King's Gold

Rolling over, he put his arms behind his head, staring up at the rafters. There was a homely smell of woodsmoke and ale in here, the smells he remembered from his own home all those hundreds of miles away in London, and for a moment he thought about his wife and what she would be doing today – sweeping out the rooms, tending the fire, setting the pot on its trivet to boil some water, heating a stone to cook a little cake for her breakfast. It was a scene he had witnessed many times, and never before had he felt the full force of its importance to him.

Sir Jevan had reddish-brown boots. No surprise there. Many other men wore boots made of good Cordovan leather. Alured must have seen twenty or more such pairs of boots on the way here – and amongst the garrison he had seen others. So what made the sight of Sir Jevan’s boots so uniquely surprising, he asked himself. And then he realised. It was not so much the boots on their own, but the boots combined with Sir Jevan’s character.

Most knights were intelligent enough, and although there were some who were prepared to flout the law and steal or rob, most of them were honourable enough by their own lights. However, Sir Jevan was not one whom Alured would trust. It was easy to believe that he could have been involved in the murder of those two youngsters. But why? That was the question that nagged at Alured.

He would see what he could learn.

Saturday after Easter

Berkeley Castle

Simon had enjoyed his breakfast that morning. Sir Richard was already up and outside, so the good bailiff was able to relax and eat a leisurely meal, not attended, for once, by a violent hangover.

He was shovelling a large plate of eggs into his mouth when Alured appeared in the doorway. Simon did not know this man well. He was aware that he was some form of servant or guard to one of the Bardi, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

‘Master Bailiff? May I speak with you?’

Alured stood looking down at Simon. He had a kind of steadiness in his eyes which Simon rather liked.

‘What is it?’

Alured licked his lips, and then sat down at Simon’s side. ‘I think that I have discovered a murderer,’ he murmured. ‘I need your help.’

Simon’s face hardened. ‘That is a serious accusation.’

‘You think I don’t realise that?’ Alured grated. ‘I am well aware of the penalty for a wrongful accusation.’

‘Are you?’ Simon asked. ‘If you accuse a man of murder and it’s shown he was innocent, you pay the price he would have paid. You would be hanged in his place. You do realise that?’

‘It is worse that the man is a knight,’ Alured mumbled.

‘A knight?’

‘Sir Jevan. He is a murderer, I am convinced of it.’

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Second Monday after Easter

Berkeley Castle

Simon and Sir Richard walked together about the upper north wall. It was a place where they were guaranteed some peace, and could speak for the most part with the security of knowing that no one could overhear them.

It was not easy, Simon reflected, to find a place where no one else would hear Sir Richard’s booming voice.

‘Are ye sure?’ the knight said in what he fondly assumed to be a quiet tone.

Simon nodded, looking down into the castle’s court at the men milling about there. The place had settled into a new routine in the last few days since the departure of Lord Berkeley and his men. Now there were three men sitting out at the entrance to the main block where Sir Edward of Caernarfon was kept. Sir Ralph now shared the chamber with Sir Edward at all times. He was the constant companion, who shared in every meal, who watched over every visitor, and stood always between his former King and any possible danger.

If Alured was right, and Sir Jevan was a murderer, there were enough men here to capture him and make him safe. The garrison was reduced to a minimum, with perhaps thirty or so men, and the host of labourers was possibly larger than the garrison itself. There were only a few genuine men-at-arms, but they should be enough to help capture one man even if he were inclined to try to kill again.

‘Ye know, not all murderers are maddened fools,’ Sir Richard mused. ‘Would it not be better to speak with this Sir Jevan and see what he has to say? The man seemed reasonable enough when we met him.’

‘Perhaps. But I would be anxious that he might attack us and then flee.’

Sir Richard looked at him. ‘Flee? I don’t think he’d get far if we had the gates locked first.’

‘You think so?’ Simon said. ‘Those gates are so old, the lock so worn, I daresay he could pull them apart! But if you are sure, I would be happy to go and talk to him with you.’

‘There he is,’ Sir Richard said, pointing.

Down in the court Simon saw the knight speaking with the older Bardi brother, Benedetto. ‘Let’s go and tackle him, then.’

‘Yes,’ Sir Richard agreed, but his mind was elsewhere, Simon saw. The coroner was staring down past the two men towards a dark, shadowed doorway. ‘Isn’t that the other fellow?’