Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

Of course Mark Tyler would have to leave first, but that was no problem. From the little that Odo had heard from Sir Peregrine, the knight banneret clearly considered the King Herald to be incompetent and thought Mark Tyler should be replaced. He had said as much only yesterday. When Simon and Baldwin had rushed away to seek Edith, Sir Peregrine had muttered to Odo, ‘That cretin Tyler will have to go. He’s a liability – useless and an embarrassment. After your efforts, I’ll be happy to drop a good word in Lord Hugh’s ear for you.’

‘That is very kind of you,’ he had replied, ‘but I am content.’

‘Content to wander for the rest of your life? Don’t be a fool. Here you’d have an easy life, and with your singing and playing, you’d please Lord Hugh. Take my advice: when you’re asked, accept the post with gratitude.’

Odo stood and stretched. His future was all very well, but right now he was a mere herald set to control knights and squires during their jousting and here, in the tented area afterwards, he was a watchman responsible for preventing fights escalating into pitched battles.

Setting his mazer on a small table, he left his tent, nodding to a servant at the tent opposite and making for the fighting area.

Everyone was awake now and the noise was all-but deafening. Hawkers bellowed their wares, girls cried out about the quality of their bread or fruits, dogs barked and horses whinnied. As he progressed towards the jousting field, Odo could hear the snarling from a ring in which two dogs fought, the hoarse calls of cocks fighting, men cursing and swearing, cart-wheels creaking and groaning under the weight of cloth or food. And all about was the chatter of people discussing the coming events.

No, he corrected himself. Not all were discussing the events: several were talking about the murders.

It had been odd to see the Bailiff turn pale and then redden yesterday when Mark had accused him of murder. True, Bailiff Puttock had threatened the two dead men – but only in the same way that others could have done. In fact, even as Mark Tyler accused Simon of murder, Odo had thought that of the two men, the red, porcine features of the King Herald looked infinitely more likely to be those of a murderer than the tall and pleasant-featured Bailiff. Odo wondered whether Sir Peregrine had also thought that. In any case, it was plain that Lord Hugh did not intend to have his hired Bailiff accused during his tournament. He had stepped in sharply enough when Odo had pointed at the confrontation.

Odo would be interested to know why Lord Hugh was so keen to protect Simon. But it was probably for no special reason.

He carried on to the stands and stood with arms akimbo, considering the watchmen as they strolled about the place, thrusting their heavy staffs into the longer grasses in a lacklustre manner. They might have been told to look about for possible assassins or dead bodies, but their every movement showed that they would prefer to be in their rooms with jugs of ale.

Yes, it would be interesting to be a member of Lord Hugh’s household, he reckoned. And as this reflection occurred to him, he caught sight of a slim, frail-looking figure walking along the riverbank. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed with real pleasure. ‘I’m glad you’ve recovered a little, Lady Alice.’

Edith had been determined to give her parents the slip for at least one hour in the day to see her squire, and yet it proved almost impossible. Even Hugh, who had been her ally in her last attempts to see William, had grown reticent, mumbling about how angry her father, his master, would be if Hugh were to help her.

After breaking their fast, Simon had hurried away, his face set into an anxious mask, and Margaret had chewed fretfully at her lip as she watched him leave the hall. Edith knew that her parents were both concerned after Simon had been accused, but it was too stupid as far as she was concerned. No one could seriously believe that her father might have had anything to do with the murders; Lord Hugh himself had squashed the rumours, telling everyone that Simon was guiltless. In her youth and innocence, Edith found it impossible to believe that a man so plainly honourable could be a serious suspect.

Margaret had seen men accused on less evidence and hanged. She knew, from what Simon and Baldwin had let slip over the years, that it was easy enough for a vindictive or foolish man to persuade a gullible jury to condemn an innocent man and, having felt the waves of hatred at the ber frois yesterday, she had no wish to see her husband set before a local jury or the county’s grand jury. He had enough enemies among the families of those whom he had sent to the gallows who would be happy to pay others to perjure themselves or bribe a jury to find him guilty.

‘If only we could leave here now,’ she said.

‘Mother, it’ll all be fine,’ Edith said dispassionately.

‘Don’t be a fool, Edith. You were there yesterday – you must see your father’s in danger,’ Margaret snapped.

‘He’ll be safe. Lord Hugh won’t want to embarrass the Abbot of Tavistock.’

Margaret bit back a sharp rejoinder. ‘The Abbot is a long way away.’

‘Don’t be angry with me, Mother.’

‘How can I not be angry after the way you deceived your father and me?’

‘I didn’t deceive you, I just–’

‘You deliberately concealed your behaviour with that youth.’

‘He’s not a “youth”, he’s a knight. Wouldn’t you like me to marry the son of a nobleman? He’ll inherit his father’s manor some day.’

Margaret felt a headache begin to throb dully behind her temples. ‘Edith, I don’t want to argue with you. You are not to see that boy again yet. I need time to bring your father round to agree to let you see him. Then you can decide whether you seriously want to marry him.’

‘Very well, Mother,’ Edith said meekly. ‘I love him. I could tell that when I saw him fall from his horse, but I won’t see him secretly if you don’t want me to. Still, I’d like to watch the jousting. There can’t be any harm in that.’

‘I suppose not,’ Margaret said wearily as a figure appeared in the doorway.

It was Sir Peregrine and he peered about the room as he walked inside.

‘Good day,’ Margaret said. When he stepped into the shaft of light from the hall’s window, she saw how exhausted he was. His face was lined and pale. ‘Are you well?’

‘Just tired,’ he said, smiling. ‘While there is a murderer about, I serve my lord by keeping guard outside his door. I didn’t sleep.’

‘I’m sure my father and Sir Baldwin will catch the man soon,’ Edith said.

‘I hope you are right. I’ve seen enough death with Hal and Wymond. And it’s not good for Lord Hugh to have these things going on at his tournament.’

‘I wouldn’t like to have to pull about dead bodies like theirs,’ Edith said, curling her lip.

Sir Peregine gave her a dry but indulgent smile. ‘I’m not surprised.’ It was true. She was a lovely young thing, and it would have been unthinkable to Sir Peregrine, who had no children, that such a fragile beauty should attend an inquest. Especially one with two such hideously ruined bodies. ‘You are suited to love and life,’ he added quietly, ‘not to mayhem and murder.’ He bade them a good morning and hastened away.

She tossed her head spiritedly. ‘Love?’

‘Edith!’ her mother said warningly.

‘Oh, I can’t even talk to other men, now, Mother?’

‘Not if you are going to be rude, no.’

‘Rude? I see no–’

‘Enough! Edith, you will remain here in the castle until you learn to be civil.’

Edith gaped at the injustice. ‘What? But then I’m miss all the jousting… You can’t mean it?’