The Traitor of St. Giles Read Online Free PDF

His name was William, the sailor said; William the Small.
    It had been the panic of London’s folk that had cost him his second guard. Not only were Londoners anxious at having Hugh Despenser aboard his ship in the Thames, they also had the country’s great magnates ringing the city with their armies. The Mortimers were the guests of the Knights of St John at Clerkenwell, Hereford was at Holborn, Damory at the New Temple, and Audley at St Bartholomew’s Priory at Smithfield. The city was enclosed and while the King vacillated, reluctant to banish his friend, yet fearful of the response of the Marcher Lords if he refused to do so, the lords themselves grew annoyed to hear of the King’s trips to the Despensers’ ship, or young Despenser’s visits to the shore to feast with the King.
    The unease in the city had come to a head the day before Sir Gilbert landed. Parliament had met at the great hall at Westminster, and the lords demanded that both Despensers should be exiled. They were guilty of greed and treachery, they were enemies of both the King and his people.
    In the streets, supporters of the Despensers hurled stones or fired arrows at the men from the marches; their attacks were returned with gusto. Before the parliamentary meeting there had been threats to fire the city of London, and that brought out the burgesses to protect their homes. Now, instead of running fights between two groups, there were battles between all three and Sir Gilbert arrived with his men in the middle of it all. London Bridge was closed, as were all the main gates while the emergency continued, and Sir Gilbert and his servants were forced to seek an inn in which to stay until they could continue their journey.
    They found one close to the Black Friars’ Priory, down at the Thames where the River Fleet met it. Sir Gilbert would have been happier to have been nearer London’s bridge, but William pointed out that here they had two rivers over which they could make an escape at need.
    On the second day the situation changed: the King finally agreed to exile the Despensers. Sir Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief, paid his reckoning, and he and his men left – but they had forgotten the armies about the city.
    Horses had been promised, but in the new climate friends of the Younger Despenser were hard to find. Sir Gilbert had to threaten one of Despenser’s grooms to provide him with three horses. The fellow agreed with a bad grace and it was while he was preparing the mounts that Sir Gilbert went to see the Temple: he couldn’t resist taking a look at the symbol of his old Order. However, as he and his men turned a corner, they found themselves confronted by five scruffy men-at-arms.
    One sat at a table drinking, while two stood behind him in a tavern’s doorway. All had the bleared voices and ruddy faces of men who have been drinking for many hours. They were egging on two more men who were practising fighting with daggers. As soon as Sir Gilbert and his little retinue appeared, the fighters stopped and eyed them with interest.
    Sir Gilbert avoided meeting their eyes, but hefted his wooden chest beneath an arm and carried on.
    ‘Oi! Stop a moment, my Lord.’ It was the large, broad-shouldered man at the bench who spoke, his face remarkably smooth and youthful, with light-coloured brown hair, and only one blemish: a thick, pink scar which followed the line of his eyebrows like an obscene crease. Bright blue eyes gleamed with humour but, when he motioned, the men with daggers moved to stand in Sir Gilbert’s path.
    Instantly the dogs were at Sir Gilbert’s side, Aylmer standing still, head low as he scowled forward, Merry crouching slightly before taking two stiff-legged steps towards the men blocking the path.
    Sir Gilbert paused, his hand falling to his sword.
    ‘Master, there’s no need for violence,’ the seated man said mildly, and his men chuckled. ‘But I think I should like to peep inside your little box there, just to make sure