‘Then tomorrow, when I gain my spurs… ’ he teased.
‘You will?’ she gasped, then recovered herself. ‘Yes, well, I daresay several lads will be knighted.’
‘Ah, not so many. I shall be riding in the joust with some others, and when all is done, I shall be taken before the Lord and will accept my spurs and sword from him. And I shall wear the favour of my Lady, if she will permit me?’
She eyed him haughtily and sniffed. ‘Oh, you think so? I am not so sure.’
‘My Lady, please. A small token, anything. It will spur me on to great feats in your name. Without it, I must surely lose. Perhaps even die for longing.’
‘Nonsense,’ Edith said.
‘How can you doubt me?’
‘Easily,’ she retorted.
‘Let me persuade you, then.’
She peered over his shoulder. ‘I have to find my mother.’
‘Can I see you later?’
‘I suppose we shall see each other at the feast,’ she said.
‘But how can we meet alone?’
‘Well… ’ She was reluctant to deliberately disobey her father, but surely if Simon knew what a pleasant fellow this was, he couldn’t object.
‘Perhaps if I speak to the heralds, one of them can arrange to bring a message to you,’ William said.
‘Perhaps,’ she agreed noncommittally.
‘So may I wear a token of yours?’ he asked.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she said, and refused to discuss the matter further, but unaccountably, when they separated, she dropped her neck-scarf apparently without noticing.
Chapter Fifteen
Baldwin smiled at Margaret while she spoke but he was concerned to hear her words. He had heard from another friend that young girls needed to be whipped more than any hound to be kept in line, but Margaret’s complaints brought home to him how unprepared he was for fatherhood. How would he feel in later years, when Richalda brought home some wayward minstrel and proposed to wed him, or perhaps she might decide to marry some gormless peasant boy? Baldwin felt his cods shrivel at the thought.
Leaving Hugh to protect Margaret, he went to seek more wine. It was while waiting to be served that he saw a squire stumbling near the river. The lad appeared to be upset, walking with a clumsy gait like a man who was ill, and Baldwin watched him some little while before setting off after him.
‘Who are you?’ Geoffrey demanded.
Baldwin was some distance away still and all the squire could see was a large, square-built man trailing after him. True, his tunic was a plain cream colour unlike Andrew’s red hose and shirt under a jack, but Geoffrey was not of a mood to notice details.
‘I am Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, Keeper of the King’s Peace. Are you all right?’
Geoffrey couldn’t meet Baldwin’s eye as the knight approached. He looked down at his feet and took a deep breath, then sniffed and walked on. Seeing Squire Andrew here was appalling. Dreadful. If Alice got to hear of his behaviour at Boroughbridge, she would surely throw him over. The shame – to be disgraced before everyone, and just when Geoffrey had thought things were going so well. His messages were being delivered and the responses fired his heart with hope. Alice was happy to repeat her love for him. They would declare their wedding before Lord Hugh as soon as Geoffrey had won his spurs.
‘You are a squire?’ Baldwin asked gently.
‘Yes. To Sir Ralph Sturrey.’
‘Sir Ralph? I saw him only a few weeks ago and he had no squire,’ Baldwin said mildly. Sir Ralph was an old friend and had bemoaned his lack.
‘I joined him only three months ago,’ Geoffrey admitted. ‘Before that I served Sir Hector Barr, but he fell at Boroughbridge.’
Baldwin considered him a while, then, ‘When I was young, squires used to meet in taverns. Does that still happen?’
‘Of course it does,’ Geoffrey said scathingly. ‘Why shouldn’t we?’
‘I see. Where were you last night after dark?’
‘Peter and I went to a tavern near town.’
‘What time did you return?’
‘I don’t know. Late.’
‘What of your friend?’
‘Peter? He passed out. I left him there.’
‘On your way back to the camp, did you see anyone else?’
Geoffrey shook his head, then: ‘Oh, there was one man – up near the lance-racks.’
‘Who?’
Geoffrey gave a wry grin. ‘My eyes are bad. At twenty paces in daylight I find it hard to recognise a man. In the dark I have no chance. All I could see was a shape. Why all the questions, sir knight?’
‘Wymond Carpenter was murdered last night.’
Geoffrey curled his lip. ‘That vicious bugger?’
‘Many people say the same,’ Baldwin sighed. ‘It seems everyone loathed the fellow.’
Geoffrey was quiet a moment. ‘I couldn’t swear to it, but it’s possible that the man I saw was him.’
‘Alone?’
‘Well, I did see another shape with him – ach! How can I tell?’
‘And there was no one with you when you saw him?’
‘You mean you suspect me?’ Geoffrey stopped and peered up at Baldwin. He would like to be able to speak to someone whom he could trust, and Baldwin’s grave features were comforting, but his secret must not be divulged to Sir John. Making a quick decision, he said, ‘I am married, Sir Baldwin. Lady Alice is my wife – although we have not announced our wedding. We are waiting until I am knighted. She was with me. Perhaps she recognised the men.’
‘I see.’
‘But please do not tell anyone. Our marriage was clandestine and there would be trouble if news should be spread.’
‘Why?’
‘Her family perished when a stand collapsed in Exeter several years ago. Since then she has been the ward of Sir John of Crukerne, and he wants her to wed his son Squire William. He would remove her from this tournament if he realised she had been already married. He’d reject it. You know how much power a man has over a ward.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Baldwin considered. This was interesting, but surely it was irrelevant to Wymond’s murder. ‘But you think she might be able to tell me who this man was at the lances?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Did you walk her back to her tent afterwards?’
‘Of course.’
‘So what would Wymond have been doing there at the lances so late at night?’ Baldwin wondered. ‘And who was the man with him?’
Andrew saw William stoop and collect the scarf. It was typical that the squire should try his luck with the girl. The kid was attractive enough, certainly, but Andrew knew from long association with Squire William that he would seek to storm almost any bastion of feminine defence more as a matter of practice than from any genuine need.
‘She fell at your attack?’ Andrew said drily.
William started, then gave a shamefaced grin. ‘Christ’s bones, but you can walk quietly when you have a wish!’
‘Guilty conscience?’
‘No need for that, Andrew. Some of us only ever behave with the best of intentions.’
‘I am sure you’re right, but when it comes to women, your intentions have always been murky.’
William gave a fleeting grin, but his attention was fixed on the disappearing Edith. ‘She is beautiful.’
‘She looked it,’ Andrew agreed. ‘So were many of your other conquests.’
‘I wouldn’t put her in the same category.’
‘No? You don’t mean you’re in love? Good God, you’re too young for that!’
‘Just because you have never married.’
‘No, it wasn’t possible.’
‘Wasn’t possible?’
Andrew said nothing and William gave him an interested glance. He had not met Andrew before the Boroughbridge campaign and the thought that a man of some thirty-five years should have found it impossible to marry seemed peculiar. ‘You must have found opportunities to marry. Didn’t you ever come across a woman whom you desired?’