Sir Edmund was still kneeling at Lady Helen’s side, but as Simon and Baldwin approached, he had got to his feet and was beginning to turn away.
‘May we speak to you, Sir Edmund?’ Baldwin called.
‘If you must.’ The knight’s face was ravaged with grief and regret.
‘I was sorry to hear of your love for the lady,’ Baldwin said quietly ‘It must have been a terrible shock to find that she had married while you were away.’
‘What business is that of yours?’ said Sir Edmund, passing a hand over his eyes.
‘Sir Edmund, be easy,’ Baldwin told him. ‘I do not wish to offend.’
‘Then be more careful with your words!’
‘Naturally you are unhappy.’
‘How would you feel? The only woman I ever loved is dead.’
‘It is natural to be sad. It must have been an appalling shock.’
‘She told me she had married Sir Walter and she wouldn’t break her vows. I don’t think she loved me any more!’
‘You met her here, didn’t you?’
‘It was not easy, but yes, we met a couple of times. I persuaded her to meet me. First on the night that Hal was killed, and then on the night that Sir William died. I used Andrew as my emissary, and he looked after her, made sure no one else saw her with me.’
‘How did you arrange that?’
‘Easily enough. We waited until the bulk of the men in the hall were drunk, when the noise from the musicians and dancers had grown loud. Then we could wander in the dark outside.’
‘Didn’t Sir Walter notice his wife’s absence?’ Baldwin asked with surprise. Sir Walter had not seemed the sort of man to be tolerant of a wife’s nocturnal meanderings.
‘He drank heavily. She left him when he was largely pissed, but she said he always remained at table while other knights stayed. He wouldn’t get up in case others thought him weak with wine. She could judge how much more he would drink and made sure she was in the tent before he returned from the hall.’
Baldwin nodded. ‘Andrew brought her to you.’
‘Yes. Both nights.’
‘To ensure your privacy?’
‘I didn’t want some scruffy churl turning up and interrupting us.’
‘Like her husband?’ Baldwin said wryly.
After a moment Sir Edmund burst out, ‘I could have made her happy – I could! That braggart, that swaggering swine, was no good for her. How could he be? She was constantly on her guard. She couldn’t love him. Jesu! A filthy moron like him? Whereas I would have wrestled a dragon barehanded to prove my love for her. What more could a knight do? Yet I have lost her, this time for ever. Now I am lost.’
‘There is always hope, my friend,’ Baldwin said compassionately. ‘I lost a lord when I was younger, and thought my life was over, but now I have a wife and child and a new lord. There is always hope.’
‘Perhaps for you.’
‘And for Andrew.’
‘Yes, for him too.’
Baldwin paused. ‘Did Andrew tell you about Squire William’s attack on Lady Helen?’
‘No. If I had heard, that young man would have regretted his foul impertinence.’
Simon was peering at him in concentration. ‘Sir Edmund, on the night William died, what of him? Did you see him?’
‘He walked off after the singer. That was the last I saw of him.’
‘Odo the Herald, you mean?’ Baldwin asked, surprised.
‘Him, yes.’
‘What then?’
‘I returned to the hall. If I am honest, I’d have liked to have met Sir Walter so I could kill him and win her back. But I didn’t.’
‘And William?’
‘I expect he was up here at the castle with Odo. If you want to confirm it, ask your own servant, Bailiff, he was there too. I could not have killed Sir William.’
Simon nodded. He would trust Hugh’s word. ‘Did you see anything else?’
‘One thing. I saw Odo return to the hall a while later. I know it was not long after, for I had only just grabbed a pot of wine from the bar. In that time Odo came back in.’
‘A herald could walk about the field with ease,’ Simon noted, looking at Baldwin.
Baldwin nodded. ‘And if he needed to conceal himself, all he need do would be to pull off his tabard and pull on a scruffy tunic. Do you remember saying you thought Sir Walter was a villein because he was dressed in so shabby a manner? Well, Odo could hide his identity swiftly.’
‘Why should he wish to kill, though?’ Simon asked. ‘What was his motive?’
Baldwin turned to Sir Edmund again. ‘You said you first met Odo in Europe?’
‘Yes. He was there as herald at various places. I learned to trust him.’
‘I recall you told me you met him again in Exeter. Was that while the King’s Justices held their court?’
‘Yes. It was good to see a familiar face down here. He was delivering the first of the invitations to this tournament. I met him in a tavern and asked him to ensure that I was invited here.’
‘I see. When you first met abroad, did he say why he had left England?’
‘He wanted to forget a terrible experience, he said. In fact, he said he almost had. He joked about it. Said that when he left England he had been a great portly fellow, but with every pound in weight he lost, he felt as if he was shedding memories as well.’
‘And when did you meet him?’
‘When?’ The knight thought for a moment. ‘Before I met Andrew, I suppose, so it would have been during my first year abroad. Yes, it must have been 1317.’
‘And he had himself only recently arrived just then?’
Sir Edmund drew his brows together. ‘I don’t know who told you that. I recall him saying he’d been there for some years already. Yes – that was why he spoke about his weight. He said that it was dropping each year while he lived in France.’
‘I thank you for your help,’ Baldwin said and walked with Simon back to the hall’s doorway with a faint smile of understanding illuminating his features.
Lord Hugh was back in his stand at the lists with Sir Peregrine at his side when Baldwin and Simon arrived at the foot of the stage. Neither the Lord nor the banneret looked at them.
It was fine. Baldwin could wait. The rumbling warned him of another encounter, and he looked up in time to see two knights meet. There was a shattering of lances, and the two rode apart, each waving their broken weapons.
Baldwin sometimes wished life could be as simple. You chose a course and charged, and the stronger man would win. That was how life should be, he thought. And yet it so often wasn’t, for politics always got in the way. Politics soured everything and politicians were the lowest slugs Baldwin could think of.
And one of the lowest, he privately maintained, was Sir Peregrine of Barnstaple. He almost groaned aloud when the latter caught his eye and started towards him. Baldwin was suddenly struck with a sense of irresolution. He knew what he should do, he should ignore Sir Peregrine, but right now he was tired of fighting and mendaciousness. It was tempting to simply leave.
‘Sir Baldwin. You look like a man who has a desire to speak to someone?’
‘I wanted a word with Lord Hugh.’
‘Yes, I thought you did,’ Sir Peregrine said.
‘It is about the dead spies,’ Baldwin began tiredly.
‘And you think he’ll want to hear about them?’
‘I am not sure. Perhaps he already knew what they were doing.’
‘Oh, he knew. I told you: that’s why they were here.’
Simon nodded. ‘They were here so that Lord Hugh could keep an eye on them.’
Sir Peregrine led them out of earshot of the stands. ‘We’ve known for some time that the King had spies in our household and we guessed who they were when Benjamin tried to bribe a groom – fortunately loyal to us – to report to him. It was but a short leap to see that his friends were probably helpers too. So then we identified Hal and Wymond.’