‘I don’t know this man from Bow. Nor the sheriff,’ Simon mentioned.
‘Sir Robert’s been there a while. Surprised you haven’t met him yet.’ Sir Richard explained how the knight had been a member of the king’s household until he allied himself with the king’s enemies, and after that had been outlawed. ‘I had no idea he’d been restored to his former positions.’
‘Surely the king wouldn’t give him back his lands and life if he had been a traitor?’
The coroner grunted in response to that. ‘Enough others have been pardoned for all their crimes.’
‘I have tended to avoid these parts in recent years,’ Simon said. ‘Living on the moors, then down at Dartmouth; and recently I’ve been away so much that Bow doesn’t seem a natural place to visit.’
‘Aye, well, by the sound of things you should continue to avoid the place,’ was Sir Richard’s considered comment.
They dropped down into Oakhampton in the middle of the afternoon, much to the delight of Sir Richard, who, in the absence of a full wineskin, was growing almost morose. Then they took the Cornwall road past the castle, and on to the road south.
Simon would have liked to have left the roads, and at Prewley Moor he cast a longing glance to the moors themselves, but he was forced to agree with Sir Richard that it would have been foolhardy. There was no need to leave the roadway here. It was a good trail, with cleared verges for almost all the route to Lydford, and when they were approaching the town, they would be perfectly safe in any case. Better by far to keep to the road and make their journey more swiftly.
It was still an hour before nightfall when they trotted gently into the town where Simon had lived for such a long while. He cast about him as they went, fearing that they might even now be assailed by the men of Sir Hugh le Despenser, especially William atte Wattere, but for all his fears, there was no sign of anyone. Only some loud singing from the tavern as they passed, and the occasional barking of a dog, told them that people still lived here.
‘This is my house,’ Simon said as they reached the long, low building. He stopped a moment and looked at it, feeling a distinct sense of alienation. The place had been his for such a long time, it was most curious to think that it had been taken from him so swiftly and easily. There was a shocking ruthlessness in the way that Despenser had gone about it, searching for a weakness in Simon’s life, and then exploiting it without compunction. He had learned about Simon’s lease while Simon was abroad on a mission for the king. A little pressure on the leaseholder was all that was needed, and Despenser owned the place. The most powerful man in the land after only the king himself was not the man to make an enemy.
So Simon had lost his home, but more importantly he had also lost his peace of mind. Any pleasure in his possessions was now marred by the realisation that they could be taken from him at any time. He had no control over his own destiny.
Of course a man always knew that the most valuable asset he owned, his life, could be snatched away in a moment. It took only a freak accident, a whim on the part of God Himself, and a man’s soul was taken from him. Sometimes it was malevolent fate that men blamed, sometimes the evil in others, but Simon had been raised and educated at the Church of the Holy Cross and the Mother of Him Who Hung Thereon, the canonical church at Crediton, and the teachings of the canons there had influenced his life and thinking ever since.
His life was not something Simon had ever bothered to trouble himself over. He had a simple faith that because he was a Christian, when he died he would be taken up to heaven. There was no point troubling himself over the world and worldly things when the real life was yet to come. And yet he found more and more that the things he cared about most deeply were all too easily taken from him. Perhaps it was because of this, he thought, staring at the house. Such a solid, massive structure, so permanent, it seemed impossible to think that it could be taken from him in a matter of days, no matter what he tried to do to keep it. There was an inevitability about such things. Those things he loved most dearly, they were themselves the very things he would find being targeted by an enemy such as Sir Hugh le Despenser.
‘Simon? You all right?’ Sir Richard asked.
Nodding, Simon dropped from his horse and the two hitched their mounts to a ring in the wall. Then, taking a deep breath, Simon walked to his old door and beat upon it with his knuckles.
He felt sick to the pit of his stomach as he wondered who would open it.
Chapter Twelve
Exeter
Edith was walking along a screens passageway, and no matter how fast she walked, she could not reach the door at the far end, although she knew that on the other side was Peter, and she was desperate to get to him, to give him some consolation … And then she stumbled, and was falling, toppling over and over in the dark, and-
And then she came to with a jerk, startled from a heavy doze.
There were voices, and she sat up, still a little befuddled with sleep, rubbing her eyes as she stared towards the door.
Her maid was already there, she saw. Jane stood now at the door, and was peering out. Then she shot back into the room, staring at Edith with a perplexed expression in her eyes. It was enough to make Edith get to her feet. Whatever the horror, she wanted to hear it standing, not sitting like some invalid.
Shortly afterwards, Peter’s father Charles was striding into the room, a scowl on his face, Mistress Jan hurrying in his wake.
Charles was a heavy-set man, attired in a fur-trimmed cloak and a tunic that was embroidered with gold at hem and neck. His usually calm, gentle eyes were now fretful and staring with his anger and concern.
‘So, husband, what did they say?’
‘They say he stands accused of crimes,’ he said, looking directly at Edith as he drew off his gloves, finger by finger. ‘The sheriff said that Peter is considered a dangerous man who would seek the overthrow of the king. He is accused of plotting with others to have the king slain.’
‘But … but that is mad, husband,’ Mistress Jan said weakly.
Edith ran to her side as the older woman began to gasp, her breath coming in staccato gusts. She caught Mistress Jan as the woman started to fall. It was all she could do to support her. Jane ran to them, and she and Edith between them half carried her mother-in-law to a chair.
Her father-in-law watched as they settled Mistress Jan in the chair. There was no expression on his face as he stood gazing at them, only a kind of sad longing in his grey eyes.
Edith straightened. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there? I can see it in your eyes. What is it?’
‘He said … The sheriff said that this was you. If Peter hadn’t married you, none of this would have happened. He said it was because of your father that Peter has been arrested.’
Lydford
Simon and Sir Richard stood in Simon’s little hall, and bowed low to the Cardinal de Fargis. They waited in the doorway until they had taken off their swords and given them to a steward. The bottler arrived and stood near the cardinal as they walked to him, both falling to one knee before him, and kissing his ring.
‘Please, you will stand,’ the cardinal said, motioning with both hands. ‘You bring honour to this little house by coming here. I am delighted to meet you both. Please, take some wine.’