The Bishop Must Die by Michael Jecks Page B

the extent of his garden, and he took this at a gallop, leaping over it and pelting on up the road in the wake of his brother and the men from Kirby Bellers. On and on he ran, his lungs beginning to ache as he went, ducking occasional twigs, avoiding the worst of the mud and ruts, but when he had run only a little more than a mile, there was nothing more in him. His legs burned with the unaccustomed exercise, and his lungs were choked. He had to stop and bend double, facing the ground, resting his hands on his thighs.
    This was madness! How could he ever have hoped to catch men on horseback. He would have to forget this and return. Perhaps there would be news later. He only prayed that it would not be news that his brother was dead.
    Dear God in heaven, the thought that his beloved elder brother could be captured, or even killed, was too appalling for words!
    All Richard’s life, Eustace had been there to look after him. Admittedly, it was Eustace who had first beaten him, who had given him his first bloody nose, who had tripped him and sent him flying into a rock, which had cracked open Richard’s head; but like so many older brothers, he saw Richard as his own private property when it came to bullying or beating. If any others tried to hurt Richard, they soon learned to regret their presumption.
    Eustace was not his only brother, of course. When their father, John de Folville, Lord of Ashby-Folville, Leicestershire and ofTeigh in Rutland, died sixteen years ago, their brother John took the estates. Even now he was a Commissioner of Array for the King. There were benefits to his positions, for it was he who had given Richard this church for his living.
    Of the others, Laurence, Robert, Thomas and Walter, there was little else for them to do to make their living, other than turn to serving other lords. But then they found that their estates and livelihoods were under threat. It was alleged that they were all implicated in the Lords Marcher wars against Despenser. And if a man was prepared to set his face against the Despenser, he was thought to be rebelling against the king himself. Word went out: all the de Folvilles were to be found and captured. There were only two who were safe. Richard, and John, the present Lord of Ashby Folville.
    Richard muttered a swift curse, then set off again, running at a more steady pace, making this time for his brother John’s manor.

Chapter Nine
West Sandford
    Simon walked to the fire, waving his guest to the seat at the side where he could get warm, but he didn’t sit down himself. He was filled with a strange feeling of trepidation – a premonition that this meeting would bring a crisis to his life.
    It was clear that Baldwin was aware of the tension between them. Only a short while ago the two had separated with their friendship shattered. Simon had placed his trust in Baldwin, and felt that it had been flung back into his face. Baldwin had, so he believed, placed Edith’s life in danger.
    But he missed Baldwin’s companionship.
    ‘Simon, I—’
    ‘It is good to see you again,’ Simon interrupted. He found himself moving towards the door. ‘Let me fetch some wine – I will get it. No, I’ll have Hugh fetch it, the lazy bastard – about time he did something. And then some meats for you. That would be good.’
    He felt as though action and movement were needed to avert disaster. If he continued talking, if he kept moving, he could block the terrible danger that he could see in Baldwin’s eyes.
    ‘Please, Simon, old friend … just come here and sit for a moment. I want no wine or water, only a moment’s companionship. Please.’
    Simon felt as though there was a rending in his belly as he tore himself away from the doorway and walked back to the fire. ‘If this is about—’
    ‘Simon, it’s Edith. I saw her today in Exeter.’
    ‘How is she?’ Simon demanded urgently.
    ‘She asked me to tell you that she loves you, Simon. And misses you. She was very