Authors: Michael Jecks
‘With an axe,’ Baldwin murmured.
‘Yes. She took it from the cart, apparently. So presumably your man’s story is true. He came across the cart later, and the horse, and saw nobody about there to rob. So he took what was wandering loose. He should of course have come to the vill and declared his discovery, but he did not steal it. I believe Agatha left it there, hoping to collect it the following day. It was a shock to her to learn that it had gone.’
‘Dolwyn is still being held because of the murder of Sir Jevan,’ Baldwin said. He looked over at Sir Richard and Simon. ‘We have perhaps been too busy with other matters to trouble ourselves about him. Now we should review the matter.’
‘Do you wish me to release the men now?’ Edgar asked.
Baldwin considered. ‘Yes. It would be wrong to keep them locked up if they are innocent. And if the original murder of Ham Carter was not their fault, the worst suspicion that remains against them in the matter of Sir Jevan is that they were First Finders. But it could have been anyone who killed him. Simon, I will want to see this place where Sir Jevan was found. Shall we go there now?’
When he had seen Simon hurrying down to the gates to welcome Father Luke, John had felt his heart sink, for the priest was the confessor to whom he had spoken.
He should never have made his confession! The idea of admitting to a priest that he was going to help Sir Edward of Caernarfon to escape had seemed a sensible precaution when he did it. The priest was duty bound to maintain the bonds of secrecy, and he was leaving in any case. It had appeared the perfect solution to John’s predicament, requiring forgiveness as he did. He was only too aware that at any moment he could be killed during the attack on the castle, and he wanted to ensure that his soul was protected. But now Luke was back – why? Did it mean he would break his vow of secrecy? He had given it to John, and if he were to break it now, he would be breaking his oath to God.
John watched the men as they crossed the yard, heading for the hall where the three prisoners were being held. He could scarcely bear to to think that all this effort, all the plans, all the desperate acts of the last six months could be overthrown by his foolish trust of this one priest.
Senchet felt he must soon go completely mad if he didn’t see the clear sky again soon. Confinement was torture for him; he who was used to the wide open spaces of Galicia.
The boots hurried down the stairs towards their hall, and he eased himself up from his seat at the wall’s base. It was the only moderately dry part of the floor in here. Standing, he nudged Harry and Dolwyn with the toe of his boot. He had an unpleasant suspicion that this would be a short walk. They had been accused of the murder of that arse Sir Jevan, and justice in this land was all too often swift and far from just.
As Dolwyn stirred, the door’s bolts were slammed back and the door creaked wide.
‘Ah, Sir Baldwin,’ Senchet said. ‘Are you executioner now?’
‘I often sit on the bench as a Justice of Gaol Delivery,’ Baldwin said steadily. ‘I bring people from their gaols and confirm their sentences. Would you like me to do that?’
‘I think I prefer not to die today,’ Senchet said with a small bow, keeping his eyes on Baldwin as he did so.
‘I do not blame you, friend Senchet. Now come, all of you. You need not stay any longer.’
Senchet followed Sir Baldwin with as much alacrity as stiffened muscles and feeble legs would allow. He stood still at the top of the steps and stared about him with real delight, enjoying the sunshine. That it seared his eyes did not matter. It was bliss to be free.
‘Senchet, please come and sit, and you too, Dolwyn – and you, Harry.’ Baldwin picked up a bench and set it near them. A table was brought, and a large pie set on it, with ale in an immense jug placed at its side by a young maid who, Senchet noticed, only had eyes for the oldest man there, Sir Richard.
Senchet took his seat, and looked across the table without touching the food and drink. ‘Is this a ruse? You bring us up here to raise our hopes, so that you can dash them again when you return us to the cell? I do not think I like this behaviour of constant torture, gentles. I prefer to know where I belong. Are we to remain in the world of men, or not?’
‘You will remain up here for as long as you are not found guilty of any crimes,’ Baldwin said. ‘But if you are found to have committed a crime, you will return to the gaol, and you will hang.’
‘Very well. Of what are we accused now?’
‘Nothing. The original charge against you is shown to be false,’ Baldwin said. ‘This good priest has returned to tell us that the man you were thought to have killed was actually murdered by his own wife.’
‘You have proof?’ Senchet asked with some suspicion.
‘She hanged herself after she confessed to me,’ Luke said sadly. ‘She told me how and why she killed her husband. I think she wished to save herself from the stake.’
All the men present knew that there was only one punishment for a woman guilty of murdering her husband. Death by burning on a pyre.
‘So we are free?’ Dolwyn demanded.
‘As far as I am concerned, you are free to stay or go,’ Baldwin said. ‘However, I recommend that you remain here. I appreciate that the castle is not your favourite place, but the countryside is unsafe. There has been a riot in Cirencester, and many gangs of men are roaming about all the lands near here.’
‘For my part I am happy to remain, if I can believe that the good Lord Berkeley will consider me as one of his household,’ Senchet said.
‘And I too,’ Harry said.
Dolwyn shook his head. ‘I have my master already. I will go to him.’
‘Your master is the Bardi?’ Baldwin asked.
‘Yes. Matteo Bardi,’ Dolwyn said.
‘He is still here. His other servant is injured,’ Simon said.
‘All the more reason for me to go to him.’
Berkeley Castle
Matteo heard the tap at his door and jerked nervously. Since Alured’s beating, he had been a very unwilling guest here. Having no servant to protect him from the assaults of his brother and his men made him scared even to leave his room. He remained here, afraid that at any time a fellow paid for by Benedetto could come through and kill him. There were so many men in this castle motivated solely by money.
‘Who is it?’ he demanded, gripping his sword’s hilt as he moved to the side of the door.
‘Me – Dolwyn.’
He felt that word, that voice, like a hammer-blow in his belly. Benedetto could have bribed the gaoler to release Dolwyn, perhaps so he could come here and kill him?
To have reached Matteo’s door here in the keep, he must have been released with the approval of the steward of the castle.
He pulled at the bolts with a feverish enthusiasm now his mind was made up, and as the last slid back, he took a pace back into the room.
Dolwyn walked in with a quick look about him. He looked terrible. His clothing was filthy, his hair straggly and verminous, and his skin had a grave-like pallor. ‘Apparently they have decided I’m innocent,’ he said. ‘The carter was killed by his wife. For tonight, at least, I am safe.’
‘I am glad you are free,’ Matteo said. ‘I was worried.’
‘Yes. I am sure you were,’ Dolwyn said. ‘Especially since Alured is injured.’
‘They nearly killed him, because he was protecting me! It was not his fault: he was only doing his job. And for that they tried to kick him to death!’
‘They won’t while I’m here,’ Dolwyn said. ‘But I hope you can afford my services. I will want good money now. This place is too dangerous.’
Matteo nodded abstractedly. ‘Of course. Shall we leave this castle, then?’
‘Master, we’re safer behind these walls than out there in the open.’
Matteo nodded, but his mind was already back on the former King. If Edward were to be freed, with the help of Matteo, and he recovered his throne, Matteo would become the most valuable ally he had. With the wealth of the Bardis, anything would be possible.
For the first time in days, the Florentine felt more positive about the future.
Alured was sleeping again; he spent a lot of time sleeping. It left Hugh with time to muse, and he didn’t mind that. But he was growing fretful at being stuck in here.
When the door opened and Dolwyn peered round it, Hugh grasped his cudgel and snapped, ‘What do
you
want?’
‘I’ve been released,’ Dolwyn said curtly, and explained about Agatha’s confession. ‘I wanted to see how Alured was doing.’
‘He’s all right,’ Hugh said, still suspicious. He had learned early on in life never to trust strangers.
‘Glad to hear it. I think he’s a good man.’
‘Is it true you killed your wife?’ Hugh asked baldly.
‘There was a fire, but I wasn’t the cause. It was an accident,’ Dolwyn said.
Hugh nodded. The sadness in Dolwyn’s tone spoke to his own bereavement. He considered a moment, then said gruffly, ‘You want a pot of ale?’
Tuesday after Ascension Day
67
Berkeley Castle
Baldwin stood at the wall.
All around was the noise of masons and labourers at work: the creaking of hempen rope straining, and timbers complaining as the men on the treadwheel winched the heavy sections of rock up high overhead to the walls. The area they were repairing was where Sir Jevan had been found.
The chamber in which the body had lain was for storage. There were two piles of masonry which had been precut, and were awaiting insertion into the hole in the wall. This comprised part of the actual curtain wall of the castle, and looking through it, Baldwin could see all the way to south and east.
‘So, you found him in here?’ he asked.
Dolwyn was standing behind him with Harry and Senchet. ‘Yes. He was lying between those two piles of rock. You can see his blood still.’
Baldwin turned back from the hole in the wall. ‘Why did none of the masons come?’
Simon could answer that. ‘They did – but not until all were awake and ready. They were too scared to come alone. Someone said that the Devil was up here, apparently, and that put off the rest.’
‘So the killer presumably hurried away through them all,’ Baldwin said. ‘He must be a cool character, to kill and then escape while the garrison was on its way to capture him.’
‘Or insane,’ Simon said.
‘Such is not the behaviour of a madman,’ Baldwin muttered. He stared down at the piles of dressed stone, but then he knelt. The pile of dressed rocks to the left of where the body had lain had a curious formation. ‘There is space in here for a man to hide,’ Baldwin said, peering over the top. ‘The killer could have concealed himself here, after the body was found. Perhaps he felt no need to run down the stairs or along the passageways, Simon.’
‘And perhaps he flew, like Hugh said,’ Simon smiled.
‘Eh?’
‘Hugh was prepared to listen to the rumours of a Devil flying past.’
‘Who spoke of that?’ Baldwin asked.
‘A mason.’
Baldwin nodded. It was a sad place to die, he thought. Alone, in the dark, attacked by an unseen assailant. ‘Why was he here?’
‘We wondered that too,’ Simon said. ‘It is not on the way to a garderobe or urinal.’
Baldwin looked about him. He crossed the floor to the door in the northernmost wall. This led into a passageway that ran straight to the keep. He stared at that in silence, thinking for a long moment. ‘And that is where many others slept?’
‘Yes. The Bardis were there, and Alured.’
‘Let us meet this mason who spoke of the Devil,’ Baldwin said.
Masons’ Yard, Berkeley Castle
‘Who was it?’ Baldwin demanded as they reached the encampment below the tower.
Simon sent Hugh to find the man, and before too long he was back with a grey–haired fellow in his middle years. He had a square, sunburned face, and hands that looked as powerful as the rocks he had spent his life breaking and shaping. Although his eyes were blue and clear, there was an unfocused look about them as he smiled a little blankly at the men ranged about him. ‘You wanted me?’
‘I hear you said that there was a Devil came to kill the knight in the chamber up there,’ Baldwin said.
‘No. It was a Devil took his soul away with him,’ the man said.
‘Why did you think that?’
‘Who else would have been there with him in the middle of the night?’
‘You saw nothing, though?’ Baldwin said. His patience with the overly superstitious was never extensive.
‘I saw him, yes.’
‘What?’ Baldwin said.
Simon peered at him. ‘Are you sure? Where?’
‘Up there,’ the man said, pointing to the roof of the passage that led from the chamber to the keep.
‘You didn’t tell me this before,’ Simon said irritably.
‘That’s because you didn’t ask me. You asked me if I’d heard the noise, and if so, what I thought it was. I told you I thought it was the Devil, but you didn’t ask if I saw Him.’
‘But you did?’
‘Something like. A figure was bounding along up there with a thick, raggedy cloak about him. That’s what I think I saw.’
‘You aren’t more certain?’
‘It was the Devil. What does it matter what I think?’
It was cold here in his room. Benedetto Bardi stirred the fire and daydreamed about Florentine sunshine. Here all was perpetually hazy.
The look on Matteo’s face had been truly appalling. He had been terrified at the sight of Benedetto, and then for those dull-witted tarses of his to beat up Matteo’s man – well, any fears that were already in his younger brother’s mind would hardly have been assuaged by that, would they?
Benedetto cursed profusely. Here he was, marooned in this miserable castle, and here he must remain until Lord Berkeley came home.
The quiet tap at his door surprised him. ‘Yes?’ he snapped, opening it. Then: ‘Sir Baldwin, this is a pleasant surprise. Please enter and join me in a cup of wine.’
He was not alone, Benedetto saw. There was Sir Richard, and the man Puttock, too. They all walked in and stood looking at him as though he was some kind of felon.
‘Well?’ he prompted.
‘We have an interesting series of deaths, Master Benedetto,’ Baldwin said heavily. ‘First one brother dies, and your other brother is almost killed. Two other fellows die near your brother’s body, all in the space of a day. And the man responsible, we think, was on his way to your house. He was an ally of yours. But now, he too is dead. It seems very strange that so much bloodshed should happen in so short a space, so near to you.’