He turned back to the gates as the first men began to leave. This was not what he had hoped for when he had prayed that Despenser might be removed from power. The man was a poison at the heart of government, and Simon had wanted to see him destroyed – but now that his replacement was here, Simon was beginning to wonder whether he was any better. Perhaps Mortimer would be powerful enough to make changes, but if the main difference was only a name, Simon was not sure that the fighting and deaths would be worth it.

‘What did he say when you told him about the priest?’ Sir Charles asked.

‘Only that the man must have been lying. Who else had as strong a motive to kill Squire William as Father Paul? Sir Roger said he would have him arrested and brought here, but I think he has more on his mind than a mere churchman who may have committed homicide. There are murders all over the realm just now. Most will go unpunished.’

‘I wonder how he will get all these men across the Severn,’ Sir Charles said, glancing all around as they rode up the streets of Bristol towards the northernmost gate.

‘I don’t know, but if there is one thing that impresses me about this man, it is his ability to organise. He will surely have a plan.’

They spent the morning battling through torrential rain, heading north and east towards Gloucester. The river was too formidable a barrier, especially with this weather: there was no possibility of a crossing. In normal conditions, they might have made the city by nightfall, but with this downpour, that was out of the question.

‘I wonder where we’ll stay the night,’ Simon said miserably. ‘If this weather holds, we’ll need real roofs over our heads.’

‘I think you can dream of such things,’ Sir Charles said, ‘but do not expect your dreams to come true!’