‘Who, my Lord? I don’t — ’
‘I saw you with Sir Hugh just now at the side of the tavern.’
‘You must have thought you saw me.’
Edmund turned, grasped his tunic in his fist, thrusting him up against a wall. ‘You really thought that you could pull the wool over my eyes and gull me while taking Despenser’s money, didn’t you? That offends me, old friend. It really offends me.’
‘Why should I do that, my Lord?’ Piers gasped.
‘Money, of course. It is what makes all transactions happen now, isn’t it? Everybody wants money — nothing else matters. Except I have some men who are more loyal than that. I don’t need to buy them. They are my honoured vassals. I trust them with my life, you know.’
Piers opened his mouth, but only a squeak came out. Suddenly he was petrified with fear, for in the Earl’s eyes he saw nothing. Not hatred, not anger, just … nothing! It was as though he was already dead: an irrelevance.
The Earl let him go, and Piers almost fell to the ground. He wanted to leap up and flee, but his legs would not move. All he could do was stare up in horror, and then it was too late. There were steps behind him, and he saw the Earl nod once.
‘You know what to do with him.’
‘My Lord!’
‘You are filth.’
‘Let me tell you! I can help you.’
‘And then sell me again?’
‘Sir Hugh le Despenser, he was behind it all. Mabilla was his spy in the Queen’s chamber, and Sir Hugh wanted Mabilla dead so that the Queen wouldn’t tell the King Sir Hugh was plotting her murder. Mabilla was the trade. The Queen would live but the spy in her household would go. That was the arrangement!’
‘You think I care?’
‘But my Lord, you can sell this! It’s information people want! You could — ’
But Earl Edmund wanted to hear no more. He did not hesitate or glance over his shoulder as the two men bundled Piers into an alleyway, hurrying him along until they came to a darker doorway.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Simon and Baldwin found William in the yard still. Peter of Oxford had come with them, and he pointed out the Despenser’s man at a table nursing a large horn of ale. He was staring at the gate with a frown of consternation on his battered face.
It was strange, the way that the Earl had hurried after the black-haired man like that. The Earl had looked really pissed off when he got here and Piers was gone, but then he caught sight of his man in the gateway, and strode after him. It looked as though the two knew each other.
‘Are you William Pilk?’
He glanced up to see the tall Bailiff, and then he recognised the knight behind him. ‘What d’you want?’ he asked, although he was sure enough. Seeing Peter behind Simon, he leaned forward truculently. ‘And what are you grinning about?’
Simon introduced himself, studying the figure in front of him. He looked as though he had just been in a fight, and had probably come off worst. Pilk was the sort of guard who would do well because of his native cunning, but Simon was sure that he was not terribly bright.
‘Well? What do you want?’ Pilk repeated to Baldwin, without showing a shred of respect.
‘First, just to ask you some questions.’
‘I don’t think I want to answer any.’ Pilk stood. ‘I have things to do.’
‘So do we,’ Baldwin said and thrust hard in the middle of Pilk’s chest, forcing him to sit down on the bench again with a gasp of pain as his sore arse hit the wood. ‘If you wish to leave, please do. However, when I report to the King later, I shall tell him you didn’t want to help investigate the murders. You were too busy. I am sure the King will understand.’
Pilk sneered despite the pain he was in. These prickles didn’t understand the first thing about the palace. ‘You do that,’ he said insolently. ‘I am on my Lord Despenser’s business.’
‘And we are on the King’s,’ Baldwin said. As Pilk stood up again, Baldwin grunted with irritation and pushed him down a second time. This time his hand connected with a large bruise over his abdomen, and in a reflex action, Pilk slapped at his hand. Suddenly there was a bright blue blade at his throat.
‘I asked you politely, and now I am telling you to sit down,’ Baldwin stated through gritted teeth.
‘What do you want?’ Pilk demanded, scowling as he sat again.
Baldwin sheathed his sword as Simon beckoned a serving maid. She looked a little reluctant to go to them, for she had seen the sword flash, but when Simon grinned broadly and held up a coin for her to see, her fear dissipated.
When she was gone to fetch their drinks, Baldwin hooked his thumbs in his belt.
‘I think you could be in serious trouble.’
‘I have nothing to fear.’
‘Your master cannot protect you from everything, Pilk.’
William looked up at them and curled his lip. ‘He can from anything you threaten.’
‘Not I, Pilk. The King.’
He shrugged. Edward was hardly a threat. ‘If you say so.’
‘Let me tell you what I think happened,’ Baldwin said. ‘You were with your master, and he decided he had to stop Jack from killing the Queen. But he didn’t know how to do so. What should he do? Ride the streets shouting Jack’s name? No. All he could do was try to intercept Jack in the palace, even though no one knew from which direction, or when, Jack would come. Is that a good guess so far?’
‘I have work to attend to. If all you’re going to do is ask daft questions …’
Baldwin was unimpressed. He continued: ‘So Sir Hugh le Despenser asked you to come here and do it all for him. You came here to the palace, and you stood and waited. You know the place well enough, don’t you? So seeing where the Queen would be was no trouble. Except, would Jack have known where the Queen would be?’
He was struck with a sudden doubt. Would Jack have known about the Queen’s night-time wanderings? Had she already begun to walk about the place at the time when Jack was briefed and commissioned? No matter — he must continue now he had begun.
‘So you entered the palace, you went to the corridor where the Queen would pass you, and you stood there waiting. When Jack arrived, you spoke to him. You knew him, after all, so you were able to calm his doubts. But then, when he turned his back on you, you stabbed him.’
‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ Will said, and spat on to the cobbles. His eye was closing now, and he felt like shit. ‘It’s nothing to do with me. I was back at Sir Hugh’s place — the Temple. I can get plenty of people to tell you that.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you can,’ Baldwin said. There must be dozens of Sir Hugh’s servants who would be keen to demonstrate their loyalty by giving Pilk an alibi. And Baldwin would believe none of them. ‘So who was it who stabbed the man in the back, I wonder?’
‘Maybe you should talk to Ellis,’ Pilk suggested, and sniggered to himself. ‘He may know something. He has investigated how the assassin got in. Perhaps he knows more than he’s let on.’
‘This is Mabilla’s brother?’ Simon confirmed.
‘You know him?’
‘If he’s the henchman who looks like a mastiff with his brain removed,’ Simon put in, ‘then, yes.’
‘Perhaps he found this man wandering about and killed him,’ Pilk said. ‘There are enough died around here just recently. If it wasn’t for me, Sir Hugh himself would be dead.’
Despite himself, Baldwin was intrigued. He had learned nothing of the attack on Despenser from his own choice, but his interest was piqued. ‘You were there?’
‘No. Here,’ he said with emphasis. ‘My master was coming out from the gate to the Green Yard, and I was up there, just a ways ahead of him when I saw the flash of the bolt up there.’
Baldwin looked away. ‘I can’t see where you mean from here — the man was behind the stables?’
‘No! He was beside the alehouse, beyond the midden there.’