‘By whom?’
‘My Lord Despenser.’
‘The Earl of Winchester?’
‘His son.’
‘Oh, so you mean Sir Hugh.’
‘I mean my master.’
‘And he told you we would be here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fascinating, Simon. Sir Hugh takes such a keen interest in our well-being, that he sends his own men to guard us on the way to his side.’
The journey was only short. Earlier in the year, Simon had been mouth agape at the sight of the hall with its fabulously decorated ceilings, the richly coloured walls, the huge desks at which so many courts were sitting — but not now. He was here with very specific business, and he was nervous about the outcome. The idea that the whole of his life’s safety depended upon the next half-hour or so had not escaped him. Even as he marched alongside Baldwin towards the Despenser’s rooms, he felt a grim certainty settle upon his soul that there was nothing he could do against a man who was so recklessly powerful.
‘In here,’ the man said, pointing to a door.
‘You first,’ Baldwin said.
The Welshman sneered, as though the idea that he might try to capture the knight here in the King’s palace was so laughable that only a man scared of his own shadow might succumb to it, but he walked inside nonetheless.
‘Sir Baldwin’s here, Sir Hugh.’
Baldwin walked inside, Simon wary at his back, and the door was closed quietly behind them.
Before them was a small chamber, richly decorated. On the wall were hangings of marvellous colour, depicting hunting scenes of various types. The floor had a thick layer of reeds, which added a rich aroma of hay to the room. At the further end was a long table, on which stood a chessboard, and Despenser stood over it, eyeing the board with an expression of extreme concentration.
‘Welcome, Sir Baldwin. Bailiff. Come in and take a little wine with me.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As he regarded Baldwin and Simon, Despenser decided that he must be cautious with these two. He turned back to the board.
It was plain enough that they were both intensely distrustful of him. The idea that he could mould them to his thinking was ridiculous, but there might be an angle which was exploitable, purely because of the assault by Wattere. It was worth a try, certainly, he thought.
‘You badly hurt my man, Bailiff. He tells me you bested him twice.’
‘He insulted my wife, and then tried to rob me. What would you have an Englishman do?’
‘You have stood in my path once more.’
‘I will stand in your path many times if you seek to despoil me,’ Simon grated.
‘Simon!’ Baldwin said calmingly. ‘Now, Sir Hugh, we do not take action against you lightly. However, clearly you anticipated just such a response to your man. You had a motive, and I do not believe that a man who spends so much time acquiring manors and estates would be interested in a small farm.’
‘I do have rather more interesting lands already,’ the Despenser said modestly.
‘So what did you intend when you sent that man to Simon’s house? Merely to upset him? Or was it to warn me away?’
‘You have a high opinion of your importance,’ Despenser said. He turned his attention from the board and gazed at Baldwin seriously.
‘No, I do not. I do have a high opinion of your intelligence, though. You would not do something without good reason.’
‘Perhaps. I feel honoured that you can be flattering, though.’
‘It is not flattery. It is simple realism.’
‘Very well, then. I shall be singularly honest in return. Yes, I had a motive. It was to persuade you that any further interference in my affairs would prove to be dangerous and painful to you. I did not, and do not, want you taking any further actions against me or my men.’
‘That we can agree, Sir Hugh — provided that your actions do not have any bearing on members of our families or friends, and that you don’t try to harm our own interests.’
Despenser tilted his head to one side. ‘That does seem perfectly reasonable. Then we are agreed?’
‘For my part, yes,’ Baldwin said.
Simon remained standing, saying nothing.
‘And you, good Bailiff?’
‘I came here today thinking that I would be likely to be killed by your men for insulting you, and now I learn that you will leave us alone, so long as we do likewise. You’ll excuse me, Sir Hugh, if I feel confused. Why would you agree to leave me alone so soon after attacking me in my own home?’
Despenser gave a slow smile. ‘You are a shrewd man, Bailiff. Very well. Perhaps it is merely that, as adviser to the King, I have so many other matters to take up my time. There is much going on right now which makes demands on me. I cannot afford to waste it running around after impecunious bailiffs from the wilds of the West Country.’
‘That is good.’
‘However,’ Despenser continued, strolling to the cupboard and filling himself a tankard, ‘if you wanted to seal our new understanding, you could help me.’
‘In what way?’ Baldwin asked sharply.
‘Nothing too stressful. I merely ask that you consider the matter of this stolen oil. You were at the priory shortly after the murder and robbery, I think. You perhaps spoke with some of the people involved there, so you would be well-placed to try to make some sense of it all. I confess, from the miles which lie between Beaulieu and Canterbury, I could make no sense of the affair.’
‘You wish us to conduct an inquiry into the theft?’ Baldwin said.
‘Yes. And quickly. We need to have the oil back, if the King is to have any defence against the hordes which are arrayed against us.’
‘What hordes?’ Simon enquired.
‘A host of men is being recruited even as we speak. I think that if the King doesn’t get to France in the near future, the French will come to him.’
‘But if we agree to hold an inquiry into the death of the monk and the oil which was taken, you will leave our homes and families in peace?’ Baldwin said.
‘Yes. Completely.’
‘Then tell us everything you already know,’ Baldwin said.
And so he did. After he had run through his investigations so far, he added, ‘The man you found dead was called Richard de Yatton. He’d been up to Leeds Castle, near Maidstone, and should have been back at Beaulieu long before. I don’t know what he was doing there on the road.’
‘It is a question of whether or not he had anything to do with the murder,’ Baldwin agreed.
‘I heard that the killer was seen escaping, and that he wore a King’s tabard,’ Despenser said pointedly.
‘Any man can pull on or take off a tabard,’ Baldwin pointed out. ‘And the body was so decomposed that it could have lain there a week or longer. A man may have killed him, knowing he was to pass by, taken his tabard, and then made his way to Canterbury. He killed the monk, then rode back and put the tabard on the dead herald, before making his escape. It is a possible explanation.’
‘I see …’
‘Another explanation, however, would be that the herald rode along that way, an outlaw saw him, slew him, dumped his body, and stole the little he possessed in ready money.’
‘Yes,’ Despenser grunted. He sighed. ‘I suppose I should tell you that I believed the man Thomas had something to do with it. The friar, Nicholas, pointed him out to me, and I think he was acting oddly. But although I had my men search his belongings twice, there was no sign of the oil.’
‘Is there anyone else you suspect?’ Baldwin asked.
‘My dear Knight — I suspect everyone. That is my job.’
Simon left the room in Baldwin’s wake, feeling confused and angry.
The man had not apologised. He admitted that he was responsible for the violent threat against Margaret, that he had tried to evict Simon from the home he had possessed since he first took on the job as bailiff of the moors, and yet Despenser had the nerve to then demand Simon and Baldwin’s aid.