Dispensation of Death: (Knights Templar 23) Read online

The Queen looked up at Baldwin with glittering hatred in her eyes, then swept through the gate into the sanctuary of her cloister, Alicia trailing after her.

  Eleanor was already on her feet when the Queen stormed in. The two women stopped and stared at each other, Isabella fuming inwardly, and then she picked up her skirts and walked more calmly to her seat again.

  Her swift return was enough to make Eleanor easier. Clearly the uncouth knight and his friend had said something to upset her. That was good. She would hardly have given away anything too harmful to Sir Hugh’s interests if she disliked and distrusted the men questioning her.

  She nodded to Cecily to remain, and walked past the guard out to the Green Yard. ‘You said you would return to see me?’

  The knight met her look with a dark-eyed intensity that shocked her. Lady Eleanor was no child, but as Sir Baldwin fixed her with that look, she felt uncomfortably like a maiden once more. It was the sort of look that said he knew what she had been doing, what her thoughts were. Only this time, rather than fearing he might learn of an illicit kiss from a groom, she was more concerned about her other secrets. Unconsciously, she drew up the neck of her tunic to conceal the fingermarks of her husband.

  ‘Lady, I am grateful to you for coming to speak with us,’ the knight said, and for the next few minutes he questioned her about the attack. Her recollection was no different from Cecily’s.

  ‘And then the man fled?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you have no idea who he was? He was not familiar? Sometimes in a household as vast as this, a man’s gait or his way of holding his head can grow known to you.’

  ‘I am sure I did not recognise him in any way,’ the lady said with a shake of her head.

  ‘Are you aware of any who may have wished to harm Mabilla?’

  She hesitated – it wasn’t intentional, and it was only a moment, but she saw his face lower towards her like a dog wondering whether his master was sad. There was the same enquiring, considering frown. ‘No. No, of course not,’ she said emphatically.

  ‘Did the man make any kind of move as though he was considering attacking another person in your group?’

  ‘Good heaven, no. No, he fled as soon as Mabilla fell.’

  Sir Baldwin nodded pensively, and at last his attention was diverted from her. Instead he looked northwards, gazing along the line of buildings. ‘What of others? It was dark there. Could one of the other ladies have had an enemy? Perhaps a lover whose affection had turned sour?’

  ‘No. The ladies are all entirely honourable and without any form of … of sourness.’

  ‘Lady, you seem a little tired. Would you care to seat yourself?’

  His tone was warm and respectful, but she felt a cold certainty that he was watching her every move. He was a shrewd questioner, the more so because he recognised the little guilty signs. He knew she was lying.

  ‘Perhaps the murderer was seeking another, and met us by accident?’ she said faintly. ‘No one should have known we would be there at that time of night. It was a whim of the Queen’s.’

  ‘You would not usually have been there? That is interesting. Where else could the man have been going?’

  ‘To the chapel itself, I suppose. There is nowhere else he could have gone,’ she said, and after Sir Baldwin and the Bailiff Simon Puttock had bade her farewell, she watched them leave with a sense of huge relief.

  At the same time, she felt a sense of loss. If only she could trust these two. She felt she couldn’t trust her own husband just now. Not if he was sending men to kill her maids.

  ‘I didn’t understand much of what you were saying to the Queen or that lady,’ Simon admitted as they left Eleanor and made their way towards the chapel.

  ‘I rather assumed you wouldn’t,’ Baldwin said. ‘Did you hear what the Queen said when she saw Walter?’

  ‘Hm? No. What was that?’

  ‘It is clear that she detests him,’ Baldwin explained briefly. ‘It will require a little thought, this. For now though, let us go and seek out the body of this girl. I am more than a little surprised by what we’ve just been told.’

  ‘I was more surprised by the way the Queen flaunted her breasts.’

  ‘She has an interest in clothing, I suppose.’

  ‘I had an interest in the descriptions of the assassin’s clothing.’

  ‘You noticed that too? Cecily’s description agreed with Lady Eleanor’s, but neither tied up with the clothes on the man in the hall, did they? I wonder … they saw a figure and a face in the middle of the night, by candlelight, while the Queen was naturally under a great strain, thinking this must be an assassin aiming his knife at her.’

  Simon glanced at him. ‘Baldwin, they’re used to candlelight. Lady Eleanor and Cecily were intelligent enough to be assured about the clothing and describe it in some detail. If I had to trust any evidence in this whole mess, I’d trust them.’

  ‘And yet Cecily fainted away, and Eleanor was farthest from the man.’

  It took them little time to find a servant in the King’s livery who could take them to the body. Mabilla lay in the Queen’s chapel, a pretty little room with a high vaulted ceiling. At the rear was a gallery – presumably, Baldwin thought, for the Queen herself. She would pray up there while her household prayed down here below.

  ‘Nice,’ Simon commented, looking at the wall paintings. There were scenes from the Gospels on either side, and the great window over the altar was made of panes of coloured glass, lighting the interior with a warm, diffuse light that gleamed on the gold leaf and gilt all about. The space was clear of seats bar one, a small, low chair facing the altar. Before it was a small cushion for her to kneel on in prayer. ‘Rather better decorated than Lydford’s.’

  Baldwin smiled, but said nothing. Before the altar a bier had been placed, and upon that was the body of Mabilla.

  She had been laid out by the women of the Queen’s household, her wounds cleaned and her clothing changed. Baldwin pulled a face at the sight. ‘We cannot undress her in here to see the wounds, can we?’

  ‘Most certainly not!’ came an indignant voice.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The voice came from behind them. Baldwin turned to see a young chaplain, eyeing the two of them with black suspicion.

  To Baldwin, he looked much like the Celtic men of Cornwall, with his almost coal-black hair and small, brown eyes. There was a hardness about him, a whip-cord strength, for all that he was short and moderately plump. Baldwin nodded to him, and absently took up Mabilla’s right hand, studying it closely with a frown.

  ‘Put her hand down. Stop pawing at her!’ The Chaplain entered now and passed Baldwin and Simon, looking down at the woman’s body as he did so. ‘Rest in peace, daughter.’

  There was a kind of naturalness about him in the face of this death that was oddly endearing to Baldwin. The fellow clearly did not look upon Mabilla as a mere corpse ready to be thrown into the ground; he was treating her as a woman still, a person with feelings and a soul, and doing so naturally, without affectation.

  ‘Chaplain, I am sorry if it feels as though we are intruding here,’ Sir Baldwin said. ‘It was not our intention to be annoying to you, but we have been commanded to come here by the King himself, to learn what we may about this poor child’s death.’

  ‘The King himself, hey?’ It was plain that this man was not impressed. ‘Well – what more do you need to know? The poor chit was slaughtered only yards away from my chapel here, and then her killer – God be praised! – was found by another man, who killed him. It is as simple as that. There is little more to be learned.’

  ‘Could you tell me anything about this lady?’

  ‘Mabilla? Her surname was Aubyn, but I suppose you know that already. Well, as to other things, she was born and bred in a little manor just outside London, a place called Iseldone, I think.’

  ‘Her family?’

  The priest looked at him with some exasperation. ‘If you need that sort of information, as
k Lady Eleanor. Mabilla was one of her ladies.’

  ‘Aren’t they all?’ Simon murmured. He was standing over Mabilla and peering down at her sadly. She had a pretty enough face and slim body. He could imagine her smiling and laughing, flirting. She had that sort of cheeky look about her.

  ‘Most, yes. The poor Queen has no rights, it would seem,’ the Chaplain agreed.

  ‘So all the women are regulated by the Lady Eleanor?’

  ‘Not all. One or two perhaps may be bolder than others.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘A household is run almost entirely by men. Yet the Queen has women about her. It is not unnatural for them to form relationships with some of the men about the place.’

  ‘Are you thinking of any in particular?’

  ‘Ach! It is not concealed. Lady Alicia, the same who stood between the killer and the Queen, she has an affection for one of the guards.’

  ‘Which?’

  ‘A man called Richard Blaket. But he is a good, loyal man to the Queen, and I think Alicia has proved her own devotion from her behaviour in the corridor.’

  ‘You have been Queen Isabella’s Chaplain for long?’ Baldwin asked after a moment.

  The man looked at him, and then shook his head. ‘What of it? No. I have only come into her service since her previous chaplains were removed. It’s a disgrace, the way that they were treated, too. Both of them arrested, and when the Queen offered sureties so that they could be released into her custody, she wasn’t even allowed to do that!’

  ‘It is always hard in time of war, Brother um …?’ Baldwin let the question hang in the air.

  ‘I am Brother Peter. I was asked to come here by my Bishop, Drokensford of Bath and Wells. Naturally I was delighted to help him – and my Lady the Queen herself.’

  ‘Naturally,’ Baldwin agreed smoothly. ‘Now, should I assume that you yourself have any enemies who may take it into their heads to come here in the dead of night and slay you?’

  ‘I do hope this is merely your sense of humour,’ Peter said without amusement.

  ‘I take that as a negative. In that case, is there anyone you can think of who would dare to attempt such a foul attack on Her Majesty?’

  Peter rolled his eyes. ‘You want me to give you my neck?’

  ‘I am not allied to any Lords. I do not have to tell anyone where I have heard my information. All I ask is that information. If I am to protect her, I need to know who may be thinking to harm her.’

  Brother Peter left them and walked to the altar. He stood there with his head bowed, silently considering, and then turned slowly to face them again. ‘I will tell you all I may, but if you dare to vouchsafe any of this to enemies of the Queen, I pray that you will have a slow death and that you may spend a thousand thousand years suffering the torments of the devil! Do you agree?’

  Baldwin blinked. It was tempting to recoil, for as the priest spoke, he slowly raised his arms as though calling upon God to hear his oath and enforce his punishment. ‘I do.’

  ‘Oh. All right then,’ Peter said amiably, and beckoned them to join him. He took them through the rear of the chapel, and into a small vestry. There he indicated a stool and chest for them to take their rest, and poured them each a cup of very strong wine.

  ‘One of the perks of the business here is that the King’s undercroft is very well stocked with the finest Rhenish and Guyennois wines,’ he said, smacking his lips appreciatively – but not as appreciatively as the Bailiff, whose frowning countenance had lightened considerably at the sight of the wine.

  ‘Who could want her harmed?’ Baldwin reminded Brother Peter.

  ‘Well, the two most obvious ones are the King and Despenser. But you’ll know that, won’t you? That supposes that the killer was trying to get to the Queen but was scared off by a single chit of a woman: Alicia. Brave of her, of course, but I’d have thought a hired assassin would not baulk at her. If he was looking to a suitable reward, he’d have got on with the job, even though all five women stood before the Queen.’

  Simon had considered this. ‘Could the man not have mistakenly thought that he had killed the Queen? It is a dark passageway, and in the excitement, perhaps he thought he had struck her down. After all, I should have expected the Queen would walk at the front of any party. Maybe he did too.’

  Baldwin glanced at Brother Peter, who smiled back as though taunting him to display his intellect. ‘I think there are two problems with that, Simon,’ Baldwin explained. ‘The assassin had broken into the Palace, knew where the Queen’s chamber was, and even knew that she would pass by that passage at some time that night. So he was very well informed before launching himself on this adventure. If he knew so much, I find it hard to imagine that he would not have learned that she normally walked in the midst of her ladies. Then again, the killer struck Mabilla although she was carrying a candle, so we are told, and could clearly be seen. When you accused me, Peter, of “pawing” at her, I was looking at her hand to see whether there was any evidence of that. There was. On her hand there is a little spattering of wax, such as you receive when you walk along with a guttering candle. So that means that the killer would have seen her. It is inconceivable, I should think, that the man would not know the Queen by sight.’

  Brother Peter nodded slowly, a smile on his face now. ‘I applaud your logic. It is much the same as my own conclusion. Which was why I was intrigued when I heard that the poor child had been killed.’

  ‘It sounds more and more likely that Mabilla herself was the real target,’ Simon mused. ‘A curious idea, though. Everyone is convinced that someone is trying to kill the Queen – so why should someone attack the lady-in-waiting?’

  ‘Ah, now that is something for you to learn,’ Peter said easily, leaning back against the wall. ‘I am only a mere functionary, friend, performing a service for the Queen.’

  Baldwin and Simon looked at him. It was Simon who broke the doubtful silence. ‘You are very bold for a humble servant, friend.’

  ‘You think so? Perhaps I ought to learn more humility. I thank you for the suggestion.’

  ‘Do you know whether Mabilla had any enemies, then?’ Simon tried again.

  ‘Have you had a look about this court yet? It is a hotbed of intrigues and intriguers, full of parasites, rogues, ruffians and the sort of man you would not trust with your purse, let alone your silver. Under the King, these all fight for position, and try to stab each other in the back – and only sometimes do they try it metaphorically!’

  ‘That has no bearing on the death of a lady-in-waiting,’ Simon pointed out.

  ‘When there is unrestrained sexual abandon, when man and wife are likely to couple with others, and ignore the order which God in His wisdom imposed upon us for the good and benefit of all mankind, then yes, there is the potential for murder, even of a young woman like Mabilla.’

  ‘Was she free with her favours, then?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Mabilla? I don’t think so. But that in itself could be dangerous for a woman in a place like this. If she was so courageous as to refuse a man who desired her, who can say what she might suffer?’

  ‘Do you know who could have desired her, then?’ Baldwin asked bluntly.

  ‘I believe the Earl of Kent was rather infatuated with her. I do not know, you understand, but I saw the way he looked at her on occasion, and judging by the way she did not look back, I should say there is a possibility that he could have wanted more than she was prepared to give.’

  ‘There have been cases of women who have been captured by those who want them,’ Baldwin began.

  ‘But to capture a maid in the King’s palace and spirit her away – that would be courageous. The King does not forgive very easily.’

  ‘You paint a picture of a court that is almost out of control,’ Baldwin said.

  Peter waved his mazer in an encompassing gesture. ‘Spend a little time here and see what you think afterwards. For me, it is a view of hell. And that is as a relatively safe outsider. For yo
u? You will both be in danger the whole time.’

  Simon and Baldwin left him in his vestry cordially waving to them, and made their way out of the chapel. Baldwin paused a moment at the woman’s body, and then shook his head with a frown and walked out.

  ‘You want to have her unclothed and study her wounds?’ Simon asked.

  ‘I considered it, but unless we propose to suggest that the Queen herself and all her ladies-in-waiting have lied about the incident and the murder, which I think could be foolhardy, I think we should take their evidence at face value.’

  ‘I agree,’ Simon chuckled with a hint of nervousness. ‘I would like to live to see my wife again.’

  ‘So would I. And that means we should do all in our power to learn the truth about these deaths.’

  ‘Do you believe that Mabilla was the target, then?’

  ‘I believe it is more probable than this story of an assassin who was trying to kill the Queen and then got cold feet after striking another lady by mischance. That is, to me, highly unlikely. So, let us note that point and now go and see what we may learn about the man who was found dead.’

  They made their way to the Great Hall, but when they reached it the body had been removed. Baldwin had to stop two servants before he learned that the King’s Coroner was returned; Simon and he were given directions back out to a stone building in the Old Palace Yard.

  Inside, they found a pair of servants with their sleeves rolled up, undressing the corpse. Behind, craning his neck to see by the light of a small candle that burned with a smell of beef fat, was a short, dumpy little man with a beardless chin and gleaming blue eyes set in an almost perfectly circular face. ‘What d’you want?’ he grunted rudely.

  ‘I am Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, and this is my friend Bailiff Puttock of Tavistock. We have been commanded by the King to investigate these two deaths so far as we may, and to report back to him.’

  ‘You are, eh? Excellent!’ In an instant all his snappishness was gone, and the man walked round, holding out his hand. Simon, glancing at it, saw that it was stained with blood, and winced as the man gripped his hand before repeating the exercise with Baldwin.