King's Gold

‘What do you have to say for yourself then, Master Dolwyn?’ the steward asked with a sneer. He was a medium-height man in his forties, with a protuberant pot belly. Grey eyes watched closely as Dolwyn responded to his questions, narrowing slightly when the answers he received were not to his liking. It was plain that he had at one time been given some legal training from the way he posed his questions, glancing down at the clerk who scratched away with his reeds as he spoke, making sure of the facts. He enjoyed his task as prosecutor.

Naturally there was no defence pleader. An innocent man had no need of a specialist: innocence spoke for itself.

‘So, your name is Dolwyn of Guildford. And you stole a horse and cart.’

‘I stole nothing. I found a horse and cart. There was no one with them. It’s not stealing to take something that’s been left.’

‘But it was only left because you had killed the owner. You took an axe and cut his head off.’

‘That wasn’t me,’ Dolwyn said.

‘Master Steward,’ Luke said, ‘the head was not cut off.’

‘But an axe killed him?’

‘Yes,’ Luke agreed.

‘Very well. This man took an axe and slew the owner, Ham, and left his body to rot while stealing his horse and cart.’

‘I did not see him and did not murder him.’

‘Then who did? Do you accuse the other two who were not with you when you were discovered by Sir Jevan? Did they kill Ham so you could steal his cart?’

‘I had nothing to do with his death and did not meet these two until after Sir Jevan stabbed me. I’ve been ill for days, and those two men saved my life.’

‘So you say.’

‘My master will speak for me,’ Dolwyn said. He was looking about the hall already.

‘Which master is that?’

‘Matteo Bardi, brother of Benedetto Bardi.’

‘Are they here? Call for them!’ the steward demanded after a short glance at Lord Berkeley. The latter would not want the Bardis insulted – they were too important to his father-in-law and the Queen – but if this man truly was their servant, they might wish to protect him.

It was an anxious time for Dolwyn as he waited.

Soon the two brothers walked into the hall. Matteo looked concerned, and for his part, Benedetto was fretful. His eyes were on Dolwyn as he crossed the floor, and even when he had stopped, his attention was on Dolwyn and not the steward.

‘Sirs, this man says he knows you. Do you know him?’

Matteo nodded. ‘He was lately in my service. Before that he was in the service of the King.’

‘Can you vouch for his character?’

‘Of course. I would not have a servant who was not entirely reliable,’ Matteo said.

Benedetto was peering, but finally nodded. ‘This man is known to my house.’

‘Where is your house?’ the steward asked.

‘London,’ Matteo said.

‘And yet the fellow was here. What was he doing so far from your home?’

‘He had been sent to deliver messages,’ Matteo said with some hauteur. ‘I often send servants with messages, as does your lord.’

‘You think that his theft of a cart was suitable for delivery of your little notes?’

‘I think that if he found a cart and horse wandering, he would be right to bring them to the nearest town. It would be his duty.’

‘So you are not aware of his having stolen anything else before?’

‘No. Not of his stealing,’ Matteo said.

There was a sudden hush. Matteo shot a quick look at his brother, then at Dolwyn, but would not meet the steward’s piercing eye.

The steward was not fooled. ‘What crimes has he committed?’

‘I could not speak of them. Any crime he could have committed was long before I knew him,’ Matteo said.

‘I won’t have this,’ the steward declared. ‘Do you know of any crimes of which he has been accused?’

Matteo looked despairingly at Dolwyn. No one spoke, until Dolwyn sighed heavily. ‘It was murder, Steward. Murder. I was accused of it before I served Master Matteo.’

William had secured a place for John at a tavern in the town. It was the better option, he said, in case Sir Jevan saw him, and John felt sure he was right. If he were to remain in the castle all day long, the risk of being seen was high, and then his fate would be assured.

William had advised him to keep away from the castle. He would be called if he were needed, but if he were to go to the castle, Sir Jevan would have to be slain first so he could not identify John. Because if John were to be seen, and his part at Kenilworth remembered, the whole project could be thrown into disarray – and that, William made clear, he was not prepared to tolerate.

John was more than content to remain here in this tavern, away from Sir Jevan and the castle. The more he thought of it, the more terrible the idea grew of freeing Sir Edward from his captivity. As soon as he was released there would be more fighting. More battles. More blood spilled.

John had seen enough of war and death.

The room was silent after Dolwyn’s quiet intervention. Then the steward turned to him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

‘Oh! The felon recalls now, does he? All of a sudden he remembers that he has killed before.’