Coventry, England, AD 1325
Rosamunde had agreed they would to return to Coventry together. ‘It will not be easy,’ she murmured. ‘Even to get audience at this time of strife and discord will be a hard thing.’
‘But we will surely try.’
‘Yes, however word from our agent is that the King is distracted, sore set to raise an army for this French war and, dare I say it, the Queen Isabella does not aid him in this, spending as she does. We provide the royal court with damask and fine stuff so we should not complain, but to persuade him to part with any part of his treasure at this time will be a toilsome matter.’
‘Must I … do you say I will speak to His Majesty directly, that is to say myself?’ This realisation was a terrifying prospect.
‘Who else, beloved?’ she answered briskly, then softened. ‘You will fare very well, I know it. Hold always to your heart that it is written in the Book of Proverbs: “Seest thou a man diligent in his business: he shall stand before kings”.’
Jared nodded gravely.
‘And remember that when in parliament or council he wears a kingly face but even a prince must talk with those who supply him with what he desires. Never fear, I will instruct you on how to conduct yourself.’
The politeness and graces were one thing – no one would trouble themselves about a mere merchant’s airs – it was the deadly maze of rivalries, jealousies and hidden allegiances that he was hearing about that were his greatest despair.
Surrounding the King at court were his favourites but so also were those plotting against him. Many would say the chief of which was his wife and queen – Isabella herself. On the one hand were the powerful and loathed Despensers, and on the other, most of the rest of the realm who were infuriated by the King’s incompetence and indecisive ways, the careless indulging of his followers. It was a poisonous and treacherous court Jared was headed into.
He had brought with him two ribaudequins and a pair of his cannones with an apple-sized bore, the largest that could be said to be movable. With these he had to convince the King of England to take up gunnes as a military weapon.
Jared set out, Daw by his side. Not to Westminster Palace, for King Edward travelled the land taking his court with him, and at this time was at Wallingford Castle, to the south of Banbury.
It took slow days on horseback, following behind the creaking wagon as it crossed heath and meadowland, hillsides and streams but for Jared it was not lost time, as he was with his son. On the roadway, at supper in a tavern and before the fire with an ale, they talked together on subjects that time had not allowed before.
Daw’s respect for Jared was boundless: a man who’d risen from a village freeman to talking with kings, one who’d seen foreign lands and marvellous sights but had returned to follow through a vision that was going to change the world.
And Jared saw in Daw someone who was level-headed, quiet but resolute and who had mastered the gunnery arts through to his own level of understanding. As he faced his greatest trial it would be with the best possible companion.
In Wallingford they stayed at the Lamb, hard by the Corn Exchange; its stabling allowed them to keep their wagon safe.
The Barnwell agent, William Rawlin, met them there. ‘There is nothing I can do that will set you before King Edward,’ he said flatly. ‘He trusts no one. Saving Mistress Barnwell’s instructions, I only deal with the Queen’s household, and that with worriments that would try a saint.’
‘I think this may help me.’ Jared handed over a letter of introduction and Rawlin studied it closely.
‘Good, very good. It will probably get you as far as John Bury, the King’s treasurer, but no further. I’d advise you to have a very good story for him, the vulture.’
It took a shameful amount in bribes but three days later he was brought to the chamber of the treasurer.
‘Jared Barnwell. I’ve not heard of you that I should pay my respects?’ Bury was a dry, shrewd individual in almost scholarly plain black, who didn’t rise to greet him.
‘My lord, I am new returned from the Low Countries and—’
‘You will state your business with me, and pray be brief, I have little time.’
‘Sire. I come for concern at the tidings of war with France.’
‘And you’re offering scutage or knight-service,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Or …?’
‘On my travels, My Lord, I came upon a new weapon, a terrifying man-slayer that may be placed on the killing field to do its work at a distance from the enemy, that no man need raise spear nor sword but let it ply its trade.’
‘As does our archery, our mangonels, our crossbows …’
‘Sire, this does its business invisibly, striking any, and with thunder and lightning at its command it can—’
‘And for a trifle in the way of a fee you’ll allow our Liege Lord to take it up in some wight.’
Jared felt the prick of desperation.
‘My Lord, your caution is understandable. Therefore I have brought several of these gunnes with me to display and make manifest their powers. These are the very devices lately causing fear and despair in several battles in Italy and Brabant where they—’
‘Odd. I’ve not heard of any “gunne” nor yet a calamitous battle from either kingdom.’
‘If you witnessed these dread engines at the first hand, My Lord, you may judge for yourself their powers.’
‘Yes, well, Master Barnwell, you have heard there is a war afoot. I’m sorely pressed. Do leave your name with the clerk and if we do find need for a … er, gunne, then be assured you will be the first to be summoned.’
‘My dearling, there’s nothing more you – or we can do,’ Rosamunde said gently, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘The world’s not yet ready for your gunnes.’
Tears not far off, Jared turned away.
‘After I’m concluded here in Coventry we’ll go back to Ghent, and there I’ll have time to turn you into a fine merchant prince whom all will respect and obey.’
‘The guild?’ he said huskily.
‘It will have to take care of itself, my love. We have our lives to lead together.’
She looked at him fondly, teasing his hair. ‘Have you seen yourself in a mirror these days? I spy silver and grey in your locks, as you might in mine if I should let nature take its course.’
He kissed her lightly. ‘As always you’re in the right of it, dear Rosamunde. I’ve no right to question my fortune in this life and will do as you bid.’
‘Bless you, Jared,’ she said, her countenance unreadable. ‘Besides, have you not heard? The French war is near over. The Queen and young Prince Edward have gone to France to parlay a treaty. They have no need of gunnes now.’