‘Politics seems to be a common failing of the folks here.’
‘No need to sound so gloomy, Simon. Think what your position would be if you were a knight like me.’
‘How do you mean?’ Simon enquired as they walked into the hall.
‘A knight is no more nor less than a useful pawn. Look at me: I’m not impoverished because I have a good couple of hundred acres, but that only brings in forty-two pounds a year, and out of that I have to comply with rules governing which equipment I should bear in time of war, pay taxes, protect the people of my demesne, and uphold the law.’
‘Many would think that more than forty pounds a year would be a good living,’ Simon observed with a smile
‘Would they? When a destrier alone can reach over a hundred pounds? And every few years the King demands that all his knights get new armour or weaponry, and the weapons ranged against us improve so we need stronger armour than before, and all to be paid from our own pocket!’
‘You find the costs of knighthood burdensome?’ a strange voice intervened.
Baldwin peered ahead. This end of the hallway was darker – the sconces had not been lit yet. The voice had come from the shadows near the door, and he was sure he recognised it.
There was a chuckle, and Lord Hugh de Courtenay walked from the shadows. ‘Don’t look so upset, Sir Baldwin. I was sitting there, mulling over the sad news when I heard your voice. You know how it is, when you are sitting in the shade and looking at people who are well-lit – one assumes that if one can see, one must inevitably be seen. And my mind was far away.’
‘I suppose you were thinking of our dead friend,’ Baldwin said quickly. Behind Lord Hugh were two hard-looking men with swords at their waists and suspicion in their eyes.
‘Sir Gilbert, you mean? Yes. It seems so long since I last met with him. He was with the Templars then, you know.’
Baldwin smiled thinly. ‘We heard he was trying to see you, my Lord.’
‘Me? I wonder why.’
‘Perhaps he had a message?’
Lord Hugh said nothing, sitting on a bench.
Simon found him an interesting man. The bailiff had seen Lord de Courtenay many times over the years, for Simon’s father had been a steward to Lord Hugh’s father, working on the de Courtenay estates. The present lord was older than Simon’s thirty-four years; casting his mind back, Simon couldn’t remember the age of the man, but from the look of him he couldn’t be younger than forty, a strong-looking fellow with broad shoulders and thickening belly. The de Courtenays were not the wealthiest family in Devon, but Simon knew that this man had influence beyond that of wealthier men.
Baldwin surveyed the lord for a few moments. ‘Did you see Sir Gilbert?’
‘How could I if he died on his way here?’
‘We heard that he left his servant before he died. Perhaps he came here?’
‘Perhaps,’ Lord Hugh shrugged agreeably.
Baldwin sat at another bench. ‘You have long been a thorn in the King’s side, my Lord. You were with Bishop Stapledon when the Ordainers curbed the King’s power back – oh, more than ten years ago. And then you helped Thomas of Lancaster to seek out Piers Gaveston, the King’s friend.’
‘That was difficult,’ Lord Hugh said. ‘But Gaveston had been lawfully exiled and insisted on returning. Lord Thomas saw to his execution.’
‘Are you for Lord Thomas?’
‘Me, Sir Baldwin? I am not entirely for anyone, as you would put it. I am not like others, bound by their oaths to one grouping or another. Everybody is tied to one master or another,’ he smiled. ‘I acknowledge only the King.’
‘Yet now the King fears losing another favourite…’
Lord Hugh made a small gesture of indifference. ‘I think you’ll find that the King has already lost his latest favourite. The Despenser family is exiled, if my information is correct.’
There was a snigger from one of the squires and Baldwin saw Lord Hugh’s expression harden. He did not like his servants to listen to his conversations, let alone show amusement. However he said nothing, merely waved a hand and both guards reluctantly moved out of earshot.
He continued more quietly. ‘Sir Baldwin, in a town like Tiverton some people will have allied themselves with men for whom I feel little affinity. Some will owe duties to other men. Even Coroner Harlewin owes his position to Thomas of Lancaster. How many others owe service to the Lords of the Marches or to the Despensers?’
Baldwin held his gaze. ‘Were you expecting Sir Gilbert or another messenger?’
‘I am expecting, as you put it, messengers from all sides.’
‘From which do you think Sir Gilbert would have come?’
‘He could have come from the King to demand my loyalty, or the Marcher Lords asking for my help, or the Despensers to beg for my assistance. Maybe even Thomas of Lancaster threatening me, should I help any of the others. Which do you think he would have come from?’
Baldwin was quiet a moment. ‘Most likely Despenser. The Lords of the Marches have taken their armies to London and have all the help they need; Earl Thomas is not with them and has little need of your assistance, nor would he fear your enmity. But Despenser, he would want any help, any support he could win. He knows he is to be thrown from the kingdom.’
‘He has been,’ Lord Hugh said smilingly. ‘But, tell me. Which of all these great men would you advise me to support?’
Before Baldwin could answer this difficult question, he was interrupted.
‘My Lord, I am glad you have managed to speak to Sir Baldwin. It was a shame that he was not present during the meal, but I am sure he will be able to eat with you soon,’ Sir Peregrine said, striding in.
Baldwin saw a fleeting annoyance pass over Lord Hugh’s face, but for his own part he felt only relief.
Chapter Fifteen
Sir Peregrine watched Sir Baldwin narrowly. He could kick himself for spending so long with Felicity, but at least he felt some kind of release. She had soothed him, cradling him in her arms for a while, stroking his back and murmuring gently as he wept. Afterwards the guilt of not having been with Emily when she died returned, but he had enjoyed a moment of peace with the whore.
As soon as he had got back to the castle Toker told him that Lord de Courtenay was in the hall. It was the last thing he needed, his lord talking to an ally of Bishop Stapledon and being swayed into believing that the banishment of the Despensers was illegal, which was why he had marched straight in, giving Baldwin a suspicious look, wondering what the knight had discussed with Lord Hugh; he only prayed that Baldwin hadn’t persuaded Lord Hugh to side with the King as Bishop Stapledon no doubt wanted.
‘How are you, my Lord?’ he asked. With relief he saw that one of the guards with Lord Hugh was Owen, one of his own men. He would be able to find out what had been said.
Sitting, he glanced at Baldwin again. He was convinced the knight was an emissary from the Bishop of Exeter, Walter Stapledon, and Stapledon wanted the King to be allowed to invite the Despensers back; however he saw no shiftiness in Baldwin’s eye.
‘We were talking about the dead knight,’ Lord Hugh said.
Sir Peregrine forced a smile to his face. ‘Really?’
‘It does seem odd to me, you know, Peregrine,’ Lord Hugh continued. He leaned back contemplatively and stared up at the window with a slight frown. ‘This man was a Templar knight, someone trained with all forms of weaponry. He was out with a massive dog, I understand, and yet one single cut-throat managed to steal his knife and kill both him and his dog. Doesn’t that strike you as curious? I would have thought it was more the work of another trained fighter.’
‘I doubt another knight would have attacked him,’ Sir Peregrine said, but Baldwin saw how his face looked quite grey.
‘Very curious,’ Lord Hugh murmured. ‘A warrior like him allowing his knife to be stolen.’