‘You know, at night in Kenilworth I used to plead with God for the love of a close companion. And do you know what I now beg for? That I never know another man so well, that there is never another beloved fellow so close to my heart. Because I am cursed, Sir Baldwin. All my loyal servants die. They must pay the price for being my friends. I never want to lose a friend like that again.’
‘Your Majesty, I am-’
‘No!’ Sir Edward stared at Baldwin. ‘Do not call me that. You can see that I am merely a prisoner, Sir Baldwin. I cannot come and go at will. To pretend that I am King is to play to my vanity. And I would hear the truth. It is less unpalatable than lies. Call me as the others do: Sir Edward. It is at least honourable enough. They have not removed my chivalry,’ he added with an icy calm.
‘Very well, Sir Edward.’
‘My dear Sir Baldwin, you are yet true to me, are you not?’ Sir Edward had turned away and was toying with the fabric of a cushion.
‘Yes, Sir Edward. I will ever be faithful to my oath and to you.’
‘There are so few who are,’ he said, staring through the window. ‘Look! They will not even permit a view of freedom. At Kenilworth I could see the Great Court. Here, all I see is a tiny patch of stone and weeds. I suppose I am old. I should accept my gaol and enclosing walls like a caged bird.’
‘If you are old, I am decrepit,’ Baldwin smiled.
‘Please, Sir Baldwin, do not treat me as a fool,’ Sir Edward said with a trace of his old asperity. ‘I have not lost my brains. Flattery was part of my life in the days when I was a King. Now I am a mere prisoner. A man of no note.’
He faced Baldwin, and the latter saw the authority in his eyes again.
‘Sir Baldwin, this is the place where I will die. Mortimer detests me, and he knows that if I am released, I will ensure his destruction. I would not have him live a day in my kingdom, and never,
Baldwin said nothing. He was not persuaded because he saw the risks to Mortimer: he would lose the Queen’s support, the support of his leading Earls and Barons, the support of King Edward III; all would revile him, were he to stoop to regicide.
‘So, Sir Baldwin, if I am to live,’ Sir Edward said, carefully modulating his tones, ‘I must escape.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you?’ Sir Edward stared at him. ‘There are many here who would happily slit my throat. I am in danger all the time I remain here.’
‘You have loyal men here to protect you,’ Baldwin said.
‘There are plans to rescue me,’ Sir Edward said. ‘If I can survive one month, I may yet vanquish Mortimer. And after that, I will be freed, with God’s help.’ He fixed Baldwin with a stern look. ‘I will be out of here within two months. It is your duty, and that of Sir Ralph, to ensure that I am safe until then. I have heard from those who would see me return to the throne. And afterwards, those who have aided me will be richly rewarded.’
Baldwin smiled and nodded. But he felt a dreadful pang as he walked from that chamber.
It seemed plain to him that the man who had been King was losing his mind.
Sir Jevan was disgusted by the behaviour of those fools. They had no idea how to get the truth from peasants! It was better to beat them, or cut them a little, if you wanted their co-operation. The cretins were not capable of opening their vile mouths without incentives. Any knight knew that.
He strode to the buttery and demanded a pot of wine, which he drank off in a couple of gulps. Rage was still simmering in his breast at the thought of that blasted carter – the idiot who had delayed him so much when he was trying to capture that felon and outlaw . . .
That was when he recalled the curious incident yesterday on the way here. The man whose eyes had seemed so familiar. The man riding at the rear of the party who had looked so similar to the fellow he had hunted: John of Shulton. Perhaps it was his imagination – after all, even the most foolhardy outlaw would avoid joining a party like the guard from Kenilworth. It would take a man of incomparable stupidity to try such a thing.
John was out in the yard a short while before the noontime meal; he whittled at a stick near the hall as he waited, hungry, his eyes watchful for any sign of Sir Jevan.
‘An exciting time yesterday,’ William atte Hull said, walking up to him, wiping his hands on his jerkin.
‘The felon?’
‘Yes. Always satisfying to see a criminal brought to justice,’ William said. ‘They will convene a court for him, no doubt. That will encourage good behaviour. There’s nothing like seeing a wrongdoer dangle by the neck.’
