‘But justice has been served,’ Henry went on. ‘Gwgan is dead.’
‘Richard is not,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He has won himself Rhydygors.’
‘He should have had it anyway,’ said Henry. ‘Seven years ago, when his brother was killed. I do not know what Eudo was thinking when he advised me to hand the place to a Welshman. Rhydygors was built by a Norman and should have stayed in Norman hands.’
‘Yes, sire,’ said Geoffrey, deciding not to point out that this interpretation of events was somewhat at variance with the facts.
‘I shall need you to stay here for a few days, by the way,’ said Henry, as Geoffrey bowed and prepared to leave. ‘One of my ministers has been murdered, and I want you to find the culprit. But I shall tell you about it some other time, because I am busy now. You are dismissed.’
Seething, both at the King’s manners and because his departure for Tancred was going to be delayed yet again, Geoffrey went in search of Maurice. He had raisins to deliver from Hilde. He found the Bishop ushering a giggling serving wench from his rooms. Maurice looked well, and Geoffrey saw he was enjoying life as one of the most powerful men in the court.
‘So I was right,’ said Maurice, indicating that Geoffrey was to enter and sit by the fire. It was a cold day, and rain was pattering against the window shutters. ‘Those letters were evil, although there is nothing to say the King knew what was included in them.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey noncommittally.
‘He would never condone murder,’ continued Maurice. ‘Eudo obviously acted alone.’
‘Not entirely,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Someone appointed Delwyn to ensure the letters reached their destination. Eudo could not have done that, because he did not know his plan had been exposed until Edward confronted him, and he was killed before he could do anything about it.’
‘What are you saying?’ asked Maurice nervously. ‘That Eudo had an accomplice?’
‘We both know he did,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You knew exactly what he had done, although you grew worried after his murder and begged Henry to let you rewrite them.’
‘Geoffrey!’ cried Maurice, shocked. ‘How can you say such things?’
‘Because they are true. You did not dare break the seals on the letters to see whether Eudo had set the plan in motion, but you were desperate to know. You hired Delwyn to report back to you – and to make sure the letters were delivered if something happened to me along the way.’
‘No,’ said Maurice. ‘If you recall, I told you he was devious. Why would I hire such a man?’
‘Probably to ensure I did not associate him with you. Or to ensure I would not believe him if he ever told me the truth. And you were right to worry, because he was going to tell me the name of his master. Luckily for you, Sear killed him before he could.’
‘But I have no reason to dabble in such deadly affairs!’ claimed Maurice.
‘Yes, you do. You are loyal and devoted, and foresaw problems for the King with a popular Welsh leader in Kermerdyn. There is no reason for a proud, independent prince to subject himself to Norman rule, and Hywel probably would have rebelled in time.’
‘I am not a fool, Geoffrey. Putting Richard in Hywel’s place will be a disaster. He is likely to provoke a rebellion by dint of his unpleasant character.’
‘And that is why you encouraged me to find William’s secret but told me to leave it in Kermerdyn. You hoped it would make Richard as decent as Hywel and William.’
‘Rubbish!’ cried Maurice. ‘This is all rank superstition, and I am a bishop!’
‘It was not superstition as long as there was a possibility that the Blessed Virgin was involved. It was religion. And that is your business.’
‘The secret is a carving of a pagan goddess,’ said Maurice angrily. ‘It is not even Christian.’
‘But you did not know that at the time,’ pressed Geoffrey. ‘You had no idea what it entailed; only that it could be put to good use.’
‘You have no evidence,’ said Maurice, and for the first time since Geoffrey had known him, his face held something dangerous. Geoffrey realized that it took strength, ruthlessness and cunning to rise so high in King Henry’s realm; Maurice would not have been promoted to such a powerful post if he was a bumbling fool.
‘I have this,’ said Geoffrey, holding up the remains of the letter from Tancred. ‘Eudo was too wily to have left half-burned papers in his hearth. No, you caught him burning the documents and demanded an explanation. He gave you one, because you and he had an understanding.’
Maurice’s lips tightened into a firm line. ‘Very well, I admit that I know more of that matter than I admitted. Roger gave Eudo these letters – he had some tale about taking them from a squire of yours who is now dead. The squire made the forgeries, not Eudo.’
‘Durand,’ said Geoffrey heavily.
‘The one you claim is Angel Locks? I doubt she would have done anything so cruel.’
‘Why did you not tell me sooner?’ demanded Geoffrey coldly.
Maurice smiled. ‘Because it suited me to keep you confused and uncertain. And do not loom in a way that suggests you mean violence, because we both know you will not harm me. I am an unarmed bishop, and your principles will not let you. Besides, the King would kill you if you did.’
‘It would be worth it,’ said Geoffrey. The ice in his voice made Maurice regard him in alarm.
‘I did my best to protect you, Geoffrey,’ he said. ‘I gave you letters, so people would think you were my messenger, not Henry’s, and I tried hard to persuade him to send someone else. I am not such a terrible man, and our friendship means something to me.’
‘Does it?’ asked Geoffrey, thinking he had just lost a friend. Two, perhaps, given that Roger seemed to be complicit in the plot to deceive him.
Maurice leaned back in his chair. ‘Yes, it does. But if you are going to be unpleasant about this, let me remind you that I have evidence that shows you carried orders for two men to commit murder. Ergo, we know dubious facts about each other. And you will not want your family associated with this business.’
‘They have nothing to do with it.’
‘You are implicated in the death of a much-loved Welsh prince. I doubt Goodrich’s Welsh neighbours will be impressed by that. Joan and Hilde will never lie easy in their beds again.’
‘You bastard,’ snarled Geoffrey.
‘Oh, come now, Geoffrey. I am sure we can end this amiably. How about I release you from your vow, so you can travel to the Holy Land and make your peace with Tancred? Would that ease the animosity between us?’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey coldly. ‘Because your blessing means nothing. I will be bound by my promise until I can find a decent priest. If there is any such man in your Church, which I doubt. Go and take your medicine, My Lord Bishop. You are looking quite pale.’
Historical Note
There is a reference to a castle near Kermerdyn (Carmarthen) in 1093, when it seems the Sheriff of Devon, one William fitz Baldwin, raised what was probably a simple motte topped with a wooden fortified tower. He probably did so on the orders of King William Rufus. It was called Rhydygors (rhyd meaning ford, and cors meaning marsh or bog), suggesting it protected a crossing of the River Tywi just south of the present-day town, which remains salt-marsh to this day. Its location is uncertain, although an Ordnance Survey map of 1830 shows some earthworks, all of which were flattened for the railway line a few years later.
Three years later, William was dead, and the garrison seems to have withdrawn. King William Rufus was killed in the New Forest during a hunting accident in 1100, and his younger brother, Henry, seized the throne. There is no evidence that Henry was complicit in his brother’s death, but he was certainly quick to capitalize on the situation and turn it to his advantage. He was to become one of the strongest and most efficient of English kings.
Henry immediately faced serious trouble all along the Welsh borders, mostly led by his own barons, especially the notorious tyrant Robert de Bellême, bu
t the tide was turned in his favour when a number of Welsh princes fought on his side. One of these was Hywel ap Gronw, a Welsh noble who was described as a ‘king’ in contemporary records. He came to real power in 1102, when Henry rewarded him for his help against Bellême with a gift of Rhydygors Castle and the area known as Ystrad Tywi. At the same time, an unknown knight named Sear was granted Pembroc (Pembroke), although he did not keep it for long – it was soon passed to the better-known and more powerful Gerald of Windsor, who began rebuilding it in stone.
In 1105, William fitz Baldwin’s younger brother, Richard, arrived at Rhydygors and stocked it with soldiers. Just a year later, Hywel was enjoying a pleasant evening at the house of his close friend and counsellor, Gwgan ap Meurig, when he was murdered. The story goes that Gwgan stole Hywel’s sword and armour as he slept, then mentioned the fact to Richard’s garrison. The castle was abandoned shortly after the murder, and a new fortress built nearer the town. Parts of the later buildings survive today, although the bulk of the site is under County Hall.
The earliest records of St Peter’s Church come from documents dating to Henry’s reign, in which the monarch conferred it on the abbey at La Batailge (Battle Abbey). Later, Bernard, Bishop of St David’s, made repeated requests for the church to be returned to his own See. This happened in 1125, at which point Bernard gave the church with its tithes and benefits to his newly founded priory of St John and St Teulyddog. There is some suggestion that there was a Celtic monastic foundation on this site, and that Bernard replaced it with Cistercians and a Norman prior. It later passed to the Benedictines.
Other characters in the story are also real. Alberic de Felgoriis was a knight based in Kermerdyn in the early twelfth century, Cornald was a merchant, and Robert was a steward. The custodian of Kadweli (Kidwelly) was named Edward, and the Bishop of St David’s from 1085 until 1115 was Wilfred. Maurice (Bishop of London, 1086–1107) built an early St Paul’s Cathedral in London, and his contemporaries did accuse him of sleeping with women to improve his health. Baderon was the Lord of Monmouth in the early 1100s, and the Bishop of Durham was known to have sired several illegitimate children.
Prince Tancred was a Norman from Sicily, who went to the Holy Land to make his fortune on the Crusade. He succeeded and carved a kingdom in the east.
Some kind of castle was raised at Goodrich by Godric Mappestone shortly after the Conquest, although records indicate it did not remain with him and his family for long.
Table of Contents
Recent Titles in the Sir Geoffrey Mappestone Series
A Dead Man’s Secret
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Historical Note
A Dead Man's Secret Page 29
