‘We have to get a move on.’
‘There’s no hurry.’
‘You’ve forgotten?’
‘Forgotten what?’
‘Baldwin, wake up, in God’s name! The Coroner, remember? He’s collecting the posse of the county to come here.’
‘My God!’
‘I thought that might stir you,’ Simon said with grim satisfaction. ‘He’ll more than likely think we’re being held hostage for ransom. We should collect ourselves and leave before things get out of hand.’
Baldwin nodded and dressed himself as swiftly as he could. His sword he hung on his belt, and with the comfortable weight dangling at his hip he immediately felt much stronger and safer. It was curious, this sense of power and authority that a mere hunk of steel could confer. Baldwin knew that his was an awesome weapon, capable of removing a man’s head in one blow, but that did not alter the fact that here, in this castle, with so many men-at-arms in the pay of Sir Ralph and his son, he was not safe. Any feeling of security that he won by donning his belt was false. Safety lay outside, with Coroner Roger and the men he was gathering.
Hugh had already collected up their small packs and stood with them bound to the long staff he always carried, their weight carefully balanced to be comfortable on his shoulder. He paid no attention to the men all about them, but stood chewing his inner lip like a man who was deep in thought. At least he was no longer suffering from the after-effects of Esmon’s attack.
‘We had best leave now,’ Simon said. He had the same lack of faith in their host. ‘We can break our fast at the inn with the Coroner.’
‘That suits me very well,’ Baldwin said, but even as he and Simon made to walk to the door, Esmon entered. Baldwin saw Hugh’s eyes narrow, and his stance subtly alter, as though he was ready to strike at the knight’s son.
‘You aren’t leaving us already, my lords? Food is on the way, and you would be better served by eating your fill first.’
‘We are seeking your father to thank him for his hospitality,’ Baldwin said.
‘He is in the solar. Would you wish me to call him for you?’
‘No. No, there’s no need to wake him,’ Simon said hurriedly.
‘But you must see him before you leave. Wait until you have broken your fast, for then he shall be risen and ready to wish you Godspeed,’ Esmon said, smiling coldly. ‘You will be safe here,’ he added.
There was little that Simon and Baldwin could do in the face of his polite insistence. Explaining the reason for their departure would hardly be courteous, Baldwin thought, and yet waiting until the posse comitatus arrived was scarcely a better option. They must simply eat quickly, and be gone.
With that resolve, he returned with Simon and Hugh to their bench and waited, but Baldwin noticed that Hugh carefully removed their packs from his staff and set the length of timber well within his reach.
Before very long, servants arrived in the hall and they began to set out the trestles and place the long board tables on top, giving three long rows perpendicular to the great table on the dais where Sir Ralph would sit with his family. Men brought in cloths which they draped over the tables, then more men appeared with bread trenchers. A panter went to the Lord’s table and set out his knives, while another, little more than a boy, took up a bowl and towel and stood waiting, and the steward stood and watched them all with a serious expression on his face, as though daring them to misbehave in his master’s hall. Baldwin was sure that he spent much of his time glaring at the men-at-arms in the corner. They were still all there, standing or sitting, laughing at jokes, a few playing dice.
Obviously feeling that it was no good and must be given up as a bad job, the steward shook his head in apparent disgust, and then twitched aside the tapestry that covered the door to the solar, opening the door and disappearing. A few moments later, he reappeared in the hall, and walked to the corner of the table. There he nodded to a lad who waited at the door to the screens, and Simon saw him walk out.
This was a part of the routine of the place, he knew. The boy would go to the little bell out at the doorway and strike it to call all the servants in to eat or serve. There were always shifts of servants at halls like this one. One group would eat while the other served them, and then there would be a change so that the servers could themselves eat. All perfectly normal, and Simon paid little attention as the bell was sounded and all the men from the castle came in. They went to their places as though all the seats were already allotted, a fact borne out by the way three men stood muttering darkly on seeing Baldwin, Simon and Hugh sitting.
There was one other man whom Simon could not help but hear. He was an older man, thin and unwell in appearance, as though he had suffered from a fever recently, and he was glowering at his neighbours.
‘It was my old dad’s, that knife. One of you thieving bastards has it, and you can just give it me back. Think it’s a sodding joke, don’t you?’
‘Come on, it’s just fallen from your belt somewhere. You’ll find it soon enough.’
‘It was on my belt last night when I went to sleep. Think I’ve lost my mind because of a bit of a cold? I can remember where I put it: same as always, right by my hand in case any of those mad buggers over there decide to try something,’ he said, throwing a ferocious scowl towards the men-at-arms.
‘Well, it’s not there now.’
‘Maybe one of them took it off you?’ another man laughed, but Simon paid them little attention as he smelled the scent of fresh baked bread and heard the welcoming sound of ale pouring into jugs. His mouth filled with saliva and he gazed hopefully at the door to the screens.
Baldwin was more interested in the door to the solar. Now that all his men were in the room, he was sure that the knight would soon arrive, and sure enough, when all the benches and stools were filled, the steward returned to the door, moving the tapestry once more, and tapped on it. Shortly afterwards, Ben and Flora entered, Flora as pale as a sheet of vellum where her face was not burned. The left side of her face was a weeping, raw wound, and she moved slowly as though in great sadness and pain. At her side was Ben, but the lad had lost his strutting mien. His hair was all but burned away, and there was a great sore on the point of his skull, while his cheeks were cracked and bleeding. He moved as though terrified that he would attract attention to himself, as if he could trust no one. Perhaps, Baldwin thought, someone who had seen his own father try to murder him, would be marked forever afterwards with that kind of fear.
The steward led them to the side of the main table and seated them with great care, setting a jug of wine before Flora and selecting an apple from a pile for her. Ben sat shivering, hardly even glancing at the food set out before him.
A moment or two later, the room fell silent as Sir Ralph appeared with his wife at his side. They walked in regally, Sir Ralph nodding to his steward, and allowing a momentary annoyance to pass over his face as a man-at-arms gave a shout of delight on seeing how the dice had fallen. Others in the room shushed the man, but he growled, staring down any of the servants who met his gaze. When he was satisfied that he had cowed all, he deliberately sat with his back to Sir Ralph.
The Lord threw a bitter glance at his son, but Esmon affected not to notice. Baldwin, looking at the stiffness in Sir Ralph’s back, was convinced that he would make his son pay for the man’s rudeness later.
There was a breeze in the room. The tapestries behind Sir Ralph rippled occasionally, while Baldwin was aware that sometimes a candle or two would smoke and gutter at the same time, although he gave little thought to the matter. He was too busy keeping his eyes on the men-at-arms.