Michael JECKS - The Boy-Bishop's Glovemaker

Baldwin set his head to one side in exaggerated surprise. ‘You mean his face was not masked or covered? He must have been the veriest fool in Christendom to attack travellers and not try to hide his identity.’

‘Perhaps, but such is how it was.’

‘What of the rest of the gang?’

‘They were masked.’

There was a lightness to his voice which could have indicated boredom, as if he found the repetition of his attack infinitely dull – or maybe the man was simply ashamed of the attack. But that was foolish. How could a man be embarrassed about being set upon by fifteen or so men? ‘They were all armed, I suppose?’

‘All with sticks or axes. Some had billhooks. It was terrifying, I assure you.’

A whole band armed with such weapons would be a fearsome sight. ‘I wonder why this one had no face covering.’

‘He was a fool.’

‘It is merely odd. In my experience, outlaws would happily kill a traveller to prevent their being recognised later – especially if they are local and could be seen by another local man.’

Karvinel shrugged but said nothing.

‘And your clerk has died too, hasn’t he?’ Baldwin continued after a moment. ‘The young Secondary, Peter?’

‘Yes.’

‘You saw him in a tavern a few days ago – the twenty-third, I think. He turned from you as if angry – why should he do that?’

‘He never avoided me.’

‘But I heard…’

Karvinel had been surveying the other guests but now he turned to face Baldwin, and the latter could see the naked rage that simmered under the polite exterior. ‘Are you suggesting that I am not telling the truth, Master Knight? Do you call me a liar?’

‘No, Master Nicholas,’ said Baldwin with a suave smile. ‘Of course not.’

He had no need to when Karvinel’s manner convinced him of the fact.

The Bailiff was enjoying himself immensely as his drinking horn was topped up once more. He stood, a beatific grin spread over his features, the horn gripped tightly in his right hand.

Some of the guests were sitting at low tables and playing merrills or backgammon while servants brought in harps and other instruments ready for more singing. Simon was all in favour of gambling and singing, especially after a good meal, and now he leaned against a table, eyeing the throng with a benevolent expression on his face.

Baldwin saw Simon swaying gently and smiled to himself. Walking over, he nodded at the drinking horn. ‘It is my fervent wish that you should regret your consumption tomorrow, Simon.’

‘Me? Hardly had more than a few. No, I can handle my drink.’

Baldwin curled his lip. More than a pint or two of wine and his head was unbearable the next day, not to mention the acid in his belly.

‘The dancer was talented, wasn’t she?’ Simon continued pensively. ‘She could tempt a man, that one.’ In his mind he recalled the tall, slim woman springing up onto her hands, then backwards onto her feet again. The thought of such suppleness brought a happy smile to his face. ‘Yes, she could tempt a monk, that girl. God’s balls, but she can move!’

‘Sad, considering her man is in gaol,’ Baldwin said, explaining that Mary was, in fact, the baker’s daughter: Elias’s girlfriend. ‘You should consider yourself lucky she hasn’t looked at you, anyway,’ he chuckled. ‘After all you’ve had to drink, you would hardly manage a smile even if you found her tucked up in your bed!’

Simon blinked slowly as he considered this. ‘That,’ he slurred carefully, ‘is an entirely unwarranted comment. I can father children with my great sword.’

Baldwin’s bellow of laughter made others in the room turn. ‘Great sword? I should think after all that drink it would be more like a bent knife that has been used too often for cutting leather. Old, weak and blunted.’

‘Hurtful,’ Simon said sadly, shaking his head. ‘Anyway, whatever you think of it, and since I doubt that I will be able to prove my virility with that girl, I shall go out and use it for its secondary purpose.’

‘Walk cautiously, then,’ Baldwin smiled as his friend took a slightly indirect path for the doorway.

Outside, Simon immediately felt more clear-headed. The plot was long and narrow, with vegetables growing near the house and a small enclosed arbour concealing a farther garden. He walked to this and lifted his tunic, peeing contentedly against a fruit tree. When he was done he was loath to return immediately and instead strolled a little further, enjoying the quiet.

It was then that he heard the short gasp. He stilled, listening intently. Slowly he stepped forward with extreme caution.

All too often thieves had been known to break into parties and rob all the guests. Simon intended to see whether outlaws had clambered over Vincent’s wall. He advanced past a small fence with apple-trees trained against it, along the line of a small hedge, but then he was close enough to see that there was no risk from either of the two who so enthusiastically grappled and strove together.

Grinning, Simon tiptoed away. There was no point in disturbing them. He returned to the house.

Baldwin was in the doorway. ‘You took your time. I was wondering whether you had blundered into a hole.’

‘No,’ said Simon. ‘I thought there was an intruder, but then I realised it was a welcome intrusion I heard.’

Baldwin eyed him. ‘Are you feeling all right?’

Simon said nothing, but nodded back towards the garden. There, walking towards them was the dancing girl and one of the musicians, both strolling with all the arrogance of youth and satisfied lust.

‘Ah, I see,’ Baldwin grinned once the two had pushed their way back indoors. Then Simon wiped the smile off his face with his next remark.

‘I should think she has anticipated her marriage. In fact, even though the nuptial bed was green and damp, I’d say young Mary Skinner had just performed the most important of the marital duties.’

‘My God! She scarcely seems overly concerned by Elias’s incarceration, does she?’

While Simon fetched them fresh drinks, despite Baldwin’s protestations, Baldwin noticed that Vincent was talking to Karvinel again, quietly in a corner. The Receiver appeared calm, but Karvinel seemed to be restraining his anger with great difficulty. Baldwin only wished he could get a little nearer, but before he could approach, Lady Hawisia was bearing down on him. Baldwin steeled himself.

‘Ah, there you are, Sir Baldwin. There are so many men here who wish to meet you. Couldn’t you come with me for a moment?’

Despite Jeanne’s opinion, voiced to Baldwin, that Hawisia was ‘vacuous – really empty-headed’, she exhibited little foolishness in her dealings with the men in the room. She courteously introduced Baldwin, explained a little about the man whom he was meeting, allowed a short conversation and then apologetically withdrew, taking Baldwin with her, to show him off to another person of influence.

It was only after she had circled the room that he could persuade her to allow him to rest. ‘It is tiring to meet so many people,’ he protested.

She smiled up at him. ‘I am sorry, Sir Baldwin. It is so vital that I don’t insult anyone by not introducing you that I forget my duty to you as our honoured guest.’

‘I am not that honourable, so I should not worry unduly,’ he said kindly.

She grinned nervously. ‘It is difficult for me. I am not used to dealing with knights and nobles, Sir Baldwin.’

‘There is nothing to fear about people. They are all much the same.’

‘It is very important that I make a good impression for Vincent’s sake,’ she said. Looking over to her husband, she added, ‘And I can be so foolish on occasion. I must be a terrible burden on him.’