Michael JECKS - The Traitor of St Giles

‘And who did that?’

‘John Sherman, sir.’

At the stairs to the hall Baldwin paused and stopped, staring up at the doorway.

He was still there when Edgar returned from helping Simon to a bed in the gatehouse. ‘Sir Baldwin, are you well?’

‘I am fine,’ he replied testily, but it was not the truth. The elation which had filled him after the short and bloody battle in the street had left him and now the reaction was setting in: a dark mood had fallen over him like a blanket, dampening his spirits and filling him with gloom.

The hall was filled with the guests, and as he stood in the doorway, many heads turned to stare at him. Among them was Sir Peregrine’s. The bannaret’s expression was hard to gauge. Baldwin assumed it must reflect sadness that his plans had failed, rather than any shame or embarrassment.

‘Edgar,’ he said, ‘see if the man with the broken head is awake yet. If he is, bring him here along with the last remaining man from Toker’s band.’

Lord Hugh and Sir Peregrine were beside him now. ‘My good Sir, what has occurred?’ Lord Hugh asked. ‘You left us in such a steaming hurry. Have you been hurt? And where is the good bailiff?’

Baldwin was quiet a moment. He surveyed the room. ‘This is a pretty gathering, isn’t it?’ he said in a strong voice. ‘All these fine people here, and treachery and murder stalk the streets.’

His anger was bubbling and rising to the surface, but he was beyond worrying as the room fell silent.

‘A good man, a noble and honourable knight, was stabbed to death; near him a man thought to be a felon was also killed, his fiancée having been murdered; the knight’s servant then was killed, and tonight my friend and I were set upon. Simon is injured and two more men have died while their two friends are in gaol.’

Lord Hugh said mildly, ‘This is hardly the time or place for such reminiscences, Sir Baldwin.’

‘My Lord, with respect I think this is the ideal time. Before witnesses.’

Lord Hugh met his gaze, then gave a slow nod. ‘Very well, tell us what you have discovered.’ He beckoned a servant who hurried forward with a seat and the lord sat while the guests shuffled and glanced at each other.

Baldwin ignored the audience.

‘My Lord, our kingdom is riven with fear. All men are terrified of a fresh war and they seek to defend themselves as best they can. Some look for money, some for other rewards. They try to bend you to the will of their masters in return for promises of power.

‘Sir Gilbert was here to bring you to the Despensers’ fold; others wished to ensure he failed. Sir Peregrine wants your support for the Marcher Lords; Andrew Carter wished you to give your backing to Earl Thomas.

‘And Bailiff Puttock and I make such men fearful because we only seek to serve our lords, not to influence them. That makes us appear threatening…

‘My Lord, Philip Dyne was no criminal. He never committed rape or murder: he was simply an innocent who thought he would be killed if he went to court. Everyone assumed he was guilty, so he would never be able to escape the rope.’

‘What proof do you have for this?’

‘Andrew Carter is dead. He admitted his guilt to Father Abraham: he committed incest with his step-daughter and killed her to ensure her silence when he realised she was in love. I expect he was unhappy when Dyne escaped – he almost certainly wanted Dyne to be caught by the posse and summarily executed, but his wish was denied him. Instead Dyne reached sanctuary. No matter what else one may say about Father Abraham – and there is much I could say about him – he does at least consider the sanctity of his church to be sacrosanct.’

Baldwin became aware of a rumbling of anger in the crowd, and when he turned he saw the priest spluttering with indignation. ‘What do you mean by this? What would you dare to say to me, Sir Knight? I have never heard such ridiculous words from someone who is supposed to be in a position of authority.’

‘Then today shall be a novel experience for you, Father,’ Baldwin snapped. ‘I say you are dishonest and corrupt. You take bribes from people to write up your records although you already receive payment for them. Then you compound your avarice with bigotry and theft.’

‘What! You dare accuse me of…’ The priest had gone puce with rage and he quivered with emotion. ‘How dare you! You’ll apologise or I shall excommunicate–’

‘Be silent!’ Baldwin roared and took a step forward. His anger was unfeigned. This priest had cursed a knight purely because he had been a member of Baldwin’s own Order, burying the man in unconsecrated ground to the harm of his soul just like a common felon, and compounding the insult by cursing him. Baldwin pointed, not caring that his hands were still covered with the drying blood of his foe. ‘You saw the dead body on the night Sir Gilbert died, didn’t you? I shall come to you in a moment.’

Father Abraham licked his lips but remained silent.

Baldwin looked at the other faces in the room. ‘It has been difficult to piece together what happened in those woods that night. There were many people there, each of whom had their own reasons to wish to see Sir Gilbert silenced.

‘What really did happen there? I think we have to look at the day before Sir Gilbert died. In the period between his arrival and his death, someone decided to kill him. So where did he go and what did he do?

‘He went to Templeton before anything else, if Father Abraham can be believed. He wanted to see his old chapel and hide the goods he carried for safekeeping. It would be too dangerous to wander the streets of Tiverton with such a fortune on his person. That accomplished, he rode to Tiverton and went to the castle.

‘The next we know of him, he was seeing Nicholas Lovecok in a tavern. What happened before that? I do not believe Sir Gilbert, a messenger from the Despensers, would sit drinking and wasting time had he not yet spoken to you, Lord Hugh. Surely he came here to the castle before going to the tavern!’

‘Yes, he did. He came to see me during the afternoon.’

‘You knew that your bannaret wouldn’t want you to see him, for Sir Peregrine supports the Lords of the Marches, not the King’s favourite. So you met Sir Gilbert in private?’

‘Yes. I saw him in my chamber.’ Lord Hugh glanced at his guests, and spoke out strongly, so that all present could hear. ‘He offered me a huge bribe to support the Despensers and let them land in Devonshire. I refused.’

‘Did he leave immediately?’ Baldwin asked.

‘No, he remained talking for some time. In fact, he asked me for advice. He said he hadn’t expected me to take a bribe; it was his conviction that the Despensers were a broken reed, that they could not be permitted to return to the kingdom, and asked me who I advised him to support.’

‘At the inn, Lovecok noticed that Sir Gilbert was being followed. I think that although you tried to conceal your tryst with Sir Gilbert, you failed. Sir Peregrine knew he was there. Not only that, he had the man followed when he left here.’

‘This is nonsense!’ Sir Peregrine exclaimed. ‘Why should I do that?’

‘In order to know what he was doing. You had a man follow him back to his camp, and the next day you yourself went there to keep an eye on him. And it was then you caused the first death.’

‘You dare to accuse me of murder?’ Sir Peregrine grated. He marched towards Baldwin, his hand on his sword hilt, chin jutting aggressively. Two female guests gasped in alarm but their husbands leaned forward eagerly to watch with all the others.

‘No, Sir Peregrine, I do not. You were there to keep this dangerous messenger under surveillance but no, you didn’t kill him.’ Baldwin turned back to Lord Hugh. ‘One thing I could not understand, my Lord, was how the knight’s dog died. It was plain to me that a weakly man like Dyne could never have killed the knight and the dog if they set upon him at the same time. This is what happened. The dogs had been restless all day and as soon as the knight let one off the leash, it raced into the woods and was never seen alive by Sir Gilbert again.’