‘Master steward, please,’ William said, trying to placate him, but John had already tried to grab the corrodian’s clothes.
In an instant the corrodian had thrown his habit wide open and whipped out a long-bladed knife. It swept past John’s face in a terrifying blur, and the appalled steward gave a startled yelp and fell on his back in his urgency to escape. ‘Sweet Mary, Mother of …’
The knife was at his throat, and the corrodian peered down at him with a frown that was more petrifying than anything else. There was nothing resembling pity or amiableness now. Only a terrible concentration. ‘You shouldn’t try to attack a warrior, steward. That’s not good. No, not good at all.’
He took his knife away and darted back, the weapon held low and dangerous, snarling, ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘What isn’t?’ William managed.
‘The guest to see the bishop. That is nothing to do with the likes of you.’
‘When did you first come here, Master Geoffrey?’ William asked.
His eyes were suddenly hooded, and he kept his blade in his hand as he looked from William to John, who was scrambling to his feet. ‘Never you mind. You leave things alone when they’re nothing to do with you, masters. Just leave things be.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two Tuesdays before the Feast of St John and St Paul*
Exeter
The weather was fine and bright, but Baldwin de Furnshill felt little cheer as he walked along the castle’s street down towards the High Street that day.
‘Well, my love? How was it?’ Jeanne asked as he strode towards her. She had been waiting outside with Edgar to guard her, strolling among the women who eyed the meats and fish on sale in the market. There was a gorgeous green material which had caught her fancy. Her husband’s tunic was growing exceedingly threadbare, and this new fabric would make a suitable replacement.
‘Not good,’ he responded shortly. ‘I am to leave here soon.’
Jeanne felt the news like a blow. ‘I had hoped you would remain a little longer, my love.’
‘I am sorry, Jeanne. This is not my choice,’ Baldwin said. He could barely look her in the eye. ‘The king has commanded it. That arrogant little puppy, Sir James de Cockington, has given me the warrant. I am to ride to Portchester and there to meet with a man called John Felton. He will be in charge, apparently, and I am to help him.’
‘Help him to do what?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘Gather together a force to help protect the south coast. I had hoped to be released from all these trials and worries, but apparently I am still needed.’
She nodded. It would not be the first time that she had seen her husband go away. ‘When must you go?’
‘In the next week or so. It appears that the effort of protecting our shores is likely to collapse without my own specialist expertise.’
Jeanne placed her hand in his. ‘Come, husband. Let us find some food before the bile eats through your bowels!’
It was horrible that he must ride away from her again, but she would at least see that he was properly clad. She would buy the bolt of green cloth and over the next few days, make him a fresh tunic. Her man would be the best-dressed knight in Portchester. ‘You will be able to see Simon again, which will be good,’ she said.
‘I wonder how his daughter is?’ Baldwin said distantly, his eyes going about the people in the market.
‘Sir Baldwin!’
The voice was known to them both, and Jeanne squeezed Baldwin’s hand as he groaned.
‘Sir Peregrine, how delightful to see you,’ she said. ‘I hope you are well?’
The coroner bowed low to her, giving Baldwin a courteous duck of the head. ‘I am very well, and it is plain that you are too, my lady. Where do you go now? May I join you?’
‘Of course,’ Baldwin said, although Jeanne could hear the attempt to conceal his reluctance. ‘You are here on business?’
‘No. I am glad to say I am here to meet the Lady Isabella.’
Jeanne smiled. ‘Have you asked her to wed yet?’
‘My dear Lady Jeanne,’ Sir Peregrine protested. ‘I have hardly-’
‘You make her laugh, you told me. She must reciprocate your feelings.’
‘I think she has a respect for me.’
‘That,’ Jeanne said tartly, ‘is not what I meant, as well you know.’
‘Ah, well … Hmm. I am not convinced about affairs of the heart, my lady. I think that she may hold a certain … affection for me, perhaps. But more than that, I could not say.’
‘Then you must ask her,’ Jeanne said. ‘Nay, do not laugh, you should ask her whether she would welcome your suit, because a widowed woman would be enormously grateful for the offer of the hand of a banneret like you. A notable knight, offering his hand and heart is not a thing a woman could refuse lightly.’
‘Then I shall take your advice,’ he said. ‘Would you care to join me for some wine? We could go to the tavern near Broadgate.’
‘I would dearly like to,’ Baldwin said, ‘but I have just been told that I must soon leave to become a Commissioner of Array at the coast.’
Sir Peregrine grimaced. ‘There are to be many such commands, I fear. I myself have been ordered to travel to London to join the force sent by Lord Hugh de Courtenay to help guard the king. Apparently there is need of a great force of loyal subjects such as me.’
‘You will provide all aid you may?’ Baldwin said. The good Sir Peregrine had often stated his belief that the king should remove Despenser and reign on his own. He had a firm conviction that Sir Hugh Despenser was a malign influence on the king and on the realm.
‘You need not fear on that,’ Sir Peregrine said with a bitter smile. ‘I am no regicide.’
‘I hope you are successful, then. With your wooing, also,’ Jeanne said as they parted. ‘You will bring your lady to meet us? I should like that very much.’
Sir Peregrine bowed to her. ‘I will be honoured to do so, Lady Jeanne. My lady, Sir Baldwin, Godspeed, and may He bring you safely home again when all this trouble is at last put behind us.’
Baldwin took his hand, and to Jeanne’s secret surprise, rested his other hand on the knight’s shoulder. ‘Be careful, my friend. We have not always agreed with each other, I know, but I fear that harsh times are ahead for us. A knight who is loyal to the king will achieve all he might in terms of honour and glory.’
‘I hope so, although I think there will be little enough honour or glory in the days to come,’ Sir Peregrine said.
‘You almost sounded as though you cared for him,’ Jeanne teased as they walked on.
‘I almost feel as though I do,’ Baldwin said. ‘It would be a shame to lose a fellow like him. He is devoted to his view of the world, and a man who has conviction is preferable to one with purely mercenary instincts.’
‘I quite agree,’ Jeanne said. She then took him to the stall, ignoring her husband’s muttered protests that his old tunic was perfectly serviceable still, and he had a spare white linen tunic that he had hardly worn, and that there was little point in spending such a vast sum on yards of green material just at a time when he was about to leave home for weeks. She finally stilled him with a gimlet eye that would have skewered a flying duck, and negotiated a gratifying discount from the stallholder. It was as she was turning from the stall, Edgar carrying the bolt of material, that she saw a young squire hurrying towards them and recognised the bishop’s nephew.
‘Sir Baldwin! I am so glad to see you,’ William Walle said, panting a little. ‘You must come at once. We have the man who was trying to kill the bishop!’
On the road to Bayeux
‘Are we to travel much further, Your Highness?’ Paul managed as the horses breasted a low hill.
The duke made no comment. He sat stolidly on his horse and gazed ahead with the mien of a commander, rather than that of a boy who as yet had no need of a barber to shave him.