‘It must be a miserable existence,’ Simon said with a dry smile.
‘Yes. It is. And the only escape is by death. There is no other way out for a king. This lad, the Earl of Chester, is embarked upon a journey in which there is nothing he can do but bend to the will of others.’
‘Who rules the country, then?’ Simon said, his smile broadening.
‘Do you think the King does now?’ Baldwin said sharply.
No, Simon didn’t. Nobody who had spent any time at Westminster could think that. The man who held all the strings, and pulled them to his own tune, was Despenser. That was where the real power rested.
‘So what do you want to do?’ Simon said, serious again.
‘There is only one thing we can do. Build our case and see where it takes us,’ Baldwin said. ‘And the first thing we must do now, is speak to the two men who replaced Pons and André and learn why they were there. There is more, much more to all this than I comprehend.’
They found the two in a lodging-house not too far from the palace, along the King’s Street towards the Bishop of Exeter’s house.
It was a good little place, run by a man called Jacob le Brewer, who stood only five feet at most, but whose girth spoke of his love for his produce. He was able to point out the two men whom Simon and Baldwin wished to see. The smiling Peter and another who might have been his son, John.
Simon was immediately struck with a sense of the power of the two men. There was something about the smiling face of Peter that set a warning bell tolling loudly in his head. If he were to enter into a battle with Despenser, this was the sort of man he would like on his side, but not on Despenser’s. There was a controlled energy about him that was unsettling.
Not as unsettling, however, as the sense of uncontrolled, raw power he got from the other man at his side. Where Peter smiled at the world with eyes that were like flints, John glared balefully, without humour.
Baldwin had a single thought about him. He thought the man was just like one of the torturers of the Templars in those terrible, far off days when they had been arrested and incarcerated in their own castles. It set him on edge before he began to speak.
‘Sir Baldwin. We haven’t seen you since your departure for your home county,’ Peter said. His mouth smiled easily, but Baldwin could see little actual pleasure in his eyes.
‘I have been asked to learn what I can of the theft of the oil from Canterbury.’
‘That is interesting. Who are you speaking with?’
‘Just now, with you.’
‘Us?’ Peter said, and glanced at his companion. ‘Hear that, John? He wants to learn about the oil, but he’s come to us. Now why would he do that, do you reckon?’
‘Maybe he’s got lost?’ the younger man said, scowling unblinkingly at Baldwin.
‘You were added to the Bishop of Orange’s party in Canterbury. I think it is because you had the oil with you. The other two were removed because you two needed to get to Beaulieu. I think you were taking the oil with you.’
‘Now why would you think that, Sir Baldwin?’ Peter said.
‘At first I wondered what could have happened to the oil. It might have been taken away from the city that same night, of course,’ Baldwin reasoned, ‘but the fact that the coroner and your castellan went to so much trouble to have you inserted into the Bishop’s party seemed to argue against that. There was a reason for Pons and André being taken out of the Bishop’s group. I think it was simply that you two had to join him. Why?’
‘They thought we would make better guards than those two, I suppose,’ Peter said mildly. ‘We are very good, you know.’
‘I am sure you are. But in the meantime, let’s just continue. So, if it wasn’t to make up numbers, since it was the coroner’s fault that the numbers dropped in the first place, there was another reason. I think you were taking the oil to your master and protecting it en route.’
‘Who is our master, then?’
‘I would think that is obvious.’
Peter smiled more broadly. ‘So what now?’
‘Is it safe?’
‘That depends on what you mean by safe.’
‘In God’s name, man, just answer a question without prevarication!’
‘Yes. It is safe, sir. Safe enough.’
Simon was scowling. ‘Safe how, exactly? It would be safe if it was back in the hands of the King, or the Prior of Christ Church, rather than dumped by you somewhere.’
Peter looked at him, and for the first time his smile faded. In its place a pitying look came over his face. ‘You don’t understand, master, do you? It’ll be very safe where it is.’
Baldwin was nodding. ‘Whose castle is Canterbury?’
‘It is the King’s own, Sir Baldwin. Definitely the King’s.’
‘And yet-’ Baldwin stopped suddenly. His eyes narrowed. ‘Simon, Despenser told us where Yatton was riding when he was killed. Do you remember where he said?’
‘Leeds Castle, wasn’t it?’
‘Leeds, yes. The castle of Badlesmere, until he lost favour with the King. You remember that, Simon? He was one of King Edward’s most respected men, but he grew despairing about Despenser’s influence, so he threw in his lot with Earl Thomas of Lancaster, just before the Lords Marcher rose in rebellion. At about that time, the Queen was passing by on her way to Canterbury, and asked for lodging for a night. Since Badlesmere was away, his wife rightly refused entry, saying that she could not allow anyone inside without her lord’s permission. When the Queen tried to force her way inside, Lady Badlesmere had her garrison open fire, and six or seven of the Queen’s men were slain. The castle was taken, and the King exacted a vicious price for their rebellion.’
Peter was still smiling. ‘He had Badlesmere’s wife and children taken to the Tower. First women ever to be held there.’
‘And gave the castle itself to his consort,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘The Queen held it since then, and only gave it up recently.’
‘It’s wrong to take away all her possessions for something her brother did,’ John said.
Simon glanced at him. ‘Oh, he can speak?’
‘Hush, Simon.’ Baldwin was watching Peter closely. ‘You were in the castle for the Queen?’
‘Aye. And then I went to Canterbury. No point staying in a castle when your patron’s gone, eh?’
‘Now I understand,’ Baldwin said quietly. ‘De Yatton was on his way back when he was killed. He had gone to Leeds — did he go on to Canterbury?’
‘I think so. I think he was there.’
‘And someone stole the oil there. Presumably, someone who also wanted to take it somewhere safe. For example to the Queen herself?’
‘Yatton didn’t want to kill that monk, you know,’ Peter said. ‘He really didn’t. He was a gentle soul. But when he was there, the monk told him that he was going to tell Despenser unless he was paid. No one knew it before, but that bastard Brother Gilbert was the son of one of Despenser’s closest friends. A small country, this!’
‘Despenser has allies all over it,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘So he took the oil, and brought it to you two?’
‘What’re you suggesting, knight?’ John demanded.
Peter looked at John, ‘There’s no need for that, John. We’re safe enough now. Yes, sir. That’s right. And we took responsibility for it, taking it with us to Beaulieu.’
‘On behalf of the Bishop of Orange so he could take it with him to France,’ Baldwin finished with a sneering tone.
Peter blinked. ‘What?’
‘Isn’t that what you intended?’
‘Christ’s beard, no!’ Peter burst out, and then laughed quietly. ‘Dear God, our master wouldn’t be happy after going to all that trouble, if we were merely to pass it on to someone else!’
‘But it was the Queen who-’ Baldwin stopped and closed his eyes. ‘The Earl,’ he said.
‘Aye.’
‘I should have realised,’ Baldwin breathed. ‘So you intended bringing it here all along?’