‘I was given the chest for safekeeping,’ he began. ‘It was while the King’s reign was ending, and I had no understanding of how much money there was in there. All I knew was that a servant of Sir Hugh le Despenser had asked me to look after a chest. I did so. And when I heard of his death, I recalled the chest, and went to look at it. I opened it and found it full of purses of coin, containing hundreds of florins. It was obvious I couldn’t keep them, and just as obvious that Sir Hugh had no more need of them. So I bethought myself that it would be best to have the money passed over to he who had the most right to it – and that, it seemed to me, was the King.’
‘Sir Edward of Caernarfon, you mean?’ Baldwin said.
‘Yes. So when I heard that Ham, this good woman’s husband, was to take his cart all the way to Kenilworth, it seemed a good idea to join him. He was with a purveyor, and I thought I should be safe in their company.’
‘And?’
‘And then Ham, the fool, stopped at the wayside, and two men threw weapons onto the cart, and we were sworn to silence. I heard one say that my cloth would protect them as they tried to enter the castle.’
His face registered his shock and dismay at having been duped. He told them all about the attack, the sudden explosion of violence, the dead men and those who fled the place in terror.
‘In all truth I do not know how I survived.’
‘But you made your way home?’
‘Yes. In the end. I finally reached my home and thought that my trials were ended,’ Luke sighed. ‘But then, as soon as I saw Agatha, I knew that I was being selfish. I could not leave her knowing nothing of her husband’s end. I had to make her aware of what had happened. And then we found poor Ham’s body in the woods outside the vill. It was a terrible discovery.’
Luke held his hands out in a gesture of pleading. ‘We did all we could for him – but nobody saw him die. He was killed with an axe. A horrible sight.’
‘What sort of an axe?’ Baldwin asked. ‘A war axe, such as was in the cart?’
‘No,’ Luke said. ‘Just a small hatchet, such as any man might have for breaking wood for the fire.’
‘Did your husband have such an axe in his cart?’ Baldwin asked.
‘He always had one,’ Agatha responded. She was shaking with emotion, Luke saw. He went to her and patted her back. ‘He kept it beneath the plank in front, where he might catch hold in need. He didn’t have a sword, it was all he possessed to defend himself if attacked.’
‘Check to see whether there is such an axe in the cart,’ Baldwin said to Edgar.
Edgar wandered over to the cart. He searched all around the plank and beneath it before going to the weapons and goods in the bed. He riffled through them before returning with a shake of his head. ‘Nothing there.’
Baldwin eyed Dolwyn. ‘I don’t know why you chose to do it, but I believe the evidence suggests you were guilty of his murder. The weapon used to kill him was probably on the cart, and you were found with the cart.’
‘I had nothing to do with it,’ Dolwyn said strongly. ‘And there are men here who can vouch for me. Matteo Bardi will speak for me – and his friend Alured, I think. They both know me well enough.’
Baldwin heard running feet and turned to see a young messenger boy. ‘Sir Edward would see you, Sir Baldwin.’
‘Very well.’ Baldwin looked over at Dolwyn. ‘I hope you will be fortunate in calling these friends to speak for your character. We shall discuss this matter later. Edgar, return these fellows to the gaol.’
The room was a mean little cell for a man who had been King, Baldwin felt.
There were windows to the right and in front of him, and a table stood at the far wall, but there were no glorious hangings, nor pictures painted on the plain limewash of the walls. As Baldwin stood in the doorway, Sir Edward gestured to his steward and two pages. They bowed and left in unison.
‘I am glad you could come,’ Sir Edward said.
Baldwin could see he was distraught. His face was lined with worry, his eyes looked dull and faded, and his flesh was pasty, like a man who has endured a long fever which has only recently broken. Even his once-luxuriant hair was paler, and lacking in lustre.
‘You look upon me as you might a leper: with pity but also revulsion,’ Sir Edward said.
‘I am sorry, my lord, it was just . . . you are so despondent. You-’
Sir Edward sighed. ‘I know, my friend. You are a loyal subject.’
It was a miracle that he could retain any of his calm demeanour. Baldwin was not sure that he could remain so collected, were their roles reversed. To be confined in a chamber like this must be torture to a man who had been used to riding each morning, and who was of a gregarious nature. The King had loved feasts and dancing, tournaments and joining in the country pursuits of the meanest villeins. His was a world of activity, not that of a ascetic. But here he was now, shut away from all that.
