Read Online No Law in the Land: (Knights Templar 27) by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Jecks
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Simon’s mind. He would be glad to be out of the city and on his way homewards once more.
‘Did you see the bishop’s face?’ Sir Richard asked, leaning towards Simon as he spoke.
Simon nodded. ‘He is very concerned just now.’
‘Aye. But why should he be so outside St Paul’s?’
Simon gave a thin smile. ‘You’re talking about that? I’d forgotten he was upset there as well, but it’s no surprise. Earlier
this year I was here with him, Baldwin too, and he invited us to join him to celebrate the Feast of the Purification of the
Blessed Virgin Mary. We went to the cathedral itself, and just outside it a mob gathered, threatening to kill him. Apparently
the Londoners hate him because he once had to investigate all the rights and customs of the city of London.’
Sir Richard turned slowly and gazed at the bishop. ‘Then why, in the name of all that’s holy, does the man want to come here?
I’d stay down in Devon, in a pleasant land where the people all like me.’
‘That, I think, is a question you could ask of any man who seeks power over others,’ Simon said.
‘Hmm. Fortunate then that you and I don’t need any nonsense like that, eh?’ said Sir Richard affably. ‘No, just a good quart
of strong wine, a little haunch of beef or venison, and a warm woman to snuggle up to on a winter’s night. Aye, a man doesn’t
need much for comfort.’
They jogged on until they reached Thieving Lane, where they made their way through the gate and into the palace’s yard.
Simon couldn’t like this place. He looked about him carefully from the vantage point of his mount before he released his foot
from the stirrup and swung himself down from the horse. Last time he had been here for meetings with the king, he had been
impressed by the single-minded search for power that appeared to be the main characteristic of all those who lived and worked
in the shadow of the palace. When he glanced over at Baldwin, he saw the same wariness, and the realisation that his concerns
were shared made his anxiety weigh a little less heavily on his shoulders.
They followed in the wake of the bishop, and soon they were being led across the paved yard to the Green Yard, a pleasant
grassed area, in through a doorway, along two corridors, and to a pair of doors that Simon remembered. These were the doors
to the king’s Painted Chamber. Four guards stood there, and they took all the swords, stacking them neatly on shelves to the
left of the doors. Then the doors were opened, and Simon and Baldwin shot a look at each other before plunging on in the wake
of the bishop and Sir Richard.
Abbeyford Woods, south of Jacobstowe
Bill was awake before dawn on the day that the coroner arrived.
The three had taken it in turns to go home and fetch more food and drink. Last night it was John who had gone, leaving his
friend, Art Miller, to keep Bill company. The man seemed somewhat less conversational today than the corpse with both eyes
put out, and Bill would have been happier to have the company of almost any other man, but at least Art was alive. Or so Bill
assumed.
There were always tales of men wandering the lands. In the last thirty years or so there had been the trail bastons, gangs
of men armed with clubs who had so devastated the countryside that the king had imposed a new series of courts to come to
terms with the menace.
Then, when the famine struck, still more men were displaced as they went in search of any form of sustenance. Latterly there
was the danger posed by the families and friends of those who had raised their banners in opposition to Sir Hugh le Despenser
in the war of three years ago. After Boroughbridge, when the king had destroyed their armies and captured many of the plotters,
he had executed hundreds. The savagery of his response to their attempt to depose his adviser had shocked the whole nation,
and many of those who had not been involved went in terror of their lives
‘Did you see the bishop’s face?’ Sir Richard asked, leaning towards Simon as he spoke.
Simon nodded. ‘He is very concerned just now.’
‘Aye. But why should he be so outside St Paul’s?’
Simon gave a thin smile. ‘You’re talking about that? I’d forgotten he was upset there as well, but it’s no surprise. Earlier
this year I was here with him, Baldwin too, and he invited us to join him to celebrate the Feast of the Purification of the
Blessed Virgin Mary. We went to the cathedral itself, and just outside it a mob gathered, threatening to kill him. Apparently
the Londoners hate him because he once had to investigate all the rights and customs of the city of London.’
Sir Richard turned slowly and gazed at the bishop. ‘Then why, in the name of all that’s holy, does the man want to come here?
I’d stay down in Devon, in a pleasant land where the people all like me.’
‘That, I think, is a question you could ask of any man who seeks power over others,’ Simon said.
‘Hmm. Fortunate then that you and I don’t need any nonsense like that, eh?’ said Sir Richard affably. ‘No, just a good quart
of strong wine, a little haunch of beef or venison, and a warm woman to snuggle up to on a winter’s night. Aye, a man doesn’t
need much for comfort.’
They jogged on until they reached Thieving Lane, where they made their way through the gate and into the palace’s yard.
Simon couldn’t like this place. He looked about him carefully from the vantage point of his mount before he released his foot
from the stirrup and swung himself down from the horse. Last time he had been here for meetings with the king, he had been
impressed by the single-minded search for power that appeared to be the main characteristic of all those who lived and worked
in the shadow of the palace. When he glanced over at Baldwin, he saw the same wariness, and the realisation that his concerns
were shared made his anxiety weigh a little less heavily on his shoulders.
They followed in the wake of the bishop, and soon they were being led across the paved yard to the Green Yard, a pleasant
grassed area, in through a doorway, along two corridors, and to a pair of doors that Simon remembered. These were the doors
to the king’s Painted Chamber. Four guards stood there, and they took all the swords, stacking them neatly on shelves to the
left of the doors. Then the doors were opened, and Simon and Baldwin shot a look at each other before plunging on in the wake
of the bishop and Sir Richard.
Abbeyford Woods, south of Jacobstowe
Bill was awake before dawn on the day that the coroner arrived.
The three had taken it in turns to go home and fetch more food and drink. Last night it was John who had gone, leaving his
friend, Art Miller, to keep Bill company. The man seemed somewhat less conversational today than the corpse with both eyes
put out, and Bill would have been happier to have the company of almost any other man, but at least Art was alive. Or so Bill
assumed.
There were always tales of men wandering the lands. In the last thirty years or so there had been the trail bastons, gangs
of men armed with clubs who had so devastated the countryside that the king had imposed a new series of courts to come to
terms with the menace.
Then, when the famine struck, still more men were displaced as they went in search of any form of sustenance. Latterly there
was the danger posed by the families and friends of those who had raised their banners in opposition to Sir Hugh le Despenser
in the war of three years ago. After Boroughbridge, when the king had destroyed their armies and captured many of the plotters,
he had executed hundreds. The savagery of his response to their attempt to depose his adviser had shocked the whole nation,
and many of those who had not been involved went in terror of their lives
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