King's Gold полностью

There was more news to be relayed, and Benedetto listened carefully as Matteo spoke. He asked a few questions, then sought the advice which only Matteo could give. Soon they were finished for the present, and Matteo could find a chamber in which to rest.

He lay back and closed his eyes. It was a blessed relief to lie on a good bed, but as soon as his back touched the mattress, his wound hurt. It was inflamed after all the journeying, and he grunted, ‘Benedetto, it was you, wasn’t it?’ as he rolled over.

Benedetto had wanted to position the bank wholeheartedly behind the Queen and her son. He hadn’t wanted Matteo to stir up confusion by supporting the old King.

There was no man alive so ruthless, Matteo thought before he fell asleep, as a man of money seeking to protect his wealth.

In the court, Alured had listened with astonishment to the brothers talking. If he had suspected a man of knifing him, especially his brother, he would never have been able to walk with the bastard. It would have turned his stomach.

Meanwhile, it was interesting to know that those two scruffy scrotes with Dolwyn were in London when the murders happened and Matteo got wounded. He surreptitiously glanced at their boots, but whatever they may have looked like five or six months ago, they were now so scratched and covered in mud that they could have been a hundred years old.

He should stop this. There was no point in trying to find a murderer from so long ago. Also, it was ridiculous to believe the evidence of a witness who was drunk at the time, and could well be dead by now. There was nothing to say that the ‘knight’ he saw with the red Cordova boots was actually the killer, and not merely a man who had run along the alley to escape the crowds, and when he found the bodies, fled.

But Alured couldn’t stop. The thought of those two youngsters slain for no purpose, stuck in his mind like a fishbone in a man’s throat, and no matter how he struggled he could not shift it.

Berkeley Castle

When they had finally managed to sort themselves out, the chambers at the castle were already gone. The King had a large room to himself, along with Gilbert and some few guards, as well as a friar, but the rest of the men must make shift to accommodate themselves as best they could. The men of the castle garrison made it plain that their additional protection was unnecessary here in the King’s room, and Baldwin and Sir Ralph were removed from the main chamber in a polite, but implacable manner.

The pair had gone with Simon and their servants to the main castle building, but it was quickly apparent that they would not succeed in winning a space in the great hall itself. There would be no sleep for the poor devils who crowded about that room. Simon hoped that Baldwin and Sir Richard would exercise their rights as knights and demand a spot near the fire, but instead, to his consternation, they walked back out through the screen and along the passage to the main courtyard. There Sir Richard stood, his thumbs in his sword-belt, waiting, with a smile set on his face, eyeing the servants and porters milling about the inner ward.

‘What’s he up to?’ Simon demanded.

Baldwin shrugged. ‘There are some men, Simon, who go through life hoping that they will be granted that which they deserve, and there are others who know that they will receive, no matter what. Sir Richard is one such. He believes he will receive better treatment, and few would dare to deny him what he expects.’

Simon thought this sounded bizarre. From hard-learned experience, he knew full well that the best place always was as close to the fire as possible. It was lunacy to be out here, he thought, and pulled his cloak about him.

Hugh was grimly studying the walls about the inner ward. ‘So, shall we get the horses saddled and find an inn, or go back inside?’

‘Ah!’ Sir Richard said, and nodded towards the kitchen. The same young maid was standing outside. She noticed Sir Richard, and wiped her hands clean on her apron, before rolling her eyes and walking towards them.

‘You hungry still?’ she asked.

‘My dear young woman, the food was good, the ale excellent, and the company still better,’ Sir Richard said heartily. ‘But there is one last problem with which we must contend. We find that the whole of the guard party for the old King must contest a few meagre feet of cold stone floor.’

‘There is a stable with a hayloft,’ she said.

‘Ah. Is there?’ enquired the knight, smiling.

‘You want me to show you to it?’

‘Would a man with my trained physique be able to climb the ladder?’

She eyed him with a chuckle. ‘Oh, follow me, then. There’s a small chamber at the side.’