‘I gave you my oath, my lord. You are my King. I can do no more.’
‘You are a man of integrity and honour, Sir Baldwin. I am most glad.’
The King appeared distracted. He stood up and wandered over to sit at a bench beneath the large window, away from the fire. Without looking at Baldwin, he beckoned.
The knight reckoned that he had come here because this was a private nook, where even the trusted servants could not hear them speak. ‘Sire?’
‘You have been very loyal. Most of those upon whom I have showered rewards and honours have already deserted me. My own household knights have failed to support me, and yet you have remained with me. That shows your nature, Sir Baldwin.’
‘You have my oath, Your Highness.’
‘I would ask one more favour of you, Sir Baldwin. Would you do my bidding?’
‘If it is in my power, Sire.’
‘It is only this: that you will serve and protect my good friend Sir Hugh le Despenser with the same loyalty you have given me.’
Baldwin stiffened. He could recall the pain and hurt in Simon’s face as he described the way that the young Despenser had stolen his home in Lydford, the way that Despenser had attacked Simon’s daughter as a means of blackmailing Simon into doing his bidding… He shook his head. ‘Sire, that is impossible.’
‘You say it is not in your power?’
‘I do not know. But I do know the harm that Despenser has done to many, including you yourself and your realm. How could I serve the man who has done so much to ruin my King?’
‘It is your King’s express wish that you do so.’
‘Then I shall of course try to help.’
‘All I ask is that if all goes wrong, you do what you may to protect him.’ The King looked up at Baldwin at last. His eyes were red-rimmed, and there were tears in them. ‘Please, Sir Baldwin. It would make whatever comes to pass for me that much easier to bear, were I to know that good Sir Hugh was safe. I consider you the only man still loyal enough to me to undertake such a task. Will you do that for me, I beg?’
Before Baldwin could answer, the door opened and Sir Hugh himself entered with another page, Sir Ralph walking behind them.
‘Sir Hugh, I am glad to see you again, my friend,’ the King said a little formally.
‘My liege, there is news,’ Hugh said, his face working.
‘Speak!’
Sir Ralph spoke quietly. ‘It seems the castle at Bristol is fallen. A man has arrived to say that the castle was passed to the rebels yesterday. He saw the Duke of Aquitaine’s banner over the gates.’
‘He must be mistaken. My father would never surrender,’ Sir Hugh declared. ‘I will not believe it.’
‘Sir Hugh, the feeling in the castle was surely quite devastated after the capitulation of the city,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘It is not to be wondered at, Your Highness, since the folk were standing against their Queen and your heir.’
‘I should have disinherited the ungrateful wretch! How can my own son do this to me? I would not have dared to attempt such a grave offence against my father.’ Edward shuddered. ‘That is my greatest failing: sympathy to those weaker than me. I am too kindly to those who hardly merit it.’
‘What are your orders, Sire?’ Sir Hugh asked.
‘Eh?’ The King gazed at him for a moment as if he didn’t recognise his own favourite.
‘You will need to move away,’ Baldwin said. ‘You must go to a place of safety as soon as you may, Your Highness.’
‘Safety?’ the King repeated blankly, and then he bellowed the word, bringing a fist down onto the bench beside him with enough force to make the servants turn and stare. ‘Safety? And where shall I find this safety in my kingdom? Or anywhere? I may not travel to France, because the King would likely arrest me and give me to his sister, my wife, for her sport. To Scotland? Bruce would see me executed.’
‘There is yet Ireland,’ Sir Hugh le Despenser muttered. ‘We can go there and raise another host to retake the country. At least we would be safe there.’
‘Perhaps. For a while,’ the King said heavily. His eyes dropped and his toe tapped on the floor as he considered. ‘And then, what?’
‘As I said, my lord. Raise an army, fight these rebels, remove them, and retake your throne,’ Sir Hugh le Despenser said.
‘You would have me wage war on my Queen, then, and my son? What then, Sir Hugh, when I have retaken my throne, and these rebels have been executed or imprisoned, and I have gained a new reputation for cruelty? What then? For as soon as I have seated my backside on my throne, you may be assured that the next plot to remove me will already have begun. There were hundreds who resisted last time, and after that battle I had many killed for their treachery. And when I won, it gave an impetus to these, who immediately sought to start anew where they had failed. If I win again, events will repeat themselves. Must I always prepare for the next war with my barons?’
‘Perhaps, yes, my lord,’ Despenser said irritably. ‘You must do something, though. You cannot stay here – it is too dangerous.’
‘What is the point of continuously moving about the country?’ the King retorted. ‘All that happens is, our forces erode as the men desert us. I may as well wait here for them. I am sure my wife would not be so cruel as to–’
‘A fig for your wife! The one you should fear is Sir Roger Mortimer,’ Sir Hugh spat. ‘He’s the one you imprisoned in the Tower, he’s the one who had his death warrant signed by you, Your Highness! Forget your Queen. She is a pretty face at the head of the Mortimer’s force, but it is not she, nor yet your son, who directs them. It’s Mortimer who tells them where to go, what to do, and who to kill!’
The King put a hand to his temple. ‘Then prepare the men to leave this place. We shall ride to Caerphilly. At least we should find some peace there. Dear God, I hope so!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Bristol
Simon, Hugh and Sir Charles crossed the town to return to the castle. On the way, they passed the execution ground where the headsman, liberally beslubbered with gore, was drinking from a great skin filled with wine, humming a tune with a slurred inflection. Sawdust had been liberally spread over the area to soak up the blood, and Earl Hugh’s body was already being fought over by the dogs.
‘It is a terrible thing to see a man brought so low,’ Simon murmured as they passed.
Hugh grunted. He had detested the Despenser family since his wife’s death, because it was Despenser’s men who had killed her and her child, he believed. The shock of it had, if anything, turned him still more introverted and misathropic than before.
Sir Charles was not concentrating. ‘Hmm? Yes. Not good to see that the highest in the land can be killed. Precedents like that should not be popularly displayed to the peasants. They may get all sorts of unwholesome ideas!’
Sir Charles was one of the new knights, a man who had lost his home and livelihood when Earl Thomas of Lancaster had been toppled from power and executed by his cousin, the King. That had been a terrible time, with many of the Earl’s followers being taken and knights who had been loyal to him being forced to flee. Sir Charles was one of them. He had reached France, hoping to make his fortune in the tournaments, but later managed to win the trust of the King again, and had returned to favour. He had experienced the lowest fortune and the highest, and even now there was a measuring look in his eye as he glanced over the gibbet.
He looked at Simon. ‘Where do you wish to go?’
‘The knight described by the fosser sounds like the man who was so keen to throw open the gates of the city for Mortimer and the Queen: the Coroner, Sir Stephen Siward. Let’s see if we can speak with him.’