‘You think she has been?’
‘I know her. She is a woman of intelligence and spirit,’ the bishop answered. ‘And while the French challenge us at Guyenne,she must remain here — safe.’
‘You see, though, Bishop, that we do not agree on the issues here,’ Baldwin said. ‘What useful purpose could I serve in parliament? Leave me here to remain as a contented rural knight, raising my family in peace and without the interruptions of nationalaffairs.’
‘I wish I could,’ the bishop replied. ‘But, Baldwin, I believe your intellect could help save the country from disaster. Iam being frank with you, old friend.’
‘It is neither to my taste nor to my interest,’ Baldwin said with conviction.
The bishop leaned forward and fixed Baldwin with a serious gaze before speaking both urgently and quietly, as though tryingto conceal his words from any who may be listening. ‘Think of your duty, then, Sir Baldwin … if you do not go, will itnot be only those who seek to flatter and promote the king who will be granted positions in the parliament?’
There was a soft knocking at the door, and Baldwin saw the bishop’s expression alter, just slightly. It was a fleeting thing, a sudden sharpness in the eyes, as though this interruption was expected, but not anticipated quite so soon, and thenthe bishop was calling to the visitor to enter.
‘Oh, Sheriff. It is good to see you,’ he said.
The tall, urbane figure who had just entered walked across the room and stood before the bishop, bending to kiss the episcopalring. Only then did he acknowledge Baldwin. ‘Sir Baldwin — it is good to see you again.’
‘And you, Sir Matthew. All must say it is always a pleasure to see you.’
Sir Matthew de Crowethorne smiled at that as he moved over the floor to a chair. Once seated, with a goblet of wine from thebishop’s steward, he shot a look at the bishop as though questioning whether he should begin. He was clad in rich velvet,a shimmering green with particoloured green and red hosen, and the cloak which he so carelessly tossed over a bench was trimmedwith warm squirrel fur. He was, like so many sheriffs, keen on ostentation, and glanced at Baldwin’s faded and worn red tunicwith amused contempt.
Bishop Walter did not see his look. ‘The good sheriff has many duties here in Exeter, Sir Baldwin, as you know. But just nowhe is seeking to find the best knight to send to the next parliament. I have suggested to him that we need someone with someintellect, a man of honour. I have, in short, suggested you.’
‘It is very kind of you, but I would be most reluctant to accept any such position.’
‘Even though it would be for the good of the shire? And the state?’ Sheriff Matthew pressed.
Baldwin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could there was a loud knocking at the door of the palace, and the sheriffand the bishop were both quiet, listening intently. For once, Baldwin felt relief at the interruption of that familiar voice.
‘Didn’t you hear me, you cretinous little scrote? I asked if Sir Baldwin de Furnshill was here, man. Don’t hop from foot tofoot, damn your arse. Just fetch him here, or tell me where to find him. Oh … and my compliments to your lord bishop, too.’
Exeter City
The morning in the city was less bright already. The sun was concealed behind clouds, and to add to the dimness, as soon asdawn reached the town, people were already gathering their faggots of twigs and thrusting them onto their fires. In less thana couple of hours after the sun’s light had first licked the tops of the cathedral’s towers, already there was a thick fumerising from the city: the proof of civilisation anywhere.
It was a delightful sight and smell, Robinet thought to himself. Others might have different feelings, but to him as an experiencedtraveller there was little better than the view through a group of trees which showed a rising plume of smoke. That held thepromise of warm, dry beds and rooms with a fire inside for the weary. It was like a place he had seen many years before — at least fourteen — when he was in France. He had been sent by the king to visit Vienne, and he could well remember the feelingof relief to see that after so many miles on unfamiliar roads in a strange, hot land, there was a set of gibbets with fly-blowncorpses hanging in chains. Those parcels of decaying flesh meant that at last there was a place nearby where law held sway. Outlaws were no more to be feared.
Exeter was different, though. He knew how dangerous a city like this could be, and Robinet had no intention of being harmed. He needed to escape the place if he could. Walter wouldbe able to help him as soon as he had got his belongings back.
But if he did grab his things and run, he might never find out what had happened. James’s death might never be solved — adreadful thought. The two men had been estranged for so long, and now he was thinking of bolting only the morning after theyhad sealed their renewed friendship. That was sad. No: worse than that: it was sick.
The swelling over his ear was slightly crusted with blood, but the pain was reducing, thanks to Christ. He was sure now thatsomeone had struck him down. He really should leave. Others were here to learn what had happened to the dead messenger. Itwas a city, it had its coroners and keepers. He could scarcely do anything that they couldn’t.
Except he hated to leave the affair like this. James deserved a little loyalty. Was it James who had knocked him down? Thewhole of the evening after they had left the tavern was a haze … there were some images, but all indistinct, unclear… no matter how he tried to concentrate, he couldn’t bring anything back. Someone had struck him at some point, someonehad helped him to the hay. And then James had been thrown into a rubbish heap, the foul stuff hauled over him to hide him. It was demeaning, disgraceful, to treat a man so.
Suddenly Robinet felt a flash of anger. His belly roiled, but his eyes narrowed and he began to think more quickly as he startedto walk.
Chapter Seven
Tavistock Abbey
Simon had not been in a good mood the next morning when he had woken up. All too soon he had remembered the half-grin on de Courtenay’sface as he delivered the final blow: bad enough that he should want Simon to follow a man who might well be consulting a maleficus — someone who might take offence at being followed even to the extent of having Simon murdered. And by supernatural powers,not even the normal, everyday risks of a knife in an alley.
Anyone who knew Simon knew of his … caution when it came to matters of superstition. There were some, like Baldwin, who thought that his attitude bordered on the fringesof credulousness — or worse. Simon didn’t care. So far as he was concerned, the idea of magic was nothing new, and he hadpersonally seen people who had used it to cure cattle of various diseases. They would incant a phrase or mumble some weirdwords, and in the time it took the farmer to get back to his house, the animal would be cured. And there were evil spiritswho could be used to attack people who stood in the path of their human patrons. Simon had heard of plenty of examples ofthat kind of eviclass="underline" where people were harmed, or their libido destroyed, or their energy sapped, and all because of an evil-doer.
The idea of chasing after someone of that kind was enough to make his flesh creep.
He rose and dressed slowly in the old guesthouse above the main gate, kicking Rob as he passed the lad snoring gently in thecorner of the room on a thin palliasse. Rob muttered a comment concerning Simon’s parentage, but today Simon was not of amood to listen, and instead strode downstairs to fetch himself some food to break his fast.
It was a cold day, with white and grey clouds hanging in the air as though plastered to the sky. Simon sniffed: there wasa metallic edge to the air, and he was unhappy with the thin, insubstantial sunlight that filtered through the clouds. Althoughtheir edges gleamed silver, the sun kept herself behind them, and Simon had a horrible suspicion that this was to be the rulefor the day. At best they would be chilled by the icy breeze as they rode, and at worst they would be drenched in freezingrain. It was not a prospect to thrill.