King's Gold

‘The man who did this will be found.’ Father Luke promised. He had taken a step back against her sudden outburst, and now he tried to introduce a calming note. ‘Mistress, you are overwrought. You should rest, let someone help you and young Jen.’

‘They tried. Three maids have been here,’ Agatha said, placing a cool cloth over Jen’s brow, ‘but I won’t have them. She is my little girl, and I will look after her. Just as I shall see to my husband’s body. I will clean him and clothe him in his winding sheet as a widow should. No one else.’

‘The coroner has been sent for. With luck he will be here in the morning,’ Father Luke said.

‘So? You mean someone may be found?’

‘We will do all we can.’

She sighed, the emotion of the morning taking its toll. ‘Just bring my cart. I’ll have to see to the horse before the poor thing collapses. At least it’s not cold up there.’

The look on Father Luke’s face made her scowl. ‘What now?’

‘Mistress, whoever killed Ham must have taken the cart. I’m sorry.’

‘No, that cannot be!’ she declared, wringing her hands. ‘It must be there.’

‘Perhaps he lost it on his way here,’ Luke suggested. ‘He could have had it stolen on the road.’

‘No! The axe – that was the one he kept on his cart.’ Agatha shuddered. ‘It must still be up there.’

‘I am very sorry,’ Luke said.

‘Stop saying that! It is there, it must be.’ Her breast heaved with dry sobs. ‘Oh, God. What will become of us?’

The priest knew that the cart would have guaranteed an income for this widow and her daughter. With Despenser’s money, he could have helped them both so much. Thinking of Jen, he glanced down at the girl on the palliasse, and to his shock he realised that she was wide awake and listening.

‘I am scared,’ Jen whispered. Her eyes were deep wells of despair and fear as she looked up at him.

He tried to imagine how terrible it must be, to lose a father at such a tender age, and by such violent means. ‘There is no need to be,’ he said gently. ‘You will be safe here.’

Jen looked up and gripped his hand. ‘I want my father back,’ she wept.

And the priest knew that no words of his could comfort her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Exeter

‘You want me to go with you where?’ Simon said. ‘No. Absolutely not!’

The older man sat back and leaned against the wall. ‘Come, Bailiff, it is not so far as your journey to France last year. You can easily travel that distance.’

‘I am not going anywhere,’ Simon asserted. ‘It’s ridiculous! I’ve only just got back to my home after all the troubles last year, and you want me to head off with you again now?’

‘Not me alone. It’s a small force, but there are a few other fellows to ride with us. I swear I shall return you here to your home as soon as the King’s father is safely ensconced in his new home.’

‘And where will that be?’ Simon demanded bitterly. ‘Halfway to Scotland? I don’t want to ride all the way to Kenilworth only to take the King’s father on a long journey north!’

‘We won’t be going north from there, I promise you,’ Sir Richard said smoothly. ‘Hah! Can you see me travelling all that way? Still, we have been asked to go and there’s not much we can do about it.’

Hugh had walked in now, and stood in the corner of the room with a dour expression on his face, as was his wont. Simon threw him a look. ‘And what about you? I thought I told you to stay and guard the house. Dear heaven, you haven’t left that fool Rob alone, have you?’

‘Old Penny has gone to stay there with him,’ Hugh muttered.

‘Penny, eh?’ A local man, Penny was a farmer to his fingertips – so he would know all the tasks Rob should be doing. And he was a brawny fellow, too, more than capable of protecting the place.

‘So, Simon, we shall have to leave in the morning.’

‘I cannot leave my wife again.’

Margaret clucked her tongue. The thought of Simon riding away had filled her with distress when Sir Richard had first mentioned it, but now she took a deep breath. ‘Husband, please do not worry about me. I am perfectly content to be in Devon again. If Edith does not object, nor her husband, I will stay here with them until your return. It would be good for me to spend time with our grandson, and I may be able to help Edith, too.’

‘Would you, Mother? That would be wonderful,’ Edith said.

Simon scowled, eyeing them both suspiciously. Margaret smiled at him; it was plain enough that she would be overjoyed to remain here longer. He threw a look at Sir Richard. ‘I don’t know . . .’

His wife had suffered badly last year. He had been separated from her then, and the result had been a near disastrous brain-fever. She had survived the Siege of the Tower of London, only to become enclosed in Bristol as the Queen’s men encircled the city, and Simon’s departure so soon afterwards had weakened her. It had taken all this time, four months, to get her back to her usual good health.