King's Gold

Benedetto paced his chamber furiously. He did not want to be here – in fact, he loathed the very sight of the place – and yet he was terrified at the thought of leaving. The land all about had become dangerous: every hedge and ditch could conceal a bowman. There were rumoured to be hundreds in the immediate area, each of them desperate to rescue Edward – or kill him.

The one thing that made him forget this was the expression on Matteo’s face when they last met. That look of loathing and terror had struck him to the core. No matter what happened, it was clear Matteo would never trust him.

Benedetto would try to explain, if he got the opportunity. Sir Jevan was a blunt weapon, true, but he had been effective. So often he had worked for the House of Bardi and brought matters to successful conclusions. Still, if he had stabbed Matteo, he most certainly had not been ordered to do so. And those two poor youngsters – that was a shame, too. Benedetto had a heart: he could understand how Alured had been determined to find and punish the man responsible.

The Florentine’s thoughts returned once more to his younger brother. Could Matteo not remember all the times when he had been cosseted and spoiled by Benedetto? The latter had, after all, spent much of his youth looking after him.

There was nothing on God’s good earth that could make him hurt his little brother. Nothing at all.

Whit Sunday

Berkeley Castle

As they left the little chapel of St Mary next to the hall, Baldwin heard Benedetto Bardi calling after him.

‘Sir Baldwin,’ he said, and pushed through the men to reach him. ‘I would speak with you.’

‘Please do.’

‘I must leave this place and hurry to the King’s side. The Regent is to about to wage war on the Scottish and I should be with them, arranging finances for the King on his first war, not languishing here.’

‘When it is clear that Alured will recover fully, you may leave. However, I will expect you to compensate him for the damage you have done to him. And if he were to die within a year and a day of the attack on him, you could be liable with your men for his death.’

‘I will do all that is necessary,’ Benedetto said. ‘But for how much longer will I need to remain here?’

‘I would think a week. If Alured is better, then you may go, if you consider it wise.’

‘I think nothing about my coming here was wise,’ Benedetto said with regret.

‘You know how dangerous the roads are just now. There are men all over this county.’

‘Yes, I know. But I need to leave as soon as I may.’

Benedetto walked away, over to the keep, and Baldwin heard Sir Richard and Simon approach.

‘He is not happy here,’ Baldwin said. ‘He prefers the dangers of the roads.’

‘Aye, well, in all truth, the man’s probably safe enough. The threat from these Dunhead fellows and the Earl of Mar has not materialised, has it? With every day that they do not attack, their strength weakens,’ Sir Richard said comfortably.

‘I just wish I knew what they planned,’ Baldwin fretted. ‘It would be good to be prepared.’

‘While it is quiet here, I am content,’ Simon said.

But it would not remain quiet for very much longer.

In his chamber, Alured lay trying to rest while Hugh snored over by the door.

Every movement was painful, as it tightened his scabs, and when he shifted his position there was a tearing sensation at his face. But if he did not move, the torn muscles behind his ear would cramp and ache. That was intolerable. Better that he should move his head occasionally.

When the door opened, he glanced up to see a young maid. She smiled down at him as she put the jug of ale and bowl of soup on the low table near his palliasse. There was a small hunk of bread beside them. ‘How are you?’

‘Better for seeing you, maid,’ he croaked. He dared not grin. Over a week, he told himself, and still it hurt too much to smile.

‘Here’s some food and drink. Do you want me to help you?’

She had been here twice a day since his injuries, at first helping spoon pottage or soup into his mouth, but more recently she had soaked bread in it and pressed it gently between his lips as his mouth began to loosen and he could open it wider.

‘I would be glad of your help,’ he said.

He was eating, Hugh rubbing his eyes and yawning, as Baldwin and Simon entered.

‘Master Alured, how do you feel this fine morning?’ Baldwin asked.

Alured swallowed. ‘How do I look?’ he countered.

‘More lively, at least,’ Baldwin said with a smile.

‘I reckon I shall live,’ Alured acknowledged.

‘Benedetto has asked to be allowed to leave the castle. Do you object?’

‘The sooner the bastard’s gone, the happier I’ll be,’ Alured grunted.

Baldwin nodded. ‘We do have an interesting conundrum, you appreciate. Someone killed Sir Jevan. It could have been Benedetto, but the knight appears to have been an ally of his. Why should he seek to murder his own accomplice? But the alternative to his slaying Sir Jevan means it may well be you or your master who was responsible.’