Agatha felt her indomitable spirit returning in the face of this petty official. ‘I’ll tell the lord himself, not his meanest servant,’ she snapped.
‘Meanest, eh?’ the porter said, taking in her black garb. ‘A widow are you, then? All in your weeds. So you’re here to demand help from his lordship, I suppose? Perhaps some money to compensate you? You just go home to your donkey, mistress and-’
‘HOI! PORTER!’ Simon, Baldwin and Sir Richard de Welles had overheard this conversation from where they sat on a bench near the armourers’ rooms.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Let them in. I would speak with them.’
‘Sir, they are . . .’
Sir Richard de Welles was unused to being denied his whims. Hearing the porter attempt to refuse him, he smiled and nodded.
The porter felt a vague unease, but continued nonetheless. ‘Sir, I have been ordered to prevent any suspicious characters from entering.’
Aye. Very sensible.’
Anybody who is not known must be refused admission. Because of the prisoner.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘So I cannot let these in.’
‘Suspicious characters, eh?’
The porter looked at the large knight’s face and felt a sinking in his belly. ‘Sir, I . . .’
‘The priest, eh? You think he’s dangerous? He carries a poisoned crucifix, I suppose?’
‘No, but-’
‘The widow? You think she carries a siege engine upon her person?’
The porter wisely chose to remain silent.
‘Let them enter,’ Sir Richard boomed. ‘If there’s any danger it’ll be to me, and I think I’ll be safe enough, but if they overpower me, you have my permission to take any action you see fit.’
The man subsided reluctantly, muttering to himself about guests taking over the place, and curtly waved away his guards as he marched back to the gatehouse, Then Sir Richard beckoned Agatha and Luke to join them.
‘Now, mistress,’ Sir Richard said, looking at Agatha. ‘What’re you here for, eh?’
‘My husband is dead. The man who killed him stole our cart and horse, and I want them back,’ she glowered.
‘Aye, I’m sure ye do,’ Sir Richard said heartily. ‘What of it?’
‘I thought that the Lord de Berkeley would help me. I am one of his serfs,’ she said.
‘And you, priest?’
‘I am Father Luke of St Peter’s, Willersey, where this good woman comes from.’
‘Oh.’ Sir Richard looked at Agatha again. ‘So, why do you think that the Lord de Berkeley will have time to help you?’
‘It was all we had, that old horse and cart. The horse wasn’t even a good one, but at least he was reliable. He drew goods all the way to Kenilworth, and then-’
‘Kenilworth?’ interrupted Sir Richard. ‘When?’
Agatha shot a look at Luke, and in her heart there was horror at her betrayal. She hadn’t meant to speak of that, and certainly not to bring Father Luke into her story so swiftly.
Father Luke smiled gently. ‘Do not worry, Agatha, I am sure that this good knight will understand.’
Sir Ralph and Baldwin were leaning forward now.
Baldwin spoke softly. ‘Madam, are you saying that you were there at the attack?’
‘No, it was me,’ said Luke. He shook his head. ‘So many dead men, and all for nothing.’
‘What were you doing there?’ Simon demanded.
‘There was money on that cart.’ Father Luke went on to explain about the chest of gold which had been left in his care.
‘And you think this gold was on the cart when it was stolen?’ Baldwin frowned.
‘I don’t know where else it could have gone,’ Father Luke said.
‘Wherever it went, it probably went there a long time ago,’ Simon said. He leaned back in his chair. He had spent so many years dealing with the law and enforcing it on Dartmoor, that he had a solid understanding of the mind of a felon. ‘Whoever took your cart, mistress, has almost certainly sold it. If he had the brains to look in the chest, that money will be gone too. A man like that will not have gone far, though. If you look within a ten-mile radius of where you found your husband, I’d lay a wager that the thief will be there. Probably in a city with a bevy of whores about him, and reeking of cider or strong ale. He’ll have spent it rashly, not thinking that tomorrow he’ll hang for murder, because men like that never think.’
Baldwin was frowning. ‘Mistress Agatha, this cart – of what type was it? And the beast that pulled it, what manner of horse was this? You say old, but what colour, what markings?’
Agatha shrugged. ‘The cart was a good, sturdy one, with a plank to sit on. Two wheels, one either side. It was plain, but wider than most. As to the horse, well, he was a good height, with a broad chest, and a white flash on his breast like a fist. He had brown on his flanks and back and head, but there was a white ankle on his left foreleg, and above the right rear leg he had a star on his rump.’
Simon had not been close to the cart when it was captured the previous day, but he realised that something was going on, and he looked at his friends with interest. ‘What? What is it?’
