The King of Thieves: (11 page)

Monday before the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary
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Louvre

Jean had not enjoyed a restful weekend. His sleep had been shaken by the memory of the flash of steel, and now, although he
had been to church and prayed all the previous morning, he still felt sore-eyed and rough.

The attack had shocked him. It was not the first time he had been attacked in the streets, nor would it be the last, of that
he had no doubt, but the suddenness of it had made him fear for his life, and like some slow-moving dream, he could still
see the huddled figure with its hidden weapon … then the man bounding away, like some strange apparition. It was enough
to set his teeth chattering when he woke for the third time in the watches of the night. It was times like these, he thought,
when the presence of a woman in his bed would have been a comfort.

Today, he would take his servant with him. Stephen had the appearance of a bullock, but the mind of a tax-collector.

‘You’re coming with me today,’ Jean told him.

‘Very well, Sieur. Who will prepare your food while I am with you?’

‘You will. Your duty is to follow me to work and see that I am safe, and then to return for me when I walk home again.’

‘And the rest of the day you will be unprotected?’

‘There is no need for sarcasm, Stephen. You will be content to know that I shall have the whole of the King’s household within
shouting distance. But they are not on hand when I walk to and from the castle. You understand?’

‘Of course, Sieur. That makes perfect sense.’

The Procureur looked at him suspiciously. ‘Good. Prepare yourself, then.’

There were many times like that, when he was not sure whether his servant was mocking him or not. Usually it was safer to
assume that he was, but make no comment. Today, Jean did not feel up to arguing logic with the fellow.

But what he did want was to think through this notion that the murdered man had been lured to a quiet chamber where the foul
deed would be easy to accomplish.

Who had taken him there?

After a morning’s assiduous questioning, the Procureur learned from Philippe that a stranger had been seen in the main hall
on the day of the murder.

‘Master Castellan?’ he called quietly.

The castellan, a tall, aristocratic man with the dark face and beard of a Breton, crossed the floor to join him. ‘M’Sieur
le Procureur – how may I help you?’

It was hard when speaking to someone like this to remember that he was just a man like any other. Jean was intimidated by
rank. He was too aware of his own lowly background. Even when a clerk in his cups had told him that the easiest way to remember
a man’s true position in the world was to imagine what he looked like sat on a privy, his robes
hitched up about his waist, he still found himself feeling awed by men like this castellan.

‘My … my Lord, I would like to ask you about a man who was found dead while waiting to meet the Cardinal d’Anjou. I have
heard he may have been seen here in the hall with you.’

‘With me? I don’t remember him.’

‘Are you sure? A couple of servants and a cook’s apprentice all agreed that they saw him talking to you that morning.’

‘Ah … you are correct. There was a stranger in here. He asked the way to the Cardinal’s rooms, and I sent him to the gate
to ask for a servant who could direct him. But I didn’t know him. He was nothing to do with me.’

‘Did he make an impression upon you?’

‘Only that he was quite well-informed. He seemed educated. Not a felon and bully, but a man of letters and some intellect.’

‘I see. Well, I thank you,’ Jean said with a little bow. He could not bow lower, because he saw no reason to honour a man
who had lied to him. The servants and the apprentice had all been firm on the fact that the castellan had taken the man by
the hand and led him away.

‘So, Mon Sieur, why would you lie to me about that?’ he wondered aloud, then turned back to look at the castellan. It was
interesting for him to see that the castellan had chosen that same moment to turn and gaze back at him.

Louvre, Paris

The King, Charles IV of France, stood tall. Even without his boots, he was almost five feet eleven inches, so he towered over
most of his knights, let alone the general populace.

His eyes passed over the men who instantly dropped to their knees. The clique of cardinals and clerics all bowed their heads,
but true to form wouldn’t bend their knees, and he
stared at them stonily for a moment or two. They were unrepentant, he was sure, but that was a fact of life. He must try to
accommodate them in public, while twisting their arms in private.

His father had been more successful than he. At times he had fallen out with the Pope and the whole malign, meddling coterie
of priests. The Church wanted to dominate every aspect of life. That was its primary aim. After Pope Boniface VIII had announced
his Bull,
Unam Sanctam
, there was little else the King could do other than defy him. The meaning of the Bull was, that all men and women on the
planet owed their loyalty and fealty to the Pope before any other. Even Princes, Kings and Emperors must bow to the Pope,
because he was the primary representative of God on earth. All who wished for their soul’s salvation must submit to the will
of the Pontiff.

No other Pope had dared go so far. And few Kings worried themselves about it. After all, they had been anointed by God. All
were chosen by God. The Pope did not intervene, and thus he had accepted tacitly that they were entitled to their positions,
whether he now argued against them or not. So the secular Princes and Kings sat back and watched with interest.

Not so Philippe IV, Charles’s father. The French would never submit to a Pope whose position he owed, in some measure, to
French diplomacy. The King ordered his leading lawyer, Guillaume de Nogaret, to make a case against the Pope, and he found
it embarrassingly easy. The Pope, Boniface, had taken the position when the previous Pope was still alive. Celestine, the
holy, the ever-pious, had fled the Papacy because he feared the corruption. Boniface had captured him and taken the Papacy
as his own, and then had his predecessor murdered.

Thus he was guilty of two hideous crimes. While Celestine had been formally wedded to the Church, Boniface had
adulterously taken the Church from him; and second, Boniface had been responsible for the slaying of his predecessor.

Infuriated, Boniface threatened dire consequences on the whole of France, but de Nogaret moved against him quickly, and neutralised
the Pope.

King Charles beckoned the Cardinal, and Thomas d’Anjou crossed the beautifully tiled floor to join him.

‘Your Royal Highness?’

‘I understand that there are two men here from England to see me. I would be grateful for your company while speaking with
them.’

‘I would be delighted to aid you.’

‘I am sure you would, Cardinal. However, if you do not feel able to demonstrate the correct degree of respect to me and to
the Throne, it may be difficult.’

The Cardinal bowed low. ‘Your Highness, I apologise if my demeanour appeared to show too little respect. I honour you deeply,
both as a man and as a King.’

‘I am glad to hear it. Where are these two?’

The men were soon brought in, and the King stood eyeing them with a chilly expression for some while without speaking. Then,
when he did open his mouth, it was to say in a mildly annoyed tone: ‘I was expecting my brother, the King of England, and
yet I find I have a Bishop and a cleric. What, has King Edward suddenly died? Has he fallen from his horse and broken his
pate? Or is he, perchance, sitting with a terrible attack of the gout?’

‘Your Royal Highness, my King sends his humble apologies, and declares that he has been overwhelmed by a terrible affliction
in his belly and lungs. The physicians are with him night and day, your Highness. Otherwise he would certainly have come here
to attend to you.’

‘In truth? How the poor man must be suffering, then, to
miss out on the opportunity of meeting me. I had thought he was simply avoiding the homage which was due to me so many months
ago. But no matter. Perhaps it is better this way. I shall simply confiscate all the territories which were to have been returned
after his homage.’

It was then that the envoys begged to explain that there was a new proposal. ‘If our King creates the Earl of Chester as the
Duke of Aquitaine, and settles all his lands and titles on the Earl, the Earl himself can come and pay homage to you as his
liege lord. Surely, that would settle the matter?’

The King stared down at the man. ‘This was my proposal many months ago. At the time, your King was reluctant to agree. What
has made him compliant now?’

‘His desire not to prolong the difficult negotiations, nor to upset your Royal Highness.’

‘And the hope that I will marry my son to his daughter, I have no doubt.’

There was no answer to that. King Charles knew that King Edward wished to forge a stronger bond between their thrones by marrying
his daughter Joan of the Tower to Charles’s son. Bishop Stratford had been bribing men in the court to support the proposal,
but his success would be limited. Charles was too well aware of all to whom money had been paid.

It was some little while later when the audience had finished that the King turned to his most trusted adviser. ‘Well, Cardinal?
And what do you think of this?’

‘It is remarkable that they have sent these men to make the proposal. I would think that by the time a response is sent, the
boy will have his Ducal coronet. It makes the matter more interesting for you, of course.’

‘In what way?’

Cardinal Thomas gave him a look. If he could, he would have been ironic in response, but instead, he chose to set out
the facts clearly. ‘If the boy comes here, you will have him, and his mother. The English can struggle and argue all they
want, but the Queen of England, your sister, detests her husband’s friends and advisers. With the King’s heir under her control,
you will have a stage ready for any number of stratagems.’

‘My thoughts precisely. I shall send to England to agree to the settlement of the English territories on the son, and then
I shall welcome my nephew with open arms as soon as he arrives. However, you do miss one important aspect of all this, old
friend.’

‘Such as?’

‘Once the boy is here, I also have a duty of care to him. I cannot allow any man to harm or threaten him. His person will
be as inviolable as my own. For were anything to happen to him, the blame would immediately be put to my shoulders. And I
do not wish for that, Cardinal. So there must be formal warnings to all, that I will not tolerate even any rudeness to my
nephew.’

The Cardinal nodded, blank surprise on his face. ‘But why should you seek to have him harmed? Who could think such a thing?’

‘There are many, Cardinal. It is a pity, however. It would have been so pleasant to have King Edward here, and to make him
squirm as he paid me homage. And especially if he had brought that arch-schemer and thief, Despenser with him. Or, better,
the foul Bishop of Exeter. He is a man I would like to see punished for his treatment of my sister.’

‘He has mistreated her?’

‘It is Walter of Exeter, who sought to deprive my sister of her lands, her money, and even the comfort of her household. Stapledon
persuaded the King to remove her children so that the evil French mother couldn’t teach the Princes and
Princesses treason against their father. Can you conceive of such a mind? That he could think such treachery would be possible
from her?’

‘Shocking,’ Cardinal Thomas agreed. He found such allegations easy to believe.

The King clapped his hands. ‘Very good. And now, I would like to hear from the Procureur what he has learned about the dead
man in my castle. I am not so rich in my population that I can afford to lose the occasional visitor. Where is the man?’

Langdon, Kent

‘I hope I find you well, Sir Baldwin?’

It was good to note the quick shock on his face, Despenser thought. Always he tried to instil respect for his position and
authority, but to see a man like this knight, a renegade who had once been a Knight Templar, cringe even slightly was satisfying
indeed.

The other, the little Bailiff, looked as though he’d bitten into a sloe, his mouth was so puckered. It made him look like
an old man with an arse for a mouth. Fool! He had plainly heard about Despenser’s purchase of the lease on his house. ‘Bailiff.
How is your lovely wife?’

‘She is well, we thank you,’ Baldwin said quickly, stepping between them. ‘Sir Hugh, I hope the King is recovered?’

‘He is greatly improved, I think. He is in with the Abbot just now.’

‘That will give him much comfort, I am sure.’

‘And you, Sir Baldwin. What are you doing here?’

‘We were summoned. Originally we were to guard the King on his way to Paris – but now I understand that he has decided not
to go.’

‘Quite so. And yet there is a fresh embassy to go in his place.’

‘Yes,’ Baldwin said, but did not elaborate. He wished to see whether the Despenser had any other snippets which could be useful.

‘So you will return home soon, then, I imagine?’ Despenser said.

Simon caught his glance, and looked away, jaw clenched.

‘I will have to come to Devon to see the lands which I own, I suppose,’ Sir Hugh went on languidly. ‘I may ask you to put
me up in my new house, Bailiff. You will not mind leaving it for a week or more, will you? And now I must be off.
I
have much work to do in the King’s service.’

He marched off, gathering up two henchmen as he went. One was chewing at a straw. He had thin, sandy hair over a circular,
freckled face, and he stared impassively at Simon from pale blue eyes. As Despenser passed him, he smiled and nodded, as though
content that his original opinion had been confirmed. Then he slowly turned and followed the man.