Free 30 - King's Gold by Michael Jecks

day so well – how his mind had cleared and he was able to think objectively about his boy, Edward, Duke of Aquitaine.
    He owed his son little. Although he had sworn not to, the Duke became betrothed without the King’s permission. While in France with his mother, he had refused to return home when King Edward wrote and ordered him to do so, claiming he could not leave while his mother remained. Perhaps he told the truth: maybe in France the Duke had already been under Mortimer’s control. The traitor was there: all knew he had cuckolded King Edward in France.
    When he was free he would have Mortimer tortured. He would have the churl put to the peine forte et dure to plead his guilt, and then see him executed in the same manner in which the bastard had tortured poor Hugh to death. Damn Mortimer to hell for eternity!
    Yes, he owed the Duke little. Adam, his illegitimate son, would never have dreamed of such disloyalty. He, God bless him, was too kind, too gentle and grateful for anything his father offered.
    But Adam had died five years ago during the campaign against the Scots. The lad had joined the host as a page, but died of fever on that horrible return march, as had so many others. He would never know what it was to be a grown man. He died so young – only fourteen years old.
    Duke Edward was also fourteen, the King realised with a jolt. It sent a shiver down his spine to think that his oldest son was as old as his firstborn had been when he died. The two boys were so very different, it had never occurred to him before.
    Edward wondered whether the Duke realised the danger he was in. He was under-age to be King. Mortimer would control him ruthlessly, and the kingdom. To agree to abdication would mean that the Duke would inherit his kingdom. Did he deserve it? Edward set his jaw. He would not willingly deprive his second son. His firstborn was already dead because he had followed him. He could not condemn his first legitimate son too.
    He looked at the men in silence. But even then, back in January, Sir Edward of Caernarfon knew that the decision had already been made for him.
    House of Bardi, London
    Matteo had five messengers arrive that morning. The pile of different-sized parchments was daunting to him as he sat sipping wine, eyeing them.
    It had taken time and a great deal of money to have the house tidied once more, but he did not begrudge Benedetto’s expenditure. This house was a symbol and a statement of the Bardis’ position at the pinnacle of English society.
    Since Christmas, when they had advanced loans to the Queen and Sir Roger Mortimer, the bank had shifted to the centre of political authority and the House of Bardi was as secure as it had been throughout King Edward II’s late, unlamented reign.
    It meant stability, and that made Matteo reconsider his plan to leave the country. There was money to be made here.
    Matteo was still wary of his brother. Every time they met, he felt a crawling sensation. He never turned his back on Benedetto. Instead he had spies watch him. Matteo also abandoned all outward manifestations of ambition. He wanted others to believe that his brush with death had scared him.
    But he was not scared. He was hungry for more: more money, more control, more information with which to achieve what he wanted.
    There was a knock, then the door opened and Dolwyn walked in.
    ‘You have news?’ Matteo demanded.
    ‘Some. I met your informant,’ Dolwyn said. ‘He is dead now.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He was hanged for murder.’
    Matteo shook his head. ‘A shame – he was useful. I shall have to find another man in that area. Did you learn anything from him before he died?’
    ‘That Sir Edward of Caernarfon is not so weak as some would believe.’
    ‘He has been deprived of his crown,’ Matteo observed.
    ‘But many would see him return to his throne. Plots are already being formed to bring him back.’
    Matteo studied the man. Dolwyn was a useful henchman, certainly, mostly because