‘But why? What do you mean by “boost my guard”? We have the men already.’
‘Didn’t you know, Sir Baldwin? The two who were accused of attacking and killing those peasants yesterday have fled.’
‘What?’
Too late, Baldwin looked all about him in the court. He had spent too much time looking at the great dog, and not enough concentrating on the men about him. Now he saw that the castellan was telling the truth. His entourage was reduced. A flare of suspicion kindled in his breast. ‘How did you know that they were missing? They were at the inquest, and all seemed well.’
‘Oh, the coroner spoke to them afterwards about some details, and the two of them ran.’
‘I see,’ Baldwin said. His eyes were ranging over the people milling in the court, seeking out the coroner.
‘But I have two men who’ll be ideal for you, I’m sure.’
Baldwin eyed him ungraciously, then gestured towards the Bishop. ‘It is up to the Bishop, my friend. I have no authority here. I am a mere guard myself.’
The Bishop heard his words, but they were nothing to him. He had more important business to consider: the message he had for the King, how he should phrase it, and how he must respond to the King’s reaction.
While the message itself was simple and direct, the underlying message was not. Trying to make sure that the King understood it would be a problem. And if the King understood, perhaps there would be more aid for him, although it was not so desirable. The Pope and the Bishop both desired the end of this King’s reign. He was that dreadful.
There had been many kings over the centuries who had believed that they were more powerful than they really were. Some had died heretics, of course, while others fought to maintain the feeble fiction of their authority. It had taken one English King, the fool, to demonstrate once and for all the folly of that attitude. Henry II had poor St Thomas murdered here in Canterbury, and as a result the Pope had been able to impose a dreadful public penance on the King. It was a shameful period and, in reality, had little effect beyond showing that the Bishop could be as pious as any, and that the King must bend to the will of the Church. That, really, was the important factor.
Kings were responsible for the law of the secular folk on earth. The Church, though, had the duty of care to all souls, and in addition there was a duty to look after the King. The Church was there to help direct the whole of Christendom towards Heaven, after all. And she must make any arrangements necessary to help the world on that path. Thus bishops could and would guide kings. It was why the Church anointed kings — to demonstrate their authority.
It was why the Bishop must undertake this irritating journey, to go and see the King and try to help him see that he must do anything in his power to prevent an escalation of the disputes between England and France. It was the King’s duty to support the Pope’s fight to unite Christendom.
The King was expendable. Soon he might well disappear. His reign was collapsing about him, his treatment of his wife was an international scandal; rumours of his homosexuality and affair with Sir Hugh le Despenser were rife; his bellicose behaviour towards his brother-in-law, Charles IV of France was creating a rift between the two leading Christian states in Europe. It was unacceptable. Now was the time for him to finally do some good.
And if he wouldn’t, the Pope would make the remaining years of his reign still more difficult.
Jack of Oxford was interested to see how quickly the two had taken the hint from the coroner and fled the city.
He hadn’t realised what they were doing at first, of course. All he saw was the coroner leaving his inquest and speaking with them. As he turned to march away, the two stood a moment before exchanging a glance, then sidled away. A little while later, he saw them both near the stables, although at the time he didn’t make the connection. It was only when the others were told to fetch their mounts that he saw their two beasts were already gone. They had ridden off.
Well, they were hardly going to be missed. They were not the most reliable of servants to the Bishop, not in Jack’s opinion. Personally, Jack wouldn’t have trusted them as far as he could throw them. They were only heavies, brutes who’d attack anyone. He’d seen enough men like them to recognise their type. Even so, the Bishop had seemed to like them. He often gave them easier tasks, as though trying to reward them.
The Bishop would have need of protection in the dangerous roads between Canterbury and Beaulieu. Jack had some knowledge of the lands between, and they were invariably fraught with dangers of many types. There were forests, rivers, and the ever-present risk from outlaws.
No man could wander about the countryside with impunity in the King’s England. All who wished to could attack and steal what they wanted. The rule of law often broke down irretrievably only a few miles from a town. There were all too many knights and barons who deprecated the rights of others to use the King’s highways, and who would stop merchants and other travellers to demand payment of ‘tolls’. Others would simply knock a man on the head and take his purse.
The two men who were to join them in replacement of the two men-at-arms who had fled were interesting characters. Both were tallish for men of Kent, and they were quite fair-haired, too. There the similarities ended, though.
Peter, the first, was a rugged-faced man of some forty or more summers, with the lines and sunburn to show that he was used to living out in the open much of the year. His eyes were a surprisingly bright blue colour, which gleamed with intelligence as he took in the sights all around, but from the wrinkles at either side and the furrows in his brow, he was more used to peering at his surroundings from narrowed eyes. He had a square face with a strong jaw, and a nose that had been badly set some while ago. There was also a series of scars along his forearms, which were bared. He obviously reckoned that the weather would remain clement.
His companion was a younger man, with narrower features, but a heavier build. Where Peter was quite wiry, like a labourer, John had the appearance of a knight, in the padding of muscle at his shoulders and arms. His eyes were darker, a deep grey-blue, and there were fewer laughter lines at the corners. Instead of his friend’s alertness, this man’s eyes moved with a noticeable deliberation, and he appeared to concentrate on one object or person at a time with great intensity.
Jack watched him, the still, serious man, and then turned and eyed the older man with the smiling face. He had been a felon for too long. He knew how to recognise men, to see which would be most dangerous, which he could pick on easily.
He wouldn’t try anything with either of these, he decided — but of the two, he would leave the older, cheerful man well alone by choice. He looked much the more dangerous of the pair.
Chapter Ten
After the excitement of the previous day and the morning, Baldwin was glad to be in the saddle once more, ready to leave Canterbury. As he and Simon sat on their mounts, waiting for all the other men to collect about the Bishop, Baldwin saw the coroner at the gate to the priory close. On a whim, he spurred his rounsey and crossed the court to Sir Robert’s side.
‘I thank you for your help today,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Scaring off our two guards. What did you say to them? That you’d be seeking their heads as soon as they left the good bishop’s service?’
The coroner looked him up and down. He was leaning with his back at the gate itself, while his thumbs remained tucked into his sword belt. Jerking his chin at the Bishop, he said, ‘What do you think of him? He worth protecting?’