The Bloodstained Throne (30 page)

‘That is unlikely,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It seems he was only here for a few hours before Galfridus dispatched him to some distant village, to test his sincerity.’

‘Then perhaps
that
is why he went to the hospital,’ suggested Harold. ‘He thought it was the monks’ dormitory, because he had not been here long enough to know better.’

‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘There was not enough time for a monk to have annoyed Gyrth to that extent. I suspect his arrival here had something to do with your rebellion – and so did the massacre. Gyrth was not the only one to have been involved in that. Your brother Ulf was there, and dry blood, combined with wet, indicates he had been fighting
before
Bale got him. These stains indicate he did not
kill
the villagers himself, but he may well have ordered Gyrth to do it.’

Harold shook his head, horrified by the suggestion. ‘Impossible! We need people alive, not dead. Whatever happened at Werlinges had nothing to do with us.’

‘Of course it did. And the fact that Gyrth was involved proves it.’

‘Gyrth did support our cause,’ acknowledged Harold unhappily. ‘But I do not see how he thought to further it by slaughtering villagers and stabbing men in abbeys.’

Geoffrey was sorry for him. Poor Harold was an innocent who attracted supporters by his smiling manners. But, as soon as he was no longer needed, harder, more ruthless men would step in, and Harold would find his throat cut.

And then something else became clear. Bale had mentioned blood smeared on doors in Werlinges, as though in warning. Geoffrey suspected that was exactly what it was: Werlinges had escaped being laid to waste by King William, and Ulf and Gyrth wanted everyone to know what happened to those who collaborated with the enemy. The hapless priest had tried to make amends by providing horses for Magnus and Harold, but the Saxon rebels had not been appeased.

‘So if Gyrth was not after you, and not after a monk, who
was
he trying to kill?’ asked Roger.

‘You,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘Rebellions are always hungry for money, and it is common knowledge that you stole a great deal of gold from the pirates.’

‘They wanted to use
my
money to topple Henry?’ asked Roger indignantly.

Geoffrey nodded.

Roger rubbed his chin. ‘Then it is just as well it is in a safe place.’

‘Where?’ asked Geoffrey.

Roger grinned and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Now, that would be telling.’

The Duke did not come that day, and towards the end of the afternoon the atmosphere of excited anticipation faded to anticlimax. Galfridus retired to the church, although no one was sure whether he was praying for the Duke to arrive or to send word that he was
not
coming.

‘It will be a delight to host him,’ he said morosely, as he and Geoffrey met near the kitchens – the knight to beg a bone for his dog, the monk to snatch a mouthful of carp. ‘But I shall remove the Lamb of God, of course. I do not want him making jokes about the Pig of God, which is how the novices now refer to it, thanks to you. But you know the Duke, do you not? Sir Roger said you were in his service.’

‘Many years ago, and as a very lowly squire. He will not remember me. But do not be too anxious – he is easily distracted and might not arrive for days if something amuses him on the way.’

‘That would be foolish. The last time the Duke visited England, it was as an invader, and if he dallies before making his obeisance to King Henry, he may find himself attacked.’ Galfridus’s expression turned to alarm. ‘And then perhaps Bellême will come to the Duke’s aid, God help us!’

‘If you dislike fighting, why do you allow Magnus and Harold to stay here? Surely you can see Magnus is plotting?’

‘He is a dreamer. His schemes will come to nothing.’

‘I am not so sure. Look at how many Saxons have gathered in your precinct – they cannot
all
be pilgrims. Moreover, I saw Harold address a gathering of about fifty men last night.’

Galfridus swallowed hard. ‘But Magnus has no funds for a rebellion,’ he said weakly.

‘I am not so sure. Bale found a considerable quantity of gold on a shepherd, which I am certain was intended to fuel the revolt. I suspect he was not a shepherd at all and was taking the purse to some central fund, but was killed in the storm before he could deliver it.’

‘No,’ objected Galfridus miserably. ‘Surely not!’

‘I believe Gyrth intended to steal Roger’s gold, too – he mistook us in the dark. And Fingar told me the roads near here are full of carts and horses after dark. It all adds up to a gathering of troops and resources, and suggests a hostile action against the King. You will be deemed their supporter if you do not make a stand.’

Galfridus rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I have an awful feeling you are right. But what can
I
do to stop them? I have sent messages to de Laigle, but I am not sure he reads them, let alone passes them to the King. And I can order these assembled Saxons to disperse until I am blue in the face, but they will not obey
me
, a man of mixed parentage.’

‘Your monks—’

‘Half my monks and all my lay-brothers are Saxon. The only thing I can pray for now is that Magnus makes his stand elsewhere. But do not let me keep you, Sir Geoffrey.’

He shot into the kitchen and made for the roast carp in an effort to calm himself. Through the open door, Geoffrey watched him snatch some and eat it fast, pausing only to complain to the cook that there was glass in it.

‘Glass?’ demanded the cook. ‘There is not!’ He appealed to Harold, who was sitting on a table swinging his short legs as he ate a piece of cheese. ‘You see? Normans complain endlessly.’

Later that evening, when the light was fading, Geoffrey sat with Bale behind the chapter house, looking over the battlefield. ‘What do
you
make of the business at Werlinges?’ he asked.

Bale considered the question seriously. He was not often asked for his opinion, and when he was, he tended to take his time to formulate a response.

‘Well, you and Roger fought bravely, and I stopped King Ulf from joining the affray. But I was surprised King Magnus and King Harold did not help us. They must have received some weapons training, and I did not expect them to be so useless.’

‘True, but perhaps we should be glad that Juhel and Lucian stayed out of the way.’

‘Juhel would have been all right,’ said Bale. ‘On the ship, he fought a pirate and defeated him with ease, even though the fellow had a dagger and Juhel had only his bare hands.’

Geoffrey was surprised. ‘You have not mentioned this before.’

‘You did not ask. But Juhel
is
a fighting man. Maybe not with a sword, but with a knife or his hands, he would be a match for most men.’

Geoffrey considered the information. ‘It seems there is more to Juhel than meets the eye – or more than he is willing to let anyone see.’

‘I still think he poisoned you,’ said Bale. ‘He is a sly bastard.’

When Geoffrey made no reply, Bale took the ring and pouch of gold from his bag and began fiddling with them. Geoffrey took the purse and looked again at the coins, before handing it back.

‘You saw the shepherd’s body. Roger believes Brother Lucian killed him. What do you think?’

There was another lengthy pause. ‘His head was under the tree trunk,’ replied Bale eventually. ‘Squashed almost flat. But there were no other wounds. Lucian
may
have held him under the tree when it fell, I suppose, but it would not have been easy to manage.’

‘Then I imagine it was an accident. Did you notice his clothes? Did he look Saxon?’

‘Oh, yes. His hair was long and braided, like Saxons used to wear it. Why?’

‘Because it is too much of a coincidence for a shepherd to be loaded with gold near where Saxon princes are gathering. And it is odd that a pauper would oust a monk while a storm raged outside – even the most reclusive of men do not deny shelter under such conditions. But this shepherd did not want witnesses.’

‘Witnesses to what?’

‘To this rebellion. I am sure there is more to it than we think.’

Geoffrey’s plan to leave for Winchester before dawn the following morning was thwarted when he found the stables virtually empty. An unhelpful groom eventually admitted that the abbey’s entire stock had been taken to the blacksmith for re-shoeing, and all that remained were Galfridus’s personal nags, which he never lent to anyone. Geoffrey strongly suspected the animals had been quartered somewhere nearby, ready to be used by the Saxons.

‘I could walk,’ said Geoffrey, returning to Roger after a frustrating interview with Galfridus, during which his request to borrow one of the remaining mounts was politely but firmly denied.

‘You would make poor time,’ said Roger. ‘You are not yet strong enough for such a trek. And I am not leaving you here unprotected, so do not think of asking me to go instead. But Galfridus is playing with fire! I am beginning to think he wants this rebellion to succeed. He does nothing to stop it, and now he refuses to help you warn the King.’

‘I suspect he simply does not want to be without a means of escape should the situation turn nasty. Damn! Without horses, our only other option is to stay here and see what we can do to thwart this uprising. I hope to God that Breme has delivered that letter.’

Roger patted his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Do not fret. He is a reliable fellow.’

Geoffrey went to the church, but the melodic chanting from the chancel did not soothe him this time, and he prowled restlessly along the nave and aisles, looking at the carvings on the pillars without really seeing them. Roger knelt with his hands pressed together, his heavy features arranged in an expression he imagined was devout. Ulfrith stood behind him and stared miserably at the central crossing, where Philippa loitered with Lucian.

Meanwhile, Juhel leaned against a pier near the south transept, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Harold, who was chatting amiably to some lay-brothers. The Saxon said something to make them laugh, and the sounds of their mirth caused Ralph to storm from the chancel to berate them. When the sacristan had gone, Harold said something else that sent them into paroxysms of merriment, although the laughter was quieter this time.

‘Ulf was not a fellow for giggles,’ remarked Magnus to Geoffrey. ‘He was an iron man, who frightened even his closest friends with his cold heart and ruthless determination.’

‘Then you must be glad he is dead. He sounds a more formidable rival than Harold.’

Magnus’s expression was dismissive. ‘Harold is no rival! Look at how he fraternizes with servants. I cannot imagine how he will manage at the head of an army – he will be too busy gossiping with his stable-boys.’

‘What about your cousin Gyrth?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Would he have made a good general?’

‘Yes, and his death is a bitter blow to our cause.’ Magnus regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps
you
should join us. There will be great rewards for men involved in our victory – and dire punishments for those who side with the Usurper. You would be wise to consider your future.’

‘I will take my chances with Henry.’

Magnus’s expression turned to anger. ‘You are a fool, and I shall personally see that you regret your decision.’

He turned on his heel and strode away, not caring that he powered through a procession of monks. Several outraged glances followed him, but Geoffrey saw more that were admiring and hopeful. With the end of prime, monastics and visitors alike began to trail towards their breakfasts. Roger was one of the first, Bale hot on his heels.

Harold walked with Geoffrey, breathing in air scented with newly cut grass. ‘It is far warmer here than inside that church. Why do builders always make them so cold? When I am king, the first thing I shall do is commission a warm church. Will you accept the challenge? Roger tells me you are interested in architecture.’

Geoffrey laughed. ‘Such a project would be wholly beyond my meagre capabilities.’

Harold laid a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder and lowered his voice. ‘I heard what Magnus said, and I want you to know that
I
will not let him harm you.’

‘I am not worried about Magnus.’

‘You should be. Now our time is close, he is becoming unsettled and dangerous. He told me last night that he will not rest until he has eradicated every Norman from England.’

Geoffrey watched Harold waddle away, thinking he had never encountered a less likely horde of rebels. He was jolted from his musings by a yell and watched Bale lumber after the dog, which was racing away with a piece of smoked pork. Not wanting to be blamed for the theft, he ate his breakfast alone outside the refectory, watching sparrows squabble for crumbs at his feet. Suddenly, droppings splattered on to the bread he was lifting towards his mouth.

‘That is a sign of good fortune,’ said Juhel, who happened to be passing. ‘But you are wise to be out here, because Magnus is holding forth again. Do you think his claims have any substance? There is certainly a lot of Saxon coming and going, and the fish ponds are thick with folk.’

‘That is because Galfridus told the layfolk to catch as many carp as possible, so there is a good supply for when the Duke arrives.’

Juhel was unconvinced. ‘Delilah has the right idea about that Magnus, and so does your dog: they both took an instant dislike to him.’

‘What do you think they see in him that we do not?’

‘That he is more dangerous than he looks. I am a stranger here, and what is happening is really none of my business, but I do not like to see a country torn asunder with silly plots. Do you think there is anything we can do to stop this before it goes too far?’

‘I sent a message to the King,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘And de Laigle should have dispatched a warning, too. I imagine it will not be long before someone comes to investigate.’

‘Good,’ said Juhel. ‘I wish I had done the same – I count His Majesty among my list of acquaintances, you know. Incidentally, Magnus is a liar. Do you recall that scratch on his arm at Werlinges? Well, I think he received it fighting Ulf. He ran into the church, then raced out a few moments later with Ulf at his heels.’