His tone was reflective, precise, unemotional. Simon knew that although Baldwin was a firm believer in justice, he also detested unnecessary cruelty, to man or beast. He knew the necessity of eating, but he preferred his venison to be killed swiftly and cleanly. That was why he maintained a good pack of hounds and raches, to bring down game quickly and kill it cleanly.
‘The women, though, were made to suffer still more, perhaps. The two women who were found guilty of adultery were imprisoned in the Château Gaillard. One was her brother Charles’s wife. He has been unfortunate. Some little while ago he managed to have his marriage to her annulled, and I think he rejected any children she’d borne in case they were sired by another. The second wife died in childbirth last year, I believe, and now he hopes to marry again. Given those circumstances, Simon, how glad would you be to meet your sister again? How keen would you be to grant her any favours?’
‘But the fact that the favours she craves are to please her king? Surely the king who is Charles’s closest neighbour must have some impact?’
‘I think I need not reiterate the words of Sir Charles,’ Baldwin said lightly. ‘Consider this, Simon: the man is already insulting King Charles. He has accepted as his own closest adviser and friend a man whom King Charles has declared outlaw. Sir Hugh le Despenser robbed French shipping for a while when he was exiled from England. Taking him as a close confidant is a gross insult. Just as is King Charles’s response in taking in and protecting our king’s worst enemy, Roger Mortimer. The two have no desire to help each other. No, I think that King Charles will have all the English territories, and our mission here is a farce. I do not know why I agreed to come!’
Jean gave up for the day. He had been inside the town, watching the gates carefully to see if there was any sign of Arnaud or le Vieux, but as he wandered the streets it became clear that, if the two were here, they must be staying in the palace itself.
Well, no matter. He could be patient. There was plenty of time. He found lodgings in a mean little chamber not far from one of the town’s gates, and settled down to sleep. But his dreams were not good. He woke, stifling a scream, as once more he saw Arnaud and Berengar running from the castle, and walked down to find the bodies outside the guard rooms again. And he wept for the men who had been slain by that madman, Arnaud.
He must kill Arnaud.
Saturday before Palm Sunday 18
Poissy
To Baldwin’s relief Simon’s worst fears were not realised.
From the day that Baldwin had spoken to de Bouden, Simon had maintained a cold silence. To him, it was clear enough that they should make Lord John aware of de Bouden’s meeting, but when Baldwin had spoken to the Queen it was clear that no useful purpose could be served by doing so.
‘You say that my clerk spoke to Roger Mortimer?’ she had asked.
Baldwin had nodded. ‘He would not say what they discussed.’
‘I am distressed to hear this,’ she said.
‘Would you like me to tell Lord Cromwell?’
‘No!’ she snapped, eyes blazing. ‘I would ask that you obey me, sir knight.’
‘My queen, I always try to do all to serve your interests,’ he protested.
She gave a short smile. ‘Rather than my husband’s, eh?’
‘I hope I can serve both equally.’
‘That I doubt. However, my annoyance is not with you, Sir Baldwin. It lies with de Bouden himself. He should have told me that you saw him.’
‘I …’ Baldwin had closed his mouth. She had not said that de Bouden should have told her that he had met Mortimer, but that he had told Baldwin about meeting Mortimer.
‘Yes. You comprehend, I think?’
‘When did you first begin to negotiate with Mortimer, your highness?’
‘That is none of your concern … and yet, why not? Roger Mortimer has been known to me for many years, Sir Baldwin. And when I was last staying in the Tower, I visited him there. The poor man has seen all he has built up over the last years removed from him. Believe me, I know how loss of privilege and lands and respect can hurt a man or a woman.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘You are not the man who took away my possessions and gave me a pittance to live on. Yet I thank you for your words. You are a kind man, Sir Baldwin. Yes, but worse than what was happening to Mortimer, I also knew of his poor wife, Joan. My husband had her arrested too, and imprisoned. She is allowed only one mark a day for food and expenses. One mark a day! Their children have been taken from her and imprisoned, all but Geoffrey who is here in France.’
‘I understand.’
‘No. You cannot, Sir Baldwin. You cannot know what it is like to be taken from your home, to have all your pretty little possessions stolen away, to be forced to become a beggar, and you cannot understand — no man can comprehend — the horror of having your children taken from you. All else is bearable, my sir, but to have your children stolen from you, to be refused permission to see them, to hold them … that is cruelty beyond torture.’
He could recall so clearly the brightness in her eyes as she spoke. She knew about the pain of loss. Baldwin was tongue-tied standing before her as the tears formed and trickled down her cheeks. In his heart he wondered how his own wife Jeanne would cope with the destruction of their family, with seeing their little manor broken up, their belongings taken away to be sold or destroyed, and her children torn from her embrace, to be carted away, perhaps never to be seen again. All because of offences caused by their father — offences of which they were entirely innocent.
‘I shall not tell Lord John, my lady,’ he had said stiffly.
‘Lord Mortimer is a good man, Sir Baldwin. He has a loving wife who misses him dreadfully, and he her. You know that in all their married life, he never left her? When he was sent by my husband the King to fight in wars all over the King’s lands, he always took Joan with him. She and he are devoted.’
Her eyes were distant, a woman considering the fortune of another. A cause for jealousy, perhaps, but all Baldwin could see was a whimsical respect. Or a sadness for the love she had not felt for so many years.
‘Sir Baldwin, I know what it is to have a lover taken from me. I know how Joan must feel to know that her marriage has been ravaged. Her husband was stolen from her by the fiend Despenser, may he rot in hell! Despenser has done the same to me. He is the third person in my marriage. I know how poor Joan feels because I have suffered the same fate.’
‘I think I now understand you better, my lady,’ he said. And for the first time, in his heart, Sir Baldwin de Furnshill cursed the king who could have ordered such injustices.
Chapter Twenty
Jean had seen nothing of them. The little store of coin which he had in his purse was all but used up, and now he was husbanding the remainder by working in a little cookshop not far from the palace gate. The money was poor, but he could eat as many pies as he wanted while the cook was in the front of the shop, and there was enough to pay for his room and buy a cup or two of wine each day.
He couldn’t stay here for ever, though. The whole town was full of talk of the protracted negotiations which were continuing here between the King and the English queen, she who was his sister. Not that it meant there was too much love between them. She had new loyalties now, to her husband, her son, and her adopted country. So the haggling went on, and meanwhile the men who had travelled here with her were all closeted up in that palace. And all he wanted to do was get to see le Vieux and explain what had happened so that they could both overwhelm and kill that madman, Arnaud.
It was ironic that he should have come to this conclusion now. In the past, all the while they had been guards at the Château Gaillard, he had loathed Arnaud for what he had done to Agnes and Raymond.