Knight of Betrayal: A Medieval Haunting (Ghosts of Knaresborough Book 1) Read online

  ‘He does like you, you know.’

  ‘Who, Dan?’

  ‘No, Sarah. Mike.’

  ‘Well, we’re friends.’

  ‘He likes you more than that and you know it.’

  ‘Oh don’t be silly.’

  ‘I’m not, it’s obvious to everyone – except you it seems.’

  Sarah said nothing but looked thoughtful.

  ‘Oh, you like him too, don’t you?’

  ‘Helen, no, I’m married with two kids.’

  ‘So? I’m not asking if you’re sleeping with him, just if you fancy him.’

  ‘Helen!’

  ‘You still haven’t answered the question. You do, don’t you?’

  ‘Well okay, he’s sweet.’

  ‘Sweet? Could you find a more insulting compliment?’

  ‘It’s a married women’s compliment,’ Sarah said with a grin, ‘and all I’m giving.’

  ‘Giving me, anyway,’ Helen said, laughing.

  ‘Giving anyone,’ Sarah insisted. ‘Mind you, I’m paying the price as if I were giving Mike more – might as well do the crime if I’m already doing the time. Cheers.’ She raised her glass and took a large gulp while Helen spluttered over her own wine.

  ‘I’m joking! Only joking!’ Sarah said as they both descended into helpless giggles.

  ‘Well, be careful who you tell that joke to, Sarah.’

  ‘Only you.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Helen was serious again. ‘You know, I am worried. Not only about you but the rest of the players too. If Dan’s cracking, it could fracture the whole group.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Oh don’t be like that, Sarah, you know I’m here for you.’

  ‘Yes, of course, sorry Helen. I’m just tired. Sick and tired of my husband and my marriage.’

  Helen leaned over again to squeeze her hand. ‘Is it really that bad?’

  Sarah looked at, eyes steady. ‘Pretty much, yes. We’ve fought before, but this time I just don’t have the energy to fix things.’

  ‘You don’t love him any more.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Yes, Sarah, you kind of did.’

  Chapter 20

  ‘Are you sure we can afford this, Charlie?’ Helen said as Charlie got up to get another round in.

  ‘Absolutely. We still have a large chunk of the grant money left. We deserve a celebration, and as treasurer I officially declare that we can afford to do it in style.’

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure.’ Helen relaxed and beamed. ‘I still can’t quite believe that we got funding.’

  ‘It’s about time,’ Charlie said. ‘We’ve been operating on a budget for years. It feels good to earn before the doors even open.’

  ‘Well, hurry up and get the drinks in then,’ Helen said with a laugh.

  ‘Yeah, get a move on, mate, we’re dying of thirst here,’ Paul said.

  Charlie flicked two fingers at him, then went to the bar.

  ‘Oh, bloody hell, that Catherine lass is here – no wonder he was so keen to get up for the next round,’ Paul said. ‘He’s not beating me with this one, too.’

  ‘Oh don’t tell me you two have bet on a woman again,’ Sarah said.

  ‘It’s just a bit of fun.’

  ‘No it isn’t, it’s degrading. Why don’t you try to be nice and – I don’t know – talk to her?’

  ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Paul asked.

  ‘Yes, you might win the bet that way, mate,’ Mike said at the same time.

  The others laughed at the comical impression of a light bulb illuminating that Paul was barely aware he’d done, before he hurried to the bar asking Charlie if he could give him a hand.

  Sarah smiled at Mike, pleased he’d taken her part, then glanced at Dan as he slammed his empty glass on the table. ‘Off for a piss,’ he said and got to his feet, knocking the table, and staggered off in the direction of the gents.

  ‘Is he okay?’ Ed asked.

  Sarah sighed. ‘He’s fine, just drunk. He’s been drinking all day,’ she said, her exasperation with her husband clear to her friends.

  ‘How long has that been going on?’ Alec asked.

  Sarah shrugged.

  ‘We should try and talk some sense into him,’ Alec added.

  ‘Won’t do any good, even if you can get him when he’s sober,’ Sarah said.

  ‘We have to do something,’ Helen said and laid a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. ‘It’s affecting his performance on stage – I won’t let him ruin this for us.’

  Sarah shrugged again. ‘I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what to do,’ she said, tears threatening.

  ‘Shush, it’s okay, love,’ Mike said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. ‘We’re all friends here, and we’re here for you.’

  Helen widened her eyes at Sarah in warning, but she either didn’t see or she refused to see. She patted Mike’s knee. ‘Thanks, Mike.’ She straightened before Dan came back. Mike reluctantly dropped his arm and gave her a small smile.

  Helen froze. Shit, he’s in love with her, she thought. Oh shit, shit, shit. I didn’t realise it was that bad. Her thoughts were interrupted by Dan thumping back down in his seat.

  ‘Have they got the drinks yet?’ he said, peering at the bar in search of Paul and Charlie.

  ‘Could be a while yet,’ Ed said, turning and spotting them both talking to Catherine. ‘Doesn’t look like they’ve even ordered them.’

  ‘Bloody amateurs,’ Dan sneered and levered himself back to his feet to hurry up his mates. Ed, Alec, Helen, Sarah and Mike looked at each other in silence.

  ‘He’ll be okay,’ Mike said, patting Sarah’s back. ‘He’ll sort himself out and soon.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t?’ Sarah said. ‘What then?’

  ‘Then we find someone else to play FitzUrse,’ Helen said.

  Sarah looked at her. ‘That’s not what I meant, Helen.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Helen flushed and looked at the table.

  ‘I’ll have a word with him,’ Mike said.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Alec said. ‘Ed and I will do it.’

  ‘Why?’

  Alec didn’t reply, but turned to Ed. ‘You’re up for that, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah sure, whatever I can do to help,’ Ed said.

  ‘Here you go, sorry about the delay,’ Charlie said as he put two pints and a couple of gin and tonics on the table, followed by another four pints from Paul. Everyone held the table steady as Dan retook his seat – just in case – then the other two sat down.

  ‘Took you bloody long enough,’ Mike said.

  ‘Ah, but it was worth it,’ Paul said, holding up a scrap of paper with numbers scribbled on it. ‘Pay up, Charlie.’

  Charlie grumbled, but got his wallet out. ‘Enjoy it while it lasts – I’ll get the next bird, then you’ll be giving me that tenner back.’

  ‘When did you two get so callous?’ Sarah asked, disgusted with her friends, then erupted into giggles as Catherine poured her drink over Paul’s head and plucked the tenner out of Charlie’s fingers.

  ‘That’ll pay for the drink I’ve just wasted,’ she said. ‘Grow up, boys.’ She sashayed to the door, turned and gave Sarah a wink before she left.

  ‘I bloody paid for that drink,’ Paul shouted after her, to even more amusement from his friends.

  ‘I’m off to clean up,’ he said. He punched Charlie on the arm. ‘We both had a lucky escape with that one.’

  Charlie tried to retort, but could not form any recognisable words through his laughter. Eventually, holding his stomach, he managed to say, ‘Priceless, bloody priceless, well worth a tenner. I think I’m in love.’ He collapsed into helpless laughter again, infecting the whole table – including Dan.

  When Paul returned to the table, still wet, but at least not quite as sticky, Helen couldn’t resist. ‘Now careful, guys, we’re already barred from the Borough Bailiff, we don’t want to get
barred from here too. We’ll be running out of pubs at this rate.’ Even Paul managed to see the funny side.

  ‘I’m off to the loo, will you let me out, Dan?’ Sarah said once the giggles had subsided enough.

  *

  Exiting the ladies, she was surprised by Mike, who grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug.

  ‘Mike, what are you doing?’

  ‘Shush,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, I just want to say, well, I know things aren’t great with Dan at the moment . . .’

  ‘Mike, this isn’t the time, we’re both pissed and if Dan sees us, he’ll kick off big time.’

  ‘No, it’s okay, the boys are having a word with him, he didn’t even see me leave the table.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Sarah, I just want to say . . .’

  ‘Well hurry up and say it then.’ She laughed to take away the sting of her words.

  ‘I just want to say, if you’re not happy, you know, with Dan, you don’t have to stay.’

  ‘Mike, he’s my husband and the father of my children.’

  ‘I know, I know, but if he’s making you unhappy . . . oh, sod it,’ he said, grabbed Sarah’s head and kissed her, hard.

  Sarah squeaked and tried to push Mike away, but as he persisted, she found her resistance wavering, replaced by tingles in her belly and a quickening of her pulse. As she melted into Mike’s kiss, the tingling spread until she was kissing him back with the same intensity.

  Mike pulled back to look into her eyes as she pushed away, horrified at the realisation of what she’d done.

  ‘I can’t, Mike. I can’t, I’m married, that shouldn’t have happened.’

  She broke the contact between them and rushed back to the bar, her thoughts and feelings in such a whirl she didn’t see Helen standing against the wall, watching.

  Chapter 21

  ‘I don’t get this scene,’ Dan said.

  Helen sighed, paused a moment, then explained again. ‘We’re covering the major incidents between Henry II and Becket to understand how such a close friendship ended so brutally.’

  ‘Yes, I know that, but you keep talking about Clarendon – what the hell is Clarendon?’

  ‘A palace near Salisbury,’ Helen said, her teeth gritted. She took another breath to calm her irritation – she had explained this three times already, and her fears over Dan’s mood and attitude were becoming reality. He was rude and surly to everyone – not just Sarah and Mike.

  Helen just stopped herself from glancing at the pair of them – they were giggling like teenagers. She kept her attention on Dan. Thank God I cast him as FitzUrse, she thought – not for the first time – at least this attitude suits The Bear perfectly.

  ‘Henry has called a council to meet at Clarendon Palace. He wants Becket and the bishops to make an oath that Henry has final authority in all things – including the sentencing of crimonious clerics.’

  ‘Crimonious clerics?’

  ‘Priests and monks who have broken the law.’

  ‘But what’s all the fuss about, surely the Church can sort them out?’

  ‘No – they can only fine and defrock. Not a fitting punishment for robbery, rape or murder.’

  ‘Huh. Fair enough. So what’s Becket’s problem?’

  ‘Becket isn’t popular with the English clergy – he wasn’t even an ordained priest when Henry made him archbishop, remember – they don’t trust him and he’s trying to prove he’s on their side. Henry is simply asking for too much.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound like it to me,’ Dan said.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Dan,’ Paul said, his patience running out. ‘Can we just get on with the scene?’

  ‘I don’t understand why I’m in it,’ Dan replied. ‘How do we know it was our knights who were there?’

  ‘We don’t,’ Helen said, all attempts at relaxed conversation now abandoned. ‘We know Morville was there, the rest is dramatic licence.’

  Dan opened his mouth but Paul interrupted before he could speak. ‘Enough of this nonsense.’ He paused in the shock of silence – Paul was usually mild mannered. ‘Sorry guys, but seriously, we’re here to rehearse. Let’s just run through the scene, then we can talk it through later in the pub.’

  ‘Okay everybody, positions please,’ Helen called.

  ‘Charlie, you as Becket centre stage. Ed and Sarah join him, you’re bishops for this scene – Ed you’re the Archbishop of York Roger de Pont l’Évêque, Sarah you’re taking the role of Bishop Gilbert Foliot. Dan and Mike, I need you in the wings, with Paul as Henry behind you,’ Helen instructed. ‘From the top,’ she said when everybody was in place.

  *

  Henry’s voice reverberated from offstage. ‘Get in there and force those damnable priests to submit. I’ll castrate or execute any damned cleric who defies me!’

  The bishops glanced at each other, clearly terrified.

  ‘Calm thyselves,’ Becket said. ‘The King can be . . . dramatic at times. ’Tis an idle threat, purely for show.’

  The bishops relaxed, though only a little – they had been locked in this room for the past two days. But their archbishop knew their king better than any other man in Christendom. They had to trust him. To be fair, they had no other choice. The oath that King Henry demanded of them was too great; they were more than happy to leave the awkward and potentially life-threatening negotiations to the unwanted primary legate the King had forced upon them.

  As one, they shrieked and retreated as Morville and FitzUrse burst through the door, flung away their cloaks to reveal their coats of mail, and unsheathed their broadswords.

  ‘Definitely dramatic,’ squeaked Roger de Pont l’Évêque, cowering away from the armed knights and clutching the arm of Gilbert Foliot.

  ‘Submit in the name of the King,’ Morville shouted.

  ‘He has had enough of vacillating!’ FitzUrse yelled into the face of Becket. The Archbishop stood his ground, but words failed him, for the moment at least.

  ‘This is unacceptable.’ L’Évêque stepped forward, only to retreat as Morville and FitzUrse turned their attention to him.

  ‘Put down thy swords,’ Becket quietly commanded. ‘We are men of God and unarmed. Should the King wish to talk, we shall converse, but there is no need for this.’

  ‘The King,’ FitzUrse shouted, ‘wishes agreement to his demands. Refusal of such is treason. And we do not countenance traitors.’

  ‘My Lord, please, we are no traitors here – merely servants of God and the Church.’

  ‘And the King!’ FitzUrse shouted, brandishing his sword at Becket.

  Becket studied the faces of the two men threatening him and realised he had no choice. ‘Very well, I consent to the demand of my king. Please, sheathe your arms and allow the King and myself to discuss my oath.’

  *

  ‘Fabulous,’ Helen cried. ‘Even without costumes, it felt like the characters speaking. Well done!’

  ‘Pub?’ Mike said.

  Chapter 22

  29th March 1171

  ‘It is good to be outside the curtain walls again,’ said Richard le Brett, turning his face up to the sun.

  ‘And out of the chapel,’ FitzUrse growled.

  The four knights had spent a particularly pious Lent, hearing Mass twice daily. On Easter Sunday – yesterday – they had donated the best cuts of meat in Morville’s kitchen for the townsfolk to enjoy. Today was their first opportunity to hunt since Lent had begun, and the knights of Cnaresburg Castle intended to make the most of it.

  Nigel de Plumton had joined them at the behest of Sir William de Stoteville, but William de Percy was once again absent, as were Sir John de Goldesburgh and Gamellor. Helwise had also elected to abstain from the day’s activities.

  Despite their reduced numbers, the men were determined to enjoy themselves and had elected boar as their quarry. The kill would not be as prestigious as the white hart they had brought down on their last outing, but it promised to be better sport. Boar could be dangerous
and would test all of their wits, and hopefully lift their spirits. Relations between the men were tense after their confinement and the constant fights.

  ‘I had the pleasure of dining with William de Percy at Spofford yesterday, William,’ Nigel de Plumton said at length, while they waited for Morville and the others.

  ‘Easter Sunday?’ William de Stoteville asked.

  Plumton nodded. ‘It was a prestigious affair. Hamlin Plantagenet was in attendance, as well as William de Courcy, Lord of Harewood.’

  ‘King Henry?’

  Plumton shook his head. ‘No, he dare not leave Normandy until he has heard from Pope Alexander.’

  ‘He dare not? That does not sound like the King.’

  ‘There is a great fear of excommunication.’

  ‘I see. Is that why Percy did not invite us to Spofford for Easter?’

  ‘Yes, I fear it is true. If Henry’s messenger did not meet the Pope first, your brother-in-law and his cronies may be facing great trials ahead.’

  ‘And my sister,’ William muttered, watching an argument develop between Morville and FitzUrse over the courser The Bear had been given to ride. ‘What was the tone of your dinner?’

  ‘Sombre,’ Plumton said. ‘I owe you much, William, and must warn you. If the Church condemns them,’ he nodded towards Morville and the other knights, ‘they will find no support amongst the barons.’

  Excommunication was the harshest punishment the Church could inflict on a man, and William nodded at the implications of Plumton’s statement.

  ‘That puts you in a delicate position, William.’

  ‘Yes, it does indeed. I have no love for Morville, but I cannot abandon my sister to whatever fate befalls him.’

  The men paused to watch Tracy and Brett physically restrain FitzUrse, whilst Morville, with his newly bruised jaw, was attended to by Mauclerk and Thomas de Screven.

  ‘There may yet be no problem,’ William said, his disdain evident on his face. ‘They are likely to kill each other before Pope Alexander’s judgement reaches their ears.’