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‘So my wife is alienated from me, and she has taken my son to hold against his will and mine?’ the king said with icy precision. ‘But you all saved yourselves?’

‘Your highness, it would serve you not at all if we were to die,’ the bishop said with some asperity. ‘I did the best I possibly could, but when it became apparent that my life was in danger, I confess I made the most urgent plans in order that I might escape the clutches of my enemies in France and return to advise you. I was forced to take on the habit of a pilgrim, merely to protect my own life.’

‘Oh, you wish to advise me now? That is good. Very good. So, my lord bishop, why do you not? Tell me, what exactly would you advise me to do, now that you have lost me my queen, my heir, and … and …’

The bishop took a deep breath. ‘Your royal highness. We did all we might. I had private talks with her royal highness, but she made no effort to conceal her hatred for me. I made the French court aware that she was disobeying you, her husband and master, but none would support me and your reasonable request that she return to her home. All was in vain. However, there was important intelligence that I felt sure I should bring to your attention.’

‘Speak!’ The king tutted to himself, then, ‘And stand, all of you. You look untidy on your knees like that. I feel I should have the floors cleaned!’

Bishop Walter stood slowly, his knees aching from the unaccustomed position. When the others were also on their feet, the bishop fixed his eyes on the king. ‘Your royal highness, the first news that came to me, and of which I must make you aware, is that the foul traitor Roger Mortimer has returned to the French court. I feel quite sure that he is there in order that he might negotiate with the French king, and possibly to discuss matters with your queen. I know this is sore news, but-’

The rest of his words were drowned by the king’s sudden roar of anger. He stood, fists clenched, teeth showing in a fierce grimace of pure fury. ‘You mean that bastard son of a diseased whore is out there with my wife, and my son too? You left them there so that the honey-tongued traitor could inveigle his way into their good natures? He will make use of their innocence to make much trouble for us, you fools. Did none of you think to try to kill him? Or at least make it clear to the French king that his presence there was an insult, a … a sore torment to me? Eh? Did you do nothing?’

‘We had no means with which to-’

‘What of the other guardians of the queen and my son, eh? I gave you a force so that you might protect Edward, my son, and the same men could be used to deal with a man who is known as a traitor and a rebel. You think the French would argue if you removed him? You should have killed the bastard, damn it, damn him … damn you!’

‘That brings me to the second piece of intelligence, my king. The men who were with me, the men whom you set to guard the queen, and those who were told to protect your son, they have all become allies of hers. None would come back to England save these here with me.’

‘You mean to tell me …’ The king gaped, and stared at the three men behind the bishop. ‘These are all?’

‘My lord Cromwell, Sir Henry … all have allied themselves with the queen. I am truly sorry, your royal highness. If I could have, I swear, I would have enlisted the help of any of them to bring down Mortimer and destroy him.’

‘Be gone! Leave me, all of you! You bring me news like this and expect reward? Just go!’

Chapter Four

Abbeyford Woods, south of Jacobstowe

‘Well, fellow?’

The tone of the knight was invariably sharp, as though he had no regard for Bill or any of the others. Instead he stood about, still, surveying the damage all around, tapping his foot as though he was waiting for a porter to open a gate for him.

He watched as Bill and the others gathered up the jury and made them stand in a rough semicircle. Then they set out a board and stool ready for the clerk to scribble at, and checked who was and who wasn’t present.

‘All ready, Coroner.’

‘Very well. Clerk, have the jury swear,’ Sir Peregrine de Barnstaple said, and wandered to the nearest of the bodies.

While the jury was sworn in, he stood and surveyed the coppice again. Seeing Bill watching him, he beckoned. ‘Look, Bailiff, I do happily confess that I am new to this task. I have not been a coroner for long. But I would have you tell me, do you have any idea who could have done this?’

‘I have been wondering that myself. It isn’t the locals about here. You can see that.’

‘Why?’

‘Look at us! There aren’t enough to try to attack such a force as this. And why would we kill like this? This wasn’t a simple waylaying, I’d wager. No, these men were attacked and killed for a definite purpose. The man with his eyes put out? Why would a robber do that?’

‘That is what I thought too. So it would be a large band of outlaws, is what you believe?’

‘I can only think so. But …’

‘What?’

‘A gang large enough to do this would have to have been seen or heard, Sir Peregrine.’

‘True enough. So where did they come from? Do you have any idea?’

‘I’ve searched along the roads all about here in the last day or two. There is one direction I think they could have come from. North.’

The coroner shrugged and shook his head. ‘Should that mean something to me? Which castle would they be from? That’s what I need to know. Who are they and where could they have come from? Are they outlaws, is that what you mean?’

Bill eyed him closely, then looked back over the dead bodies. ‘There is no man within my manor who would have done this. North of here there are a number of men-at-arms in the employ of different lords, and there are men at Oakhampton, of course. But a group would have to be very sure of themselves to do such murder. Of the men in the area near here, I don’t know who would dare to attack such a group.’

Sir Peregrine looked at him for a moment. ‘I have the impression you are withholding something from me. Is there anything else you wish to tell me?’

Bill looked up at the coroner. Since first seeing the man, he had been impressed by Sir Peregrine’s haughtiness and self-importance. The man was the perfect example of a knight: arrogant and overbearing. He was typical of all the coroners Bill had ever met: he surely wasn’t interested in justice or protecting the people about here; he was only looking at this as a means of procuring money in amercements for the king. All murders and attacks like this led to the locals being fleeced to swell the king’s purse.

‘I can tell nothing more than you, Sir Peregrine,’ Bill said flatly.

‘Very well. Let us open the inquest and see what may be learned,’ the coroner said, and clapped his hands to get the attention of the men waiting. ‘I call this inquest to order!’

Westminster Palace

Sir Hugh le Despenser was aware of the value of good information, and he appreciated the importance of a man who would happily bring him news. The under-bottler from the Painted Chamber was an expensive ally, but his reports were worth all the money Sir Hugh lavished on him. He paid the man now with twenty shillings, a small fortune, but one that the man’s detailed account fully justified.

‘I am grateful to you, my friend,’ he said as he passed the money over. ‘Let me know more about the king’s mood when you can.’

As the under-bottler left, Sir Hugh stood and rubbed at his forehead. The pressure was unrelenting, and the sensation of having his head in a vice was growing in virulence daily. There was so much for him to do, so much to plan, if he were to be safe. One thing was certain — his new spy was only as good as Despenser’s star. If his position began to wane, the under-bottler would not come to advise him. He would be seeking his next patron, rather. So when the fellow stopped responding to Despenser’s requests, he might have to be taught a lesson at a dagger’s point.