The Pardoner's Crime by Keith Souter

think that I like this politics of yours.’
    Richard laughed and remounted. ‘Politics belong to no man, Hubert. Power is what it is all about, and I do believe thatpower and the pursuit of it is a great corrupting influence.’ He shook his head. ‘No, for me the most important thing is the law. That is what I believe in and that is what I make my guiding principle.’
    Hubert bit his lip pensively for a moment then grinned. ‘And so it is mine too, my lord. So shall we now go to Sandal Castle?’
    â€˜Aye, Hubert. We have been charged by the King to bring proper law back to the area. And we must begin by meeting the Deputy Steward of the Manor of Wakefield, who now holds the castle.’
    â€˜And mayhap we will get a bite at this castle, my lord?’ Hubert asked hopefully.
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    They made their way passed the Sandal Magna village church of St Helens and started on the climb up towards the natural sandstone ridge upon which Sandal Castle stood; a natural stronghold with clear views over the surrounding countryside. By anyone’s standards it was an impressive sight. Its ashlar stones glistened in the late afternoon light. A great keep with four circular towers crested an impressive motte, and a battlemented twenty-foot high curtain-wall with turrets at regular lengths along it surrounded a large bailey. The wall crossed the large moat on either side, ascended the slopes of the motte to abut upon the keep. Protruding above the walls, within the curtain-wall could be seen the roofs of spectacular halls and dwellings on the bailey and a great central barbican with nearby drum towers connecting to the keep.
    As the road wound up to the top of the ridge they approached the outer defensive earthwork behind which was the large moat. Armed men were visible, looking down at them from the battlements.
    â€˜It looks to have had recent fortification, my lord,’ said Hubert.
    Richard pointed to a blackened scorched area on the outer casement of one of the towers. ‘I suspect that area markswhere Lancaster must have besieged it. And of course, in the five years that it was in his hands he strengthened it considerably .’
    They rode along the side of the embankment and stopped in front of the gatehouse. The drawbridge was already down, bridging the moat but naturally, the portcullis on the castle side was down and locked in place.
    â€˜State your business!’ challenged a gruff voice from behind the portcullis on the far side of the drawbridge.
    â€˜I am Sir Richard Lee and this is my assistant, Hubert of Loxley. I am the Circuit Judge of the King’s Northern Realm and I am here to see Sir Thomas Deyville on His Majesty’s business.’
    There was silence for a moment, then the mumble of voices and the sound of a messenger’s retreating feet. Then, ‘You are expected, Sir Richard. Prepare to enter.’
    The sound of cranking wheels was followed by a slow creaking as the portcullis began to rise and disappear behind the gatehouse wall, atop which could be seen defensive machicolations for pouring boiling oil and hurling missiles. When it had risen fully a porter and a man at arms with a pikestaff appeared from within. The porter made a clumsy bow and waved them in.
    Once inside the castle the porter signalled to someone in the gatehouse and the portcullis began to descend.
    An ostler appeared at a run and relieved them of their mounts, which he then led across the bailey courtyard to the stables block.
    Sir Richard looked around and found himself nodding agreeably at the structure of the castle. The keep was huge, rising four storeys from the base of the motte, which was already a considerable height above the level of the bailey. In itself it looked to be a good defensive structure, capable of defence should invaders manage to get past the outer moat and the great six to ten-foot thick wall. Yet clearly, the barbican, semi-circular in cross section, had been added