And now there was a fourth dead man, of course. Mustn’t forget him, Edmund told himself.
No, that dog’s turd. Piers was the most deserving of the lot of them.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
There was a time, Pilk reckoned, when life had been easier. When he was a lad, for example. Those days, he’d never worried too much about anything, except where his next ale was coming from. Now his head was throbbing, and he was unpleasantly certain that Ellis was going to want to cut out his bowels and strangle him with them. It was the sort of thing he’d enjoy.
Slowly, he walked through the crowds beginning to pack up their wares and leave for their lodgings or homes. When he spotted Ellis among them, he quickly turned — God, he couldn’t take any more punishment today — but the man didn’t see him, was hurrying through the gates, as if he couldn’t get away from the palace fast enough.
Everyone was running about today, William reflected. Not him, though. He just wasn’t up to it. The bastard Ellis could go and swyve a mule. If he tried anything with William again, he wouldn’t hesitate — not this time. No, he’d grab a knife and gut the bastard. As long as it wasn’t today.
It had been a dreadful day. Not only because of the fight with Ellis, but also because of the questioning: those two appearing and accusing him of killing the girl and perhaps Jack too. Christ, that had been unsettling. Even now, his bowels felt as if a rock was stuck in them, a heavy ball that wouldn’t move, no matter what. That was how fear always affected him.
With any luck, Pilk thought wearily, he’d be able to see the back of Ellis for good soon. That’d make his day.
‘I really should not be doing this.’
‘No, Chaplain. You oughtn’t,’ Simon said with happy agreement. He poked his head around a doorway and beckoned the other two.
They had entered the palace from a doorway beneath the Lesser Chamber, which had led them to a small corridor going southwards through a small range of storage chambers. The other side of them, Peter explained, was the King’s cloister, and that itself met with the Queen’s. This passage would end there, and there was a small gate to allow them inside. A guard would be stationed there, of course, but Peter had learned that the guards were not aware of all the entrances. For example, he knew of a stair that led to the second floor just before the Queen’s cloister.
‘If we go up there, we can easily get into the upper corridors, and thence to the place where Mabilla died.’
‘That is good,’ Baldwin said. ‘Even better would be to get inside the connecting passage from the King’s to the Queen’s chambers. What I wish to do is look to see whether there is any evidence of murder having happened in the King’s chamber or near it.’
‘Why? I don’t understand.’
‘Because someone,’ Simon said, ‘killed this man Jack atte Hedge. Whoever it was killed him somewhere else, and then carried him through to the Great Hall. There wasn’t enough blood where he was found for him to have died there.’
‘So you say he died somewhere else and was carried there? Why?’
‘That, as they say, is the interesting question,’ Baldwin said. ‘If he was found in the King’s chamber, perhaps that would have made for embarrassment.’
‘Especially with his tarse in his mouth,’ Simon grunted.
‘That is the reason why I feel that the King’s chamber is not so likely,’ Baldwin said. ‘Whoever killed him left that mark upon him as a symbol of contempt for Despenser, I am sure.’
‘So you don’t want to go there?’
‘The Queen’s chamber first would perhaps be more sensible,’ Baldwin said.
‘Apart from the fact that if the man was killed in her chamber, or near her, the killer would have had to carry his corpse all the way along the corridors to the Great Hall where he was found,’ Simon pointed out. ‘How could someone do that and hope to escape without being detected?’
‘Maybe he bribed the guards,’ Peter offered. ‘Or he was simply an enormously bold, courageous fellow.’
‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin agreed. They had reached a staircase. ‘This is it?’
‘Let me go first and make sure all is safe,’ Peter said. He walked up the stairs and opened a heavy little door at the top. ‘It’s fine.’
Baldwin and Simon followed him and stood at the top. Baldwin thrust his head through the gap and found himself in a narrow passageway that led off towards the river and met up with an upper storey in the old palace building. Soon he was up and standing beside Peter, Simon clambering after them.
‘It is usually safe here. That is why it’s sometimes popular.’
Simon tilted his head. ‘With whom?’
‘Lovers. They use this route when they want secrecy. I’ve seen some few.’
‘Such as?’
He looked at Simon with a smile. ‘I mentioned Alicia and the guard before. They have been along here, when Alicia should have remained in the Queen’s quarters and Richard Blaket should have been in the guardroom. But lovers cannot be kept apart, eh?’
This new corridor ended in a small chamber, in the next wall of which was another small door. Peter again went ahead and peered through. He jerked his head at them, and they walked along the flagged way after him. Periodically, on their right, were a series of tall, narrow windows which gave out over the Queen’s cloister. At this time of the evening no one was there. They would be eating, Baldwin thought, from the odours that rose to his nostrils.
Peter led them to a door set into the wall at the end. Here he looked at them seriously, then drew a key from a chain about his neck, and put it in the lock. The door opened easily and silently, and Simon and Baldwin found themselves in the chapel once more, this time in the upper storey.
‘Here you are.’
‘The Queen will be eating? I suppose that means we cannot enter her chamber,’ Baldwin mused.
‘No, she’s dining with the King in the old palace just now.’
‘Why?’
‘They are putting on a show of matrimonial normality,’ Peter said cynically. ‘There are too many who would like to portray them as loathing each other, so they sometimes put on a little display to frustrate all of them.’
‘Then let us see her chamber.’
Peter chewed at his lip. ‘What will you do if there is blood in there?’ he asked without moving. ‘You mean to accuse the Queen of murder?’
‘No. There is no doubt that the man who died was an assassin. We have had him confirmed in his profession,’ Baldwin said. ‘My interest is to learn about Mabilla and who actually killed her.’
Peter led the way slowly out through the rear of the chapel and along another corridor. ‘But if you find blood in her chamber …’ he said again, still anxious.
‘It will simply mean that someone killed the assassin in order to protect her.’
‘Ah. Good point. That man should be rewarded,’ the Chaplain smiled. He threw open a door. ‘Here it is.’
They were in a long chamber that looked out over the Thames. The walls were decorated with a pattern of tiles, the floor comprised good broad elm boards, and there were decorative tapestries and hangings to stop the draughts. Baldwin glanced about him once, and was then off along the chamber, his eyes to the ground, walking from side to side like a questing hound.
‘Is he always like this?’ Peter asked.
Simon, who was finding it hard to drag his eyes from the hangings, from the gilded carvings at the ceiling, from the fabulous tableware and the gleaming plates and bowls of silver, could only nod.