‘All you have to do is prove yourselves loyal and hold on to what you own now,’ Sir Ralph muttered drily. ‘While the Queen and her men wander the land punishing all of you!’
‘Sir Ralph,’ Bernard said, touching his arm.
Sir Ralph followed his gaze. In front of them, the King was walking away down towards the sea, but Sir Hugh le Despenser was still in the same position, and now looking directly at them. As Sir Ralph met his gaze, Despenser raised a hand and beckoned him.
‘Damn. Bernard, take Alexander and Pagan and break our camp. I’ll be back as soon as I may.’
Bristol
Simon had entered many cities in his life, and although this was not the most imposing one, there was something about it that attracted his attention. It seemed neater and better regulated than London, and as he headed with Sir Charles towards the castle, he liked the feeling of airiness about the place. The limewash on the buildings was cleaner, the thatch newer, the streets less smothered with ordure generally. Which could have been the work of the rain over the last weeks, he reminded himself.
‘I like this, I reckon,’ he said to Margaret as they entered the bridge.
This was a smaller version of the great bridge over the Thames at London, with massive stone arches raising the road over the water, while houses and shops thronged the roadside, leaning out over the river on jetties.
They made Simon whistle. ‘Look at them, Meg – wouldn’t you like that? You could sit at your parlour and stare out over the river, watching the shipping. It’d be a little like Dartmouth, but without the fog and the sea pounding at you in winter, or the sailors cursing and swearing all day long. And your privy would be right over it, too. No need to have a box of ashes and empty it over the field every so often.’
She shuddered. ‘No! I’d be constantly worried that the house would topple over and fall into the river, and as for the sailors, the ones who go to the quayside up here would be just as rude and unmannerly as any in Dartmouth, I reckon.’
Simon chuckled. She was a farmer’s daughter, and he would never convince her that life in a city was remotely better than a quiet life in a rural haven. It had been hard enough to persuade her to join him at Lydford when he had been given his job there by the Abbot of Tavistock, Robert Champeaux. Until his death, Abbot Robert had been Simon’s patron in all matters. The kindly gentleman had seen to it that Simon had been promoted to Bailiff of the Stannaries, and then, as an especial reward, he had given Simon the post of Keeper of the Port of Dartmouth – a generous gift which had unfortunately missed its mark, since Simon had no desire to move to the coast and, more to the point, neither did his wife. In the event, the post was only to be short-lived, for the Abbot of blessed memory died quite suddenly and Simon found himself removed, but the sadness at Abbot Robert’s death was tempered by the fact that it helped refresh his marriage, which had been tormented by the inevitable separation while he was based in the south and his wife remained in Lydford.
It was strange to think how much they had both travelled since then. Simon had been to London, to Paris, and many strange places between. Margaret herself had joined him on his last journey, which had proved to be the most dangerous yet, because of the mobs. At least now, they should be safer.
‘Simon, please, join me at the castle for ale,’ Sir Charles said with a laugh. He cantered past them as they walked slowly on their horses up the slight incline towards the castle itself.
‘It is a lovely city,’ Margaret admitted. She smiled at two urchins who ran beside her, begging for coins, found a farthing and threw it to them. One caught it and bowed gravely, while the other danced and skipped.
‘You shouldn’t spoil them,’ Simon grumbled.
‘They will hardly be spoiled for the cost of one farthing,’ Margaret said tartly.
‘If they learn that they can get all they want by begging, they’ll never see the need to work,’ Simon said.
‘Perhaps they will see the advantage of money, and thus learn to love work, husband,’ she replied.
‘And perhaps they will learn to love reward without effort, woman.’
Margaret leaned forward and laid her hand upon his wrist. ‘Are you angry, Simon?’
‘No,’ he smiled.
‘Good, because you are speaking like a horse’s arse, dear,’ she said sweetly.
‘I don’t think–’ he began, but stopped as they turned a corner and saw the castle before them.
The curtain walls were enormous, at least as large as the Tower’s in London, and as befitted the second city in the realm, the castle within was as imposing as the White Tower. However, it was not the sight of the buildings or the enormous walls that stilled them both.
It was the carts, wagons, and men who lined the roadway, waiting to enter the castle with provisions. Simon felt ice invade his bones. He and Meg had seen that selfsame picture only a matter of weeks ago, in London.
‘They think they will soon be under siege!’ Margaret breathed. And the sob in her throat was enough to make Simon’s heart lurch.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Near Chepstow
The ship was an old cog, a round-bellied sow in the best of weather, Sir Ralph of Evesham thought to himself. He hated sailing.
Sir Hugh le Despenser led the way to the gang-plank, and from thence out to the rear of the vessel. There was an ill-fitting door here, that squeaked loudly as it opened, giving access to a small cabin. Sir Hugh walked in, leaving the door wide for Sir Ralph, and went to stand at the window. It was an opening covered with a sheet of waxed parchment that allowed a yellowish-grey light into the chamber, leaving it brighter than it would have been, while keeping the worst of the wind at bay.
‘Sir Ralph,’ he said, ‘we must sail as soon as practicable. We shall take some few men with us. You, I would prefer to remain behind.’
He studied a forefinger, then thrust it into his mouth and worried at the stub of a nail. His nails were already bitten back to the quick, leaving half the bed exposed, and when Sir Ralph glanced at his hand, he saw that there were little red crescents about each nail where he had chewed down too far and made them bleed.
The sight was repugnant. No man should so lose control of himself that he made such a display of weakness. ‘What do you want of me?’ he asked.
‘Today the King will send two friars to meet with the Queen and try to negotiate for the lives of all aboard this ship.’
Both men knew what that meant. The Queen would not have any desire, surely, to murder her husband, nor would she have much against the inoffensive Baldock. She had only ever harboured a detestation for two of the King’s friends: Bishop Walter Stapledon, and Sir Hugh le Despenser. Those two she hated with all the ardour of a lioness who has witnessed the death of her cub. Stapledon had aided others to curb her authority and power, while Despenser had taken away her husband. She would want to see Despenser suffer for all the insults he had offered her in the last six years or more.
‘The friars will return here. We are to try to make our way to Ireland, if we may, and the friars will join us there, with fortune. We would ask that you serve the friars and ensure their safety.’
‘I shall do so, if it be the King’s desire.’
‘It is.’
‘Where shall I bring them afterwards?’
Despenser took his finger from his mouth with an expression of pain. He stared at it a moment, then looked up at Sir Ralph, and for a second or two, Sir Ralph could swear the man had forgotten he was there.
‘I didn’t mean for this, you know,’ he said. ‘I never intended to hurt the king. I love him.’ He put the finger back in his mouth, and turned to face the window.