Dead Man's Secret (18 page)

‘It was my father's,' said Geoffrey coolly. ‘He used it at Hastinges.'

Neither statement was true, but they had the desired effect.

‘My apologies,' said Richard stiffly. ‘I did not mean to insult a family heirloom. And I should also say that I am sorry your house has been sullied by murder. Your sister and her husband have been hospitable, and if I learn who poisoned the abbot, I will kill him – to satisfy their honour.'

‘But that would mean
two
murders under their roof,' Geoffrey pointed out. He saw Richard's puzzled look and decided nothing was to be gained by pursuing the matter. ‘Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Mabon?'

‘Anyone,' replied Richard. ‘I do not like
anyone
here, except Joan, Olivier and your wife. I am not very keen on you, either.'

‘Why?' asked Geoffrey.

‘Crusaders in general are—'

‘I mean, why do you not like everyone else?'

‘Because they are all vermin, and if I ever attain a position of power, I shall either execute them or throw them in my dungeons.'

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows and supposed the good people of Kermerdyn had better hope he was never promoted. ‘Did you dislike Mabon?'

‘Intensely – he was always trying to tell me how to run my garrison. But I did not kill him – I had hopes that he would relent and give me some of his tonic.'

‘But now he is dead, you can take it all – you do not need to rely on his generosity.'

‘Now he is poisoned, I shall eat and drink only what I am sure is safe – and nothing belonging to him will be. I did not kill Mabon, and if you accuse me, I will kill you.'

He could try, thought Geoffrey, regarding him with dislike. He turned to another matter. ‘I understand you delivered some butter to your brother William just before he—'

Richard surged forward and took a handful of Geoffrey's surcoat, before slamming him against the palisade. He was strong and fast, but Geoffrey punched him away, sending him reeling, then whipped out his dagger, and it was Richard who found himself pressed against the fence.

‘How dare you infer that I would harm my brother,' snarled Richard, uncaring of the blade that pricked his skin. ‘I loved him and would give my life in an instant to see him alive again.'

‘What are you doing?' came the querulous tones of Father Adrian from behind them. ‘Sir Geoffrey! Put him down at once, or I shall have you doing penance for a week!'

Geoffrey released Richard, who took the opportunity to land a sly kick before stalking away.

‘You deserved that,' said Adrian.

‘A monk was poisoned last night,' snapped Geoffrey, rubbing his leg. ‘And a good man was probably poisoned seven years ago, too. I was trying to bring them justice.'

‘You mean William fitz Baldwin?' asked Adrian. He shrugged at Geoffrey's surprise. ‘It was the talk of the country when he died, because he was rumoured to be a saint. However, Richard did not kill him. I have heard his confessions, and his sins are not of that magnitude.'

‘What are they, then?' asked Geoffrey.

‘They are confidential, as you well know,' said Adrian sharply. ‘However, I can tell you that they are nothing compared to yours.
Your
soul is stained black with the blood of the Crusade.'

‘Do you think Richard capable of poisoning Mabon?'

‘Of course – any knight is capable of murder. And Richard is the kind of man who goes around striking innocent priests.'

Geoffrey felt rather like hitting Adrian himself. ‘Is that the only reason you—'

‘Richard came to me for shriving yesterday –
after
Mabon's body was found – and would have mentioned such a foul deed. He is innocent. So are Leah and Edward, should you think to accuse them. All three came to confession, and murder was not among their sins.'

‘And you are certain?' pressed Geoffrey. ‘You would not lie, just because you dislike me?'

Adrian was offended. ‘I never lie! Richard, Leah and Edward are innocent of Mabon's murder, I am sure of it. And I do not dislike you, Sir Geoffrey. I am just frightened of you.'

Discussions with Adrian often left Geoffrey with vague feelings of guilt and disquiet, so he hastened to put the priest from his mind by pursuing his enquiries. It was Cornald's turn to shoot. The butterer was putting on a display of being inept, but the way he held the weapon and the confident manner in which he inserted the bolt told Geoffrey it was an act. Nevertheless, all three of Cornald's shots went wide of the target. Pulchria went next and managed a considerably better score, although nowhere near high enough to threaten Richard.

‘I am sorry about what happened to Mabon,' said Geoffrey, when they had finished. ‘He will be a loss to Kermerdyn, I imagine.'

‘A terrible loss,' agreed Cornald sadly. ‘And wolf-tooth . . . well, it is a dreadful way to die.'

‘You know about wolf-tooth?' pounced Geoffrey.

‘I once used it – in very small amounts – for a personal ailment,' replied Cornald. ‘However, I developed a violent aversion to it. Look at my hand. You see that redness? That is from simply holding Mabon's phial when you recovered it from the latrine. I no longer have anything to do with the stuff.'

‘But there is some in the castle,' added Pulchria. ‘Your sister keeps it for killing rats. Anyone could have taken some and given it to Mabon. It is a pity, because he was a fine man.'

‘A very fine man,' agreed Cornald, either mistaking her meaning or ignoring it. ‘I cannot imagine who would want to kill him. He was a little irreligious for a churchman, but I found that rather refreshing. And he had a wonderful sense of humour.'

‘Could there have been wolf-tooth in the butter William fitz Baldwin ate?' asked Geoffrey.

‘No,' said Cornald, amiability fading abruptly. ‘As I told you last night, there was nothing wrong with that butter. It was perfect when it left my dairy. Of course, it was delivered to Rhydygors by Richard, and was a gift from my wife, but—'

‘
I
did not poison it,' said Pulchria, shooting her husband an alarm-filled glance. ‘Besides, dozens of people had access to it – Delwyn and Bishop Wilfred loitered by the kitchen, and had no explanation for why, and half of Kermerdyn was at William's last dinner—'

‘But no one else had any butter,' pressed Geoffrey.

‘No,' said Cornald coldly. ‘It was a gift for William, not for general consumption. And he did not eat it all at once, anyway, but consumed it over several days. William was a lovely man, and we were all shocked when he was taken from us.'

Geoffrey turned to other matters. ‘Why did you pretend to lack skill with the crossbow?'

‘I was not pretending!' replied Cornald with an uneasy smile. ‘It has been many years since I last touched one, and you, of all people, will know that military skills rust without practice.'

‘Not to that extent,' said Geoffrey. ‘You could have done better.'

‘Yes, he could,' agreed Pulchria, shooting Cornald a cross glare. ‘I wanted that gold back.'

‘It would not have been polite to win the prize I provided,' said Cornald, seizing on the excuse with palpable relief. ‘But my throat is parched after all the excitement, and I need some wine. Come, Pulchria. You can pour it for me.'

Geoffrey watched them go, exasperated. His questions had led nowhere, and neither Cornald nor Pulchria could be eliminated from either enquiry.

Some of the servants were selected to shoot next, giving Geoffrey time to observe Goodrich's guests. They were generally enjoying themselves, even Richard, and none looked to be suffering from a bad conscience. The only one looking miserable was Leah, who was sitting alone on a bale of straw, shivering.

‘There is hot broth and a fire in the hall,' said Geoffrey, taking pity on her. ‘It is not necessary to stay outside, especially as your husband has already had his turn.'

Leah smiled, and he thought it was a pity she did not do it more often. She held out a thin, white hand, so that he could help her to her feet. It was icy-cold to the touch, and the veins were blue against it. He released it as soon as it was polite.

‘Will you walk with me to the gate?' she asked. ‘I have another headache, and my eyesight is blurred. No, do not look concerned. It is an affliction I have had for a long time, and it will be gone in a while. All I need is warmth and quiet.'

‘It sounds unpleasant,' said Geoffrey.

‘It started just before William died,' Leah went on. ‘Seven years ago. I had a violent ague that kept me in bed, and I have never fully recovered.'

Geoffrey sensed Richard glowering, but ignored him; he should have looked to his wife's comforts himself if he did not want others to do it for him. Then he stole a glance at Hilde, sheepishly aware that he had barely exchanged a word with her since the contest had started. But she was taking a turn in the butts, and appreciative applause from Goodrich's villagers indicated she was putting on a respectable show.

‘Is that why you were not at William's deathbed?' he asked.

Leah nodded. ‘Edward and Alberic were not there, either – they were patrolling the woods near Kadweli and visited me on their way home, which was nice. I had been abandoned to the servants, you see, because everyone was more worried about William.'

‘Who do you think killed Mabon?' asked Geoffrey bluntly.

Leah blinked. ‘I wish I knew, because I would urge him to go to your gentle parish priest and confess. That sort of deed is not good for the soul.'

‘So you have no ideas?' pressed Geoffrey. ‘No suspicions?'

‘None. However, no one from Kermerdyn will be responsible – I have known them all for years. You will find the culprit is a Goodrich man. A lot of your servants were shocked by Mabon's irreligious views, and your sister makes no secret of the fact that she keeps a comprehensive store of medicinal herbs in the castle.'

‘Really?' asked Geoffrey. Joan would not be pleased if it transpired that one of her own people was the guilty party.

‘Look,' said Leah suddenly, pointing. ‘It is Edward's turn to shoot. I shall watch him and then go to the hall. Would you mind waiting a moment?'

Edward sauntered up to the line with a good deal of confidence, then made a great show of setting his feet and taking aim. His first bolt whistled so wide of the target that it sent several onlookers ducking for cover.

‘I am still not recovered from vomiting so violently yesterday,' he explained with an amiable grin. ‘I am normally rather good at shooting. Give me another arrow.'

‘Bolt,' corrected Sear, handing one over and then helping when Edward struggled to place it correctly. ‘We call them crossbow
bolts
.'

‘I knew that,' said Edward, hands on hips as Sear wound the weapon for him. He tried to take it before it was ready, restlessly impatient, like a child. His second shot was worse than his first, raising an indignant squeal from Adrian. But the third slammed neatly into the centre of the target, drawing an appreciative cheer from the onlookers.

‘The luck of a beginner,' said Richard. ‘That last shot was a fluke.'

‘It was skill,' countered Edward indignantly. ‘The first two were the flukes. This weapon pulls to the left and is horribly stiff for a man with delicate fingers.'

He danced a little jig, much to the crowd's appreciation, and then made a show of donning his pale purple gloves. Joan remarked politely that they were very fine, and was promptly rewarded with a complex description of how he had come to purchase them. Bored, Geoffrey offered his arm to Leah, eager to see her to the hall so he could resume his enquiries.

‘Where are you taking her?' demanded Richard. ‘She is not well enough to be dragged all around the butts. Why do you think I found her a bale of straw to sit on?'

‘I was escorting her to the hall,' replied Geoffrey shortly, hoping the man was not going to provoke another confrontation. ‘She has a headache.'

Richard's face creased into concern. ‘You should have told me, Leah,' he said, uncharacteristically gentle. ‘You promised me you would.'

‘I did not want to spoil your fun,' said Leah, leaning on his arm gratefully.

‘You could never do that,' he whispered, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. He scowled when he saw Geoffrey was watching, and led her away.

It was not long before Edward came to stand next to Geoffrey, still preening from the praise lavished on his final shot. It would not see him win the competition, because his first two efforts would count against him, but it was certainly the best that day. His happy expression faded when he followed the direction of Geoffrey's gaze and saw Richard and Leah.

‘I do not understand what she sees in him,' he said. ‘Oh, he loves her well enough, but he is always so damn miserable. You would not know it to look at her, but she was a happy little creature as a girl. These days, her illness renders her as gloomy as him, and even I struggle to make her laugh. Of course, none of us has much to smile about today.'

‘No?' asked Geoffrey. ‘Why not?'

‘Because of Mabon,' replied Edward. Geoffrey was horrified to see tears in his eyes. ‘He was a good friend, and I shall miss him horribly.'

Geoffrey recalled the pleasure with which they had greeted each other the previous day, and knew he was telling the truth. Edward's distress at the abbot's death was genuine.

‘When William died,' he began tentatively, ‘you were out on patrol.'

‘William fitz Baldwin?' asked Edward, startled. ‘But he died seven years ago! Or are you thinking that if William was poisoned, then the same person might have murdered Mabon? It is certainly possible, I suppose, although I cannot imagine why someone would choose them as victims. They were so different.'