Read The King's Bishop for Free Online Page B

what I do not believe is that the page got drunk, walked out into the night and was inspired by the snow to try sliding down the mound. If he’d been drunk, he would have given up any attempt to climb the mound with the first slip; drunks have no patience.’
    ‘So he climbed the steps.’
    Wykeham shook his head. ‘Had he climbed the steps up to the tower and walked round, he would have slipped closer to the steps.’ Wykeham leaned over, pointed to the location of the scar in the snow. ‘His fall occurred out of sight of any of the guards. Did you note that?’
    Thoresby was surprised by Wykeham. He seemed a different person from the man who had made the King so impatient. More confident. ‘You have considered this with care.’
    Wykeham shrugged. ‘God forgive me, but it is the tiny details that fascinate me. In incidents as well as buildings.’
    Thoresby crouched down, studied the mound, the tower. It was true, the guards were stationed out of sight of that very spot. He rose. ‘So tell me this. If the lad did not climb the mound, and he did not gain access to the tower, and he did not try skirting it, what happened?’
    Wykeham threw up his hands. ‘I do not know.’
    ‘If it was murder, how was it carried out?’
    Wykeham shook his head. ‘I do not know.’
    Thoresby stared down at the model, feeling a bit of a fool for thinking of none of this himself.
    ‘I built this model when the King spoke of heightening the tower, but now I doubt that will happen in his lifetime.’ Wykeham’s voice was sad.
    Thoresby turned back to his host. ‘The funds have been expended for the war in France?’
    Wykeham’s expression matched his voice. ‘The war has emptied the coffers. Whatever we finally win from France, it will have cost too dearly.’
    ‘In lives as well as building projects.’
    Wykeham turned a startled eye on the Archbishop. ‘You cannot think I am unaware of that?’
    Thoresby held up his hands, palms out, shook his head. ‘Forgive me. I intended no insult. We may be tearing at the same bone, but I do not think you a heartless man.’
    Wykeham bowed slightly, then motioned towards the steps. ‘Shall we descend and sit comfortably? Peter has wine waiting for us, and in a little while he will amaze us with a pie he has coaxed out of the guards’ cook.’
    Thoresby followed his host down the narrow stairs. As he took a seat by the fire, he reached out towards the heat, rubbing his hands together. He had grown quite cold up in the workroom. ‘I was not aware that the post of Clerk of Works went to men educated in architecture, appropriate though that may be. I thought it usually a political appointment.’
    Wykeham smiled as he settled into the chair nearest the brazier and turned it at an angle to the table, facing the fire. ‘My knees,’ he explained. Peter stepped forward to pour the wine. ‘Not all Clerks of Works have shared my interest in architecture. But when I was appointed, the King had plans for much building.’ The sadness had crept back into Wykeham’s voice.
    ‘You miss the work?’
    Wykeham settled back in his chair. ‘We accomplished a great deal. Improvements to Eltham and Sheen, much of this castle …’ he shrugged. ‘I am content.’
    Thoresby glanced over at the bed. ‘You work on the models when you are wakeful?’
    Wykeham smiled. ‘When prayer fails to calm me to sleep, yes, I rise, light the lamp, find a problem I have not resolved.’
    ‘And you eventually grow drowsy?’
    Wykeham laughed. ‘A wiser man would choose what made him drowsy, but I am usually still staring at the problem when Peter comes to wake me for mass.’
    Thoresby was intrigued. ‘What keeps you awake at night?’
    Wykeham leaned forward. ‘We come to the point so quickly. Good. We are both busy men.’ He motioned to Peter for more wine. When it was poured, Wykeham sat bent slightly over his cup for a moment, his long, thin fingers wrapped round it.
    Thoresby wondered whether Wykeham was back