Simon was not credulous, but he did have some superstitions. ‘Where I was born they used to say that if you spilled wax, someone you knew might die.’
‘Really?’ Despenser said shortly. Too late, he told himself. Jack was already dead. ‘How interesting. I hope it won’t be my wife. She is with the Queen again today.’
‘That was a dreadful event yesterday,’ the Bishop said quietly.
Despenser looked at him. ‘Dreadful’ hardly covered it. He could still remember that body on the floor behind the throne. Jack, the man on whom he had come to depend so much, because he was the most expert killer, had himself been killed. But by whom? And how? Anyone who could lull Jack and slay him was an enemy to be feared.
He managed, ‘I agree. One finds it difficult to express one’s horror at such a foul murder.’
‘The maid, yes,’ Stapledon agreed.
‘It is hard to understand how any man could wish to hurt the Queen,’ Baldwin said.
His words had an instant impact. ‘You think that?’ Despenser said. Beside him, Bishop Walter winced.
‘Surely any man who has taken an oath to obey the King has simultaneously taken an oath to protect his wife?’ Baldwin said.
Despenser was studying him closely. ‘Perhaps some do not think that she merits such blind devotion?’
‘I am surprised to hear you say that, Sir Hugh.’
‘Her brother makes it difficult for a patriot to support her. Just as the Bishop pointed out, the French cannot always be trusted. They covet our lands and kingdom.’
‘You say that is an excuse for not honouring our Queen?’
‘I say that we who have responsibility for the security of the realm have many difficult decisions to make,’ Despenser said. ‘It is like the matter of the Templars — perhaps some, as the good Bishop suggested, may have been innocent. But for the protection of Christianity as a whole, it was essential that they were all arrested, was it not?’
‘I could not say,’ Baldwin said. He shifted in his seat. This felt too much like denying his comrades, but if he were to become known as an escaped Templar, it would not serve to aid them. It would only ensure that he was arrested, and likely executed, for no purpose. Then a small flame of defiance flared. ‘I could only say this: that as Keeper of the King’s Peace I have witnessed enough injustices at the hands of the incompetent, the dull-witted and the corrupt. I should not be in the least surprised to learn that some of those who prosecuted the Templars were no better than those I have seen in the last years in Devon.’
‘Really? Ah, but of course, you are the same good knight who has been involved in so many interesting cases in Devon, are you not? You were in Iddesleigh last year, I believe, and Dartmouth, too. I seem to remember hearing of you.’
Baldwin looked at him very directly. ‘You wish to complain about my impartiality?’
Despenser was expressionless. ‘No, I merely wanted to ensure that you were the man I was thinking of. It is always refreshing to meet someone whose reputation precedes them.’
Baldwin nodded. He was perfectly aware that this was a warning, but he did not know what he was being warned from. It would warrant consideration. ‘Will your wife attend upon the Queen again tomorrow?’
‘Of course. She is with Her Majesty every day.’
‘Good. I should like to speak to her as well.’
‘Why?’
‘Just to confirm her impression of the figure she saw kill Mabilla.’
‘What is there to find out? He was there in the hall.’
‘Did we find a cuir bouilli mask to cover his face? No. A green gipon? No again. Cecily was very certain in her description, but it does not tally with the man we found there. I would like to speak to your wife to see what she recalls.’
‘I see. Any others?’
‘Certainly. I shall also be speaking with Alicia when I have an opportunity.’
‘Interesting, that superstition about candles, don’t you think?’ Despenser said, still eyeing Baldwin. ‘Do you think someone here at this table will shortly die, Sir Knight?’
There was a lightness to his tone, as though he was making fun of the superstition, but when Baldwin looked up at him again, he saw only death in the man’s eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Now he knew how Jack had got into the Palace, Ellis set his mind to considering how Jack’s killer could have found him.
Jack was no easy target. He’d not have spoken of his commission to anyone else. He was far too aware of the dangers of betrayal, especially with a job like this one.
He had made it from here, the south-western point of the wall, into the passageway that led from the upper gallery in the Queen’s chapel to her solar. But how on earth had he got there?
Ach, he was wasting his time! He shouldn’t be here running about trying to put himself in the mind of a man who was dead. It would do little to help him find the murderer of his sister … and yet the fact of being busy lent him some comfort, was helping him to concentrate. Very well, then. Concentrate.
Ellis turned away from the Abbey and stared hard back towards the Old Palace Yard. The new cloister and Queen’s chamber and chapel were ahead of him. He glanced to left and right. The walls here were completely open from the guards at the other walls. There were some parts where the farther guards would have been hard pushed to see too much, and of course their attention should have been directed outwards, away from the palace itself, to keep an eye open for any possible intruders approaching from outside. Someone already on the walkway would have been at an advantage anyway, because many of the guards would see a figure at the other side of the wall and assume it was one of them. In the darkness it would be natural enough.
Still, if he had to bet, Jack wouldn’t want to walk too far on the walkway. No, he’d try to get down to the ground as quickly as possible. There were stairs over to the left, and a …
Ellis looked ahead of him. Just in front of him was a small stone building used for storing provisions, and Ellis grinned to himself coldly. That made sense. He had already found a ladder and rope. It would hardly be surprising if he’d found another length of rope. With that a man might let himself down from here, to a place just behind that stone building, so conveniently positioned to conceal someone climbing down the wall.
He strode along the walkway, down the staircase, and over to the rear of the building. There was a small heap of rubbish there. From the look of it, it was clearly a convenient repository for waste from the kitchens. He found a long stick, and thrust it in about the edges, but found nothing. Then he reasoned that Jack would hardly leave a rope in a damp muck heap. Looking about, he could see no sign of one hidden anywhere else, though — until he looked at the roof of the storage room. Eaves overhung the walls by a significant amount, he noticed. Reaching up beneath the shingles, he found that there was a slight shelf at the bottom, and as he ran his fingers along this, he collected a splinter, and then his fingers met a piece of rough hemp. Excellent!
From here, Jack would have had just the one route to the Queen’s quarters — across the yard and in by the garden door. Ellis set off in that direction, reaching the door in a few paces. There was a guard waiting there, who watched Ellis as he approached.
‘Who are you?’ Ellis asked.
‘Richard Blaket.’
‘Is the Queen in her cloister? I want to see inside — just for a minute. The murderer who killed Mabilla came in this way, I think,’ Ellis explained. ‘Sir Hugh le Despenser wants to find out how, on behalf of the King, to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’