King's Gold

‘I see,’ Matteo said. He had to struggle to keep his voice calm. This was a glorious opportunity! To be spymaster to Sir Roger would give him and the House of Bardi more power than any other bank in the realm. It would put them on a higher footing than the Peruzzi or those Venetian banditti . . . and then he realised that Sir Roger was still speaking, and he had to concentrate hard to try to catch up with his words.

‘Yes, you see there has been an attempt to free Sir Edward of Caernarfon from Kenilworth. Astonishing, but these rebels thought they could do it.’

‘The K . . .’ Matteo cleared his throat. ‘Sir Edward is safe and well? He is not harmed?’

‘Ah, so you think as I do that this foul attack was to harm the King’s father? There are some who are not quick enough to see the danger which surrounds Sir Edward. But you and I, we appreciate it, I think.’

A short while after that, Sir Roger gave Matteo his instructions: he was to ride to Kenilworth and deliver a letter to Lord Berkeley. He would have left Berkeley Castle, so Matteo should meet him at Kenilworth.

‘What is it?’ Matteo asked.

‘An indenture to pass control of the King’s father from the Earl of Lancaster to the Lord Berkeley. He will now take over duties of protection and control.’

Furnshill

Sir Baldwin drew his sword in an instant. ‘Who are you?’

There was a low chuckle, and as he looked, the stranger was yanked away, and in his place appeared Sir Peregrine of Barnstaple. ‘Sir Baldwin, I don’t think you need trouble yourself about running me through. I am not your enemy.’

Baldwin thrust the sword home into the scabbard again. ‘Where is my wife?’ he demanded.

‘She is here, perfectly safe,’ Sir Peregrine said, standing aside.

In a moment, Jeanne walked from the doorway and stood decorously before him. ‘My lord, I am sorry I was not here to greet you,’ she said.

Baldwin felt his heart swell. Jeanne had red-gold hair, and the perfect pale skin to match it. Her eyes were the rich blue of cornflowers, but her nose was tip-tilted, and her upper lip was more full than the lower, giving her a stubborn appearance. He adored her. She was, to him, the picture of beauty, and never more so than at times like this, when she gave that slow smile he knew so well.

‘My lady, I have missed you,’ he said.

‘It has been only three nights,’ she pointed out.

‘To me, that feels a lifetime,’ he said.

He took her arm and walked with her into his hall. In the last year or two he had spent too much time away from home. In the King’s service, he had been sent to France as a guard to the Queen, he had returned with Bishop Walter in order to protect the King’s son, he had been sent to Thorney Island to serve as a Member of Parliament, and he had been called away to fight for the King.

‘So, Sir Peregrine, how can we serve you?’ he asked.

Sir Peregrine of Barnstaple was one of those rare men, a knight banneret with integrity. He had been an acquaintance of Baldwin’s for several years, and in all that time Baldwin had not learned to fully trust him. He was too devoted to the removal of the King’s advisers and replacing them with men better, as he felt, suited to the task.

Now that the King was gone and his son Edward III crowned in his turn, Sir Peregrine had seen all he had desired come to pass. He was a happy man. Especially since he had now married.

‘Your good lady has been kind enough to entertain us,’ Sir Peregrine said, bowing to Jeanne.

Jeanne beamed. She had always been more keen on Sir Peregrine than Baldwin was.

‘I am sure that will surprise neither you nor me,’ Baldwin smiled. ‘How is your own good lady?’

He spoke kindly. Sir Peregrine had almost married more than once, but he had been exceedingly unfortunate, and each woman had died. Now, he had been fortunate enough to meet with a widow, Isabella Crok, who was as fond of him as he was of her. They had married late the previous year.

‘My lady Isabella is contented, I hope. She has taken a cruel dislike of a soldier’s decorations, and seeks ever to improve my poor hall with her tapestries and hallings, but I remain convinced that it is easier to maintain a happy home by acquiescing in such matters than by debating.’

Jeanne’s grin broadened. ‘You would do well to remember such wise words, husband.’

‘I have no need, my wife. You will be sure to remind me regularly,’ Baldwin said drily.

He called for wine, and his servant Edgar was soon in the hall, carrying jugs. Baldwin cast a look up at him, and Edgar met it serenely, which was enough for Baldwin. His servant’s judgement was usually faultless, as was that of his great mastiff, Wolf, who was lying by the fireside, head nodding gently. There was no apparent need for concern here. Not that he would expect danger from Sir Peregrine.

‘There was a terrible shock last week,’ Sir Peregrine said. He lifted his mazer and drank half his wine in a draught. ‘Have you heard?’