The King's Bishop by Candace Robb Read Free Book Online Page A

food rather than by it. When he hears of a good cook, he befriends him. I fear he trades gossip from the high table for tasty titbits. But discreetly, choosing with care.’
    They ate in silence for a while. As Wykeham paused to refill his cup, Thoresby asked, ‘What did Wyndesore say?’
    ‘Oh. Wyndesore.’ Wykeham nodded. ‘He could not be bothered with it. “The lad’s dead. Pity. I had trained him well. But he could not hold his drink.” That was it. Not a pause to consider. He had made up his mind and that was that. An appallingly ignorant man to hold such a high station.’
    Thoresby raised an eyebrow. Wykeham certainly had made up his mind about Sir William of Wyndesore. ‘No different from most military men.’ Still, he liked the sentiment. This meeting was changing Thoresby’s opinion of his host. ‘Concerning Daniel, my secretary saw the lad’s body as it was carried away.’
    Wykeham looked up from his food, leaned forward with interest. ‘Did he notice anything out of place?’
    ‘Indeed he did. Daniel’s wrists showed signs of having been bound. And his cloak had been soaked in ale. Difficult to imagine how that might happen.’
    Wykeham put down his knife, bowed his head, crossed himself.
    Thoresby did also. ‘I am afraid I paid it little heed. But your analysis has given me pause.’
    ‘Do not blame yourself. No one else made note of the wrists. No one else has questioned that it was an accident, except those who dislike Ned Townley and wish him to be guilty.’
    Thoresby walked back to his own quarters in a thoughtful mood. Who would have thought the ambitious William of Wykeham would be such a decent, conscientious man? Indeed, he seemed a man admirably suited to the position of bishop, someone with a heart, mind, and soul that worked in concert. He might even make a good chancellor; though Thoresby wondered what he knew of the law.
    It was a pity, really, that Wykeham was the King’s man. He would feel the conflicts as Thoresby did, the frustration when a compromise was necessary to please the King, a compromise in morals or justice.
    Did Wykeham understand that? Did he see the price of becoming the King’s bishop?
    Thoresby paused at his door, shrugged. If he had not been the King’s man, Wykeham would never have risen so high. He could be nothing but the King’s bishop.
    Pity. The man would undoubtedly someday regret it. But not now.

Five
Mistress Mary
     
    N ed spent the days before departure banished to his small room.
For your safety
, Wyndesore had explained. For his safety. Hah! Sir William meant to torture him. Ned had gone to Brother Michaelo in the hope that Chancellor Thoresby might intercede and recommend his freedom, but the secretary told him it was in his best interest to stay away from Wyndesore’s angry men. In truth, Michaelo’s behaviour towards him had been less than courteous. Everyone condemned Ned despite Mistress Perrers’s testimony that he was with Mary the night of Daniel’s death.
    So Ned spent his days practising with his daggers, throwing them at a straw target until his wrists and eyes ached. Or staring out of his small, unglazed window at St George’s Chapel and especially the yard before it, where men bustled about their tasks with the confidence that God was pleased with their industry. As Ned gazed out on the life in the lower ward he thought back over the past few weeks, examining his behaviour towards Mary and Daniel.Gradually he came to see that his misery was his own fault. It was true that time and again he had discovered Daniel sitting with Mary when he’d gone to call, but he had seen no embraces, no fond touching, no meaningful looks. It was not until after he had lost his temper several times that Mary and Daniel had seemed at all uncomfortable about his finding them together.
    Ned had to see Mary before he left, to beg her forgiveness, to ask whether there was any hope for him. Twice he sneaked to her quarters, twice she refused to see