King's Gold

‘I was taking provisions to Kenilworth with a purveyor, but there was a fight when we arrived, and he ran off. I had to hurry to ride away myself, too, and all the load remained. It must have been his, I suppose,’ Dolwyn said, still confused, thinking, What was that carter doing with a box of money?

Palm Sunday

Llantony Priory

Their journey had been a lengthy one, but they were making good time, Edgar thought as he jogged along behind Sir Baldwin.

They were approaching the abbey of Llantony-next-Gloucester, which was where they intended staying for the night after two days of steady riding. Edgar was wary whenever he was riding about country he did not know – and today he had a firm conviction that they were entering a place of danger. It was not the location that was threatening: it was the fact that all those in the party guarding Sir Edward felt so secure. The guards were confident that no one would try to attack them while inside an abbey, and that meant they were unconscious of the potential dangers. Because of this, Edgar experienced a nervous tension that he had not known since the days when he and Sir Baldwin had been in flight in France after the arrest of their companions in the Templar Order.

Llantony-next-Gloucester was a small abbey that nestled to the south of the great city of Gloucester, a daughter-house of the priory in Wales, and one in which Edgar felt sure they must be moderately safe, but it was this last stage before reaching it that made him anxious. The houses began to crowd in upon them, and instead of the broad swathe of open verge, where he felt secure from all but a crossbow bolt, now they were riding in among buildings that overlooked the road. Assassins in those jettied rooms would find it easy to brain any number of the men in Sir Edward’s guard.

Not that Edgar himself was fretting. His tension came from an appreciation of dangers, not a terror of them – unlike Sir Edward himself. All had seen how the man who had once been their King was bowed down with troubles.

Edgar had seen a man like that before, and for the last day or two he had tried to bring the man’s face or name to mind, but there was nothing to spark a connection, until he saw Edward glance around at a sudden crash. The noise was caused by a horse slipping on a wet cobblestone, but in Edward’s eyes Edgar saw a sudden terror mingled with a kind of hope, as though this could at last be the end. That was what Edgar saw in his eyes: a longing for it to be over.

Baldwin was nearby. ‘What is it, Edgar? Something wrong?’

‘No, I was just reminded of the servant who stole the bread at Acre.’

Baldwin winced at the memory.

It had been a dreadful siege. Although the Christians held on, all knew that they would not be able to keep the Mameluke forces at bay for ever.

And then the lad – what was his name? Balian or something similar, a lad of some seventeen years like Edgar and Baldwin themselves – had given in. He tried to steal a crust of mouldy bread, and when he was seen, he drew his knife in a frenzy of hunger, and slew the owner.

Yes. Sir Edward wore the same look as Balian had as he was dragged away to execution: a look of mingled terror and relief. Terror to be slain, but relief to know that at last the long wait was over.

But Sir Edward’s torment was not over.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Near Tidintune

Senchet Garcie had spent many years of his life travelling. Originally from Gascony, from the English territories that had been recently stolen by deceit from the English crown, he had spent most of his life on the road, so when he found a comfortable billet, he tried to remain there for as long as possible, making the most of regular meals and drinks. A warrior’s life suited him, there was no doubting that, but times of peace were also welcome. And the break here had done him and Harry good.

‘Well?’ Harry said, finding Senchet sitting on a log in the yard.

‘We should be getting on our way.’

‘Aye,’ Harry said. He sniffed, hawked and spat. ‘And?’

Senchet smiled at him with the easiness of a man fully rested. ‘And when we’re on our way, we can ask him more about this money. Where it came from, and where it was going to.’

Harry gave a slow nod. ‘He’s ready to travel?’

‘He’ll live. For a while longer.’

‘Good.’

Senchet and Harry exchanged a look, and then both rose and went to the horse and began to prepare for the journey.

Llantony-next-Gloucester

Riding into the abbey grounds, John looked about him with nervousness tinged with relief. Here he felt safe, for he was protected by the Abbot.

It was the purest good fortune that he had not been spotted yet. He had pulled his hood low over his head and intentionally kept far from Sir Jevan, but his best protection was that no one would believe that one of the attackers of the castle could be so foolish as to join the men guarding Sir Edward.