‘And I, you. You look magnificent, lady,’ he said with sincerity.
She wore a tight-fitting tunic, much in the latest fashion, with a high bodice and soft silken shawl about her shoulders, for the day was not the warmest. Hearing his tone, she arched her eyebrows slightly and smiled. ‘Your compliments are always welcome, but to what do I owe this visit? You were here only yesterday.’
‘Yesterday I did not have my news. I fear I am to leave the city soon,’ he said brokenly. ‘The king has commanded me to depart with all haste. I should have gone some days ago, but you have brought me so much joy, I could not bear to leave. However, now I have a definite order, and I may not refuse him.’
‘Then of course you must go,’ she said. ‘Where will you travel? To his side?’
‘No. The king is at the coast, helping to organise defences, I think. I am ordered to ride to London, where I am to serve in the Tower. The walls are strong, but they need men to guard them. I have to collect the knights who owe me their service, and some men-at-arms and archers, and hurry there.’
‘You have been to London?’
‘A few times, but it is not the sort of city I would wish to return to. Especially now I have met you.’
‘It is a good city. I have been there on legal matters often enough. But you are right to say that it is not the place to stay for long. I wouldn’t wish to either. I am happier with the country.’
‘I regret the moments I am away from you. I would prefer to remain here at your side.’
She smiled at that. ‘You are gallant and chivalrous, Sir Peregrine. But please, there is no need for so much effort. We are very comfortable in each other’s company, are we not?’
‘I am happy with you, my lady.’
‘Well, then. Perhaps this is not so unfortunate after all. How would it be if I were to join you? I would prefer to ride with you to London than stay here alone. This city of Exeter is lovely, but without a friend, it is a poor place.’
‘But of course, my lady,’ he beamed. ‘I would be delighted to protect you on your journey.’
‘Then that is settled. I shall leave for London too. What could be more perfect?’
Much later, as Sir Peregrine considered their discussion and the decision that she would ride with him and his men, he would recall that odd expression in her eyes as she spoke, and he would realise why she had been so keen to escape the city with him; however, at the time, all he knew was the overwhelming glee that she felt an affection for him to equal his for her.
She knew that her husband would be some while, so Lady Jeanne decided to spend as much time as possible looking round the market, to see if there was anything else she should buy, some little item that would be indispensable to a man about to set off on a long journey.
It was so tempting to demand to go with him. Simon Puttock, their friend, had gone to Portchester only a few weeks ago, and he had taken his wife with him. It was not unknown for a man to
take his wife with him, even for warriors to take wives and children with them on campaign, but she knew that Baldwin was less keen than many to have women on such journeys. He was always worried that Jeanne might fall prey to thieves or killers, and while the realm was so unstable, she could not fault his reasoning. The land was falling into madness, with gangs of clubmen walking the streets as boldly as the king’s officers, with knights and even barons turning to outlawry to supplement their income, and hundreds of the men dispossessed of their property after the Battle at Boroughbridge trying their hands at theft just to stay alive. No, it was not a good time for a woman to travel. And at least her home was … defensible.
She was sad to think that they would be separated again. It had been that way all through the previous year, when Baldwin had been sent to France at different times on the king’s business. She had been forced to remain at home, waiting and hoping that he would return safely. And she had been very lonely.
However, she was a woman born to a certain position in life, and she knew that tribulations of this kind were natural for the wife of a knight. He must go and serve his lord or king, and she must protect the home and their children.
She was walking with Edgar along an alley, when she saw a man’s face which she recognised. It made her frown at first, because she had not seen this face in this environment. Or perhaps it was less the environment, more that the clothing or something was wrong … And then she saw a young woman come along, and instantly knew it to be Edith, Simon’s daughter. ‘Edgar – look!’ she said excitedly, and darted through the crowds, not heeding her servant’s hisses to stop.
‘Edith!’ she called, and then she had a sudden lurch in her belly as she recognised the other face. Of course – how could she have been so stupid! It was Edith’s husband, Peter. Jeanne had only met him once or twice, and that briefly. Even at the wedding, she had not seen him above a minute or two. It was not possible to see much at the church itself, and afterwards Jeanne had been involved in keeping her husband’s new cowman, Wat, away from
the ale and wine. The fellow had drunk himself into a stupor at Baldwin and Jeanne’s own wedding, and she didn’t want him to act the brute at Edith’s too.
The young man looked terrible. She could see how fear had etched deep lines across his forehead. His eyes were anxious too, flickering towards her and then away, as though expecting to be struck down and robbed at any moment.
‘Master Peter,’ she said with a gushing enthusiasm she hardly felt. ‘It is so good to see you again. Do you remember me? Madam Jeanne de Furnshill, wife to Sir Baldwin, who was always such a good friend of your father-in-law. I haven’t seen you since your wedding, although I know my husband did visit you, didn’t he? Late last year, I think? And how are you both? My, Edith, you are looking well!’
‘I apologise, madam, but we have much to do,’ Peter said with a sad attempt at a smile. ‘Come, Edith.’
‘Edith, I hope you are well?’ Jeanne said.
‘I thank you, yes. I am fine, Madam Jeanne. I hope you will give my kind thoughts to your husband, and …’ Her voice petered out before she could mention her father and mother, and instead she looked down at the ground, and Jeanne saw that there were tears in her eyes.
And it was only then that Jeanne remembered that Edith had been pregnant last October. ‘Your baby?’
‘He is fine, a strapping fellow, born two months ago,’ Peter said, catching hold of his wife’s arm. ‘And now, madam, we must be gone. A good day to you, my lady.’
Jeanne nodded briefly, hardly hearing his words. Her attention was fixed upon Edith, the pale, frail-looking young woman, who turned and walked away on hearing her husband’s sharp call. In her mind’s eye she could see a young Edith, long legged and gawky, and the elegant, beautiful woman she had become, and somehow neither fitted with this exhausted-looking person.
Now that she was married, and had borne her own child, she struck Jeanne as being more of a child than before.
‘There is no doubt whatsoever,’ Baldwin said.
Together with William Walle he had made his way here into the bishop’s little chamber as soon as they had finished interviewing the corrodian.
‘This man was a servant here?’ Bishop Walter said.
‘I can easily understand how distressing this must be for you,’ Baldwin said, and it was true. To have caught the person who had been leaving those foul messages would have been extraordinarily gratifying for Bishop Walter, removing fear and anxiety and restoring him to his old confident self.
‘So it wasn’t him? He appeared so obvious,’ the bishop said sadly.
When Baldwin had first stepped into the bishop’s private room here, he had found the man transformed. He stood straighter, walked purposefully, and generally looked as though he had returned to his usual equilibrium. His world was restored.
Now, in the space of a few moments, Baldwin had destroyed it all. ‘How could we have made such a simple error?’ the bishop wanted to know.
‘He was slightly deranged, and he reacted oddly when asked about what he saw that day.’
‘Slightly deranged? He was completely insane! To draw a knife on my nephew William …’ The bishop tutted.
‘This young servant, Paul of Taunton, who was the real culprit – Geoffrey caught him, and Paul then spun him a line, which the old fellow believed.’
When Baldwin had asked William how they had come to conclude that Geoffrey was the guilty party, he heard of the servant sweeping up the charnel chapel, and immediately set off to see if he was still about. But no one had seen Paul for days. Even now, men had been sent to the city and to the sheriff to ask that he be captured if found.
‘It seems clear enough that this fellow was the one responsible,’ Baldwin said. ‘I am sure that you will be safe now, Bishop. You were at most danger while he remained in here, in
the Close, with you. Worse, he could wander in here to your palace with impunity, since he was known as a servant and lay-brother.’
‘But why though? I don’t know this Paul of Taunton,’ the bishop muttered. He was distracted, and John poured him a little wine to soothe his spirits.
‘The only thing I can suggest is, that you have a man go to Taunton to see what he may learn. Someone may remember him,’ Baldwin said. ‘How did he arrive here?’
The steward shrugged his shoulders. ‘There are many hundreds of men in the cathedral. Especially now with the rebuilding continuing. It is impossible to keep track of all of them.’
‘This man was not with the builders, John, he was in the cathedral, working as a servant in the buildings,’ Baldwin reminded him.
‘Yes, but there are so many. Do not forget, we have at least three and seventy clergy, and all have their own servants. The canons have entire households, and then there are the other men who work in the bakery, the kitchens, the cemetery and chapel. All told, we must have another hundred and fifty men who work in the cathedral and all about. This man Paul may have been hired by one of my servants, or he may have come from a canon’s household.’
‘You mean to tell me you don’t know who said he could work here?’ Baldwin demanded with surprise.
‘If he was here, working, he would have been accepted. Who would question whether he was permitted to be here, if he was performing useful work?’ John asked reasonably. ‘He was just another man to help with the cleaning.’
‘You do realise that if you allow just anyone to enter and remain here, working all day, then any man could walk in from the Broadgate and pretend to be a servant? What then of your lord’s security?’
‘Sir Baldwin, you are a man of experience and sense. Please, advise us,’ the bishop murmured. ‘What should we do to ensure that these threats may not be carried out?’
Baldwin frowned down at his boots. It was infuriating to be here, worrying about all this when there was so much else to take up his time. ‘My lord bishop, you know full well that I would do all in my power to protect you myself. You have been a good friend to me and to Simon in the last years. I would propose that you bring in more men to guard your person here, but that will hardly do. There are too many men about Exeter for you ever to be fully safe. I think that the best and most safe route may be for you to go away, to some other part of the diocese. You could go on visitation, perhaps.’
‘At this time of national peril, that hardly seems a suitable course of action,’ the bishop smiled. He looked exhausted, and rubbed at the gap between his eyebrows with a thumb. ‘I should be better served by joining with the king.’
‘Where is he?’ Baldwin demanded. The worst place, he knew, for the bishop to go would be London, where so many citizens already loathed him and would seek his murder since the Eyre which was forever associated with him.
‘He is still about Dover, I think. There were some papal legates who came to see him last month,’ the bishop said.
Baldwin gave a nod of relief. The bishop could go there and remain within the circle of the King’s household, away from strangers, and it would be more difficult for any man to travel after him to pursue a vendetta.
‘That is good,’ he said after considering. ‘Do you then go to the king and see whether there is aught you may do for him. He will be grateful for a friendly face at this troubling time. Meanwhile, have men search for this Paul of Taunton, if that is his real name, and have him apprehended. Are you sure you know nothing of him? You did not know a man from there who could have been his father?’
‘No. No one.’
‘In that case, perhaps it is an assumed name. Have you had any luck seeking the ones I found in your books?’
‘Only one: the man Biset.’
‘William told me. He is in France.’
‘Yes. The fellow Hamo in London is dead, I’ve heard. So it is possible that Roger Crok was the man here.’
‘You did not know him?’
‘I may have seen his face, but when you have stood in front of a congregation like me, you soon tend to lose all memory for faces. There are some I can recall, but not many. Only close acquaintances.’
‘It probably does not matter,’ Baldwin considered. ‘The fellow who was here was unlikely to be him. Those such as Biset and Crok come from positions of wealth, and they would be unlikely to demean themselves by taking up a servant’s post. If they were to attempt to kill you, surely they would do so in the open, attacking you with a sword.’
‘Perhaps,’ the bishop said, ‘but have you not heard of some of the surprising deaths in the Church recently? Poison has become a popular means of removing obstacles.’ He sighed and drained his wine. ‘So you would advise me to leave here and join the king. I suppose you are right, but it does give me a sense of shame to run thus.’
‘It would give you more pain to feel a dagger in your breast,’ Baldwin said.
‘I had heard you were to go to Portchester yourself?’
‘Yes. The king has asked me to go there as Commissioner of Array for him.’
‘Good. Then perhaps we could travel together? That would at least comfort me a little.’