The Bloodstained Throne (23 page)

‘Me,’ said the voice Geoffrey had heard earlier. It was the peddler with whom Roger had argued. ‘I know a thing or two about medicine. I made a charm, which is still around your neck.’

Geoffrey felt the cord that held a small bundle at his throat, then sat up slowly. No dizziness this time. ‘Thank you.’

‘It is a pleasure – especially as Sir Roger has been so generous.’ He saluted the big knight and left, closing the door behind him.

‘I have cost you a great deal of money,’ said Geoffrey ruefully. ‘How shall I ever repay it?’

Roger waved a dismissive hand. ‘You can name your firstborn after me. Roger Mappestone has a fine ring to it.’

‘Not if it is a girl. But the bells are ringing. Is it Sunday?’

Roger nodded. ‘And the monks have put so many flowers in the church that it smells like a brothel. Remember Abdul’s Pleasure Palace in Jerusalem? Those were the days! We knew our enemies then and did not have to look over our shoulders all the time. Not like now.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Bale, Ulfrith and I have been taking turns to watch you, but Bale fell asleep once and only woke when someone was standing over you with a knife. He reacted with commendable speed and had his blade in the fellow’s throat before he could act, but it was a close call.’

Geoffrey stared at him. ‘Someone tried to kill me? Who?’

‘No one knows. His corpse is in the charnel house.’

‘It must have been one of Fingar’s men,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He laid an ambush for you, and that is the last thing I remember.’

‘But you have not been left alone,’ said Roger. ‘You must have seen the fellow with the dagger and assumed it was Fingar in your delirium. It is not a pirate in the charnel house.’

Geoffrey rubbed his head, but the memories were too jumbled to make sense. ‘Donan took a gold medallion. Has anyone lost one?’

‘I thought Magnus had one on the ship, but he says I am mistaken. And I have no idea what Juhel has – that damned chicken warns him every time I go near his bag.’

‘What about Lucian? Was his pectoral cross real gold or imitation?’

‘It looked real to me. But you have been dreaming these conversations, Geoff lad. I can understand it: I dream about gold myself.’

Geoffrey remembered something else. ‘They ate my dog.’

Roger stared at him. ‘I have not seen it for a day or two, but it will show up when it is hungry.’

‘He does not wander away for days on end,’ said Geoffrey, worried. ‘I should find him.’

Roger shook his head. ‘Not today. Rest and we will talk again later.’ He pulled the blanket up to Geoffrey’s chin with a powerful yank.

‘But I need answers,’ said Geoffrey. ‘What happened about Werlinges?’

‘I told Galfridus the facts with no embellishment or supposition – you would have been proud. He said the conjunction of pirates and massacre was damning but not conclusive, and he sent for young de Laigle, who arrived the next day. De Laigle listened to our story, then rode off to Werlinges, taking Bale with him to act as a guide.’

‘What did he deduce?’

‘Nothing, because he did not even try to investigate. He ordered half his men to loot the houses and the rest to set the church alight, to burn the corpses. Bale was alarmed that the matter was not going to be properly explored, and he tried to look for clues before the flames took hold.’

Geoffrey was anxious. ‘He should not have done! De Laigle might have misunderstood what he was doing; he may blame us for the massacre, just to be credited with finding a solution.’

‘Bale was careful. But I understand de Laigle’s reluctance to take time over such a matter: ships seen at sea have the whole coast buzzing with rumours.’

‘An invasion by the Duke of Normandy?’

‘Possibly, although people are more afraid that it might be Bellême. De Laigle is terrified and refuses to be outside his stronghold now.’

‘Did Bale discover anything?’ Geoffrey was uneasy, not wishing to imagine what the ghoulish squire had done unsupervised.

‘He can tell you himself. But there is something else you should know.’ Roger hesitated before continuing. ‘Edith is dead. She was strangled with red ribbon.’

Ten

Geoffrey refused to drink anything except the fresh water Bale fetched from the well, and he ate only what Roger brought from the communal pans in the refectory. At first, Roger thought him overly suspicious, but Geoffrey made a rapid recovery once he had made his stand against medicines and, by the following day, was well enough to get up.

‘I told you,’ said Ulfrith. ‘I said you would grow well again once you stopped taking Aelfwig’s tonics.’

Geoffrey could not remember. ‘Did you?’

Ulfrith nodded. ‘I said water was best, but he said I did not know what I was talking about.’

Geoffrey frowned. Had it been Ulfrith who had made him drink water in the depths of his illness, and his deluded mind had seen Fingar? His recollection of everything after Werlinges was blurred, and he was unable to separate fact from fiction.

That evening, Harold poked an enquiring head around the door. ‘Galfridus said you were better,’ he said, smiling. ‘But I wanted to see for myself. Someone tried to kill you while you slept, I hear. Who was it?’

‘No one knows,’ said Roger. ‘But Bale stopped him.’

Geoffrey wondered why anyone should mean him harm. Was it because he had asked questions about the deaths of Vitalis and Paisnel, and someone was afraid he was heading towards a solution? Or had Fingar added some toxic substance to one of the medicines Geoffrey had swallowed, as revenge for the theft of his money?

Harold peeled a clove of garlic, struggling to hold something under his arm at the same time. It was a musical instrument, carefully wrapped in cloth. He offered Geoffrey the clove.

‘It is almost my last one,’ he said pensively. ‘But I am willing to sacrifice it for a friend.’

‘We are friends?’ The question was out before Geoffrey could stop it.

Harold took no offence and merely grinned merrily. ‘I would like to think our experiences in the marshes and at Werlinges have forged a bond between us. You are patient with Magnus, who is not the easiest of men, and you ordered my brother’s poor body put in the chapel when others would have left him for the crows.’

‘But my squire was the one who killed him.’ Geoffrey winced. Clearly, he was not quite back to normal, because that was hardly something to confess to a grieving brother.

‘Bale has already told me,’ said Harold sadly. ‘It happened during the heat of the battle, and if anyone is to blame, it is me – I should have looked for him the moment we arrived at Werlinges and kept him out of harm’s way. He said he might bring the horses there himself, so . . .’ He looked out of the window, tears in his eyes. ‘But what is done is done, and there is no point in dwelling on what might have been.’

Geoffrey did not know what to say, so they sat in silence for a while. Then the door opened, and Ulfrith and Bale joined them.

‘Is that a horn?’ asked Bale, pointing eagerly at Harold’s bundle. ‘I have not heard a horn for years. Will you play it for us, sir?’

‘I would, but it is a poor instrument,’ said Harold, pulling off its wrappings. ‘I do not think it will sound very nice. Galfridus lent it to me.’

‘We are not fussy,’ said Roger. ‘It cannot be worse than that stringed affair Lucian used to seduce Edith on
Patrick
, which sounded like cats being throttled.’

‘Have you heard anything else about Edith’s death?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Just that she was killed some time between Friday night and Saturday morning,’ supplied Harold. ‘She retired to bed, and Philippa found her the next morning.’

‘Philippa cries all the time,’ added Ulfrith from the window. ‘They were close, like sisters.’

‘Were they sleeping in different rooms?’ asked Geoffrey.

Roger shot a glance towards Ulfrith and lowered his voice, while Bale was distracting Harold by inspecting the horn. ‘They shared, but Philippa was out that particular night.’

‘Out?’ asked Geoffrey. He saw Roger’s sheepish expression and raised his eyebrows. ‘With you? God’s teeth, man! Take care Ulfrith does not find out. His sulk will know no limits.’

‘I left him a clear field, but he failed to take advantage of it,’ said Roger defensively. ‘Besides, she
offered
herself to me. But nothing happened anyway. We sat at the high altar in the church, and all she wanted to do was play dice.’

‘Dice?’ asked Geoffrey, not sure that a hot-blooded knight like Roger would have spent his time gaming when there had been promises of a different nature in the offing.

Roger sighed ruefully. ‘She declined to lie with me, and I am not a man for rape. We passed the night chastely, although I doubt Ulfrith will believe it. I would much rather have had Edith, if you want the truth – Philippa is a bit skinny for my taste – but Philippa looked at me prettily, and it seemed a shame to disappoint her. She asked about my gold.’

‘Did it occur to you that she might be looking for a wealthy husband now Vitalis is dead? And so was Edith probably, hence her friendship with Lucian.’

‘Yes, I had worked that out, thank you,’ said Roger dryly. ‘And, personally, I believe it was Lucian who killed her. I think she invited him to her chamber to make him break his vows of chastity, and Philippa agreed to make herself scarce for the occasion. But Lucian may not want a wife, so, to make sure Edith did not tell his brethren what he had done, he strangled her.’

‘With red ribbon,’ mused Geoffrey. ‘Does he have any?’

Roger waved a dismissive hand. ‘There is a scriptorium here, and any number of people have a supply he could have raided.’

‘Have you confronted him?’

‘No, because I do not want anyone to know about Philippa and me. We would both be in trouble – for breaking the monastery’s rules about associating with women at night, and for gambling on the high altar. But it was the best available surface for my dice.’

‘You are right! The monks will be furious. What were you thinking?’

Roger was surprised by the question. ‘Of getting her in the right mood, of course! Brother Wardard almost caught us. He came early for his offices, but Philippa was able to persuade him that we were praying for you. Unfortunately, I had to donate a lot of gold to make it convincing.’

‘And here I was, thinking you had done it for me. But you were only trying to evade a charge of blasphemy!’

Roger ignored the remark. ‘Do you remember when we met Lucian by that shepherd’s hut? The shepherd was dead under a fallen tree. Well, I think Lucian killed
him
, too. And, for all we know, he might have murdered Vitalis and Paisnel into the bargain. I said from the start that there was something nasty about him.’

‘Very well!’ snapped Harold loudly, his voice breaking into their discussion. ‘I will play if it will make you happy, but do not expect beauty. This instrument is no better than a piece of pipe.’

He put the horn to his lips and began to blow. Geoffrey winced at the raw, rasping sound that emerged, although Roger bobbed his head and tapped his feet in polite appreciation. Bale listened with a sober, intent face, and Ulfrith put his hands over his ears. Eventually, the noise stopped.

‘That was “Sumer is a Cumin in”,’ said Harold in the silence that followed. ‘I told you the instrument was not up to my talents.’

‘It was very nice,’ said Roger, whose idea of good music was anything with a bit of volume. ‘Do you know any dances?’

Harold obliged, with Bale hammering a pewter pot on a table and Roger adding his own rich bass to the cacophony. Geoffrey felt his headache return and was relieved when Aelfwig came to say the noise was disturbing the monks at their devotions.

‘Oh dear,’ said Harold with a conspiratorial grin. ‘Now we are in trouble!’

‘They are just jealous,’ said Roger. ‘They would rather be singing pretty songs, too, not chanting those tedious dirges.’

‘How much of the pirates’ gold did you take, Roger?’ asked Geoffrey the following day, as they ate breakfast with the squires on the steps outside the hospital.

He had slept soundly and was well on the road back to full health. His mind was sharp enough to think about the questions that had been plaguing him since the shipwreck, though there were frustrating blanks in his memory that included much of his meeting with Galfridus, and he was uncertain whether some of the discussions he recalled had actually taken place.

Roger pursed his lips. ‘I showed you in the marshes – a few coins for horses.’

‘You did not make off with the whole chest?’

‘If I had, you would have noticed, surely? That box was large and heavy.’

Geoffrey was not so sure. Roger’s salvage had been wrapped in the blanket he had taken from Pevenesel, so it was entirely possible that it had included a chest of gold. Roger was certainly strong enough to carry one and make it appear as if it were of no consequence.

‘Have the others gone?’ he asked, realizing he was unlikely to have the truth. ‘Lucian said he wanted to return to Bath, and Juhel was going to continue to Ribe.’

‘Galfridus suggested everyone remain here until we are sure there is no invasion,’ replied Ulfrith. ‘He said it was too dangerous to roam about until then. So everyone is still here. Well, almost everyone. Poor Philippa.’

‘Philippa?’ asked Geoffrey in confusion. ‘I thought it was Edith who died.’

‘Murdered,’ corrected Ulfrith. ‘Philippa is distraught about the loss of her companion. They loved each other like sisters, despite sharing the same husband.’

‘Philippa seemed more fond of Vitalis than Edith was,’ said Geoffrey, ‘although I suspect the security his money offered was a factor. Now she is afraid of being poor.’

‘She did say she wanted a husband,’ admitted Ulfrith, ‘but that she will not begin her search until the proper period of mourning is over. She spent much of yesterday with Brother Lucian, although I do not think
he
will renounce his vows and marry her.’