‘Tell me, though, what of your service to Thomas of Lancaster? Did that not give the King some pause for thought? Surely aman who was the loyal retainer of an enemy — for that was how the King viewed his cousin — would have been viewed askance?’
‘Not today, old friend. No, you saw the man beside me in there? Sir John de Sapy? He was a member of the household six orseven years ago, but during the Lancaster rebellion he was on my side. We were companions in the Earl’s host. Yet he too hasbeen received with a welcome back into the King’s fold. It helped him that he was ever a friend of Sir Hugh le Despenser, of course.’
‘Oh. Any friend of Sir Hugh’s is to be received with honour into the King’s service, then?’ Baldwin said with a sinking feeling.
‘Afraid so. Personally, I dislike the man intensely, but it has to be said, he has the kingdom clenched in his fist. Thereis nothing that happens in the realm without his approval.’
‘What of the other knight? Sir Peter?’
‘Lymesey? Did you never hear of the lady in Warwickshire? Forget her name, but it was Sir Peter who took all her lands, andwhen she tried to have her case heard in court, he prevented it. It’s the first time I’ve heard of an assize of novel disseisinbeing abandoned because a knight threatened all concerned that they’d be burned, maimed or murdered if they continued. Onehas to admire the determination of a man like that.’
‘No,’ Baldwin said with determination. ‘I fear I cannot agree with you.’ To himself he added that such dishonourable behaviourwas the mark of a thief, not a noble.
‘No matter. I refuse to argue with you, old friend. Yet you will have to respect them both, for we are all bound to protecther majesty on the way to meet the French king.’
‘Tell me about this journey,’ Baldwin said, glad to move the conversation away from the behaviour of other knights.
‘Ah. That. Yes. It may be a challenging duty, I fear. The Queen’s task is to persuade her brother to give up all the landshe’s just managed to take from our king. Yet short of planning a full-scale invasion of Guyenne, there is little our Edwardcan do to regain them. King Charles must know he has the whip hand.’
‘Yet he will surely not wish to leave his own sister with egg smeared on her face?’
Charles shrugged. ‘He is a man — she is a woman who’s married his enemy. What would you do?’
‘She is the mother of the future king of England too,’ Baldwin pointed out. ‘Surely King Charles would not wish to deprivehis nephew of his inheritance?’
‘If he could force the boy to pay homage for them, he’d probably be glad of the chance to have the English prince bend theknee to him. But it’ll be a while before the prince becomes king. He is still young, and so is his father. There is no signof the good King Edward suffering an early death.’
‘So her mission will be a challenge. What of our duties?’
‘There are we knights, also Lord John, of course, and the men-at-arms. I think that we will present enough force to guaranteeour safety on the way. However, it is rumoured that many, including the traitor Mortimer, could be preparing a welcome forus. That is what I fear more than anything: the attacks of our king’s enemies while we are abroad.’
‘I see. But as you say, we shall be a strong enough force to defend ourselves from most attacks.’
‘I do so hope.’
Chapter Nine
Alehouse at gateway, Thorney Island
Ricard and the others gladly agreed to the stranger’s suggestion that they might repair to the alehouse. It was always one of theirfavourite meeting houses, and the weather was growing cold, so they all trooped into the alehouse and ordered ale, beforesitting and talking.
His name, so he said, was Jack of Dublin. His story was short enough: he had been a loyal servant of the King in his homeland,fighting the murderous bastards from Scotland who served under the Bruce, and when they had succeeded in destroying the invadersJack had returned to England to see a little of how the world worked. There was more to life than living in a provincial citylike Dublin, he said with a smile.
‘There’s also more to being a musician than talking about it,’ Ricard said. ‘Or impressing a queen with a bow. How good’syour playing?’
When Philip and Adam grunted their agreement, he led them out to their cart. From it he pulled his gittern, listening to thetune of the strings. His citole he left wrapped. It was too valuable to him to keep wrapping and unwrapping. Better to leaveit. The gittern was a cheaper instrument, the one that he took into taverns and alehouses. Janin had already begun to crankthe handle of his hurdy-gurdy, and now Adam started to pipe a tune, while Philip tapped out the beat. Charlie stood watchingthem all open-mouthed.
When they re-joined the Irishman, Jack set his pack on the floor and took up a large cylinder of leather. Grinning, he untied a buckle and withdrew a large bodhran and stick. He setit on his knee, his head bent as he listened to the tune, and then nodded once and began to beat the drum. Yet he didn’t usethe simple rhythm of the others, but instead beat at double the pace, thundering on the skin as though he was galloping whilethe others ambled. And he could vary the sound by pressing on the back of the skin, so that it sounded more firm and powerful,or taut and crisp.
‘You’re called Jack, you say?’ Ricard said as they finished.
‘Yes. What do you think?’
‘I think we need to talk before making a firm decision,’ Ricard said, glancing at the others as he spoke.
Jack nodded and told them he would wait to hear their decision — he would be outside. He stood and walked from the room withoutonce looking back, to Ricard’s annoyance; he would have preferred even a brief sign of doubt. This man appeared to have thearrogance of a bishop.
‘Well?’ Philip asked.
‘He can play,’ Ricard admitted.
‘Play? He beat the shite out of Peter’s playing. I miss Peter, but God’s teeth!’ Adam contributed. ‘I mean, I’m sorry, butI can’t lie. I miss Peter, but Jack is better than Peter would ever have been. Did you see how fast his drumming was? I couldhardly see the stick in his hand, it was moving so quickly.’
‘Why is he suddenly here?’ Philip wondered.
‘Who cares? We could do with a decent drummer.’
‘Meaning?’
Adam suddenly realised what he had said. ‘Sorry, Philip. No offence meant; I was thinking of him compared with Peter.’
‘You should remember not to speak ill of the dead,’ Ricard said quickly before an argument could erupt.
‘For my money, we shouldn’t take him,’ Janin said.
‘Why?’ Adam demanded. ‘I mean, I’m sorry, but he’s easily the best I’ve heard in a while, and we could do with someone who can pick upa tune that quickly.’
Janin shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t think it’d show much respect for our old companion if we were to replace him so soonafter his death. It hardly shows much feeling for him, does it?’
‘Marg would understand,’ Ricard said. Margaret, Peter’s widow, was sensible enough. She had a good head on her shoulders,and she would know the sort of pressures that were being exerted on them without her husband’s tabor.
‘Marg may, yes — but the problem is not her. It’s him. Jack. Who is he? Where did he come from? He saw us playing, and suddenlyappeared. Just when we lost our main drummer. That to me seems a bit too much of a coincidence.’
‘Oh, come on, Janin!’ Adam scoffed. ‘You trying to tell me that he had some part in killing Peter to join us? Look at us!Who’d want to join in with us unless he was keen on the music? And I have never heard of a man killing a musician to joina band, have you? It’s more normal to join in with some music and see if you fit — just as Jack did just now. No, I say welet him join us. We could do with him, and he’s keen.’