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‘You tell that to the men with the swords.’

‘They took it.’

‘Aha.’

‘It was Despenser’s, really.’

‘Aye.’

‘And he’s dead.’

Harry made no comment.

Senchet looked down at the bag that hung over his belly. Inside it were a number of little leather pouches. In each, fistfuls of gold coins. He looked across at Harry. Harry had a similar bag at his stomach. Senchet looked up into Harry’s face, and Harry looked back at him.

Their laughter could be heard by a peasant called Martin at the farm a half-mile from the road.

His wife came out and gestured towards the roadway. ‘What’s so funny, you reckon?’

‘God knows,’ he muttered dourly. But his eyes were on the two riders as they continued on their way, laughing uproariously as they increased the distance between themselves and the castle.