The Bishop Must Die: (Knights Templar 28) Read online

  THE BISHOP MUST DIE

  Michael Jecks

  Copyright © 2009 Michael Jecks

  The right of Michael Jecks to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by

  Headline Publishing Group in 2014

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 1989 3

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Also by Michael Jecks

  Praise

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Maps

  Glossary

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Michael Jecks gave up a career in the computer industry to concentrate on his writing. He is the founder of Medieval Murderers, has been Chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association, and helped create the Historical Writers’ Association. Keen to help new writers, for some years he organised the Debut Dagger competition, and is now organising the Aspara Writing festival for new writers at Evesham. He has judged many prizes, including the CWA Ian Fleming Steel Dagger. Michael is an international speaker on writing and for business. He lives with his wife, children and dogs in northern Dartmoor.

  Michael can be contacted through his website: www.michaeljecks.co.uk.

  He can be followed on twitter (@MichaelJecks) or on Facebook.com/Michael.Jecks.author.

  His photos of Devon and locations for his books can be found at: Flickr.com/photos/Michael_Jecks.

  Also by Michael Jecks

  The Last Templar

  The Merchant’s Partner

  A Moorland Hanging

  The Crediton Killings

  The Abbot’s Gibbet

  The Leper’s Return

  Squire Throwleigh’s Heir

  Belladonna at Belstone

  The Traitor of St Giles

  The Boy-Bishop’s Glovemaker

  The Tournament of Blood

  The Sticklepath Strangler

  The Devil’s Acolyte

  The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

  The Templar’s Penance

  The Outlaws of Ennor

  The Tolls of Death

  The Chapel of Bones

  The Butcher of St Peter’s

  A Friar’s Bloodfeud

  The Death Ship of Dartmouth

  Malice of Unnatural Death

  Dispensation of Death

  The Templar, the Queen and Her Lover

  The Prophecy of Death

  The King of Thieves

  No Law in the Land

  The Bishop Must Die

  The Oath

  King’s Gold

  City of Fiends

  Templar’s Acre

  Praise

  ‘Michael Jecks is the master of the medieval whodunnit’ Robert Low

  ‘Captivating … If you care for a well-researched visit to medieval England, don’t pass this series’ Historical Novels Review

  ‘Michael Jecks has a way of dipping into the past and giving it that immediacy of a present-day newspaper article … He writes … with such convincing charm that you expect to walk round a corner in Tavistock and meet some of the characters’ Oxford Times

  ‘Great characterisation, a detailed sense of place, and a finely honed plot make this a superb medieval historical’ Library Journal

  ‘Stirring intrigue and a compelling cast of characters will continue to draw accolades’ Publishers Weekly

  ‘A tortuous and exciting plot … The construction of the story and the sense of period are excellent’ Shots

  ‘This fascinating portrayal of medieval life and the corruption of the Church will not disappoint. With convincing characters whose treacherous acts perfectly combine with a devilishly masterful plot, Jecks transports readers back to this wicked world with ease’ Good Book Guide

  About the Book

  The twenty-eighth novel in Michael Jecks’s medieval Knights Templar series.

  1326: King Edward II’s estranged wife Queen Isabella shames him by refusing to return from France to England. When the king hears she has betrothed their son to the daughter of the French Count of Hainault, all England fears invasion.

  The King’s knights, including Sir Baldwin de Funshill, are commanded to London to protect the realm. Meanwhile Bishop Stapledon, the Treasurer of England, is under severe threat – but from whom? He has made many enemies in a long political life and Sir Baldwin and his friend, Bailiff Simon Puttock, must do all they can to find the would-be assassin before they strike …

  In memory of George MacDonald Fraser, whose writing influenced me enormously, whose research spurred me to accuracy, and whose war memoirs are still the very best record of the life of a WWII British soldier.

  Glossary

  annuellar a chantry-priest, one who held specific masses dedicated to those who had paid for their services.

  array raising a force to fight for the king was increasingly problematic, so Commissioners of Array were sent out to assess all the men in every hundred or township between the ages of sixteen and sixty. The healthy were taken to form the troopers of his host.

  burned wine the medieval term for brandy.

  centaine the grouping of five vintaines to form a hundred men in the king’s host.

  corrody a form of medieval pension, in which a wealthy patron would buy a post in a religious inst
itution for a retired servant. The retired man would be given food and drink as well as accommodation and a little spending money.

  eyre this was the term for the circuit of a king’s judge as he travelled from one county to the next. Often he was called a ‘Justice in Eyre’. In 1321 there was held the ‘Eyre of London’, an investigation into the powers and rights of the city of London with the aim of curbing them and probably taxing them to the benefit of the Crown. As Bishop Walter was the Lord High Treasurer at the time, many Londoners blamed him for the eyre, although I have seen no evidence to support this (only Walsingham, writing ninety years after the event, has suggested it).

  familia this was the term for a clerical household.

  fosser the gravedigger or sexton.

  hobelar a lightly armed man-at-arms on horseback (a ‘hobby’ thus the term ‘hobbler’). Unlike a knight or squire, they were lightly armoured, and were used more as a highly mobile infantry, leaving their horses to fight on foot. During the Hundred Years War, Edward III used archers on horseback extensively, giving him the strategic mobility his campaigns needed.

  host the word ‘army’ did not exist in the 1300s. That is a much more recent concept. Instead, there was the feudal host, which comprised all those who owed service to their lord.

  hundred the most basic unit of administration in the realm. Its initial purpose is obscure: it may have been intended to provide a hundred warriors to the king’s host, or to cover one hundred hides of land, but the most important aspect by 1326 was that each hundred had its own court.

  millaine a group of ten centaines would make a millaine in the military unit.

  novel disseisin a class of action very popular in medieval times, by which a plaintiff could bid a sheriff to gather a jury of twelve in order to hear that a plot or parcel of land had been stolen.

  paindemaigne at a time when all peasants were forced to consume vast quantities of bread to supplement their diet, only those of enormous wealth could afford the best, white bread, the paindemaigne.

  seisin seisin is one of the cardinal concepts of English and therefore American law. It is the basic law of ownership, and although some have assumed its roots come from a violent act of ‘seizing’ someone else’s property (and possession being nine-tenths of the law, that means they own it), in fact, legal historians generally reckon it implied peaceful ownership.

  vintaine twenty men-at-arms gathered into a unit for the king’s host.

  Cast of Characters

  Simon Puttock once a bailiff on Dartmoor, now he is a farmer on his own little plot near Crediton.

  Margaret (Meg) Simon Puttock’s wife.

  Hugh servant to the Puttocks.

  Rob youngster who is working for the Puttocks.

  Edith Simon and Margaret’s daughter.

  Peter Edith’s husband.

  Henry Edith’s baby.

  Perkin Simon and Margaret’s son.

  Baldwin de Furnshill Simon’s closest friend, once a Templar, now a renowned investigator of suspicious death as Keeper of the King’s Peace.

  Jeanne Baldwin’s wife.

  Baldwin Baldwin’s son.

  Richalda Baldwin’s daughter.

  Edgar once Baldwin’s sergeant, now his devoted servant.

  Jack a boy commissioned to join the king’s host.

  John Biset an enemy of Bishop Walter II, who took a wardship from him.

  Isabella Crok widow of Peter Crok and Henry Fitzwilliam.

  Roger Crok son of Isabella.

  Peter Crok Isabella’s first husband.

  Henry Fitzwilliam Isabella’s second husband.

  Ranulf Fitzwilliam Henry’s son by his first wife.

  Richard de Folville a rector from Teigh.

  Sir Ralph la Zouche neighbour of the Folville family.

  Sir Ivo la Zouche brother of Sir Ralph.

  Roger Belers the king’s treasurer, murdered in 1326.

  Ranulf Pestel a squire in the service of Belers.

  Rector Paul de Cockington an unscrupulous parson.

  James de Cockington the sheriff of Devon.

  Dean Alfred dean of the cathedral.

  Bishop Walter II Bishop Walter Stapledon of Exeter.

  Alured de Gydie a merchant of Exeter.

  Agatha de Gydie Alured’s wife, who was kidnapped and raped by Paul de Cockington.

  Peter Ovedale a commissioner of array.

  John de Padington steward to Bishop Walter.

  Squire William Walle nephew to the bishop.

  Chapter One

  Third Saturday following the Feast of St Michael, sixteenth year of the reign of King Edward II*

  Gloucester Gaol

  The stench was unbelievable.

  Hundreds had gone through this place in recent months. Since the battle at Boroughbridge, the ‘contrariants’, who chose to dispute the king’s excessive powers, had been hunted down and incarcerated – many of them here in Gloucester, and all appeared to have left their mark. The gaol reeked of sweat, piss and blood – and the little sewer outside was incapable of taking away the faeces of so many.

  Men died here every day. The battle had been lost, and since then the fortunate ones had been taken out in their threes and fours, and executed on the green, where the city’s folks could watch. Sometimes there was a festival atmosphere, and loud cheering and laughter heralded the latest jerking body at the end of a rope, but that was at the beginning. Now even Gloucester’s people were grown weary of the sight of so many men being killed. There had been a feeling after the battle that the king’s rage was natural. Not now. The dead were displayed in cages up and down the country; some, quartered, had their leathery limbs decorating the principal cities, while their blackened, skull-like heads stared out from the tops of spikes in London.

  But Ranulf’s father had died here today without fanfare. An old man, he had endured the grim misery of the gaol for nearly forty weeks, from his arrest until today. The king had not seen fit to put a stop to his suffering sooner. He was no threat, after all, so there was no urgency in hastening his end.

  Sir Henry Fitzwilliam. Proud knight, good father to a motherless son, husband to a second wife, kind and generous to all servants and travellers, he did not deserve to die in this foul prison, without seeing the sun for months.

  ‘Here he is. You want him or not?’ the gaoler demanded.

  Weeping, the young man lifted the filthy, light old body onto his shoulder, and walked out. In the sunshine he had a cart waiting, and he gently settled his father onto the bed, covering his foul clothing with a linen wrap. It would do until he could have his father’s body washed and cleaned.

  One hand protruded from the cloth, and as Ranulf tried to push it under, he saw the little leather purse.

  The purse that held the symbol of Sir Henry’s authority, status and power. Empty now, for the king had stolen the stamped disc months before, after his order to confiscate Sir Henry’s lands last December, but still his father had retained the purse.

  His father’s determination to hold on to the last token of his life was the thing that made the young man break down now.

  It was the last time Ranulf would weep for his father, he swore.

  First Tuesday after the Feast of the Birth of St John the Baptist, sixteenth year of the reign of King Edward II*

  New Palace Yard, Westminster Palace

  It was sweltering as the young knight hurried across the yard, making his way to the king’s Great Hall and the offices of the Exchequer. Raucous laughter ebbed about him from the massed tents and stalls that stood so tightly packed that even the alleys between were almost impassable.

  He detested this place. It was the site of corruption and theft. Only dissembling politicians, conniving clerics and masters of deceit came here. Barons, lords, bishops and lawyers – all the dregs of the realm – would congregate, trying to steal for themselves whatever they could get their hands on. Well, not this time, not from John Biset. He was of age now, and he could prove it; he wou
ld prove it.

  At the door to the Exchequer, he paused, suddenly irresolute, and glanced down at the parchment rolled tightly in his hand. It looked so mundane, just a simple legal document, but with the huge seal attached, it was so much more than that. It became, with that seal, a command. An order to obey.

  The reflection was enough to make him stand taller. He would have nothing to fear after this. His persecutors would find it hard to refuse him anything now.

  Above him towered the mass of the Great Hall, a fabulous construction, built originally by King William II more than two hundred years before, and still unequalled, he thought. Nearer him, at the corner, was the large, two-storeyed block that housed the Exchequer itself, and, steeling himself, he walked inside.

  Immediately he was struck by the chill. The stone kept the sun at bay, and several of the clerks in here were forced to huddle within their robes when they were at work for long periods. John Biset eyed the men in the room, casting about for the bishop, but without luck. It was only when he asked a small clerk with a face so badly pocked he looked as though he had been scarred in a fire, that he was directed through the door at the rear which gave out into the Baron’s Chamber, a smaller meeting room.

  ‘Bishop Walter. I am glad to find you,’ John said.

  Bishop Walter II of Exeter was a tall man, somewhat stooped. He peered about him with the short-sightedness so common to those who strained their eyes late into the night with only a flickering candle to help them. ‘Yes?’

  John stepped forward and took the Bishop’s hand, giving the ring a cursory kiss before stepping away again. ‘I have it, my lord. I have confirmation.’

  ‘Do I know you, my son?’

  ‘I am John Biset. You may not remember me, but perhaps you recall my tenant – Sir Philip Maubank. His name will be familiar, I am sure. He’s the man who died this last Whitsuntide,* leaving his grandson and heir as my ward, and placing the custody of his lands in my hands. Until you tried to take them!’

  ‘Me?’ the bishop said mildly. ‘I am sure you are wrong.’

  ‘Oh no, my lord bishop. You aided your friend Sir Hugh le Despenser when he tried to steal my manor from me.’