King's Gold

Already the horns were blaring their strident call, and the first of the men were beginning to walk on their horses towards the gates, led by their two commanders, Lord Thomas de Berkeley, and his brother-in-law, Sir John Maltravers, who both made a show of hardly acknowledging the presence of their charge. Lord Thomas gave Sir Edward of Caernarfon a curt nod, John saw, but nothing more. It was deeply insulting, and he seethed with indignation on Sir Edward’s behalf. Not long ago, those two men were in gaol because of their disrespect and treachery to their King. And now they felt they could treat that same man with the contempt usually reserved for a villein from their estates. For his part, he felt only sympathy and sadness. Like him, Sir Edward had lost all his closest friends and companions.

He clapped spurs to his beast’s flanks and clicked his tongue, and soon he was moving off with all the others, and as he went, his worry about being discovered was blown away with the wind. Once the cavalcade was outside the gates, and away from that dread garrison of men loyal to Earl Henry of Lancaster, it would be time for him to follow with the rearguard. At that thought he felt renewed, and could look about him with his head held high once more.

And then he saw that among the last men to leave the castle was Sir Jevan de Bromfield on his horse, and John felt his heart sink to his feet as he ducked his head down and pulled his hood over his brow.

Kenilworth Castle

‘So where have you been hiding?’ Baldwin said.

‘Hardly hiding,’ Simon grunted. They were thundering over the causeway now, and the low, grumbling sound was making his head pound still harder. ‘Sir Richard met me at Edith’s house.’

‘Oh, he is here, is he?’

‘Hence my head.’

Baldwin smiled. A man who was abstemious himself, he rarely suffered from hangovers, but he could at least sympathise with a man in as much pain as Simon. ‘Hopefully it will improve as we ride. That is the pleasure of riding in good, clear weather.’

‘Apart from the dust,’ Simon pointed out grimly.

Already, as the lead horses left the wooden causeway and trotted over the dried earth of the roadway at the other side, a fine mist was forming in the air.

Baldwin nodded and pulled at his neckerchief. He would tie it over his face, now the dust had become worse.

‘When did you get here?’ Simon asked.

‘Three days ago,’ Baldwin said with a grin. ‘Apparently Sir Edward asked to have friends whom he could trust to join him on the road.’

‘Why you as well?’ Simon wondered. ‘Aren’t there enough here already?’

‘We’re here to help guard him from you, Simon, and the rest of the men here,’ Baldwin said.

Simon winced. ‘I don’t think I want to hear any more.’

‘We will be well enough,’ Baldwin said. ‘Sir Ralph is riding with the King, and we agreed that I would have a look over the rest of the men in the escort. I would be glad if you would too, and let me know if you see or hear anything suspicious, old friend. It is good to know that you are here, and Sir Richard. If ever there was a man less likely to be a danger to the King, it would be him.’

‘I have heard nothing,’ Simon said. He cast a look about them, idly studying the men nearest. ‘The only fellow I have encountered here is a man called Sir Jevan. Do you know him?’

‘By reputation. He is one of the new breed of knight,’ Baldwin said dismissively. ‘One of those who lives by the sword and seeks only enrichment, the same as those who flocked to Despenser’s side – not that Sir Jevan was one of them. I believe he hated Despenser with a passion. Still, he is a man who thinks that the strongest deserve praise by virtue of their power.’

‘I was not impressed,’ Simon admitted.

‘Good,’ Baldwin chuckled. Then a cloud of dust rose and enveloped them and he coughed. ‘Dear heaven, this ride will be as pleasant as riding across the Holy Land.’

‘A little less hot, I hope,’ Simon muttered.

‘So do I,’ Baldwin said.

‘So, why does Sir Edward of Caernarfon think he needs protection?’

‘Because he thinks you, or someone else here who has no reason to remember him with fondness, will attempt to assassinate him.’

‘You jest.’

‘Oh, no, Simon,’ Baldwin said, and Simon saw the truth in his eyes. ‘I do not make jest at all. He believes it. And so do I.’

South of Kenilworth

John rode as far to the back of the mounted men-at-arms as he could, keeping his hood over his head and a strip of cloth over his mouth. Many others were covering their faces against the rising clouds of dust that clung to the inside of a man’s mouth and nostrils like flour in a mill. It was a horrible sensation, true enough, but it was not so revolting to John as the sight of Sir Jevan.