Michael JECKS - The Traitor of St Giles

Simon considered. ‘You’re convinced?’

‘Sir Gilbert was a knight and a Templar. Believe me, a weakly felon like Dyne could not have stolen his knife, could not have made a stand against man and dog, could not have stolen the purse and run. Another man did all that. A murderer.’

‘Then we must seek his killer,’ Simon said, but uneasily.

‘Something is troubling you?’

‘The Coroner has declared the matter is closed. If we start stirring things now… Well, neither of us has jurisdiction here, but the Coroner has.’

‘You’re right,’ Baldwin said musingly. ‘Perhaps it would be easier if we didn’t mention it to him yet.’

‘I think so,’ Simon agreed, frowning pensively. The Coroner removed from the issue, his mind turned to the crime itself. ‘So you think it was Carter and his brother-in-law?’

‘It is possible. One could have engaged the knight while the other stabbed him. But the two rode up after William saw the man in the trees. That implies someone else was also there.’

‘Well, surely that was Dyne?’

‘Maybe. But I’d have thought he’d have been making an effort to get away from the road.’

‘Why should someone else have been there?’

‘To keep an eye on Sir Gilbert?’ Baldwin mused.

Simon stared. ‘Why should someone do that?’

‘Nobody trusts a stranger, Simon. Perhaps Sir Gilbert was a spy? He could have come from Despenser. There are many who would want to kill one of Despenser’s men. Or maybe he was recognised as a Templar?’

‘Who would care about a Templar now?’

‘Not all Templars were entirely beyond rebuke, Simon. The Order’s goods were confiscated after the Order was crushed. Many preceptories hid their wealth against the day when they could return and claim their property, but that day never came, so some Templars took what they could and ran away with it rather than leaving it hidden, and that has given rise to some folk thinking that Templars are thieves and outlaws as well as heretics.’

‘Did that happen often?’

‘Not very often. It was mainly in the territories in the north of the realm, places where the knights could simply pocket as much as possible and ride north to Scotland. Some were more organised: the treasurer of South Witham, for example, took everything. He disappeared with a small fortune in money and gold.’

‘You still haven’t said who you think could have wanted to kill the knight if it wasn’t Dyne.’

‘I have no idea. But I think we should try to find out.’

‘So long as you don’t upset the Coroner. What’s your opinion of him?’

‘A fat fool,’ Baldwin said uncompromisingly. ‘He has little intelligence, and the little he does possess seems to be devoted to womanising and politics, from what I have heard.’

‘Politics seems to be a common failing of the folks here.’

‘No need to sound so gloomy, Simon. Think what your position would be if you were a knight like me.’

‘How do you mean?’ Simon enquired as they walked into the hall.

‘A knight is no more nor less than a useful pawn. Look at me: I’m not impoverished because I have a good couple of hundred acres, but that only brings in forty-two pounds a year, and out of that I have to comply with rules governing which equipment I should bear in time of war, pay taxes, protect the people of my demesne, and uphold the law.’

‘Many would think that more than forty pounds a year would be a good living,’ Simon observed with a smile

‘Would they? When a destrier alone can reach over a hundred pounds? And every few years the King demands that all his knights get new armour or weaponry, and the weapons ranged against us improve so we need stronger armour than before, and all to be paid from our own pocket!’

‘You find the costs of knighthood burdensome?’ a strange voice intervened.

Baldwin peered ahead. This end of the hallway was darker – the sconces had not been lit yet. The voice had come from the shadows near the door, and he was sure he recognised it.

There was a chuckle, and Lord Hugh de Courtenay walked from the shadows. ‘Don’t look so upset, Sir Baldwin. I was sitting there, mulling over the sad news when I heard your voice. You know how it is, when you are sitting in the shade and looking at people who are well-lit – one assumes that if one can see, one must inevitably be seen. And my mind was far away.’

‘I suppose you were thinking of our dead friend,’ Baldwin said quickly. Behind Lord Hugh were two hard-looking men with swords at their waists and suspicion in their eyes.

‘Sir Gilbert, you mean? Yes. It seems so long since I last met with him. He was with the Templars then, you know.’

Baldwin smiled thinly. ‘We heard he was trying to see you, my Lord.’

‘Me? I wonder why.’

‘Perhaps he had a message?’

Lord Hugh said nothing, sitting on a bench.

Simon found him an interesting man. The bailiff had seen Lord de Courtenay many times over the years, for Simon’s father had been a steward to Lord Hugh’s father, working on the de Courtenay estates. The present lord was older than Simon’s thirty-four years; casting his mind back, Simon couldn’t remember the age of the man, but from the look of him he couldn’t be younger than forty, a strong-looking fellow with broad shoulders and thickening belly. The de Courtenays were not the wealthiest family in Devon, but Simon knew that this man had influence beyond that of wealthier men.

Baldwin surveyed the lord for a few moments. ‘Did you see Sir Gilbert?’

‘How could I if he died on his way here?’

‘We heard that he left his servant before he died. Perhaps he came here?’

‘Perhaps,’ Lord Hugh shrugged agreeably.

Baldwin sat at another bench. ‘You have long been a thorn in the King’s side, my Lord. You were with Bishop Stapledon when the Ordainers curbed the King’s power back – oh, more than ten years ago. And then you helped Thomas of Lancaster to seek out Piers Gaveston, the King’s friend.’

‘That was difficult,’ Lord Hugh said. ‘But Gaveston had been lawfully exiled and insisted on returning. Lord Thomas saw to his execution.’

‘Are you for Lord Thomas?’

‘Me, Sir Baldwin? I am not entirely for anyone, as you would put it. I am not like others, bound by their oaths to one grouping or another. Everybody is tied to one master or another,’ he smiled. ‘I acknowledge only the King.’

‘Yet now the King fears losing another favourite…’

Lord Hugh made a small gesture of indifference. ‘I think you’ll find that the King has already lost his latest favourite. The Despenser family is exiled, if my information is correct.’

There was a snigger from one of the squires and Baldwin saw Lord Hugh’s expression harden. He did not like his servants to listen to his conversations, let alone show amusement. However he said nothing, merely waved a hand and both guards reluctantly moved out of earshot.

He continued more quietly. ‘Sir Baldwin, in a town like Tiverton some people will have allied themselves with men for whom I feel little affinity. Some will owe duties to other men. Even Coroner Harlewin owes his position to Thomas of Lancaster. How many others owe service to the Lords of the Marches or to the Despensers?’

Baldwin held his gaze. ‘Were you expecting Sir Gilbert or another messenger?’

‘I am expecting, as you put it, messengers from all sides.’

‘From which do you think Sir Gilbert would have come?’

‘He could have come from the King to demand my loyalty, or the Marcher Lords asking for my help, or the Despensers to beg for my assistance. Maybe even Thomas of Lancaster threatening me, should I help any of the others. Which do you think he would have come from?’