King's Gold

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.