King's Gold

‘ “No, he died.”

‘ “I’m sorry. It’s hard to lose a friend,” the man said.’

Sir Richard chuckled richly, glancing at Simon to ensure he appreciated the full perfection of the tale.

‘ “Friend? he’s no friend to me.”

‘ “But from what you said, I thought he was a close friend?”

‘ “No. I never met him. But I married his damned widow.” Ha! You understand, eh? Talking about his wife’s first husband, you see?’ And the good knight laughed without affectation, delighted with the simplicity of the joke.

Simon smiled thinly. Seventy leagues of this . . . His headache grew suddenly much worse.

Bishop’s Cleeve

The noise grew, and Senchet was aware of the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end. There was still no sign of the source. He glanced at Harry, and the two men edged closer together.

‘Senchet,’ Harry said quietly. ‘I’ve not said it before, but I’ve been glad of your company.’

‘Friend Harry, I have been grateful for your companionship also.’ Senchet pulled his sword out with a slow slithering of metal. ‘I do not like this phantasm, though. How does a man fight with a wraith? It is not to be borne.’

‘It’s no wraith,’ Harry said suddenly, and pointed.

There, before them, a cart with one tired nag pulling it, crossed the road.

Senchet felt relief flood his body. ‘For a moment . . .’

‘Never mind that, let’s ask him if there’s somewhere near,’ Harry said urgently.

It was astonishing what hunger could do to a man’s feet. Senchet lurched into a trot and stumbled off along the roadway after the cart, hallooing and waving his arms wildly.

The cart was large, and in the back were sacks and blankets. The carter himself was a shortish man, hooded, who lolled and nodded as the wheels bounced and rattled over the ruts and holes. Ranged along the outer side of the cart were pots and pans, which clattered so much it was a miracle that the driver could doze, Senchet thought to himself.

‘Hi! Hey there, fellow! Wake yourself, and listen to me! Wait!’

Although the man didn’t react, the horse heard him, and drew to a halt so that Senchet could hurry to catch up. Senchet was surprised to see that the horse itself was close to collapse. It had been forced to carry on long after it should have rested.

‘Sir,’ he panted. ‘Do you know how far to the nearest village? My friend can hardly walk, and we are both famished.’

The man on the board gazed at him listlessly, then shook his head as though trying to waken himself. ‘Village?’

‘Where are we?’

‘I . . . don’t know . . .’ the man said, and closed his eyes again.

‘Listen, we need to find our way to a place for some food. Do you-’ Senchet suddenly saw that the man’s flank was soaked with blood. ‘You are injured?’

‘Jumped on – men from Earl of Lancaster few miles back. Got lost. Don’t know where I am,’ the man mumbled. His eyes closed again and he slowly toppled over. Senchet caught his body, grunting with the effort.

There was one good thing. The man might be in a bad way, but Senchet had a strong conviction that there was food in his wagon.

Friday following the Feast of the Annunciation

Willersey

All had been . . . satisfactory, Agatha supposed.

The coroner had arrived yesterday afternoon – a pasty-faced young knight who coughed and sneezed all over everyone, sneered and shouted at the jury, and swore at his clerk, an inoffensive little man at least double the man’s age. The conclusion of murder was hardly surprising, since the axe was still in Ham’s head.

She felt her heart constrict at the sight of her husband’s naked body, lying there as all the vill’s men and women stared at him, the coroner measuring each wound, wincing at the insects buzzing about and then deciding on the fines to be imposed, noting the names of the ‘First Finder’, the nearest householders, the members of the jury and all the others who could be forced to pay for the breaking of the King’s Peace. He made a perfunctory enquiry about who could have been responsible, but there was little he could glean. No one had known Ham was back in Willersey, after all.

Everyone knew Ham had left the vill with the purveyor almost two weeks ago. The only motive that could be inferred was based on the fact that his cart and horse were missing, but no one in the jury mentioned that in case there would be a further fine imposed for the theft. Nor did anyone there trust this cunning-looking knight with the streaming nose. He was not of a mind to be accommodating or kindly.