Dead Man's Secret (11 page)

‘I was with Pepin and then Maurice,' he replied. ‘And Roger was with Bale in a tavern all morning. Where were you?'

Edward smiled that the interrogation should be turned around. ‘I was in the stables from dawn to noon, because my horse had a bout of colic. I may not be much of a soldier, but I love my faithful warhorse, and he likes me with him when he is unwell.'

Geoffrey liked horses, too, although he would not have described Edward's nag as a ‘warhorse' and suspected the beast was more pet than fighting animal.

‘Can anyone confirm it?' he asked. ‘Not that there is any reason to doubt you, of course.'

Edward laughed openly. ‘About twenty of the King's stable-boys, who were listening to me pontificate on matters equestrian. Feel free to verify my tale the next time you visit him.'

When they reached the ford, they found it swollen with rain. Geoffrey led the way across with no problem, but Edward's horse, alarmed by the surging water, bucked suddenly, causing its rider to slide off. It was not difficult to fish him out, but there was a delay on the other side when he insisted on divesting himself of his sopping clothes and donning a gown instead.

‘You will ride into Goodrich dressed as a woman?' demanded Sear incredulously.

Edward tossed his wet cloak to Bale for wringing. ‘Better than arriving dripping wet. I may stain the rugs, and that would be discourteous.'

‘You are expecting rugs?' asked Geoffrey uneasily.

‘This will not take a moment,' said Edward, shrugging out of his mail tunic, then selecting a long red kirtle with a fur trim. He began to primp fussily, which had Sear, Alberic and Roger fidgeting impatiently, all eager to be underway.

‘I heard you asking Geoffrey about Eudo's murder earlier, Sir Edward,' said Delwyn. ‘Are you trying to learn who murdered him?'

‘I doubt anyone
here
is a killer,' said Edward. Geoffrey almost laughed. All knights were killers: it was what they were trained to do. ‘But since you mention it, why not tell each other our whereabouts? Sear, perhaps you would oblige first?'

‘What I was doing is none of your damned business,' retorted Sear haughtily. ‘I decline to answer, and you can try to make me at your peril.'

‘I do not mind answering on his behalf,' said Alberic. ‘He was with me.'

‘Actually, he was not,' countered Delwyn. ‘
You
were with a milkmaid all morning.'

Alberic gaped at him. ‘How do you know? Were you spying on me, you little snake?'

‘No,' replied Delwyn, although his face said he was lying. ‘I was merely concerned for her well-being. Afterwards, I went for a walk by the fishponds to—'

Sear released one of his jeering, braying laughs. ‘You cannot win a woman yourself, so you were reduced to watching others! What a miserable specimen you are!'

‘I could win them if I wanted,' declared Delwyn angrily. ‘Women like me greatly.'

‘You are supposed to be celibate,' said Alberic in distaste.

‘I do what I like,' flashed Delwyn. ‘Especially when I am away from my abbey.'

‘I think that should suffice,' said Edward loudly, straightening his finery and indicating he was ready to be helped back on to his horse. ‘It will not be long now before we are all basking in front of a roaring fire with goblets of hot wine.'

The prospect of such luxury had Roger turning in the direction of Goodrich, and Sear and Alberic were quick to follow. Edward was next, leaving Geoffrey with Delwyn at the rear.

‘
Sear
killed Eudo,' muttered Delwyn resentfully. ‘He declines to tell us his whereabouts at the time of the murder, and he is jealous because the King chose you to take the Archbishop's message to Kermerdyn.'

‘You are the only one who seems to be jealous of that,' Geoffrey pointed out. ‘And why should it lead Sear to dispatch Eudo?'

‘Probably because Eudo recommended you for the task in the first place,' replied Delwyn.

Geoffrey stared at him. ‘I doubt that! I did not know him before Henry allocated me the task.'

‘Well, you can think what you like, but it is true,' said Delwyn. ‘Because I heard him tell Pepin so with my own ears.'

Geoffrey was thoughtful.
Was
it significant that Sear was unwilling to divulge his alibi?
Did
it mean he had killed Eudo? Or was the culprit Delwyn, eager to see someone else blamed, and who claimed he had stumbled across Eudo's body while out for a walk? Delwyn was puny, but it took no great strength to shove a blade in a man's back and hold his head underwater. These were sobering thoughts, and he decided he would not stay long in Goodrich – he did not want killers mingling with Hilde and Joan, no matter how warrior-like Roger claimed them to be.

When Goodrich Castle finally appeared through the trees, Geoffrey found his pleasure at seeing it went far deeper than the desire for dry clothes and a warm fire. There was something welcomingly familiar about its wooden walls, great ramparts and sturdy towers. He reined in to look at it, aware of an immediate rush of memories.

He had not been happy there as a child. His father had mocked his scholarly tendencies and his older siblings had bullied him until he had grown enough to hold his own. He had not enjoyed returning two decades later, either, when his father lay dying. But it was home, and it contained Joan and now Hilde. Goodrich had come to represent something far more pleasant than it had ever done in the past.

‘Is that it?' asked Sear disparagingly. ‘I was expecting something better. Pembroc is by far superior – and much better sited, too.'

‘Geoffrey's home is extremely well sited,' argued Edward, fluffing up his hair. ‘It is placed to guard the river, and three of its sides are protected by natural slopes. When its palisades are turned into stone walls, it will be virtually impregnable. Like Kadweli.'

‘Kadweli is like Goodrich?' asked Geoffrey, pointedly acknowledging Edward's remark and ignoring Sear's.

‘In many ways,' nodded Edward. ‘My castle is also sited on a rocky bluff, although it is substantially larger, with facilities for a sizeable garrison.'

‘The one you will collect in Brechene,' said Sear heavily. ‘The one you tell us is the best fighting force in Wales.'

‘The very same,' said Edward happily, declining to take offence at Sear's tone. He smiled at Geoffrey. ‘But your castle has a cosy feel, which Kadweli lacks. I like it already.'

‘Well, I do not,' said Sear sullenly. ‘I would sooner have defensible than “cosy”.'

‘You can stay in the village, then,' said Roger. ‘There is a rather shabby tavern that might lower itself to admit you.'

‘You had better ride ahead, Geoffrey,' said Edward before Sear could respond. ‘It is only polite to give your sister a little time to prepare for us, and I am incapable of riding fast after my dip in the river, anyway.'

‘You had better tell her to get the rugs out, too,' muttered Sear.

‘Go,' said Roger. ‘I know the way from here, and I shall point out the sights as we ride. A man will want to know the whereabouts of willing lasses after such a long ride, and I doubt Joan has any at the castle.'

‘
I
do not need to be shown such things,' announced Delwyn loftily. ‘
I
am a monk.'

‘You can find your own loose women, can you?' asked Roger. He sniffed disdainfully. ‘Then I hope you choose better than that poxy lass you cornered last week.'

‘I did not “corner” her,' said Delwyn stiffly. ‘We were discussing spiritual matters.'

‘You can call it what you like,' said Roger with a wink. ‘But bear in mind that Geoffrey's sister will not want you messing with anyone who is not willing. She runs a tight ship.'

Grateful to be away from his quarrelsome companions, Geoffrey spurred his way ahead, inhaling deeply as he went and relishing the clean scent of the forest and the river. He found himself wondering at the direction his life had taken since he had returned to the land of his birth. He had lost the master he truly respected, and was reduced to delivering letters and exploring nonsensical secrets for one he despised.

But he pushed such gloomy thoughts from his mind as he cantered through the village. People stopped to watch him pass, and one or two raised their hands in salute when they recognized him. Father Adrian stood from where he had been weeding his graveyard, but only crossed himself. He did not approve of warriors and firmly believed that Geoffrey was a ruthless slaughterer of unarmed women and children. Nothing Geoffrey said or did could convince him otherwise.

Geoffrey stopped to exchange greetings with Will Helbye, who had accompanied him to Normandy twenty years before and fought at his side. Helbye was too old for such antics now and had returned to Goodrich to retire with his wife and their collection of prize pigs. Delighted to meet his captain again, Helbye invited Geoffrey to share a jug of ale.

‘I cannot, Will,' said Geoffrey. ‘I need to warn Joan that she is about to be invaded.'

‘My wife will do that,' said Helbye, grabbing the reins of Geoffrey's horse and indicating he should dismount. ‘She will not mind.'

‘Of course I will not,' said the large, comfortable woman who emerged from the house, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Go inside and sit down, Sir Geoffrey. I will speak to Lady Joan.'

‘Invaded by whom?' asked Helbye, when she had gone, and Geoffrey had given a brief explanation as to why he was not halfway to the Holy Land.

‘Two knights named Sear and Alberic, who have argued with Roger every step of the way, and another knight named Edward, who has managed to keep them from skewering each other. There is also a monk named Delwyn.'

‘That is not too bad,' said Helbye, indicating he was to sit at the table. ‘Joan can cope with those. She already has visitors, see. There was some sort of fealty-swearing ceremony in Gloucester, and these people have stopped off on the way home. They are bound for Kermerdyn.'

‘Kermerdyn?' asked Geoffrey, startled. ‘But that is where Henry has ordered me to go. What a curious coincidence!'

‘Not so curious,' said Helbye soberly. ‘Those at court will know about this ceremony,
and
they will know that its participants would return this way.'

‘I doubt “those at court” anticipated that these fealty-swearers would stop at Goodrich.'

‘Yes, they would,' countered Helbye. ‘Because one of them – Cornald the butter-maker – is friends with Joan and Olivier. He
always
stops in Goodrich when he travels out of Wales, and I know for a fact that he has mentioned it to acquaintances in the King's retinue. Obviously, someone remembered and stored the information for future use.'

Geoffrey racked his brains for anyone who might have done such a thing. ‘Bishop Maurice? He knows Cornald, because he has given me a letter for him.'

Helbye smiled. ‘No, not Maurice. He is not treacherous, and he would never embroil you in anything devious. I imagine it was one of Henry's clerks. They can read, and – present company excepted – that means they cannot help being sly.'

Geoffrey stifled a sigh at such prejudice and changed the subject. ‘Do I know anyone in this group from Gloucester? Or are they all strangers? I have never heard Joan or Olivier mention Cornald the butter-maker.'

‘You have not spent two full months here since you were eleven, so that is not surprising. Cornald has been a friend of your family for years. He is a lovely man, very generous. Everyone likes him. But his wife . . .' Helbye shook his head, lips pursed.

‘What about his wife?' asked Geoffrey.

‘She is a walking brothel,' replied Helbye bluntly. ‘My wife says she has never met a more wanton specimen.'

Geoffrey wondered whether she would extend her services to the new arrivals, thus sparing the hapless locals. ‘Are Cornald and his wife the only visitors?'

Helbye rested his elbows on the table. ‘No, and the others are an unsavoury crowd, so you should be on your guard. First, there is Richard fitz Baldwin, a vile creature with a vicious temper. He has already struck Father Adrian. Of course, I would not mind doing that myself at times, but it has done nothing to dispel Adrian's belief that all knights are louts.'

‘Richard,' mused Geoffrey, thinking about the letter he carried inside his surcoat. It would be one less missive to deliver in Kermerdyn. Then he frowned. Adrian
was
sanctimonious, but he was a priest, so it went with the territory. ‘I cannot imagine Joan allowed that to pass unremarked.'

‘I thought she was going to hit him back,' said Helbye with a grin. ‘But Olivier stopped her, so she settled for giving Richard a piece of her mind instead, which was probably worse. I felt sorry for his wife, Leah, who is a poor, sweet creature. She suffers from headaches, but it is probably Richard that gives them to her.'

Geoffrey winced. ‘Please tell me they are the only ones.'

‘I am afraid not. They are accompanied by a man named Gwgan, who is a high-ranking Welsh counsellor. He seems decent enough, although he can read, so you would be wise to be wary of him. He is your brother-in-law, married to Lady Hilde's sister.'

Geoffrey stared at him. Helbye was right: it could
not
be coincidence that two recipients for the King's letters should happen to be in Goodrich. Someone
had
arranged for them to be there when he arrived. Was that why Eudo had been so annoyingly tardy about producing the letters? To ensure he did not travel too quickly and so miss them?

‘Finally, there is Kermerdyn's abbot – a man called Mabon. He is a curious devil; I have never met a monastic like him.'