It was noticeable that his eyes rested more commonly on Paul than on others though, and that was a source of some fear. Paul didn’t like being watched; he thought that this must be how a mouse feels while the hawk hovers overhead; unseen, unheard, but always moments away from a deadly blow.
Still, the lessons had seemed to be going well. He had managed to surprise the lad — up until yesterday, anyway.
Yesterday the boy had seemed thoroughly impressed; it was clear by the way that he had responded to his teachings. Sometimes the young duke had the temerity to question details, but Paul was always able to adopt a lofty attitude, while making up stories to prove that he was correct. That was one skill he had never lost. There were a couple of moments when the boy had tried to speak over him, as though thinking that he knew the answers to some issues, but Paul had airily waved away his protests. It would not do to have a pupil believe that he knew more than his tutor, after all.
Yes, he had been quite enjoying his teachings, spouting forth while daydreaming about the backside of the maid. Just a shame that he couldn’t get to grapple with that little blonde.
The bell at the chapel tolled, and he gladly closed the book before him. Enormous, it covered the campaigns of the Greek Alexander, and the thing was tedious — and somewhat worrying, too. The boy had specifically asked for it today. Yesterday he had demonstrated an insatiable appetite for stories of the man’s achievements, and it had begun to strain Paul, to come up with new facets of the warrior’s character. Every time he thought that he had successfully shut down one avenue of the duke’s enquiries, the little monster would come up with another. It really had been hard work. The boy seemed to delight in finding new questions. Still, Paul’s inventiveness had been up to it, or so he had felt. He had told of how the man was actually not particularly brave, and that was why he had lived to such a grand old age. Alexander was, naturally, a coarse, thuggish man with the manners of a barbarian, and his appreciation of arts and the finer things in life were obviously going to extend no further than those things which he could grab and stuff in a cart to be sold.
If Paul had made it up, that was little concern at the time. No one could prove him wrong, after all. Or so he had thought, but then the duke had asked to study this book with Paul. And Paul now had a distinct feeling that he might have been trapped. This book seemed to indicate that Alexander had died rather younger than the hoary old warrior he had envisaged. If the book were to be believed, he was also rather cultured. And not an acquisitive mercenary like the modern knight Paul had imagined. It led Paul to wonder whether he had, in fact, been taken in by the lad.
‘Ready for your ride?’ the duke asked. He had a slight smile, and his eyes were lidded, as though he was amused by something. Or suspicious.
‘Yes, of course, my lord,’ Paul said, and he was aware of a nervousness as he bowed.
Bishop’s Clyst
‘What can you tell me about these affairs?’ Baldwin asked as the bishop walked in, William Walle and John behind him.
Baldwin was sitting at the table, head resting on his fists, while he tried to make sense of the crabbed writing before him.
‘Which?’ the bishop asked. He crossed the floor and sat at Baldwin’s side. ‘Oh, the Hamo case? That was a difficult matter. The boy, his son John, was orphaned, so we thought, when his father died in the Scottish war. That damned Bruce killed so many of our men that year. May his soul rot in hell. Since Hamo atte Font was dead — or so everyone thought — we had to look after his boy. I took on his wardship, and Hamo’s assets were taken.’
‘It says here that Hamo’s son was to be placed into the guardianship of his mother?’ Baldwin said.
‘Well, yes, that was suggested. But some of us felt that the matter was not so simple. Anyway, it was all resolved quickly. Hamo managed to return later, and he took up his properties in his own right.’
‘I see. And you had no fights with them?’
‘No. Nor did I take up a seal or try to keep his assets once he arrived home again,’ the bishop said sharply.
‘Very good. There are a number of other matters here though. All have been listed with this mark.’
‘What mark? Oh.’
Baldwin could see the bishop’s eyes move away, even as he pointed to the small ‘D’ at the corner of the first section. ‘Bishop — what does this signify?’
‘There is no secret to it. It means that it was a matter in which I involved myself with my lord Hugh le Despenser. We occasionally had need of some mutual support, I suppose, and would help people together.’
‘People such as this Roger Crok?’
‘People such as he, yes.’
‘What happened with him?’
‘He was a supporter of the king’s enemies. Of the Lords Marcher. As such, his property became forfeit.’
‘And that is all?’ Baldwin asked.
The bishop licked his lips, then shot a look at his nephew and appeared to make a resolution. ‘No. I was keen to acquire certain lands. There were two manors which his mother would have held, but since her son and her husband were both traitors, they were taken. The king settled both of her manors on me.’
‘Her husband and son are dead?’
‘To the best of my knowledge.’
‘What of this case — John Biset?’
The bishop could feel William Walle’s eyes on him as he answered. ‘Oh, he was a young landowner who wanted wardship of a tenant’s grandson, and I fought it. With good reason, too — the fellow was too young. Biset had hardly come of age when the wardship came up.’
‘So he was of age? You said “hardly”.’
‘Yes, he was technically old enough. But he had to have his age proven, and couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
The bishop shrugged. ‘I confess, I and Sir Hugh le Despenser arranged matters so that he could not prove his age until late in June of that year, three years ago now. It meant that the wardship was automatically secured by the king. When the inquest was held, he could prove his age, but it is taking him time to win it back.’
‘Why deprive the fellow of his rightful possessions?’ Baldwin asked pointedly.
‘I was content to be reasonable, Sir Baldwin, but he was not. I would have settled happily for the wardship, or for a manor or two. But he wouldn’t agree.’
Baldwin closed the book gently, but he couldn’t help the anger showing in his eyes. ‘So you took from this boy his income, because he wouldn’t submit to you and Despenser trying to steal his manors? I find your innocence a little hard to square with the facts of the case.’
‘We did not, perhaps, cover ourselves with glory,’ the bishop admitted. ‘But the fellow was utterly determined. It was frustrating to have him thwart us in that manner.’
‘Is he alive?’
‘I believe so. Unless he has seriously annoyed the Despenser, there is no reason to think he would have expired,’ the bishop said.
‘Those are the cases I found which showed most promise,’ Baldwin said. ‘It is possible, I suppose, that Biset found your attempt to steal his manor to be so reprehensible that he sent you the notes and his old seal. Or, perhaps the seal belonged to the ward’s father?’
‘He was only a tenant. He may have possessed his own seal, I suppose, but I would doubt that it would have been kept in such a valuable purse.’
‘The poor will often value objects that the rich consider pointless,’ Baldwin said. ‘The Crok family would seem to have more use for a seal though, or this man Biset. They were landowners themselves, so if one of them survived, he may carry the urge for revenge for your theft.’
‘I consider that word to be most harsh,’ the bishop protested.