‘My lord Duke, I hope you slept well?’ Paul greeted him.
‘I did not.’
Paul smiled benignly. ‘Ah, you must not allow a little action like that of yesterday to unsettle you, my lord. No, the main thing is, you were safe.’
‘You think so?’
‘Of course. While you have a force such as yesterday’s with you, you will be safe from robbers and outlaws.’
‘You think those men were outlaws, then?’
‘Yes, but there is nothing to fear from such men. You saw how poorly they fought.’
‘It’s true,’ the duke said musingly. ‘They were not a match for our men in some ways. The speed and determination of our guard was adequate to throw them into confusion.’
‘Naturally.’
‘But I am not concerned for outlaws; what I am worried about is the fact that I think they may have been sent for me.’
‘Oh, my lord, I don’t think-’
‘Do you really believe that a bunch of cutpurses would be so well armoured? Do you think that they would have aimed straight for the youngest in the group — me?’
‘I thought that they were all riding towards me! In an action like that, you see, you can be-’
‘Shut up! If I want a fool to make me laugh, I can demand the services of a better trained one. Those men were sent to capture me — I hope.’
‘What do you mean, you “hope”?’
‘If they were not, they were sent to kill me,’ the duke said, and pursed his lips.
‘I think, Your Highness, you are taking this too seriously.’
‘A man of my bodyguard is dead, and you suggest I am too serious?’
‘No, but surely if there was such a danger to you, we would already know of it, eh?’
The duke gave him a withering look, and then took his seat on a large chair. ‘Priest, you make a poor adviser. I have to understand the nature of the threat in order to be able to protect myself from it.’
‘But who would want to see you harmed?’ Paul protested weakly.
‘Either Despenser wishes to have me captured and taken back to England, or killed. If I were to die here in France, the kingdom would blame my mother and Mortimer — and can you envisage the invasion of England succeeding if all in the country thought that? No! Despenser wishes to see me dead. Well, he will not — I will see his head on a spike first!’
‘What will you do?’ Paul asked.
‘First, we shall move away from the sphere of my mother’s influence — in order to protect her. We could go somewhere where it will be easier to remain safe. Perhaps to Paris — but the king, my uncle, is not happy to have us remain. He sees us as an embarrassment now. Or I could go to Normandy. There are plenty of safe places there for us to hide in.’
‘What does your mother say?’
‘Her view does not matter. This is my responsibility,’ the duke said firmly.
Paul nodded, but did not speak. Uppermost in his mind was the reaction of Mortimer. He was due to return the next day.
Furnshill
There was another man in the hall when Baldwin entered. ‘Sir Peregrine, I hope I see you well, sir?’
‘I am very well, Sir Baldwin.’
With this man, Baldwin was perfunctory at best. He had never liked Sir Peregrine de Barnstaple. The coroner was too much the politician for his tastes and while Baldwin agreed entirely with the ambition of seeing the Despenser removed from his secure position beside the throne, he deprecated the man’s enthusiasm for plotting.
To Baldwin it was a simple matter of honour: he had sworn allegiance to the king as his sovereign, and although the king could, and often did, make an appalling mess of his governance of the realm, yet he was still the man whom God had anointed with oil. He was the rightful king, and Baldwin must seek to preserve him.
‘You have come here from Tiverton, Sir Peregrine? Has there been a murder?’ he asked as he took his wife’s hand and kissed it, saying, ‘I missed you, my love.’
She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘And I you,’ she whispered. Then she stood away and nodded to Edgar. He strode off, returning a moment later with a mazer for Baldwin. There was already a jug at the side of Sir Peregrine, and Baldwin took it up, serving his guest first, topping up his cup, before filling his own and drinking deeply.
‘No, no murder yet,’ Sir Peregrine said with a smile. ‘Or perhaps I should say, not recently. It is a long time since Tiverton suffered from a crime of that sort. The reason I am here is because I was on my way to Exeter, to meet with the sheriff.’
‘That young fool de Cockington?’
‘True, he is not so experienced as you and I, Sir Baldwin, which makes him rather a refreshing fellow to have in a position like his. The opportunities for pulling the wool over his eyes are legion. Even when he believes he has struck a hard bargain with me, I usually manage to acquire all I need.’
‘That is good,’ Baldwin said. He was thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, ‘Do you know anything about a family called Biset? A man called John Biset?’
‘I have heard of him, I think. Why?’
Baldwin shook his head. ‘Something I was wondering about. Probably nothing. So, you will stay for some food? Would you accept a bed for the night?’
‘I would like to, but no, I should ride on. I left only late this morning,’ Sir Peregrine said, ‘delayed by business. But I hope to hurry to Exeter. There is a lady there whom I would meet again.’
‘A lady?’ Baldwin asked, glancing at his wife with a faint smile. There was something endearing about Sir Peregrine’s attempts to find himself a wife.
‘Yes, the Lady Isabella, who was sadly widowed for the second time a few years ago.’
Jeanne, who was always keen for news of Sir Peregrine’s romantic progress, leaned forward. ‘Tell us about her — I do not know this lady.’
‘She is named Isabella Fitzwilliam. Her last husband was Henry, but he was captured by the king’s men and executed for treachery. Since then, she has been living in penury.’
Baldwin shook his head sadly. ‘There are so many who have lost their livelihoods. It is terrible.’
‘Yes. To think that an honourable lady like her … Well, as you say, Sir Baldwin, the last few years have seen so much injustice and cruelty, it is hard to know what to say to someone who has suffered so much.’
‘But you hope to be able to comfort her?’ Jeanne prompted.
‘I cannot hope … I would like to … But it is impossible to even dream of such things. The poor lady has lost two husbands already. I cannot imagine that she would be keen to experience such a loss again,’ Sir Peregrine said, his eyes a little downcast.
It was no more than the truth. Hard though it was to accept, Sir Peregrine was almost resigned to the fact that his life would end without a wife. He would die a bachelor.
In the past, that had been a source of extreme sadness. He had wanted to have the stability of a wife at his side, to have children whom he might teach and leave to carry on his family name. Given time, perhaps he would have seen a son of his become famous, even see him knighted in his own right. That would have been a wonder to him!
But no, it had never happened, and now, much though he desired a woman’s companionship, he would have to learn to be satisfied with the friendship of others.
‘You would like her for your wife?’ Jeanne said definitely.
‘Well, of course I would, my lady, but if I were truthful, I would have to say that my own position is scarcely sound. There are many men who are better placed than me to provide for a lady such as her.’
‘What is she like?’ Jeanne asked.
‘Well, she is no child,’ Sir Peregrine said with an embarrassed shrug. ‘Oh, I do not mean that she is old, Lady Jeanne!’
‘What, not as old as me?’ Jeanne asked sweetly.
‘You torment me now,’ the knight said distractedly. ‘I can say nothing without your twisting my words.’
‘I shall be silent, then,’ Jeanne smiled.