‘I want you to pass on a message to Sir Baldwin de Furnshill. Tell him this: the man and woman in London were originally fromNormandy. They were cook’s maid and her husband, a leather worker at the Château Gaillard, and I think they took somethingfrom there when they left for England.’
‘What, a treasure?’ Sir Charles asked, this time more politely. A man who could tell him about a rich winning should not beinsulted.
Mortimer looked away, through the unshuttered window, out to the Seine. Then he gave a sad little smile. ‘You may not thinkso, but I do. I think Sir Baldwin will too. Tell him, this treasure is one of pride, rather than joy.’
Château de Bois
Jack was in the courtyard when Simon and Baldwin returned to the Château de Bois. He looked at them as Baldwin pointed tohim, and then the two strode across the area to him.
‘Aha, lordings, I am glad indeed to see you,’ he said. ‘And there was me thinking I’d be looking for you half the night.’
‘Shut up, fool!’ Simon grated. He took hold of Jack’s shirt and pushed him back against the hall’s wall. ‘You have to startanswering some questions, I reckon.’
‘Happy to do so, Bailiff, but if you strangle me, you may find the answers a little hard to comprehend.’
‘You work for Earl Edmund or Mortimer?’ Simon demanded.
‘Now there’s a hard one. I suppose for Mortimer first. But then, a man takes his friends where he finds them, doesn’t he?’
Baldwin nodded. ‘He had the sign of the peacock, Simon, remember? That was what Ricard said. And the peacock is the sign ofMortimer.’
‘Is that true?’ Simon asked.
‘Oh, yes, sir.’ Jack shrugged. ‘So I was told to hold it.’
‘Why did Earl Edmund get involved in all this?’
‘For that, you’ll have to ask him. I keep other men’s secrets.’
‘What are you doing here, then?’
‘Now? Packing. You see, I am not popular with the men here. The musicians don’t seem to like me, no matter what I do. So Ithink I may as well be off. I’ve never done anyone any harm.’
‘They think you killed their friend in order to take his place in their band.’
‘Did you ever hear anything so silly? Why would I do that? They had already agreed to pass me any information I wanted. Ihad no need to hurt anyone. No, I did nothing to him. But when the place became free, I thought it’d be a useful berth. Andit meant I could keep a close eye on the Queen without too much trouble.’
‘Who did kill Peter, then?’
‘Aha, now. That’s a good question. I don’t know for sure. But I do know this: Despenser has a nice property just near theditch. It’s called the Temple. I’m sure you know it.’
‘Why would he kill Peter, though?’
‘The fellow Peter was not a good companion to his mates. You see, I’ve heard that he himself went to Despenser with the news thathis friends had been blackmailed by Earl Edmund into joining the Queen again. I’d have thought Despenser would be taken withthe idea, but perhaps he was out of sorts that night. Or doesn’t trust a turncoat.’
‘Perhaps,’ Baldwin said. But there was a glint in his eye which told Simon that he had worked out something else. ‘But whotold you that?’
‘Earl Edmund himself. There are many in the palace at Westminster who trade in secrets. He had his sources.’
‘What of the other deaths?’ Simon asked. ‘The other musicians reckoned you were always out and about when someone died. Isthat true?’
‘Yes. And it’s true that I was often away when no one was hurt. But you see, my Lord Mortimer sent me to look after the Queen.And that is what I did. I kept an eye open for her every night while I could.’
‘Even the night Enguerrand de Foix died?’ Baldwin asked sharply.
‘Oh, yes. But I can tell you this: I didn’t see who was there, but I know who wasn’t.’
‘Who?’
‘The man Robert de Chatillon wasn’t, for one. He stayed in his tent. I saw his master leave and walk up the lines to wherehe died, but no one else came out of his tent.’
‘Did anyone come in from outside the camp, do you think?’ Baldwin asked.
‘I couldn’t swear no one did, but there was another man I did see. He was a little, short man, and I think he was a chaplain.Not the English one, but another fellow. Saw him a couple of times. He was travelling with the Queen’s Chaplain until we reachedPontoise.’
‘Pierre is his name, I think,’ Baldwin said.
Chapter Forty-Two
When Sir Charles returned to the château, there was little warmth in his welcome from Lord Cromwell. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I had thought to bring you a trophy, my lord.’
‘You went off on one of your mercenary jaunts, you mean. You thought only of yourself yet again, and sought money from the traitor. At the same time you left Her Majesty all but unprotected. It was unforgivable!’
‘You say that? If I had found the King’s enemy and brought his body to you, I suppose you would have refused any part of the reward.’
‘Do not accuse me of your own vile greed, man! I am a man of honour. I would not have done anything that could have threatened the Queen!’
‘Truly. How very honourable of you,’ Sir Charles sneered.
‘Do not speak to me in that manner!’ Cromwell hissed.
‘I shall speak to all in any manner I consider suitable, my Lord! I am not your vassal. And while I am here with you, I am still the servant of the King himself. I shall do my duty to him as I see fit.’
‘It is not your duty to him you seek. It’s the filling of your purse. Just like your real master, Sir Hugh le Despenser!’ Cromwell called after him.
Sir Charles hesitated, but then continued on his way. The damned fool! Did he really think that he, Sir Charles of Lancaster, was the friend of Sir Hugh? He was only attempting to avenge Paul, nothing more. The idea that he was even remotely similar to Sir Hugh was ridiculous.
He walked to the chapel and peered inside. Where yesterday there had been only his man’s body lying under a sheet before the altar, now there were three. He had to go to each, lifting the sheet to peer at the man beneath. Two who looked as though they had died in a brawl, and then poor Paul.
‘Old friend, I am sorry,’ he said. Suddenly tears filled his eyes, and he had to kneel at his man’s side as they streamed down both cheeks. ‘I did all I could. I searched for him, but when I found him, it was as it had been for you: he had been following me. And yet he said that you did not die at his hand. He expected me to believe that, Paul. As though I could believe it.’
It was a shaming suggestion. Insulting to think that a man of Sir Charles’s intelligence could be persuaded by such a laughable assertion. Although he had not killed Charles himself when Charles was in his control. That was odd. Sir Charles would have slain him at the first opportunity, and he must have known that. Yet he didn’t return the favour.
No one else could have wanted to kill Paul, though. He had no enemies. And Mortimer had admitted beating him. Still, it was peculiar that he had done nothing to Sir Charles.
Baldwin and Simon were in their room drinking some spiced French ale when Sir Charles came in upon them.
‘I have some news for you, Sir Baldwin.’
‘Yes?’ Baldwin stood and poured Sir Charles a large cup of ale. ‘Please, take your rest here in front of our fire.’
‘I cannot deny that it would be pleasant.’
Simon could tell how affected he was by the death of his man. Sir Charles was pale, and his confidence appeared to have taken a knock. His usual ebullience was replaced with a dulled quiet. There was a quality of stillness about him which was entirely abnormal for him. Now he took the drink and sat on Baldwin’s stool, staring into the flames.
‘Mortimer caught me. Much as he did Paul, I think,’ he said after a long while.
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Not at all. No. I think he wanted to let me know that he knew what I had been trying to do — to catch and kill him. But he didn’t seek to kill me.’