Lord Thomas opened the wax seals, reading the notes quickly, his brows rising in surprise. Then, ‘Steward! Bring another jug of wine. I have cause to celebrate.’
‘What is that, my lord?’ Benedetto enquired.
‘I am to be Keeper of the King’s Peace for Gloucestershire, along with Sir William de Wauton. We are to maintain the peace throughout the county.’
‘There is another message, I think?’
‘This is curious,’ Lord Thomas said as he read. ‘There has been an attempt to release Sir Edward of Caernarfon from his retirement. ‘Sir Roger says he has received a warning from Kenilworth. He asks me to go there with as many men as I can muster, and bring Sir Edward here. Well, that will be no trouble,’ Lord Thomas said, frowningly. ‘But it will take time to organise. I have other responsibilities before I can depart. .’
His steward brought more messages, and Lord Berkeley leafed through them. ‘Ah! This is from Kenilworth,’ he said, ripping the seal open. ‘Sir Edward of Caernarfon demands that Sir Baldwin de Furnshill and Sir Ralph of Evesham should accompany us. Why we should need two more when I have my own guards. . Well, at least it gives me more time to prepare.’
‘You will not leave at once?’
‘No, Master Bardi. I wait for Sir Baldwin. When he is here, I shall leave for Kenilworth,’ the man said. ‘No need to hurry unduly.’
‘No, naturally,’ Benedetto smiled. ‘No hurry at all.’
Stoneleigh
The chill had not affected Dolwyn so much overnight. He too had slept rough, because he had little money left. After spending a day kicking his heels trying to think of any means of getting to Edward of Caernarfon in safety, he had still no better idea than the one that had occurred to him before — the laundress. It was not the safest idea, but the only one that seemed even remotely possible.
He had lain in wait out near the entrance to the town that lay north of the castle until he saw the laundress leaving the main gate. It was unthinkable that she could have lived within the castle. It would be too much of a temptation to the men of the garrison. Bad for discipline. She would be allowed in for her duties, but would be expelled before curfew.
‘Maid, may I help you with that basket?’ he asked as he joined her.
She shot him a doubtful look. ‘Why?’
He had to smile. She was not quite such an ugly old crone as he had thought from a distance. Perhaps five-and-thirty years old, she still had a fresh complexion, and although she was painfully thin, there was a vivacity about her that was not unappealing. But her eyes were shrewd and held a feminine cunning, he thought. He must be cautious.
‘May a man not offer help to a maid? Especially when she’s-’
‘If you want a whore, look elsewhere.’
‘No, maid, really, I-’
‘Master,’ she sneered, ‘don’t “maid” me. If you followed me from the castle, you’ll know I work there. I get all sorts of men offering me their “support”. I have no need of help of that sort.’
‘I wanted to offer you money for something else.’
She turned eyes on him in which the doubt was driven out by pure suspicion.
‘Mistress, all I ask is that you listen to me. Let me buy you a pot of wine and explain.’
And she had listened, and agreed. He wrote the note on a strip of parchment and gave it to her, explaining that the attempt to free Edward had made matters more difficult, that he would return, and that Edward must remain patient.
The castle had been in uproar. He had heard chatter on the streets that there were fewer than thirty men in the attack. Fools! And now the garrison was running around like a cat with a flaming torch tied to its taiclass="underline" eyeing anyone from the town with suspicion, sending men into the town to search for any survivors, scurrying about the countryside to find two men on horseback — one a Dominican, in Christ’s name!
All they had achieved was to force Dolwyn to leave the town and seek anonymity on the road. He couldn’t remain here in the locality and risk having to answer unwelcome questions. It was too likely that he would be uncovered as the man who had been in the castle the day before the attack. Instead he found a grassy spot in the bend of the river, and spent his morning dozing, soaking up what sun there was.
Later he walked to meet the woman again, at a quiet stable which had an ale-house next door, and there the laundress told him the news: they were to take the King to Berkeley Castle, to instal him in a cell there from which it would be more difficult to release him.
It was enough to make a man curse. What had been a moderately easy task, to rescue Edward from Kenilworth, had now become impossible. Where was Berkeley anyway? The laundress had said it was somewhere to the south and west, and that the King would be taken there before long.
So here he was, walking along a grotty little lane in the middle of the day without any idea where he was going, except that he was heading south and west.
The main question in his mind was: if he made his way there, what could he achieve? He was one man. It would make more sense to try to spring Edward of Caernarfon from the party escorting him to the castle, than to dream up a plan to help him escape from Berkeley. That would be suicidal.
In the distance he saw a cart, and called out: ‘Hoi! You there!’
The carter gave him an unfriendly look. Dolwyn said politely, ‘Friend, would you have space to help a weary traveller rest his feet for a mile or so?’
‘Can’t do that,’ the carter said. He was a man of about Dolwyn’s age, with brown hair kept long. His eyes were dark, and they kept moving fretfully over the road, the fields, and Dolwyn himself.
‘Only a short ride, master,’ Dolwyn wheedled. ‘I’ve walked a long way.’
‘Where from?’
‘The castle at Kenilworth. It’s a lovely place, isn’t it?’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I thought you must have come from that way, master, that’s all,’ Dolwyn said mildly. He smiled, and after a moment or two, the carter tried to return it, but his look was so fearful that it turned his face into a ghastly mask.
‘I have passed by the town, yes,’ he said.
Dolwyn nodded. ‘I am sure you have. It’s a long way from there, though. You must have rested for a day or two.’
‘Eh?’
‘There’s straw on top of the cart. I guess you had it hidden in a barn somewhere to have thrown all that hay over it.’
‘Why’d I do that?’
‘Anyone who’s been hiding would know the signs,’ Dolwyn said shortly.
The carter glared at him for a moment, and then Dolwyn drew his knife, and spoke quietly and calmly. ‘I know what you were doing, carter: you were supporting those boys at the castle, weren’t you? Your life’s worth nothing, because if the new King heard that you tried to free his father so he could take back his throne, I think he would have your ballocks for soup. And if he didn’t, Sir Roger Mortimer would. So how about we forget all the shite and agree that you’ll give me a ride. That’s all I ask. A ride.’
Ham stared at him, terrified, then nodded.
And that was the beginning of Ham’s nightmare.
Thursday before the Feast of the Annunciation
Willersey
Father Luke’s legs ached abominably as he limped into the village again after his long march. The way had not been too hard, but it had been quite hilly, as was normal in these parts.
In the beginning, his only thought had been for the danger in which he had placed himself. The memory of those men-at-arms riding towards him at such a terrifying pace was enough even now to turn his bowels to water, and the worst of it was, he had no real idea what on earth the fight was about. Oh, certainly, when a force of men was gathered together and there was plenty of ale or wine, it was common enough that there would be bickering, and with an armed garrison, that would often mean a fight, but even though he was not experienced in the ways of warriors, the priest was fairly sure that they did not spontaneously erupt into open battle. There had to be a reason why they had started to draw their weapons, and he was sure that the purveyor Stephen Dunheved must have had something to do with it.