Sir Charles turned to Simon as he was drawing his sword again. ‘I am sorry, Bailiff. I had not expected the city to give up and throw open the gates with such indecent haste.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Simon said.
‘It is, though. I should have considered how the city was likely to behave. Why should they risk themselves for the King, when Edward has already fled? Why would anyone try to hold true to him?’
Simon shot a look at him. It was the first time he had heard the knight talking in such a cowed manner; it was most unlike him. ‘We should try to ensure that as few people as possible are hurt,’ he responded.
‘You are not a friend to Despenser, are you?’
‘Not to Sir Hugh, no. But his father, the Earl, is not the same kind of man. I hold no grudge against him,’ Simon said truthfully.
‘Well, one thing is certain sure,’ the knight sighed, peering down over the battlements. ‘If we hold this castle against the men out there, it will not endear us to the Queen or Mortimer.’
‘No. What will happen to us, when they break in?’ Simon said.
‘I don’t want to think about that,’ Sir Charles said.
Bristol
Saul the Fosser felt as though he was carrying a dangerous secret with him as he made his way down the street back towards his own home. He didn’t know any smiths, and the thought of enlisting the help of a man he did not know was alarming. The fellow might just take the rubies and keep them. After all, Saul could hardly run to a law officer and complain. There was no one who could mediate for him if the things were stolen.
The fosser hobbled along with a face like a slapped arse as he considered the position he was in. His dreams of wealth were gone, his hopes for a sudden financial windfall evaporated. ‘Might just as well have left the damn thing in the soil,’ he muttered spitefully. But returning it to the grave was the last thing on his mind.
The broker had suggested one smith who was more reliable than most – a man called David, who lived nearer St Mary le Port, and Saul found that his feet were bending their way in that direction almost of their own volition. The road broadened out here, and the smithy was soon located: a man only had to follow the sound of ringing steel.
David Smith was slim and wiry, with hands callused and grey from the coals he worked with. His face was dark, but his eyes were as bright as a shrew’s. ‘I don’t do horses,’ he declared as soon as Saul appeared.
‘I don’t have a horse.’
‘Didn’t think so,’ was the response, and Saul stood a moment, frowning, trying to work out whether he had been insulted or not.
‘I have something…’ he began hesitantly.
David was gripping a length of steel in a coal forge, working a great bellows with one hand to heat the steel to red heat. Leaving hold of the bellows, he used both hands to pull the bar from the fire and dropped it on his anvil. Grabbing a hammer, he began to beat the metal around into a curve. ‘Best get it out, then,’ he said loudly over the din.
The fosser looked all around, and then pulled the dagger from his shirt. He tugged the wrapping away, and held up the hilt for the smith to see.
David whistled. Reaching out for it, he motioned to the steel which he still gripped. ‘Take this.’
Saul reached for it, passing the dagger at the same time. His hand closed around the end of steel, and he watched as the smith held the item up to the light. Suddenly realising that his hand was burning, he dropped the bar with a little yelp. Seeing the smith’s disgusted face, he hastily picked it up again in a fold of his jack, and held it back on the anvil with his good hand, while he surreptitiously blew on the injured one.
The smith held the dagger up to the light, eyeing the two bright stones in a cursory manner, and then peered at the blade shaking his head and muttering. Then he rubbed at the top of the blade with his rough old thumb, and peered closer. He walked to his anvil and took a fine-graded stone, dampened it, and began to rub at the metal.
Saul, forgetting to blow on his scorched hand, craned his neck. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘Seeing if there’s a mark here. Polish away the old metal at the side, and you’ll see the print more clear.’
The smith stopped, held the blade almost to his nose, and gazed at it. Then, with a nod to himself, he wrapped the dagger in the waxed material once more, and strode from the forge.
‘Hi! Oi! What’s your game?’
His attention split between the disappearance of the valuable blade and the danger of dropping the steel, Saul put down the metal bar and hobbled painfully outside.
He could see the smith up at the top of the alley, and hurried to join him.
‘This is the one,’ the smith was saying to a short, stolid-looking man.
‘Fosser, eh?’ the man said. ‘How would one of them get his hands on a lord’s dagger like this, eh?’
‘Why? Who cares?’ the fosser said spiritedly. ‘That’s mine, that is. Give me back my knife!’
‘Your knife?’ the smith said. His hand whipped out, and he took Saul by the shoulder. Saul squeaked and tried to dart away, but the grip of a smith is not so easily broken.
‘It’s not your knife, Fosser. I know, because I made it for Squire William de Bar. But I don’t see him around here, so how did you get your thieving hands on it, eh?’
Bristol Castle
Sir Charles invited Simon to join him after he and Margaret had eaten some dinner. Simon was to be allowed to join the rest of the men in the hall while they discussed the various options open to them. The meeting had grown into a heated discussion within moments of them walking in.
‘We know what the situation is. The Queen is outside, and gives no guarantees to any,’ Sir Laurence said. ‘We have to choose: surrender or continue to hold the castle and pray that the King may return to rescue us.’
‘You dare to say that he wouldn’t?’ Earl Hugh growled.
‘No, I say nothing. I speak only as logic dictates, my lord. I am sorry if it is offensive to your ears, but we must try to be realistic. While the city held, there was the possibility of holding the assault off, because at least they had a broad target to try to breach. If they were to pick a specific point, we could see that and run to the defence. But now? We have the castle curtain wall itself, that is all. They can bring all their machines to bear at any point they wish, and there is nothing we may do to prevent them.’
‘This castle can hold. It will hold!’
‘For how long?’ Sir Laurence rasped. ‘I am a loyal subject to the King, and to the Queen, too, but first to the anointed King of our land. I would prefer not to be in this position, but this is the situation we have been placed in by God, and by His faith, I will hold this to the last man breathing if that is the feeling of the men here. But it is not a course we can take without risk.’
There was a shuffling of feet at that.
‘Are you all against me?’ the Earl roared as the men began to look away or down. ‘Listen, men, listen! The King, God bless his soul, has ordered us to hold this castle. He gave me the command of all his men, he gave me the stewardship of the city and castle. I will have any man hanged who tries to negotiate with the enemy!’
‘I am sure you do not mean that,’ Sir Laurence said sharply. ‘If this was a question of discussing with enemies, my lord, I would agree wholeheartedly. But here, sir, we are talking about meeting with our Queen and her son. That means the next King of our country! You have no authority to prevent us from talking to them. This is not treason or sedition, it is commonsense.’