‘I think we all wish we were at home,’ Simon said. ‘I would that I was at home in Devon. This city has been too exciting already for my tastes.’
That made the man grin. ‘I know that feeling. I left home in the pay of the King, and halfway here, our Captain decided to become a servant of the Queen. I mean, the Queen’s son will be the next King, so I suppose joining their men is a good idea, but I don’t really understand…’
Simon shrugged. ‘It’s all beyond me. I just want there to be no fighting while I’m in the middle wondering what to do. Do you know what we’re supposed to be waiting for here?’
Herv shook his head. ‘I was told to wait here with you, then take you on.’
‘I see,’ Simon said. He did not care overmuch and was simply relishing his freedom. The memory of that chamber with the others was still close to the front of his mind. The light here, the scents – all were glorious reminders of life going on.
Hugh was less cheerful. He stood leaning on the wall, staring dourly at everyone in the street. He mistrusted all city dwellers as a matter of principle, and after being held captive overnight, was even less inclined to change his mind.
‘How long are we to wait?’ Simon asked. ‘I have business on behalf of Sir Roger.’
‘Not long, I hope,’ the guard answered, staring back the way they had come.
There was a shout, the sound of horses whinnying, and an outbreak of laughter. Then two horses were led from the castle’s gates, two large beasts, with a pair of ropes extending back behind them.
And then he saw the hurdle, and the small, sad figure that lay strapped to it.
Earl Hugh was clad in his armour, with a surcoat over it, but on this surcoat his arms had been reversed, the final proof of his guilt. For this signified the end of his arms – the end of his earldom. No man would inherit his estates entire as a matter of course. His son could not.
Simon watched the sad figure pass him by. Later he heard that the Earl was given no opportunity to speak on the gallows. He was taken to the place of execution of common criminals in Bristol, a demeaning enough position for a man who had risen so high in the King’s household. There he was strung up on the oak beams, and throttled until nearly dead, before being cut down, gasping and retching, to be beheaded. There, in front of the crowds, his old body was stripped and rolled off into the kennel, the gutter in the road’s centre. Later, his body fed the dogs of the city. His head, meanwhile, was taken away to be put on display at Winchester.
For all the last long years, Simon had detested the Despenser regime with a passion. He had been attacked, had lost his home, had been nearly killed, and all because of this man’s son. Now the Earl had fallen from his high pedestal and would suffer the death of a traitor.
‘What now?’ Simon said, watching the old man being dragged past on the jerking, jolting hurdle.
‘Now you can go and continue your investigation,’ Roger Mortimer said. He was walking along with three men-at-arms a few yards behind the hurdle.
As the hurdle rattled past, people threw rubbish at the occupant, while some laughed and jeered. A pair of dogs scuttled along, barking, and all the while Earl Hugh stared up at the sky as though it was his fervent wish to imprint that on his mind as his last memory.
‘Come, Hugh,’ Simon said thickly.
‘What did he want us to see that for?’ Hugh grumbled as they set off with Herv.
‘To make sure that we behaved,’ Simon said. ‘Another man’s death is a prime example, isn’t it?’
But although he didn’t say so, in his heart he was thinking that Sir Roger Mortimer was no better than the Earl and his son Sir Hugh le Despenser.
The room into which Sir Charles was brought was a large chamber, and he was glad to see that the man sitting on the table was unharmed.
‘Simon, my friend, I am glad to see you well,’ he said effusively. ‘When I saw you were not in the room with all the guards, I immediately thought the worst.’
‘Are you well?’ Simon asked.
‘Oh, yes. I made sure that when the surrender went ahead, I was there to give a warm welcome to the Duke of Aquitaine. He and I know each other from my time in France, and he was very happy to vouch for me, I am glad to say. So I was not held like you.’
‘I have been freed, but I must learn who the killer of that woman was. And I have been advised by Sir Roger to speak with a fosser.’
They crossed the city together, Simon’s servant Hugh still gazing about him with that air of barely controlled disgust, and came to the gaol where the fosser was held. Here it took one penny for the gaoler to realise he would like to introduce them to his prisoner, and they soon reached the chamber where Saul sat on a stool.
‘I don’t know why I’m here,’ he declared mournfully as Sir Charles and Simon walked in. Hugh stood at the door with his staff in his hands.
‘Perhaps it began when you bethought yourself that taking a dagger from a grave might be a good idea?’ Sir Charles said consideringly. ‘What do you think?’
Simon smiled to himseelf, then asked the man to tell him all about the dagger and the man at Cecily’s grave.
‘I told the other one already,’ the fosser complained. ‘Why do you have to keep me here to tell you about it all over again?’
‘Which other one?’ Simon asked sharply.
‘The tall one with the dark hair. He was in here yesterday morning.’
‘What was his name?’
Saul the Fosser screwed up his face in the act of memory. ‘Roger Mortimer, I think – a knight.’
Simon listened carefully to what the gravedigger said. How Mortimer had arrived and questioned him, then left with the strange dagger.
Outside a little later, Simon was baffled. ‘Why would Sir Roger send me here to hear something he already knows?’
Sir Charles smiled widely. ‘Simon, you are a simple soul like me. The reasons why the great fellows of the land do things is far beyond us. What we need to do is look at the murder itself and see what we can learn. Maybe the great Sir Roger felt he didn’t have time to follow this up.’
‘I wonder,’ Simon mused. ‘I wonder…’
Cardiff Castle
Baldwin was about to walk from the hall when a page called out to him. ‘Sir Baldwin, sir, the King would like to speak with you. Would you come with me, sir?’
Cursing under his breath, Baldwin strode after the man. The last thing he wanted now was another opportunity to listen to the King or his adviser ranting about the state of the kingdom. It was their own fault that the realm had sunk into this disastrous state, and it would be difficult for Baldwin to maintain a calm demeanour, were they to begin to pass the blame on to others.
The chamber into which he was brought was a pleasant, airy room with a large fire roaring in one wall, while all about were pictures of religious scenes. The king sat in front of the fire with a fur-trimmed cloak pulled over his shoulders. ‘Come in, Sir Baldwin. Please, come here.’
Looking around the room, Baldwin was surprised to see that Despenser was absent. He was alone with the King and three servants, who all stood at one side like statues. They were Edward’s most trusted men, the ones who would never repeat a word that he said.
‘Sir Baldwin, you are loyal to me, I deem. As my crown gradually slips from my head, I learn that the very men I once considered dangerous or unfaithful are those who have grown most dear to me, who have become most close by reason of their loyalty. Those in whom I should have been able to place most trust: my brothers, old companions, my General – all these have become my enemies. But you are still here.’