The Cross Legged Knight by Candace Robb Page B

replenish his war chest with a new tax. In the end, the king had gained little. He was still in debt to his Italian bankers and the crown of France was ever farther from his grasp.
    ‘I know my lord king,’ said Thoresby. ‘He heard the demands, looked at you with expectation and you could not deny him.’
    Wykeham reached for the wine, took a long drink,set the cup down with a clatter. ‘It is as you say. I could not do less for him.’
    ‘I warned you – I expect you remember.’
    ‘You warned me of the court, not parliament.’ Wykeham cut a chunk of bread, dipped it in the fish sauce.
    ‘I did not expect your problems to come from the people. The king’s war has given them an unfortunate power over him.’
    ‘It is ever unwise to be ruled by one’s purse.’ Wykeham lifted the dripping bread to his mouth, holding a linen cloth close beneath his chin. ‘I counselled caution, the parliament judged that caution cost too dear.’ As he chewed, he wiped his fingers, then the edges of his mouth. ‘The members of parliament are fools, but the king needs their money.’
    The long war with France had depleted the royal coffers and taxed the people to the point where all grew stubborn about further taxes.
    ‘I understand that the new tenant in your townhouse has been a member for Kingston-upon-Hull. Wealthy?’
    Wykeham had been lifting his cup of wine. He took the time to drink before answering. ‘Not wealthy enough to buy a townhouse in York, or to build one.’ He placed the cup on the table and sat back, folding his hands. ‘Are you wondering whether he might be a donor for your lady chapel?’
    Thoresby deserved that. It had been a clumsy question. ‘As you have seen, there is still much to do.’
    ‘It will be a worthy monument to you and your predecessors,’ Wykeham said.
    ‘But I am also curious about Godwin Fitzbaldric,’ Thoresby said. ‘I know he must earn his standing in York, become bailiff and mayor at least before he has another chance at parliament.’
    ‘Why do I woo him, is that your question? Who are his friends? How influential is he? Can he help me regain the chancellorship?’
    Wykeham’s touchiness answered most of Thoresby’s questions. ‘I grow transparent in my old age.’
    ‘I needed a tenant, he and his wife found the space pleasing. That is all there is to know about Godwin Fitzbaldric.’
    Thoresby was relieved when the servants entered with the meat course and another flagon of wine. While they fussed with serving, Wykeham resumed his study of the fire, though now with cup in hand, sipping frequently. Thoresby let the meal continue quietly, his thoughts on Wykeham’s strained relations with Sir Ranulf’s family, how impatiently he awaited Lady Pagnell’s summons.
    As if reading his mind, Wykeham’s first words when the servants withdrew were, ‘I would be far wiser to befriend the Pagnells than the Fitzbaldrics. This property exchange – let us pray it softens the lady.’
    ‘You have gone forth with it?’
    ‘Alain delivered several deeds this morning. I trust one of them will be to her liking.’
    ‘I am glad you have done this.’
    Sir Ranulf, in keeping with his conceit of crusader, had borrowed money from a neighbour for some of the fittings he needed on his venture, signing a contract that if he died in France the land was forfeit, as a crusader would have agreed had he died in the Holy Land. The neighbour had legally, albeit greedily, exercised his right in seizing the land. Unfortunately, it was the piece of property on which Lady Pagnell had intended to build a small house in which to live as a widow. She did not care for her son Stephen’s wife and children, and wished to establish her own household.Thoresby had suggested that Wykeham offer Lady Pagnell a comparable piece of property that she might trade the neighbour for the land she desired.
    ‘You think much of the Pagnells,’ said Wykeham. ‘But tell me, did Sir Ranulf not bring much of this on