‘Perhaps. So you will not be feloniously persuading some mischievous Chaplain to grant you access to her rooms again?’
Baldwin allowed himself a small smile. ‘I rather think that my experiences tonight with your most efficient guards would put me off the idea of further enquiries.’
‘Good. Oh, rise, rise, all of you!’
They did so with relief. Simon always suffered from a bad back, and after bending for so long he was uncomfortably certain that he would soon be suffering again.
‘What will you do now?’ the King asked.
‘I think I am close to a decision on the matter of the murder.’
‘But have done nothing about the attempt on my good friend Sir Hugh’s life?’
Baldwin smiled. ‘I have discovered an interest in that too, my Liege.’
‘You have!’ the King exclaimed. ‘What tempted you to start to think of this?’
‘Naturally your desire to see me look into it, Your Majesty. That, and a chance comment from a man earlier. It has made me look at the matter afresh.’
‘Ah. Very good. You may leave us, then, and continue your search for the truth.’
Baldwin nudged Simon, and the three men backed away, bowing low. They managed to reach the door without stumbling, and once outside the room they looked at each other, Simon blowing out his cheeks as he sighed with relief. ‘Baldwin, Brother Peter, I thought I was going to have to compose a letter to Meg to say, “Farewell”!’
‘Come, Simon. Don’t exaggerate! There was little enough to fear in there.’
‘Little? When we were hauled in front of the King?’ Peter squeaked.
‘It was to be expected.’ Baldwin sighed. ‘Only it does mean that further investigation will be difficult. How can we learn where the assassin died if we cannot look in the King’s and Queen’s own chambers?’
Simon shot him a look. The guards were still close, but as he and Baldwin walked away from the last door, Chaplain Peter behind them, he leaned to the knight.
‘You mean you didn’t see?’
Baldwin was puzzled. ‘See what? I was looking at the King.’
‘On the floor beside the table, near Despenser’s foot. A large stain on the flags and carpet.’
‘Was it blood?’
‘I’d bet on it. That was where he died.’
‘Good. In that case we have almost all the chain of events in our hands, Simon,’ Baldwin said, and rubbed his hands together with glee.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ellis was almost back at the palace when the man stopped him.
The fellow was young, and quite slim for a man-at-arms, but from the heraldry on his breast, he was a servant of Earl Edmund. He wasn’t the sort of man to upset, but Ellis didn’t care.
‘What?’ he demanded ungraciously.
‘A present. For your master from mine,’ the man said. ‘Do not open it yourself, though, it is for Sir Hugh le Despenser and him alone’
Ellis took the leather package and hefted it. It was quite heavy, for all that it was about the size and shape of a pig’s bladder. He jerked his head to have the man move out of his path, then strode onwards.
The gate was busy, as ever. There were always traders entering, politicians idling their way past, guards sitting and gossiping with pots of ale or wine, and the sound of thousands of men and women talking as loudly as possible, selling wares, shouting for attention, demanding people stop and consider their goods.
Not for him today, though. He had been sent to the Bishop’s house with an urgent mission, and now he had a gift for his master too. He shouldered his way through the crowds and out to the Green Yard gate. ‘For Sir Hugh le Despenser,’ he said, holding up the package, and was soon through.
He had been told to bring his message to the King’s chambers, so he made his way there now, easily getting past the different guards. All knew him. All worked for him. All were paid by him.
The last pair were at the King’s doors. Ellis motioned for them to stand aside, then rapped smartly on the timbers. Hearing the King’s command to enter, he opened the door and walked in.
‘Ah, Ellis,’ Despenser said. ‘You have it for me?’
‘Yes. I went there as you asked, and his servant gave it to me.’
‘Good. Where is it?’ He took the small scrap from Ellis and glanced at it with relief. Then he saw the leather parcel slung from Ellis’s shoulder. It was a simple bag, with a thong that passed about the mouth, and this had been tied firmly. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a gift from Earl Edmund.’
‘Really?’ Despenser said. He was intrigued. The Earl was more likely to send an assassin, like the one who had tried to kill him on Sunday.
The King was surprised too. ‘I didn’t think my brother would usually consider sending you a present, Sir Hugh.’
‘Nor did I, my Liege,’ Sir Hugh said, but added with a smile, ‘yet he and I have discussed many matters recently, and we find ourselves often in agreement.’ He set the package down on a table and fumbled with the bindings. It felt like a pot of wine or something. It was quite a weight.
The leather bag opened, and he pulled the drawstrings wide, reaching in and then giving a short gasp and pulling his hand away again, his eyes wide with revulsion. ‘What the-’
‘Sir Hugh?’ the King cried, leaping to his feet.
Ellis’s more practical response was to draw his knife and step to his master’s side. ‘Sir Hugh, what is it?’
Sir Hugh tipped the bag over. Piers’s head rolled out a short distance, the eyes half-lidded, the neck obscenely shortened.
‘I don’t understand you,’ Simon said as Sir Baldwin stood in the yard with hands on hips, and looked up and down with excitement.
‘Simon, it is easy. I wouldn’t trust that son of a leprous whore any more than I’d trust a snake. Not true: I’d trust a snake more than him.’
‘You mean Despenser?’
Baldwin threw him an exasperated look. ‘Come along, Simon. This was your fault, after all.’
‘Mine?’ the Bailiff protested, but Baldwin was already striding up towards the alehouse’s midden.
‘He must have hung about here in order to be hidden,’ he said, pointing up at the wall walk. From almost all angles, Simon could see, they were concealed from view here. And nobody would have bothered to keep much of an eye upon this noisome place.
‘But look,’ Baldwin said, gesturing back towards the Green Yard gate. ‘See? If that fool Pilk was out in front, he would be unlikely to block the archer’s view of Despenser.’
‘So?’
‘So, as you pointed out, there was no need for this man to lean out to fire at Despenser. All he need do was stand here and fire along the building.’
‘Unless there was someone else in the way.’
‘Pilk said not, and we can trust his words, for he actually saw the bowman. If there had been an obstruction, Pilk would not have seen the man.’ Baldwin leaned against the wall with satisfaction. ‘No, I think that explains much. This fellow wasn’t aiming at Despenser.’
‘What? Who, then?’
‘There was one man he’d have to lean out to hit, and hit safely without hurting another — and yet leave it looking as though he’d been trying to kill Sir Hugh.’
Simon swore quietly and slammed a fist against his thigh. ‘But why would Sir Hugh conspire to kill his own servant?’
‘If Despenser had paid to have Mabilla killed … how would her brother react?’ Baldwin asked.
Simon nodded. ‘A good point.’
‘A very good point,’ Baldwin said with a brief flash of his teeth. ‘And the best of it is, if we can persuade Ellis of the truth of our words, he might just agree to tell us about his master’s business. This could be the last little thread of the story that ties the whole tapestry together.’
Despenser pointed at the head and barked at Ellis, ‘Take that thing away! Throw it away!’