‘Sir Baldwin. I am glad to see you once more. You enjoyed your little journey to Paris?’
‘Yes, Sir Hugh. It was pleasant.’
‘I would imagine it must have been. Perhaps you would enjoy a life of more privilege.’
‘I fear not. I am keen to leave behind all affairs of such great importance and find some peace in my little manor once more. So much more restful than all this travel and high living. As soon as my latest task is done, I shall be happy to return to my home.’
‘What is that latest task?’
‘I have personal messages for the King.’
‘You may give them to me.’
‘I was asked to give them to the King.’
‘I am the King’s adviser.’
‘I know who you are, Sir Hugh,’ Baldwin said firmly.
‘I am not a good man to make your enemy, Sir Baldwin.’ Sir Hugh eyed him without any obvious emotion for a moment.
‘So I have heard — and seen.’
‘You have been an irritant to me.’
‘I have not intended to be.’
‘You say that? Do you take me for a fool?’ Despenser’s voice grew colder. ‘I say this: do not thwart me, Sir Knight, else I shall crush you.’
‘You have tried already,’ Baldwin said. ‘But I shall oppose injustice while I may.’
Sir Hugh le Despenser nodded, although whether agreeing with this sentiment or merely accepting that this was Baldwin’s view, the knight couldn’t tell. Despenser said, ‘I have heard that you conducted yourself well while out there.’
‘Some perhaps did not expect me to return,’ Baldwin said.
‘I cannot think who.’
It was Baldwin’s turn to be silent. A short while before leaving England for France, Sir Hugh had become aware that he had once been a Poor Fellow Soldier of Christ and the Temple of Solomon, a Knight Templar. He had then intentionally told the French King of Baldwin’s past affiliation, expecting the French King to capture and possibly execute him. But the French King had shown himself more honourable and generous than Despenser, and had warned Baldwin that he knew of Baldwin’s past.
‘So you have come back with Queen Isabella’s ambassador to her husband?’
There was a wealth of cynicism in those few words. The man was certain of himself, that much was obvious. He knew that Baldwin had been involved in some of the discussions. Perhaps he wanted Baldwin to give him some insights into the way that the Queen had conducted herself, or was looking for some juicy snippet of another sort?
Whatever his wish, Baldwin was not prepared to aid him. ‘I am merely a guard to the Pope’s emissary, who has been asked to bring some messages.’
‘Oh, a humble guard, Sir Baldwin? And you had no idea of anything curious whilst on your travels?’
‘I do not know what you mean, nor what you wish me to say.’
‘I would have thought I was clear enough. Did anything unusual strike you during your travels, Sir Baldwin?’
Baldwin was about to respond sharply that there was nothing, when he suddenly wondered what the man was asking about. At first, Baldwin thought Despenser was enquiring about the Queen or the Bishop of Orange — but now, he wondered.
The theft of the oil from Canterbury was certainly curious enough, and the discovery of the man in the woods, a filthy royal tabard thrown hurriedly over him, that was curious in the extreme — but Despenser could not have known of either of them. Could he? If Despenser was responsible for the theft of the oil, he might certainly know. His man could have returned here already and given Despenser the oil. But what on earth could Despenser have wanted with a phial of oil for anointing the King?
Nothing, unless the King desperately desired it, and Despenser sought to enhance his position by providing it. Especially if he could keep concealed the fact that he had stolen it originally.
‘Sir Hugh, what do you mean by “unusual”?’
He contemplated for a moment or two. ‘I mean, you were in France. Among our enemies. Was Mortimer there? Was there anyone who could be a threat to the Queen or the King?’
‘I do not involve myself in matters of-’
‘In God’s name, Knight! Do you not realise we are on the precipice of war again?’
‘The strangest thing I encountered was here in England. I found a dead man on my way,’ Baldwin said, watching him closely. ‘It was a man who was clad in a king’s tabard, but it would not be easy to identify him.’
‘Why?’
‘You have seen dead bodies after being left in the open for a week or more.’
Sir Hugh nodded. All had. ‘We shall have to enquire as to whether any of the King’s men have disappeared, then.’
‘I should be grateful if you would. He was dressed as a herald.’
‘A herald? A king’s man?’ Despenser said with a frown.
‘Yes. I think it likely he was waylaid by outlaws. There are many in those woods, apparently. He had no money or belongings on him, except one. And that makes me think he was most religious.’
‘Why do you say that?’
In answer, Baldwin brought out the necklace of pilgrim badges. ‘He went to Canterbury, to St Thomas, to Santiago de Compostela, to Our Lady of … he has been all over. So it would be good to learn if any religious heralds are missing, wouldn’t it?’
The friar walked from the hall where he had been waiting as soon as he heard the tumult of the new entourage appear.
Nicholas of Wisbech watched as the men dropped from their saddles and dogs milled at their feet. This was clearly a senior man’s party, from the look of them. He could see the Bishop’s horse, but there was no sign of the man himself. Only some guards. Struck with a vague inquisitiveness, he left the building and wandered down to see who had arrived, but by the time he reached the yard, there were only a couple of men remaining.
‘Good day, Friar.’
‘God bless you. Whose party is this?’
‘The Bishop of Orange, Friar. He’s come with messages for the King.’
‘And you are with him?’
‘I am, Friar. I am called Jack.’
‘A good name, my friend.’
‘Aye, well,’ Jack said, embarrassed. If only the friar knew his background.
‘Where have you come from?’
‘Paris. We stopped at many places, though. And I was glad to see Canterbury,’ Jack said, trying to curry a little favour from this accommodating man of God. ‘I had wanted to visit the place for many years on pilgrimage.’ Which was true, although he saw no need to explain that he felt that there was a desperate need for him to beg forgiveness for some of the murders, rapes and robberies he had been involved in.
‘It is many months since I was last there. I adored it. It is a shining example of the goodness of God, and the power of St Thomas.’
‘Yes,’ Jack said. And then, because the friar was so interested in the place, he told of the theft of the oil of St Thomas.
He had never seen a man’s face fall so swiftly.
Baldwin left the Despenser in a pensive mood. He had not given much thought to the dead herald during the journey here, because he had spent his time looking forward to leaving Beaulieu and hurrying on with all speed to Devon and his family — but now, having seen the expression on the Despenser’s face, he wondered whether the Despenser could himself have had anything to do with the man’s sudden death.
The Despenser was no stranger to plots and murders. It was all too common for him to seek to destroy those whom he felt stood between him and a prize. Man or woman, it mattered not a whit. Sex was no barrier to his rapacious greed. There were rumours that he had even captured the widow of one of the King’s knights and tortured her until her mind was broken. All for a relatively minor profit.
But it was surely too much to think that the Despenser could have been responsible for a herald’s murder. From the first moment, Baldwin had been suspicious of the death, it was true, but he still remained confident that the killer was almost certainly the gang of felons who inhabited the woods. It had not occurred to him before that the murder could have been part of a larger conspiracy.