‘Then I’ll do what I can,’ Bill said. He sighed resignedly. ‘Coroner, there is perhaps a little more I can tell you. But ’tis only guesswork on my part.’
Coroner Peregrine listened carefully as Bill spoke of the trampled brambles and blood which lay all about. He walked with Bill and studied the bushes before nodding. ‘You know I should fine you for not mentioning all this during my inquest? No matter. I can understand why you didn’t.’ He stood and gazed about him. ‘But I am serious, Lark. I want these bastards, and I will see them swing for this. I rely on you to find them for me. Seek them out. Seek them and let me know where your searches take you. Have your priest write to me at Rougemont Castle in Exeter, and I will come as soon as I may.’
Westminster Palace
Simon was surprised to be asked to go with the man-at-arms, but he had almost finished his meat pie, and he stuffed the remains into his mouth as he stood from the trestle table outside the tavern at the main gate to the palace grounds.
‘Who wants me?’ he asked through his pie.
‘The under-bottler to the Painted Chamber.’
Simon shrugged. Baldwin had left him here to go and make sure that his horse was being cared for. It was typical of the ex-Templar that he would always see to his horse’s well-being before his own. He had once explained his determination to look after his horse. ‘If I need to escape an enemy, Simon, I will want a horse that is fed and watered and without lameness.’
It made sense to a man who was a warrior, Simon supposed. For his part, he would always treat his horse as well as he might, because it was the second most expensive item he owned. The only thing that had ever cost him more was his house, and he believed in looking after his investment.
The bottler was one of the most important men in the king’s household. He controlled many facets of the house, from the rights and privileges of the servants to the quality and quantity of the food provided, as well as seeing to the comfort of guests. It was a little alarming that his deputy had asked to see Simon, but at least Simon had a clear conscience. There was nothing he could have done in the last hours that could have caused offence, so far as he knew. It was possible that he had done something before, during an earlier visit to the palace, but he felt sure that if that was the case, he would already have learned of his error.
Entering the palace by a door he had not used before, Simon was almost instantly disorientated. The man led him along a narrow passage, up a short flight of stairs, along a corridor, and then down a tower with a tightly curved staircase, before stopping at a door. He took Simon’s sword, then knocked, and motioned Simon forward.
Simon opened the door and stopped dead, his eyes freezing on the figure in the middle of the chamber.
‘Please, Bailiff. Enter and close the door behind you,’ Sir Hugh le Despenser said.
Simon took a step back to leave the room.
‘I said to come in.’
Simon’s way was barred by the grinning man-at-arms, who held his staff across his body and pushed Simon back inside.
‘We wouldn’t want any trouble for you at home, would we?’ Despenser said. ‘Your wife would be upset to know that you were prepared to make more problems for her, I expect.’
The mention of his wife was enough. ‘What have you done to my Meg?’ Simon demanded, turning and facing the man.
Despenser smiled at his angry response. ‘Already this year you have made yourself a sore annoyance to me, and I have repaid you as I might, to remind you and your friend the knight that it is better that you respect your betters rather than make trouble for them. I only wish to ask you some questions, nothing more. Enter and sit down and we can have a sensible talk. Otherwise I shall consider involving myself in your affairs again.’
‘What have you done to my wife while I was in France?’ Simon said, not moving.
Despenser looked him up and down without any change of expression. He jerked his head towards a stool in front of his table, then walked around to sit behind it on a large leather-covered chair. ‘I am waiting.’
Simon licked his lips. The man behind him moved away a little, and Simon turned to watch him, but when the man merely shrugged, Simon decided he might as well make the best of it. He pulled the door closed, leaving the guard outside, and walked to the table, staring down at the man on the other side.
Despenser looked worse than Simon remembered from when he had left the country. Then the strain was already showing. Sir Hugh was terrified that the king might go to France himself and leave him behind, which would without doubt lead to his death. Even were he declared regent in the king’s absence, he had made enemies of so many men in the realm that his life would be worthless as soon as Edward’s protection was taken away. The only thing that could be worse was that he might try to go with the king to France, for if anything the French king and his nobles were more repelled by Despenser than were the English. He had once turned pirate while exiled from the king’s side, and during that time he had deliberately captured and robbed a number of French vessels. It had led to the French declaring that were he ever to set foot on French territory again, he would be executed.
The machinations by which he had attempted to protect himself had led to Sir Hugh becoming almost cadaverous. He had grown pale and haggard. But now, if anything, he was a great deal worse. He sat sucking at his forefinger, and when he took it away, Simon saw that there was a rim of blood where he had bitten too close to the quick.
‘You look unwell,’ Simon commented with satisfaction.
‘I want to know all that happened in France. Especially with the queen.’
Simon stared at him. ‘I want to know how my wife is,’ he said again.
‘I have done nothing to harm or alarm her since you left. The only reason I did anything to her was to keep you under control, Master Puttock. For so long as you remain civil to me, she is safe. But leave me once to think that you are being less than frank, and I shall destroy you. Understand me? I will start by making life intolerable for your wife. So hearken to my words. I want to know all, all, that happened in France.’
Simon considered, but he saw no reason to risk antagonising his tormentor further. In all faith, he knew that the man sitting opposite could have him killed in an instant. Likewise, Meg could be injured, or worse, on the whim of Despenser. It would be better, no doubt, to humour him.
He related the story of his journey with Baldwin in the company of the Earl of Chester, recently created Duke of Aquitaine, as the two of them guarded the royal heir on his way to Paris. He told of the arguments between the queen and Bishop Walter, the murder of a French official, and finally of the flight homewards.
‘So the queen actually attempted to threaten the bishop? That is rich!’ Despenser laughed. ‘I suppose the old cockerel bolted as soon as he realised she was serious? The dotard wouldn’t usually recognise a threat until the dagger was pricking his skin!’
‘Bishop Walter had one thought and one only,’ Simon said coldly. ‘To protect the king and the king’s son. To do that he knew he must return alive with news of the difficulties in France.’
‘And to do so he was prepared to leave the king’s son in that nest of vipers? What perspicacity!’
Simon kept his mouth sealed. It was hard to justify the bishop’s actions to any who was not there and had not felt the menace. He did not feel the need to remind Despenser that he himself had hidden away in England to protect himself from the same risk.
Sir Hugh set his head to one side. ‘What of you, Master Bailiff? You and your friends. Did you and Sir Baldwin form an allegiance to the queen that would overrule your oaths to your king? Have you allied yourselves with her?’
‘What do you mean?’