Sear was still in the main chamber when Geoffrey stalked through it. The older knight was about to make a quip about Roger’s stupidity in imbibing wine sent from such a dangerous man, but stopped when he saw the expression on Geoffrey’s face.
‘The King ordered me to give you this when we arrived in Kermerdyn,’ said Geoffrey, handing him the last letter. ‘Do not ask why he told me to wait, because I do not know.’
He strode into the yard and yelled to one of the taverner’s sons to fetch his horse. The lad started to roll his eyes – Hilde had ordered him to unsaddle and stable it only moments before – but a hard stare sent him scurrying off to oblige. Geoffrey was aware that Sear had followed him outside and had broken the seal of his letter to gaze uncomprehendingly at the words.
‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘Henry probably sent this because I told him he would not be getting such high taxes from Pembroc in the future. I thought reprisal would not be long in coming.’
‘That is what happens when you serve a master who loves money above all else,’ said Geoffrey, angry enough with Richard to speak recklessly.
‘Henry is a good man,’ declared Sear hotly.
‘Right,’ said Geoffrey, controlling his temper; it would be foolish to waste time and energy arguing with Sear.
‘My clerks made an error in their calculations,’ Sear went on, apparently feeling an explanation was in order. ‘It resulted in people being charged too much, and I could not, in all conscience, let it continue. I went to tell him what had happened.’
Geoffrey did not reply. He was wondering where to begin his hunt for Richard.
Sear cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Will you read it to me? I would rather not take it to the abbey, because they do not like me and will probably make me wait until morning.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. The King’s letters had caused him enough trouble already.
‘Damn it, man! Will you make me beg?’ Then Sear’s face took on a cunning expression. ‘Or shall we make a bargain? You read me the letter, and I will tell you where Richard is likely to be hiding.’
‘Where?’
‘Do we have an agreement?’
Geoffrey nodded impatiently.
‘There is an abandoned village about two miles south of Rhydygors,’ began Sear. ‘You cannot miss it if you follow the river path. It is where he and Leah courted, so it has special significance for him. Now read me the letter.’
Geoffrey took it from him and scanned it quickly. It was short, blunt, and its tone was cold and unfriendly. He handed it back. ‘You will not want to hear this, and I have no time to accept challenges from you. Ask Bishop Wilfred. He will not make you wait.’
‘No, tell me,’ said Sear softly. ‘I have been expecting something dire ever since I saw the flash in Henry’s eyes when I explained about the taxes, and I feared his continued affection for me was a sham. Read it, Geoffrey. I swear we will not come to blows.’
‘You are dismissed from Pembroc Castle and ordered to hand over command to someone called Gerald of Windsor.’
‘Gerald of Windsor,’ mused Sear. ‘A ruthless, greedy man who will have every last penny out of the hapless souls at Pembroc. Is that all?’
‘No. As you are in Kermerdyn and have troops here, you are ordered to put them and yourself under Richard’s authority and do whatever he says.’
‘You lie!’ yelled Sear, whipping out his sword.
Geoffrey drew his own weapon, finding he was more than ready to fight a man he had never liked. It would limber him up for when he met Richard. But it was not Geoffrey who was at the end of Sear’s blade, but Cornald, who had just entered the yard and walked towards them.
‘It is true!’ squeaked Cornald. ‘I swear!’
He tried to back away, but Sear clutched a handful of his tunic and gripped him so his feet barely touched the ground. Cornald was holding a purple glove that Geoffrey recognized as Edward’s. Bemused, Geoffrey looked from one to the other, wondering what was happening.
‘If you are lying, I will cut out your tongue,’ snarled Sear.
‘I swear to you, on holy William’s soul, that this is the “evidence” from Lanothni,’ gulped Cornald. ‘It proves the attack was ordered by Edward.’
‘What are you taking about?’ demanded Geoffrey, lowering his sword.
‘We had word from Fychan that he had discovered a clue to the identity of the raiders who attacked his inn,’ explained Sear tersely. ‘Having lost so much, he was rather more painstaking in his hunt for evidence than we were.’
‘I still do not understand,’ said Geoffrey.
‘There was a witness – a villager saw and heard the raiders’ leader giving them orders. This villager also saw the leader drop something on the ground by accident as he turned to leave. Cornald offered to return to Lanothni today, to collect it.’
‘It was the least I could do,’ said Cornald, freeing himself from Sear’s grasp. He scowled. ‘Although I would not have obliged, had I known I would be manhandled on my return.’
‘My apologies,’ said Sear stiffly. ‘It was the shock.’
Geoffrey struggled to follow what they were saying. ‘But Edward was injured in one of those attacks. He would hardly order-’
‘Not very seriously injured,’ interrupted Cornald. ‘Moreover, another group of travellers arrived from Brechene last night. They told me they had not been attacked once on the road, nor was there any contagion in Brechene Castle.’
Geoffrey was bewildered. ‘So Edward lied about his men being sick, and, instead of accompanying us, they harried us every inch of the way? But why?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Sear grimly. ‘But your wife and Pulchria said the men who attacked you in Lanothni knew their way around in the dark – and Edward’s men are mostly local. It would explain why Alberic and I were unable to catch them after you drove them off. I sense something evil is unfolding here, and Edward and Richard seem to be at the heart of it.’
Geoffrey tried to rally his reeling thoughts. ‘I delivered two letters in Goodrich: one to Gwgan and one to Richard. All the ambushes concentrated on us knights – in our white surcoats, we doubtless look much the same to soldiers who do not know us. And it was Gwgan and Richard who were targeted last night. Perhaps…’
‘Perhaps what?’ demanded Sear impatiently.
‘Perhaps Gwgan and Richard have been ordered to do something of which Edward disapproves,’ finished Geoffrey.
‘Something like what?’
Geoffrey shook his head slowly. ‘Gwgan lied about the contents of his letter. He said it was about taxes and advowsons, but that sort of thing is complex, and his missive comprised a few sentences on one page – I saw it. It was much more likely to have contained an order.’
‘Yes, but what?’ demanded Cornald. ‘And why send the order to him, not Hywel? The Prince is in charge of the region, and it is for him to carry out royal commands, not his counsellor.’
Hywel! Suddenly, the answer snapped into Geoffrey’s mind, and it was so obvious he wondered why he had not seen it before.
‘Everyone acknowledges that Hywel is a good and popular leader, and I know Henry resents it. He told me so in La Batailge. Eudo went further and said putting Hywel in power was a mistake. It is unwise for a vassal to outshine the King, but Hywel does, and it has not gone unnoticed.’
‘You think Hywel will be ousted?’ whispered Cornald, aghast. ‘And that Richard and Gwgan will do it? But how? The people will not stand for a coup. They will support Hywel.’
‘I doubt a coup is what they have in mind,’ said Geoffrey soberly. ‘The only way to eliminate the threat Hywel has become is to kill him.’
Cornald and Sear gaped at him. ‘And how will they do that?’ demanded Sear in disbelief. ‘Hywel is safely inside Rhydygors, surrounded by a garrison that would die to protect him.’
‘He will not be inside Rhydygors tonight,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He will be at the house of his trusted friend and counsellor. Alone, so they can do business together. An
d Hywel’s troops – to the last man – have been sent out to round up these so-called outlaws.’
‘Except Gwgan’s personal guard,’ said Cornald, aghast. ‘They have been held back. When the garrison returns, Hywel will be dead and Richard will sit in his place. Or will it be Gwgan?’
‘Richard,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘Henry will not want another Welshman in charge.’
‘But Gwgan is Hywel’s friend!’ objected Cornald. ‘They are like brothers. Why would he betray him?’
Geoffrey had no answer.
‘So this is why I am ordered to serve Richard,’ mused Sear. ‘He will be the new lord, and I am expected to help him quell any resulting rebellions. Henry did not want me to know until we arrived in Kermerdyn, lest I took umbrage and disappeared home to Normandy.’
‘Listen to what we are saying!’ said Cornald, shaking his head. ‘We are accusing the King of cold-blooded murder.’
‘The evidence is compelling,’ said Sear.
‘Eudo,’ said Geoffrey softly. ‘Bishop Maurice said he schemed on the King’s behalf. Moreover, he wrote the letters to Gwgan and Richard himself, and refused to let his deputies see what was in them. He even sealed them in such a way that they could not be opened.’
‘So the King probably has no idea of what has been planned for Hywel,’ said Cornald in relief. ‘And all this treachery is the work of a clerk with misguided notions of loyalty.’
‘But Eudo was murdered in La Batailge,’ said Sear, frowning. ‘Who…’
‘Edward,’ said Geoffrey, the last pieces of the puzzle falling into place. ‘He must have discovered what was in the offing, and decided to stop it.’
‘Why would he do that?’ asked Cornald. He shrugged. ‘His devotion to Henry is absolute, and though we may disapprove of Hywel’s murder, no one can deny that it is in Henry’s best interests.’
‘No, it is not,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Henry will be glad to be rid of a popular rival, but the taint of murder will damage him badly. Edward will want to protect him from that.’
‘So Edward killed Eudo to prevent him from sending these letters?’ asked Cornald.
Geoffrey nodded. ‘But he was too late – the letters had already been written and handed to Pepin. Edward stabbed Eudo, then drowned him when the blow was ineffective – I should have seen that such a messy death was the work of a man unused to killing.’
‘He dropped silver pennies as they struggled,’ mused Sear. ‘You said at the time that they meant the culprit was a wealthy man. But this makes no sense – Edward has an alibi. He was in the stables when Eudo died, lecturing twenty stable-boys on horses.’
‘Edward knows nothing about horses – he can barely ride,’ snapped Geoffrey. ‘And the nag he bought in La Batailge is a miserable specimen. Moreover, he saddled the thing back to front the other day. No self-respecting stable-boy would have listened to him. He lied.’
‘But I thought he was looking into Eudo’s murder for the King,’ said Sear. ‘He certainly gave us that impression as we were riding towards Goodrich.’
‘Yes, he did,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘Very cleverly, because we were less likely to suspect him.’
‘There cannot be two cold-blooded murderers in our company,’ said Cornald. ‘So it stands to reason that Edward killed Mabon, as well as Eudo. But why?’
‘Because he was aiming at Richard,’ explained Geoffrey. ‘Richard is selfish, and Edward predicted he would steal Mabon’s tonic. I assumed the same. Edward must have decided it was safer to poison him than to fight. He stole wolf-tooth from Leah, who keeps some for her headaches…’
‘But Richard must have been too drunk to steal,’ finished Cornald. ‘You were not exactly sober yourself, Geoffrey – your sister and Olivier know how to ply the wine.’
‘Edward was horrified when Mabon died,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I remember his face. Of course, it did not stop him from using poison a second time. In Brechene.’
‘No one died in Brechene,’ said Sear, bewildered.
‘No, but two men became very sick after eating fish soup – the fish soup that was enjoyed by the locals with no ill effects.’
‘Richard and Gwgan!’ exclaimed Cornald. ‘The recipients of the letters.’
‘But although he used too much on Mabon – enough to leave evidence that screamed murder – he used too little in Brechene,’ Geoffrey went on. ‘Mabon’s fate made him overly cautious.’
‘What shall we do?’ asked Cornald, frightened. ‘Who is in the right? Richard and Gwgan, who believe they are under the King’s orders? Or Edward, who is almost certainly acting alone?’
‘We cannot look the other way while murder is committed,’ said Geoffrey, snatching his horse’s bridle from the stable-boy.
‘But that is what Edward is doing,’ said Sear. ‘And I imagine it is why he left Kermerdyn earlier today – I doubt he has gone to Kadweli, as he claimed. We should leave it to him and not become embroiled in such unholy matters.’
‘He will fail,’ said Geoffrey, climbing into the saddle. ‘As he has failed so far.’
‘Do as he says, Sear,’ said Cornald urgently. ‘The King will not want Hywel murdered, because he will be accused of ordering it. Besides, if you thwart Richard, he may give you the Kermerdyn garrison in his place. It is not Pembroc, but it is better than being second in command.’
‘Very well,’ replied Sear reluctantly. ‘I shall summon my men.’
‘And I will hire messengers to fetch Hywel’s soldiers back,’ determined Cornald. ‘You will be heavily outnumbered, even if you do join forces with Edward, because Gwgan has his personal guards and Richard has his garrison.’
Geoffrey nodded his thanks, but he knew any such help would arrive far too late.
Fourteen
Geoffrey fought down his impatience as Sear saddled his horse and summoned his men. He was itching to be away, but common sense prevailed – he could not defeat Gwgan’s guards and Richard’s troops single-handed, and there was no point in squandering his life on futile heroics, especially when the addition of Sear’s force might make a difference.
His agitation was transmitted to his horse, which pawed and wheeled restlessly. Geoffrey’s attention was more on the problems that loomed ahead than on keeping it in line, so he was startled when he heard an indignant squeal from near its feet.
‘If you cannot control that thing, do not ride it!’ It was Delywn, his dirty face pinched with anger.
‘What do you want?’ asked Geoffrey curtly.
‘Ywain sent me with a message. Leah fled the abbey this morning and ran to Edward, who she said was her only friend, but he returned her. She was furious and spat some terrible curses. I could scarce believe she was the same woman.’
Geoffrey was about to tell Delwyn to warn Ywain to be wary of a second escape attempt, when Sear surged towards the monk and grabbed him by the throat.
‘You knew about this business,’ he snarled. ‘You are too sly to be innocent. The King knew it, too, which is why he gave Mabon’s letter to Geoffrey. He did not trust you.’
‘What business?’ squeaked Delwyn in alarm. ‘Leave me be! I am a monk, a man of God.’
‘A monk, perhaps,’ said Geoffrey with distaste. ‘But no man of God. You are Eudo’s helpmeet.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Sear. A dagger appeared in his hand.
‘Do not kill him,’ warned Geoffrey. ‘We need him as a witness. Besides, he is not worth hanging for.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Delwyn indignantly. ‘I am worth a great deal. But you cannot blame me for what Eudo and his cronies did. I am no organizer of murders.’
‘And there is your confession,’ said Geoffrey to Sear. ‘How could he know what Eudo planned unless he was party to it? He has been spying on us ever since we left La Batailge. Or, rather, spying on me, to ensure I delivered Eudo’s deadly missives.’
‘Lies!’ cried Delwyn, alarmed. ‘You do not-’
‘I enjoyed Edward’s company, and you became worried that I might tel
l him I was carrying letters for Richard and Gwgan. I wondered why you kept asking for Mabon’s, but I understand now: you wanted to see where I kept it, so you could steal the others and deliver them yourself.’
‘Where did you keep them?’ asked Delwyn sullenly. ‘Not in your saddle-’
‘No, not in the saddlebags that you searched so assiduously,’ said Geoffrey, glaring at him. ‘But you need not have worried. I am not in the habit of blathering about the missions I am ordered to complete.’
‘But I did not know that,’ said Delwyn. ‘Knights tend to be braggarts, not known for their discretion. I was constantly worried that Edward would have it out of you.’
‘I kept my counsel,’ said Geoffrey coolly. ‘Besides, Edward did not ask, because he believed that killing Eudo was the end of the matter.’
‘Yes – but Eudo wrote the letters and passed them to Pepin before he was killed,’ said Delwyn. ‘Do not wave that knife at me, Sir Sear. I have done nothing wrong. I was asked, by men loyal to the King, to ensure two messages were delivered. And that is what I did.’
‘Except you failed,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You have no idea whether I delivered the letters or not.’
‘I assume you did it here,’ said Delwyn. ‘After you visited the abbey. Are you telling me you have not done it yet? For God’s sake, man! It has been two days!’
‘I did it in Goodrich,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Did you?’ asked Delwyn, startled. ‘I did not see. Of course, I only have your word that you did it. You made a mistake with Wilfred’s and Mabon’s, I understand.’
‘The mistake was Eudo’s,’ said Geoffrey curtly. ‘I can only assume he was a little more careful with the ones he deemed more important. But you are a monk. How can you condone murder, especially of a man like Hywel – a decent man and a fellow countryman?’
‘I have my price,’ Delwyn flashed back. ‘And so do you – you carried these letters because you want to protect your family. You are no different from me.’
‘And what was your price?’ asked Geoffrey coldly.
‘My abbey,’ replied Delwyn. ‘It comprises Welsh monks serving a Welsh saint. But there are plans to turn it into a Norman foundation. I was promised that if I helped get the messages delivered, the abbey would stay Welsh.’
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