Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

Now, at the feast, her mind was trying to come to grips with this new terror. Without Geoffrey, she was entirely alone. Her sole support and protection was dying and there was nothing she could do. She had sat at his side, gripping his hand, directing his face to the altar and crucifix and begging him to pray for his safety while she too pleaded with God, but there was no response. The hand remained quiescent in hers, the breathing so shallow and quiet that several times already she thought he had died.

What could she do? If he died, she was entirely at the mercy of Sir John. Marriage to William. The very thought brought a sob to her throat and a feeling of nausea, and now she was expected to join in a feast!

It was while she was considering this that she saw William himself swaggering towards her.

He was drunk – that was obvious. His face was flushed, his manner truculent. Christ, how she detested the haughty youth! He saw her and gave a hawkish grin. ‘Ready to marry at last?’

‘I am already married.’

‘Ah, but you’ll soon be a widow,’ he said dismissively, and belched. ‘At least I can offer you security. So long as you’re good for breeding, that’s the main thing.’

She felt her face blanch. ‘You think I would wed you? I should rather die.’

‘You’ll have little choice, my Lady,’ he sneered.

‘I am married already. I am the wife of Geoffrey.’

‘If you want to remain known as the wife of the Coward of Boroughbridge, fine. You may not like me much, my Lady, but at least I’m no deserter.’

‘You dare to slander a man because he’s unwell?’ she spat. ‘ That is cowardice of the worst sort. You are contemptible.’

‘Perhaps,’ he agreed easily. ‘But I’m also alive, vigorous and soon to be wealthy when I have married you.’

‘I will never marry you!’ she screamed, standing.

The room fell silent, and William realised too late that everyone was listening to their conversation. He gave a nervous smile to the watching men and women and tried to walk away before Alice could embarrass him further.

‘I will never marry you,’ she repeated, then fell sobbing back on her bench. The men at either side pulled away a little, unwilling to become involved in the woman’s problem. That could only lead to trouble with their own wives, were they to challenge Alice’s tormenter.

She had no one. No one. Except…

Except her messenger.

It was a few moments later that Baldwin entered the hall with his servant. There was a tense atmosphere, he thought, glancing about him, despite all the finery.

Alice swept from the place as he walked inside; behind her Baldwin saw William, chatting to some of his friends. The din they were making did not please Baldwin, who thought that youths should learn to control their drinking. He deliberately chose a seat at a more peaceful table.

Simon and his family had not yet arrived, he saw. Nor had Lord Hugh. Baldwin stopped a servant and took a cup of wine, sipping idly while his attention ranged over the guests already gathered for this important meal, hoping to spot a friendly face, but not even Coroner Roger had appeared.

At last he saw a man he recognised. Andrew, Sir Edmund’s squire, walked towards him with a set expression. ‘Sir Baldwin, may I speak to you a moment?’

‘Of course.’

‘Outside, perhaps – where it is quiet?’

Baldwin raised his eyebrows, but assented and followed the man out to the court, accompanied by his own man Edgar.

‘Sir, I must first apologise. I have seen your sword. Seen the cross .’

Baldwin pursed his lips, but said nothing, gazing fixedly at Edgar. Templars were heretics and outlaw; any who didn’t confess and join another Order were to be punished. It hadn’t occurred to Sir Baldwin that he could run too much of a risk of discovery here in Devon, but now someone had seen the evidence of his ‘guilt’. ‘So?’ he grated.

‘Sir, that is how I know you can be trusted. I was a Templar myself – a sergeant. I wanted to warn you about Squire William.’ He told Baldwin what had happened out in the yard and how Hugh had prevented the molestation of Lady Helen.

‘Thank you for the information, but what do you expect me to do about this?’ Baldwin protested. ‘It is nothing to do with me.’

‘It was the Bailiff I wanted to warn, Sir Baldwin. It is said that his daughter is enamoured of Squire William, that she might intend to marry him. Many heard the Bailiff and his daughter arguing about Squire William – yet only just now, Squire William told Lady Alice that she must wed him. He is playing with the Bailiff’s daughter. He will seduce her and toss her aside. That is the measure of the man.’

‘You are sure of this?’

‘Sir, if you doubt me, ask anyone in this company – or speak to the Bailiff’s man. He saw it all.’

‘I am grateful to you,’ Baldwin said, but in fact he was reluctant to become involved in the family of any man, even his best friend. Simon would be sure to resent his interference, quite rightly. ‘Why do you not go straight to the Bailiff yourself?’

‘He would be more likely to listen to you, Sir Baldwin.’ Andrew looked earnestly at him. ‘Sir, I know all the squires. They are young – I am older. I could not be made knight, not with my meagre lands, so I remain a squire, but I think I understand chivalry even so. If William is prepared to molest Lady Helen, is prepared to swear that he will marry Lady Alice, then how honourable can his intentions be towards the Bailiff’s daughter? He would ruin that young woman, merely to satisfy his own momentary lust.’

Baldwin looked at Edgar. The servant nodded and Baldwin grunted. ‘Very well. I suppose I shall have to look into it.’

‘You will speak to the Bailiff tonight?’

‘No. I shall consider what action to take and when I have decided, I shall see to it that young Edith is safe from whatever the danger. Precipitate action tonight might not be wise. No. I shall have to think carefully.’

‘I thank you, Sir Baldwin.’

Baldwin watched the squire bow and return to the hall. ‘What do you make of that, Edgar?’

‘I think that he would prefer to see knights and squires behaving decently.’

‘Then he wishes for bloody miracles,’ Baldwin said. ‘Come! I believe there is to be a meal shortly. Let us eat.’

He walked to the door, and was about to step inside when he caught a glimpse of white. Off near the chapel door he saw Alice, her head bowed, talking to Odo. The herald looked magnificent in his tabard, the gold wires and purple silks catching the torchlight and glittering with each breath of wind, but Baldwin’s keen glance took in Alice’s miserable expression; she had a look of near-despair.

‘Yet how should she look while she waits to hear from the physician about her husband?’ he mused.

There was no comfort he could offer her. He left her with Odo and strode indoors, taking his seat at Simon’s side.

Odo was saddened to see the look on Alice’s face. She looked like a young girl who has become separated from her parents, bewildered and overwhelmed.

He followed her out to the yard, and was pleased to see how her face eased ever so slightly to come across a friend and ally.

‘How is Geoffrey?’ she asked.

‘Last I saw, he was no better, I fear, my Lady,’ he said gently.

‘Oh, God! How can You do this? Why take his life when there are so many others who deserve death?’ she demanded, clenching her fists impotently at the stars.

‘Lady, it isn’t for us to say who deserves life and who doesn’t.’

‘Don’t chide me, Odo. My husband lies dying and his killer wants me to marry him.’

‘Refuse him.’