Michael JECKS - The Oath

‘So: you discovered the probable killer. And I can do nothing with him because he enjoys the Benefit of Clergy, and is secure from secular authority. Only the Church can arrest him and prosecute him. So if I go to him, what do I achieve? Instead of showing that no one is above the law, I wonderfully reinforce the view that a whole section of the community is precisely that. And not only will he not be punished, he will also very likely make others decide to take the law into their own hands. Which would mean you had forced me to incite other men to break the law. So a gang of men would go to this Father Paul’s church, and slay him, and defile the church, and themselves in the process. And I suppose then I would be entitled to round up his killers and hang them. So some justice would finally have been done. Is that what you would like?’

Simon grimaced. ‘I think I prefer my part of Devon and the laws I maintain there. It is easier than the judgement you display.’

‘You are wise, my friend,’ Sir Roger said. ‘Now, you did ask what I wanted with you. Let me give you another riddle. I should like to learn who killed Thomas Redcliffe, the merchant I told you of. He was slain by the Severn. That is all. Find who it was, and I will set you free immediately.’

‘With no body, without seeing the land? You think this is possible?’

‘I don’t know. I do know that it occupies my mind all the while. I would know who killed him – and why .’

Caerphilly Castle

The castle was quieter this morning.

Baldwin went out to the battlements and made a circuit of the walls, looking out over the encircling lands, trying to see the approach of Mortimer’s army, but there was nothing in sight. Only the town and the spread of the valley all about, the hills far off. It was a beautiful sight, and a tormenting one. He was sure that Mortimer was out there, that he would appear soon. Until then, all they could do was wait.

‘Sir Baldwin, a fine morning, is it not?’

‘Sir Ralph,’ Baldwin said. ‘I wish you a good day, sir.’

‘We can only hope,’ the other knight replied. He cast an eye into the outer ward. ‘Quiet today. All the men still sleeping off their drink.’

‘I think so,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘It is alarming to see so many turn to ale for comfort. They are despairing of ever seeing their homes again, I think.’

‘They are not alone,’ Sir Ralph chuckled, but without humour. ‘Still, if I could, I would not leave now. I owe much to the King and his patronage.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I have sworn loyalty. I would not willingly be forsworn.’

He mused on that strange aspect of his life, staring out at the hills to the east, his elbows on the battlements. When he had joined the Knights Templar, it had been in a spirit of humility and gratitude. He would have died at Acre when the Moors invaded the city, were it not for the Templars rescuing him. They put him on one of the last ships from the stricken city before the Temple was overrun, and it was to demonstrate his thanks that he took the three vows: poverty, chastity and obedience. They were the same oaths taken by monks through the centuries, and just because the Templars were formed to protect with all their strength the pilgrims who tried to make their way to the Holy Land, that did not change their monkish behaviour. Their Rule was as stringent as that of the Benedictines, or the Cistercians. In many ways, it was harsher.

But then the King of France demonstrated his vile greed, and persuaded the Pope to join with him. The two conspired to destroy the Templars, and arrested the entire Order throughout France on Friday 13 October 1307 – a date that would live on in infamy. Not since the false trial of Christ Himself had a more deplorable court submitted a more unjust act than that of the Pope when he later sought to destroy the Order utterly.

So Baldwin had been released from his vows. Not willingly, not by his choice, but irrevocably. Even when he married his wife, Jeanne, he found making the new vow, so entirely contrary to his existing oath of chastity, very difficult to speak. Perhaps he had now earned his freedom. He had, he hoped, lived a worthwhile life. Honour and truth had guided him on his journey, and if he were to die here in the service of the King, well, he could accept that he had to die at some time, just as all men must, and at least dying to protect his liege-lord would be honourable. He only prayed that his wife Jeanne would understand.

Sir Ralph was speaking. Baldwin cocked his head. ‘I am sorry, I was wool-gathering. You said?’

‘I was thinking aloud. I have no children, you see, so my lands will go to my brother, who has remained with Mortimer. We agreed that he should do so. That way, if one was found to have acted as a traitor, at least the lands would remain in the family somehow. But I would not go to Mortimer in any case. The idea of tying my fortunes to an adventurer like him… no, treachery has never appealed to me.’

‘Nor me,’ Baldwin said. He looked out over the countryside again. ‘They will come from there, I think.’

‘Yes, although I do not know how Mortimer would attack a place like this.’

‘It would be a lengthy siege,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘And he would have to accept heavy losses. The troops would freeze in winter; in summer they would soon succumb to fevers. And he would have the expense of paying them all, with so many mercenaries in his force. Add to that the fact that mining to destroy towers and walls would be impossible with these lakes, and the double circle of walls, and the assault would be enormously costly.’

Sir Ralph nodded grimly. ‘I keep thinking about Bristol’s collapse – the notion that Earl Hugh of Winchester surrendered the castle. That was a surprise. To do that, knowing that he must surely die – that speaks of courage.’

‘You think he knew he would be killed? Perhaps he tried to sue for peace on terms which were later denied?’ Baldwin said.

‘I would say many things about Sir Roger Mortimer, but that he would knowingly lie and break an oath, I reject. He was always honourable until he was arrested by the King. Even now, I doubt he would be dishonourable to that extent. No, I would think that he rejected all applications for terms. Which adds to Earl Hugh’s courage. He must have known he would enjoy no quarter if he submitted.’

‘Indeed, if that is so, he acted with enormous bravery,’ Baldwin said.

‘I suppose he did so to protect the city from attack, and to spare the lives of all those in the castle.’

Baldwin nodded, and then found his gaze moving to the town at the feet of the castle as he considered how many men, women and children lived inside it. ‘I wonder if his courage is shared by his son?’ he thought aloud.

Two Fridays before the Feast of St Martin [32] 31 October 1326

Caerphilly Castle

Baldwin stood in the deep recess of the doorway and stared out at the greyness. There was no possibility of seeing ten thousand men approaching in this. It was raining, with an all-encompassing fog.

He made his way out onto the slick stones of the walkway, careful not to come too close to the edge. It would be a demeaning end to slip from the wall here and tumble to his death in the inner ward. There was a hooded and cloaked figure up ahead, whom he assumed was Sir Ralph, and Baldwin put his head down and walked to him. ‘Miserable weather again, sir.’

‘Yes.’

Baldwin stopped in shock, then bowed low, about to drop to his knee. ‘My lord, accept my apologies, I did not realise in this weather…’

‘Sir Baldwin, please. No one saw, no one can guess,’ the King said. He sounded peevish from lack of sleep and from worry. Then he sighed. ‘Please, Sir Knight, you and I, out here, are no more than two knights who have found a few moments in which to enjoy some leisure. Soon our leisure will be over. Please, humour me in this.’