King's Gold

‘Even when it means seeking the death of your own brothers?’ Baldwin asked pointedly.

‘Never! I would do anything in my power to protect them.’

‘Your protestations are fascinating,’ Baldwin said. ‘However, if you did not do these things, who did?’

‘That madman, Alured.’

‘Or could it have been your brother?’

At the thought Benedetto winced, thinking of the conversation when Matteo had accused him of trying to murder him. ‘He would be shocked indeed to think anyone could accuse him of such a crime.’

‘So you believe it can only be Alured?’ Baldwin said.

‘Who else?’ He stared. ‘You are asking me to believe that Matteo could have killed our brother Manuele? No. Nothing would make me believe that.’

‘And yet your brother is convinced it must be you.’

‘He is a frail thing, Matteo. It is his work, sifting information all day. I think it is only natural that he sometimes has these monstrous dreams. He sees plots under every stone, assassins under his bed. Sometimes he doesn’t know what is real and what is false.’

‘What do you think, Baldwin?’ Simon asked as they made their way back down the stairs.

‘I do not know what to think,’ Baldwin admitted. ‘Or rather, I think I shall be glad to be away from here, and gladder still to see the back of Benedetto and Matteo and their men. How can we serve them, while we believe that they could be murderers?’

He had reached the level of the wall now, and he moved to a door. It opened to the walkway, and he stepped out, peering down. ‘Ah, if someone were to run across there, over the roof, he would be visible from the ground.’

Simon peered over to look. There was a broad wall rising from the building beneath. It lay just below the walkway, and a man could easily reach it by jumping down. And at this end there was a wide window facing into the court, where an arrow slit had been widened. ‘An easy journey,’ he agreed, cursing himself for not seeing it before.

Sir Richard nodded. ‘But would a Devil try it?’

‘I don’t think so. But I am perfectly content to believe that a man might dart across there, and when he reached the keep, he could run up here to this door and get in through it.’

Simon smiled sadly. ‘Which helps us not at all, because Matteo, Benedetto and Alured were all sleeping in the keep, as were many others. Any one of them could have killed Jevan.’

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Wednesday after Ascension Day

Berkeley Castle

But the next day brought news that made their search for the murderer less important.

Simon was standing guard with Hugh outside the chamber where Sir Edward of Caernarfon was being held, when the men came.

There were four of them, all begrimed and weary, their clothing in tatters, and all with the same look of despair in their eyes.

Simon and Sir Richard strode out to meet them, but Baldwin was already talking to them, asking questions and listening carefully.

‘You say there were how many in the party?’ he said.

‘At least fifty,’ one man said. He was the oldest of them, and his eyes were red-rimmed under the thatch of grey hair. ‘They got to us about an hour before sunset.’

‘How many are dead?’ Baldwin asked.

‘All told, seven. My son, two farmers, a cattleman, the warrener and two women. Both were raped. My son and the cattleman were trying to protect them when they were killed.’

‘What has happened?’ Sir Richard demanded, standing arms akimbo with his chin jutting pugnaciously.

‘Another attack. Not a riot like Cirencester,’ Baldwin said, ‘but a raid on these men’s vill, five leagues north of here.’

‘Were they English?’ Simon asked.

‘No. For the most part these were Scottish.’

‘The Earl of Mar’s men,’ Baldwin said grimly.

He ordered that the men should be given food and drink, then told Edgar to take a horse and ride about the perimeter he had set out before. ‘But take care, Edgar. No risks. If you see these devils, come straight back to tell us.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Edgar said, and was off to the stables in an instant.

‘Simon,’ Baldwin said, ‘I wonder whether we should consider removing Sir Edward from here. I do not like this place: it is too isolated. If we were in Okehampton, or down at Corfe, I would feel more easy in my mind.’

‘Corfe is hardly less isolated,’ Sir Richard said.

‘I suppose not,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘But at least it is farther from Scotland. I dislike these stories of men from the north attacking farms down here.’

‘There is certainly great danger in leaving the castle now,’ Sir Richard said. ‘I think it would be a mistake. With the men we have here, we should be able to protect the place.’

‘I hope so,’ Baldwin said, but as he glanced again at the rebuilding works, Simon could see that his concerns were not allayed. ‘When those men have been fed,’ he said, ‘have them work on the walls too. I want this place as secure as the Tower of London.’

Friday before Whit Sunday