The Bloodstained Throne

Thirteen

‘I shall never understand monks,’ said Roger as he packed up his salvaged possessions later that day. Ulfrith sat in the window looking miserable, while Bale sharpened his knives, humming under his breath. Geoffrey sat on the edge of the bed and took sips from Ulfrith’s water flask. Nearby, Aelfwig was folding blankets. ‘They let themselves be deceived by a pretty face.’

So, too, had Roger, by allowing Philippa to use him as her alibi, but Geoffrey said nothing.

‘Monastics are a strange breed,’ agreed Bale. ‘These notions of not bearing arms and living in peace are not normal. And Lucian is a monk, because he did not slaughter anyone after all — Philippa strangled Edith, and the shepherd’s death was an accident.’

It was peculiar logic, but Geoffrey did not feel inclined to take issue with him.

‘So Juhel must have murdered Paisnel and probably Vitalis, too,’ mused Roger. ‘Which means that all the murders are solved, but not one culprit will pay the price. Juhel will slip away and may well kill again, and Philippa will find herself a rich husband.’

‘You are wrong,’ said Ulfrith from the window, although his voice lacked conviction. ‘She is too beautiful to be a murderess.’

Aelfwig clicked his tongue admonishingly. ‘You had a lucky escape, my boy. If I had known the love potion you charged me to make was to be used on her, I would never have sold it to you.’

‘What love potion?’ asked Roger.

‘I needed help,’ said Ulfrith, unrepentant. ‘Nothing else was working, but now I see why. She was intent on having Lucian because she thought he was rich. And I am not.’

Geoffrey was about to take another gulp of water but paused with the flask in mid-air. ‘Is that what I have been drinking these past few days? Well, I suppose it explains your odd questions after you rescued me from Fingar — whether I felt the urge to lie with Philippa. You were afraid you had invested in a charm and I had reaped the benefits.’

‘It did not work for either of us,’ said Ulfrith mournfully.

Geoffrey rubbed his chin. ‘But there was an odd taste to the water before we met Aelfwig — after the fight at Werlinges, when you urged me to drink it. Magnus also wanted some, but you were reluctant to let him have it. Shortly afterwards, we were both plagued with odd visions. What was in it? A potion of your own that would make me repellent to her?’

Ulfrith’s guilty expression indicated Geoffrey was guessing along the right lines. ‘You were not supposed to keep drinking it, but I could not stop you.’

Roger looked more dangerous than Geoffrey had ever seen him. He advanced on Ulfrith with a gleam in his eye that was distinctly unnerving.

‘You poisoned Geoffrey? You fed him something you knew would make him ill? And then, when he was laid low, you gave him more?’

‘No!’ cried Ulfrith, leaping to his feet and backing away. ‘It was not like that! My grandmother used to swallow the stuff when she wanted to see into the future. It used to make her jabber nonsense, but she was never ill. All I wanted was for Sir Geoffrey to be unappealing to Lady Philippa, so she might spare a glance for me.’

Roger regarded him furiously. ‘But your grandmother probably drank it all her life, and you fed it to Geoff without knowing what might happen. She was a woman, and he is a man. They are different!’

Geoffrey was unable to prevent a smile. ‘But no harm was done.’

Roger rounded on him. ‘No harm? You would not say that if you could have seen yourself. Aelfwig told me you would not live the night, and I spent a lot of gold making you well again — buying prayers, paying for Breme’s charm, making donations to the abbey. He almost killed you!’

‘I did not!’ squeaked Ulfrith, cowering as Roger spun around again. ‘I tried to stop him from taking more, but you ordered me not to be mean. There was nothing I could do. .’

‘He tried to make amends,’ said Geoffrey to Roger. ‘It was Ulfrith who gave me water instead of medicine. Breme told me it was his idea, but it was probably Ulfrith’s.’

‘Yes!’ insisted Ulfrith. ‘The idea came to me after I saw the jug next to his bed. He must have fetched it himself when I left him to watch. .’

He trailed off, regarding Roger in horror, but the squire’s inadvertent confession clarified more issues in Geoffrey’s mind. If Ulfrith had left him unattended, it meant Fingar had visited, and he had not imagined the conversation. And since Geoffrey had been far too weak to fetch the water himself, it must have been Fingar who had given it to him, thus probably saving his life.

‘You left him?’ demanded Roger with icy fury. ‘After I gave you strict instructions to stay?’

‘I saw Philippa walking alone,’ the squire said miserably. ‘I had to make sure she was safe.’

‘What was in your water, Ulfrith?’ asked Aelfwig gravely, cutting across Roger’s spluttering rage. ‘My potion contained henbane, which does not mix well with other medicines. I asked whether you were giving him remedies after you arrived, but you all said no.’

‘I was not giving it to him,’ quibbled Ulfrith. ‘He just took it. And it was a black fungus that grows on wild grasses. My grandmother called it ergot.’

‘Well, there you are,’ said Aelfwig. ‘The combination of ergot and henbane will certainly drive a man from his wits. And if Geoffrey had continued to take both, we would not be talking now.’

‘Lord!’ muttered Geoffrey. ‘I accused Juhel of doing it. I shall have to apologize.’

‘I did not hurt you deliberately,’ mumbled Ulfrith. ‘I was confused. Philippa was so cold-’

At the name of the woman, Roger’s temper snapped. He advanced on his squire with a murderous expression in his eyes. Terrified, Ulfrith darted behind a table, but Roger flung it away as though it were made of feathers.

‘No,’ said Geoffrey, moving to stop the dreadful advance. He had seen that expression before and knew Roger would be sorry once his squire lay dead. ‘That is enough.’

‘It is enough when I say so,’ snarled Roger. ‘He almost killed you.’

‘I promise I will never do it again!’ squealed Ulfrith.

‘Damn right, lad,’ growled Roger, moving forward, dagger in his hand. ‘You will not.’

Geoffrey dived at the big knight’s knees, bringing him crashing to the floor just as the knife flashed towards Ulfrith’s throat. For a moment, he thought Roger meant to continue the fight and braced himself, but the fall had brought Roger to his senses. He shoved Geoffrey away.

‘Damn you, Geoff,’ he growled. ‘You have just ripped my best shirt.’

Because he did not feel like being in the same room as Ulfrith, Geoffrey wandered across the battlefield, wishing he did not have to wait until the following day to leave La Batailge. He walked to the tree trunk on the ridge, thinking about his father and the warriors of Hastinges. Pondering the scene of such slaughter made him maudlin, so he went to the church, where he spent a long time staring at the high altar. Several monks knelt around it, their whispered prayers hissing softly.

‘Roger told me your father died by his own hand,’ came a voice. Geoffrey turned to see Wardard. ‘You must have been distressed that he should meet such an ignoble end.’

‘Goodrich is a happier place without him,’ said Geoffrey shortly, thinking of the misery Godric had inflicted on family and tenants during his violent life.

‘So I heard from Bale.’ Wardard was rueful. ‘It seems I was over-hasty when I declined to tell you of Godric’s role in the battle. Most men whose fathers fought here revere them as heroes — and some were abject cowards. But Roger tells me you are well aware of Godric’s faults.’

‘He was flawed. Like all of us.’

‘Your mother deserved better,’ said Wardard, almost to himself. ‘She was a fine woman.’

‘So I am told,’ remarked Geoffrey dryly.

Wardard grinned suddenly. ‘Perhaps I would be wise not to reminisce too freely about her. Well, we shall discuss Godric instead, then. Men fight better when they have friends around them, but Godric was not a man for friends. He was too brutal, too outspoken and too arrogant.’

‘Did he run away that day?’

Wardard nodded. ‘But he was not the first, nor even the second. And he rallied with the rest when they were given orders to attack again. He was braver than some, less than others.’

‘Truly? He did not balk at the first hurdle and call for others to flee?’

Wardard rested his hand over his heart. ‘As God is my witness. Godric fell back early, but I did not hear him calling for anyone to go with him. He was not a hero, just a man.’

‘Then why did Vitalis tell me such a tale?’

‘I told you: his illness confused his memories. There was a knight who screamed his terror at the first charge and unnerved others. But it was not Godric. You will find your recollections become hazy with age, too. It happens to us all.’

‘So why did the Conqueror give him his estates?’

‘That was in recognition of your mother’s contribution,’ replied Wardard. ‘Herleve really did fight valiantly. She was an inspiration to all who saw her. Godric never knew the truth — and would not have acknowledged it if he had.’

Geoffrey was silent for a while, wondering how his mother could have borne listening to Godric’s self-aggrandizing lies all those years. He was not generally proud of his family. With the exception of Joan, they had been acquisitive, dishonest, violent and selfish. But, for the first time, he saw his mother might have possessed qualities he could admire.

‘Fear not,’ said Wardard, seeming to read his thoughts. ‘You are more like her than him.’

Geoffrey was relieved and grateful to know Vitalis had been mistaken. He tried to imagine the formidable Herleve at Hastinges with her axe, but he could not recall her face, and the features that came to mind were those of his wife. It was dusk as he stepped outside the church, and, full of thoughts and memories, barely heard Harold, who waylaid him to say again that he would protect him from Magnus once the Saxons had triumphed. Seeing himself ignored, Harold went to talk to some of the lay-brothers instead, all of whom were delighted to see him.

Geoffrey had not gone much farther when he saw Magnus slinking away from the abbey and towards the fishponds. Intrigued by the Saxon’s almost comic furtiveness, Geoffrey followed. Magnus glanced behind frequently and stopped to listen on several occasions, but Geoffrey had no trouble staying out of sight, even on the open battle land.

Eventually, Magnus reached the trees that shielded the ponds, and Geoffrey heard him speak, his tone urgent and confidential. Cautiously, Geoffrey eased through the vegetation to see that a number of men — many of them lay-brothers — had gathered around the largest pond. There was a good deal of splashing, some grunts of exertion, the sound of metal against metal, and then a deep plop. Magnus hissed some additional instructions, and the cohort trailed back towards the abbey, chatting happily and making no attempt to disguise where they had been.

When he was sure they had gone, Geoffrey eased forward and knelt where Magnus had crouched. The edge of the pond was thick with churned mud, amid which lay a flat stone. He lifted it and saw a rope underneath. One end disappeared into the water, and he traced the other to where it was securely fastened to a tree. He noted it was carefully concealed under grass the entire distance. Back at the pond, he discovered another two rocks, a rope leading from each.

He sat for a while, thinking, then walked to the hospital to fetch what he needed. Roger was already asleep — his vigil evidently forgotten — and although he stirred when Geoffrey moved about the room, he did not wake. Geoffrey returned to the fishponds and took up station in the undergrowth again. Gradually, daylight faded to dusk and then to night.

He was perfectly relaxed, and for the first time in days his thoughts were clear. He had answers to nearly all his questions — and he understood why he had made mistakes and drawn erroneous conclusions. Perhaps more importantly, he knew how to make amends. But first he had to wait until he heard the telltale scrape of a leather boot on the wall. When the sound came, he eased forward, so that as the dark figure dropped he was ready to meet him.

‘Fingar!’ he called softly. ‘It is Geoffrey.’

The pirate captain looked around wildly, sword in his hand. ‘Come out, where we can see you,’ he snarled.

More sailors swarmed over the wall, several holding crossbows and all carrying daggers. Geoffrey sincerely hoped his assumptions were right and that he was not about to make a fatal mistake. He stepped into the open. A crescent moon dodged in and out of flimsy clouds, just bright enough to let them see him. An owl hooted nearby, low and eerie, followed by the answering call from a marsh bird that had the pirates glancing around in alarm.

‘Fays,’ muttered Donan. ‘They have not gone far since Patrick went down.’

‘I have come to offer you some gold,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I do not know how much. It may be more than you lost to Roger, it may be less. If I tell you where it is, are you prepared to forget what he took and leave us alone?’

‘That depends,’ said Fingar. ‘I do not want to leave with next to nothing, because I make some Devil’s pact with you.’

‘The Saxons are mustering a rebellion and have been raising money to fund it. I know where they have hidden it. You can have it all. But you must give me your word that you will leave Roger alone.’

‘How much gold have they gathered?’ asked Fingar.

‘I told you: I do not know.’

‘Where is it?’ demanded Donan. ‘Tell us, and we will let you live.’

‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘That is not the bargain. I want you to swear — on your lives — that you will never trouble Roger or my squires again. You will forget about your own gold.’

‘No,’ said Donan suspiciously. ‘It sounds like a trick.’

Fingar agreed. ‘And how do you know you can trust us — that we will not take this Saxon gold and hunt Roger anyway?’

‘Because I have invoked a curse,’ replied Geoffrey calmly. ‘With those marsh fays you heard. If you break your word, the curse will follow you until they snatch away your souls.’

At that moment, the bird cried again, piercingly, so that some of the sailors crossed themselves. The moon ducked behind a thicker cloud, and the night was suddenly very dark.

‘All right,’ said Fingar, unsettled. ‘I am of a mind to be generous. Show us.’

‘Swear first,’ said Geoffrey.

‘You will tell us, and then I will thrust my sword into your gizzard, so you can thank God for a quick death!’ cried Donan, darting forward with his weapon raised. This time the bird’s cry was high and wavering. Fingar jumped forward and grabbed him.

‘Fool!’ he hissed. ‘Can you not see he can summon these creatures? Why do you think I did not kill him in the hospital?’

‘Tell me,’ said Donan, although the unsteadiness in his voice said he was growing frightened. He was not the only one: the sailors had gathered in a tight knot, finding reassurance in each other’s close proximity. ‘I did not understand it then, and I do not see why we cannot kill him now.’

‘Because the fays protected him when he was poisoned,’ snapped Fingar. ‘I heard what the herbalist said — that Geoffrey should have died. But he recovered. We cannot kill a man who has the love of fays. Now sheath your sword before you see us cursed.’

‘Very well,’ said Donan. He tried to sound reluctant, but it was obvious he was relieved to have an excuse to back down.

Fingar turned to Geoffrey. ‘We accept your offer, and I swear, by all I hold holy, that I will take this Saxon gold and not trouble you or your friends again.’

His crew muttered similar oaths. Donan was made to repeat his, to ensure it was done properly. When they had finished, Geoffrey showed them the ropes running into the water, then stood aside as they drew them up. The first bundle appeared, and its coverings were eagerly pulled away. Geoffrey held his breath, aware that if he had guessed wrongly, the sailors would certainly turn on him, vows or no vows. But he need not have worried. Inside was an odd but substantial collection of cups, coins and jewellery. The pirates whooped and gasped, and Fingar was obliged to order them to silence.

‘I do not understand you,’ the captain said, watching Donan retrieve the second haul. ‘You could have had this for yourself.’

‘Roger will never part with what he took from you, and I do not want him killed.’

‘He is lucky to have a friend like you.’ Fingar sounded as though he would never have contemplated such an exchange.

‘Tell me,’ said Geoffrey, changing the subject, ‘did you and Donan come to the hospital when I was ill? I believe you did, but I would like to hear if from you.’

‘Yes — the moment Ulfrith left you unattended. But Donan did not. He was elsewhere.’

‘I imagined Donan?’ Geoffrey thought about the man’s thin face and how it had assumed the appearance of a rat and then a weasel.

Fingar shrugged. ‘You must have done. He was not there.’

‘Did any of your men find a heavy gold medallion?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Kell did, in one of the chests, along with documents I recognized as Juhel’s. Apparently, Roger accused Juhel of poisoning you, and he left in a huff. One of your squires hid his belongings for spite — to annoy him.’

Geoffrey was confused. ‘Does Kell have this medallion?’

Fingar regarded him in wonder. ‘I am truly amazed you do not recall that part! Juhel came in and caught us. We outnumbered him, but he fought noisily and threatened to raise the alarm. We did not want that, and the medallion was left behind in the confusion of our escape. We had intended to ambush Roger, but Juhel made that impossible.’

‘Did you tell me you had eaten my dog?’

Fingar looked shocked. ‘Of course not! What sort of man do you think I am? I do not eat dog!’

Geoffrey saw Kell look decidedly furtive, and supposed that although Fingar had not taunted him, one of his men certainly had.

‘Juhel accused us of torturing you,’ Fingar went on. ‘But we did nothing of the kind. I am not so reckless as to harm a sick man in an abbey — especially one who has fays watching out for him.’

The bird whistled softly, and Geoffrey frowned, wishing it would go away. It unsettled the sailors, too, and they began to hurry. Soon, two more bundles had joined the first, both equally stuffed with treasure.

‘This is far more than Roger stole,’ said Fingar, regarding it professionally. ‘And he did take our whole box — do not believe him when he says otherwise. But this is a handsome night’s work. Would you like a share?’

Geoffrey shook his head. ‘Just take it as far away from here as you can.’

‘No problem there,’ said Fingar, indicating his men should gather their booty and leave. They hastened to obey. ‘Goodbye, Sir Geoffrey. We shall not meet again.’

He vaulted to the top of the wall like a monkey and raised his hand in salute. The marsh bird sang piercingly, making him jump in alarm, and then he was gone.

‘Thank you, Ulfrith,’ said Geoffrey, as the squire emerged from the shadows. ‘But you did not have to overdo it. Your eager bird almost gave us away.’

‘I was only trying to help,’ said Ulfrith. ‘So, what do we do now? Wait to see which of the lay-brothers comes to check this sunken treasure?’

‘We go to bed,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘And, at first light, we shall visit the King’s agent — who has been monitoring this business from the start.’

Ulfrith gaped at him. ‘The King has an agent watching? Who is it?’

‘Come with me tomorrow and you will find out.’

The hours of darkness passed slowly as Geoffrey considered the solutions he had uncovered. Some were so obvious he wondered he had not seen them before, whereas others were more complex and he was not surprised it had taken him so long to find answers. His thoughts were full of Godric, too, and his vainglorious lies. Eventually, the grey light of dawn began to fill the sky, and he slipped out of the hospital, Ulfrith at his side and his dog at his heels, both panting from the brisk pace he set.

‘Philippa really did murder Edith,’ he said, bracing himself for trouble. ‘There is no question.’

‘I know,’ said Ulfrith softly. ‘I followed her after you tackled her yesterday, and eavesdropped on her confession to Brother Wardard. He urged her to give herself up, but she told him she was free of sin now she had made her act of contrition. She is evil, Sir Geoffrey.’

‘No, just misguided,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But I am sorry you had to learn-’

‘I almost killed you in order to get her,’ interrupted the squire. ‘I did not mean to, but that does not make it right. I should have thrown my potion away when I saw what was happening, and I am sorry. . To make amends, I vow never to fall in love again. It is too dangerous and painful.’

‘Do not make promises you will not keep. There will be other women — better than Philippa.’

‘But love hurts,’ moaned Ulfrith.

‘I know,’ said Geoffrey softly. ‘Believe me.’

‘I suppose you are in love with Lady Hilde.’ Ulfrith shot Geoffrey a puzzled glance, as if he could not imagine why, but wisely changed the subject. ‘Where are we going?’

‘I owe Juhel an apology.’

As they approached the hut, Juhel was sitting outside in the semi-darkness, watching his chicken scratch in the grass. Geoffrey’s dog promptly slunk away. Juhel stood as they approached, and Geoffrey noticed he held a long hunting knife.

‘Delilah likes to be up early,’ Juhel said, smiling a cautious welcome.

‘Have you been here all night?’ asked Geoffrey.

Juhel laughed. ‘What a curious question! Of course. I woke a few moments ago, when Delilah clucked to say she wanted to be let out.’

‘Your boots say otherwise. They are covered in wet mud. Have you been watching Magnus?’

‘Why would I do that?’ Juhel’s expression became far less friendly.

‘Because those are your orders. King Henry is too cautious to allow pretenders to his throne to wander freely around his domain. He would set intelligencers to watch them — to follow them from Ireland and to report on them here.’

‘And you think I am one of these agents? I am flattered!’

‘The story about Paisnel being a spy for Belleme was a lie, designed to lead me astray — which it did, of course. However, it does not make sense. Why would Paisnel travel from Dublin to Ribe, if he was to carry information about England’s defences to Belleme?’

‘Poor Sir Geoffrey,’ said Juhel, gentle and solicitous. ‘Your wits are still awry from-’

‘You are an excellent agent — as shown by the fact that no one has guessed who you are — but Paisnel was not. He gave himself away almost immediately, and you argued about it on the ship — you were seen quarrelling by most of the passengers and some of the crew. You were friends, but his amateur carelessness was endangering your mission.’

‘You give me too much credit,’ said Juhel, shaking his head. ‘I am just a simple parchmenter.’

‘You even declined to leave the sinking ship before Magnus. You watched him go overboard and only then jumped yourself. But a current dragged you away and it was some time before you found him again. And you have been monitoring him ever since, including at Werlinges, when Roger and I could have done with your help.’

‘I am no fighter. I would have been in the way.’

‘Not so. Bale witnessed your talent with knives, and you fought off Fingar’s men single-handed. You also demonstrated a soldier’s reactions in the stable at Pevenesel, and there is your skill at picking locks — an odd talent for a merchant. And you know virtually nothing about parchment. I saw you fold letters when they were damp — they will rot — and Breme overcharged you. If you were a real parchmenter, you would know a fair price.’

‘This is arrant nonsense-’

‘Breme said you wrote him a letter of introduction to a Winchester clerk, but I imagine it was actually a report to the King. So Henry will have two: one from you and one from me, both delivered by Breme.’

‘Yes, you told me you had sent one.’

‘You were pleased,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Now I know why: we are on the same side.’

Juhel sighed. ‘Damn you, Geoffrey! I thought I had been careful. I even let you accuse me of murdering Paisnel and poisoning you in order to conceal my true work.’

‘For which I owe you an apology. You did not kill Paisnel — Magnus did.’

Juhel stared at him. ‘Yes — but how did you guess?’

‘Chicken scratches. They appeared on Magnus’s face the day after Paisnel disappeared. Delilah liked Paisnel — perhaps she tried to defend him. Poor Paisnel probably gave himself away, and Magnus dealt with him ruthlessly — just as he dealt ruthlessly with his own servant, Simon. You threw Paisnel’s body overboard to make sure your own identity was not exposed.’

Juhel sighed unhappily. ‘Magnus caught Paisnel going through his bag. He died in my arms — or I thought he did. I dropped his body into the sea because I could not have Magnus accused of the crime. And any fool would have been able to link a fatal wound in Paisnel to the fact that Magnus was suddenly minus a knife — he lobbed it overboard after the murder, in a panic.’

Geoffrey was puzzled. ‘Why did you want him to evade justice?’

‘Because my orders were to learn who was helping him and how far the sedition had spread. I could not have done that if Fingar had ordered him hanged.’

‘Are you surprised by the scale of the preparations?’

Juhel shook his head. ‘Fortunately, these would-be rebels are supremely incompetent. Gyrth bungled stealing Roger’s gold and let himself be dispatched by a squire, and the troops and supplies they gather at night are hardly discreet.’

‘But what happened at Werlinges? I know Gyrth and other Saxons killed the villagers.’

‘That was another mistake on their part. They remembered that Werlinges had collaborated with the Normans after Hastinges. Gyrth offered the village a chance to make amends by giving him everything they owned. But some of the booty went missing, so Gyrth and his men killed the entire settlement, to show what happens to traitors. He was a fool — the incident will attract attention that will threaten his cause.’

‘It was stolen by that “shepherd”, I suppose?’

‘Almost certainly — a greedy Saxon betraying his own people. And despite the evidence you found that suggested Ulf was innocent of the actual killing, he would certainly have been involved, perhaps by giving orders. It is good that Bale killed him, because he was irredeemably wicked. It is hard to believe he was Harold’s twin.’

‘Did Magnus fight him? Is that how he came by the cut on his arm?’

‘Yes — in the church. I was on the brink of dashing in to rescue him, but he managed to escape on his own.’

‘Later, I saw Magnus throw a bundle down the well. Did it contain evidence of the rebellion? And was it those documents you were drying when I burst in on you?’

‘Some words are still legible. It is a list of men and troops promised. He has the original, but I do not blame him for not wanting duplicate copies floating around.’

‘And your “Danish” letters were cipher — coded messages to the King. Paisnel wrote some, and you composed others. You took them before you. . after he died.’

‘Before I condemned him to drown, you mean,’ said Juhel bitterly. ‘I took a medallion, too — the one that belonged to Magnus, which Paisnel ripped from him as he was murdered.’

‘Why take the medallion?’

‘Because it was evidence that he murdered Paisnel — to be kept safe and produced later, when he will pay for what he did. Of course, he knows it will incriminate him, which is why he never made a fuss about losing it.’

‘And the ring Bale took from Vitalis’s corpse? It seems that was Magnus’s, too.’

‘Yes. Ring and medallion were on the same cord around Magnus’s neck, which snapped during the struggle. I could not find the ring in the dark, and Vitalis must have happened across it the following morning. Magnus must have been appalled when he saw it on Vitalis’s finger, but he could hardly demand it back, lest subsequent questions led to accusations of murder.’

Geoffrey was thoughtful. ‘Was the letter you wrote for Edith’s father an account of all this?’

‘Yes, and it would have been intercepted as soon as she had entrusted it to a messenger,’ said Juhel, nodding. ‘But since it was not sent, I sincerely hope Breme does not fail. Magnus is ready to act, and you and I cannot stop him alone.’

‘I plan to leave La Batailge tonight, to take word to the King.’

Juhel smiled. ‘It is refreshing to meet a loyal man. You repeatedly refuse Magnus’s offers, and I know what you did with the treasure last night.’

‘You do?’ asked Geoffrey uneasily.

‘It solved several problems — the most immediate of which is getting rid of the distraction Fingar represented. And it has deprived the Saxons of funds in a way that is permanent.’ Juhel rubbed his chin. ‘Of course, the King will not be pleased. He would have wanted it for himself.’

Geoffrey was sure he was right and suspected it would see him in trouble. To take his mind off it, he thought about what Galfridus had said when they had discussed the dangers of harbouring rebels in the abbey.

‘You are the “important man” to whom Galfridus referred? You decided the rebels should remain, rather than being ousted?’

Juhel inclined his head. ‘Better here, where I can see what they are doing, than scattered over half of Sussex. But we shall have to trust Breme for deliverance, because you cannot leave me here alone. I shall need your help if we do not want the country in bloody turmoil.’

Geoffrey was troubled when he left Juhel, so he went to the church, seeking the peace of its silent stones. There he found Roger, yawning in the nave, obviously having just prised himself from bed.

‘How was your vigil?’ he asked archly.

‘Kneeling all night is no task for a knight,’ Roger replied grimly. ‘I managed a few psalms, but then I grew sleepy. But do not fret, lad. We shall leave as soon as I have collected my gold.’

‘Leave it hidden: we are going nowhere.’ Geoffrey explained what he had done the previous night and outlined his discussion with Juhel. Roger listened without interruption, but his face was indignant when it finished.

‘You gave those pirates the Saxons’ treasure? Why did you not give it to me and let the pirates have their own back? I could have been fabulously rich!’

‘I did not know what the Saxons had. It was a gamble. You might have ended up poorer.’

Roger was about to argue, but was distracted by a commotion at the gatehouse. They went outside to see that a party of wealthy men had arrived, resplendent in fine clothes and awash with baggage. Lay-brothers hurried to welcome them, and Geoffrey could tell that they were more of those who intended to stand with Magnus.

‘The short fellow in the blue cloak is Osbjorn, one of Magnus’s Danish kinsmen,’ said Juhel, materializing suddenly. ‘The man with him is Eadric; his father was a deacon who fought at King Harold’s side. And there is Brother Aelfwig, greeting them like old friends.’

‘Well, he is a Saxon,’ said Roger disgustedly.

‘And no herbalist, as Geoffrey discovered to his cost. His father was King Harold’s uncle and Bishop of Winchester, which makes Aelfwig Magnus’s cousin. Aelfwig the Elder brought twelve monks and a score of soldiers to the battle. The traitors are coming home to roost.’

A good deal of the newcomers’ luggage was spirited away, and Geoffrey guessed it contained weapons or more treasure. Harold hurried forward and almost dragged Osbjorn from his horse with the ferocity of his greeting, muttering something in his ear that made him turn white. Geoffrey supposed Osbjorn had just been told the news about the missing treasure. Meanwhile, Magnus merely regarded his kinsman with cool hauteur.

Supplies were not all the party had brought. There was also a body. The lay-brothers cut the ropes that held it to the back of a horse, then laid it on the ground, where Aelfwig covered it with a piece of sacking.

‘About half an hour’s ride from here,’ Osbjorn was saying. ‘We thought he might be one of our own, so we brought him here.’

‘He was not one of us,’ said Aelfwig in a meaningful way. ‘He was just a peddler.’

Once the new arrivals had been escorted to the guest hall, Geoffrey went to inspect the body. He crouched down and removed the sack.

‘God’s blood!’ swore Roger. ‘It is Breme.’

‘Damn!’ said Juhel softly. ‘Are our letters in his pouch?’

Geoffrey searched the corpse quickly, then shook his head. ‘His pack is gone, too. I imagine we are supposed to assume he was attacked by robbers. But he is still wearing the ring we gave him, and thieves would have taken that.’

‘I said the rebels are incompetent,’ said Juhel in disgust. ‘They cannot even stage a fake robbery.’

‘Perhaps not, but they have ensured Breme never reached Winchester,’ said Geoffrey grimly. ‘We are on our own.’