She heard the priest knocking on her door and calling. It took her no time at all to kiss Jen, make her promise to listen to the other adults in the vill, and to see the neighbours if she had any difficulties, then collect her food and drink, wrapped in a large square of muslin, and join the priest at the door.
‘You are sure you wish to do this, mistress?’ he asked hopefully. He would prefer to avoid another walk.
‘Of course I am,’ she snapped. ‘I have to look after us now that Ham’s dead, don’t I?’
Father Luke nodded sadly. The journey to Worcester was a long one, and he had already endured enough travelling to last him many years. Even the prospect of a pilgrimage to Canterbury, which he had until recently viewed with enthusiasm, was not to be borne. No, if he could, he would remain here in Willersey for the remainder of his days.
‘Come on!’ she called. ‘If we don’t leave now we’ll never get anywhere.’
He glanced about him at the little vill as she set off, stumping heavily up the roadway. Jen stood in the doorway, her hands on the doorpost, staring wide-eyed after her mother, like a child who feared she would soon be orphaned.
All her confidence was gone now, Father Luke saw. The little girl who only a few weeks ago had continually surprised him with her maturity and intellect, was lost. With her father gone, she had realised that the world was infinitely more dangerous than she could ever have foreseen.
He set his jaw, took his staff, and moved off after Agatha, filled with a grim resolution. He would find that damned cart, and the chest — and he would keep it. The man who had been King had no use for the money, for it would not change his life one whit, but here, in this vill, it could work a wonder. It could even save that little girl from living in fear.
Somehow, he would find that money.
Kenilworth
Matteo walked down to the yard as Lord Berkeley’s men gathered there. The lord was giving orders to his men, and Matteo bowed as he presented the indenture.
‘My lord, this is for you. It is the authorisation for you to take Sir Edward of Caernarfon to your own castle.’
Lord Thomas took the parchment and opened it. ‘Good. Where is the Earl?’
‘He is away,’ Gilbert said reluctantly. He had been standing over at the entrance to the hall, but now he stepped forward. ‘May I help you, my lord?’
‘This is an indenture for the release of Sir Edward into my hands. I am to take him to Berkeley,’ Lord Thomas said pleasantly. ‘It is signed by the King.’
‘My lord, I have no. . Please, can you wait until my lord the Earl returns? He should only be a little while longer, and I am sure-’
‘I have urgent business,’ Lord Thomas said tersely. ‘Prepare Sir Edward for his departure.’
‘My lord, I-’
‘At once.’
‘My lord, I do not think you should attempt to remove Sir Edward until Earl Henry has viewed the indenture,’ Sir Jevan said.
‘You are?’
‘My name is Sir Jevan de Bromfield.’
‘You are a household knight of the Earl of Lancaster? I am glad to meet you, Sir Jevan. However, I have been ordered in the name of the King to remove Sir Edward for his own protection. It seems that the defences here were insufficient. Perhaps that was intentional — I don’t know. However, my task is bring Sir Edward to safety and that, Sir Jevan, I shall do. If you wish to thwart me and my men, I think you will find it difficult.’
Thursday before Palm Sunday
Kenilworth Castle
‘Morning, Master Puttock. How are ye this morning, eh? It’s a fine morning for a sore head, I daresay. Good God, breathe that air. Makes you glad to be alive, hey?’
Simon heard Sir Richard approach from the far side of the outer ward where the good knight had been glancing over his rounsey, and now he nudged Simon with a beaming smile. ‘Bad head, eh? I know what it’s like. You need a quick cup of strong ale to settle your stomach, man, that’s all.’
The thought was almost enough to make Simon spew again. He had already had to stick his head out of the window when he woke, and after trying to eat a little breakfast, he had resorted to running for the midden, where he had brought it all up again. It was outrageous to suggest that he should take more ale when his head was entirely due to the knight’s carousing the night before!
‘No,’ he said weakly.
‘Well, if you don’t want a solid cure for your head, man, you only have yourself to blame, eh?’
Simon gave him a sour look and walked over to the horses. His own beast was looking well enough after almost a day of rest, and he was glad to see that a patch where the saddle had rubbed on its withers appeared to have healed, after the groom had spread some goose fat over the area.
‘There he is,’ the groom said with a nod of his head towards the inner ward’s gates.
Simon turned to see Sir Edward of Caernarfon walking past.
‘He looks sad,’ Simon said quietly.
‘He is, I expect,’ said Sir Jevan, who had been patting his own horse a short way away. He joined Simon. ‘Hard to imagine how he must feel, eh? His children won’t see him, his wife hates him, and his subjects have forgotten him. What a disaster it must seem, to see all his works set aside.’
Simon shrugged. Perhaps the King was experiencing a little of the horror that had been visited upon the people of his realm. In his opinion, the King did not deserve any more sympathy than Despenser.
And yet Simon still found himself feeling sorry for the man.
There was a goodly number of men around the King as he trotted to the outer ward. Beside him was a squire, whom Simon recognised from the King’s household in Westminster, although he could not remember the fellow’s name. At the other side was the King’s Gaoler, a Sergeant called Gilbert. Then came more servants and a contingent of guards. None of them terribly prepossessing, he thought.
Mostly they were scruffy-looking fellows with long knives, leather jerkins and toughened leather caps on their heads. Welsh, from the look of them, he thought. Mortimer had many Welsh friends, and was trusted by the Welsh, as was Sir Edward of Caernarfon himself. It made for confusion among the peoples of the Principality when Mortimer decided to rebel.
‘Ho! Looks like we should mount,’ Sir Richard said. He left Simon and swung himself onto his beast, settling instantly like a man born in a saddle. Simon took a little longer, and when he was seated, he saw Hugh scowling ferociously while two grooms tried to curb their amusement, holding his pony still for him while he attempted to get his foot in the stirrup.
Watching Hugh, Simon did not pay attention to the others, and he was surprised to find that a man had ridden up close. He looked across — and felt a little of his sore head dissipate at the gladsome sight.
‘Baldwin! What in God’s great name are you doing here?’
‘Old friend, I was about to ask you the same question,’ Baldwin said, gripping Simon’s arm.
There was a shout at the gate, a slow rumble as the great baulks of timber swung open on their huge hinges, and then amid a loud trumpet blast, Gilbert gave the order for the unruly mob to ride off. Soon all fifty men were moving, Gilbert in the lead, while the old King was surrounded by the majority of the men-at-arms behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kenilworth
John climbed into the saddle with a sigh of thankfulness. He had no desire to be on horseback again so soon, but anything was better than remaining here in the castle. He constantly felt the need to keep his head down. It was a relief that he had been billeted outside the castle itself, along with many of the Berkeley men. There was not room for all inside.