The Coiner's Quarrel

by Simon Beaufort

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Henry with a faint smile.

  ‘I shall refute these four charges one by one, sire,’ she went on. ‘I am here with my husband’s deputy, Rodbert, and Sir Tasso de Taranto, who sees to our protection against thieves. My husband considers Sendi’s charges too ludicrous to answer, and refused to come himself.’

  ‘Yet they take up the time of his monarch,’ Henry pointed out dryly.

  ‘Something he considers a grave crime,’ replied Maude, gazing at Sendi in a way that indicated the King should hold him responsible and punish him accordingly.

  ‘You oversee the security of Barcwit’s mint, Sir Tasso?’ asked Henry. Tasso stepped forward and nodded in a military kind of way. ‘Then how did this silver get stolen three weeks ago?’

  ‘We buy from several different mines, sire,’ explained Tasso. ‘I was escorting a load from Somerset when Alwold lost the shipment from Devon.’

  ‘Have you heard rumours about where this silver might be?’ pressed Henry. ‘I understand it is worth a great deal of money.’

  Maude’s eyes were still fixed on Sendi when she replied. ‘We have our suspicions, sire.’

  Sendi was immediately on the defensive. ‘Do not blame us! You should have transported it in smaller loads, not hauled mountains of the stuff halfway across England. It was asking for trouble.’

  Maude turned to Henry. ‘The load was worth a fortune,’ she admitted. ‘And my husband is distressed over its disappearance. It was well guarded, and we had no reason to think it was in danger. However, we have heard no rumours about its whereabouts. I only wish we had.’

  Henry looked equally disappointed. ‘Well, it cannot stay hidden for ever. Thieves are greedy by nature, and will not wait too long before they are overcome by the urge to sell their ill-gotten gains.’

  ‘He should know,’ Durand murmured imprudently, easing from his hiding place now Maurice’s attention was taken with Maude. ‘He is more greedy than the rest of us put together – except maybe those two physicians. Clarembald sold Bloet a remedy for his blocked nose that cost six pence. When it did not cure him, Bishop John lit one of his big candles and demanded a shilling. Bloet’s nose still does not work, and he is down eighteen pence.’

  Geoffrey turned his attention to Henry, who had moved on from the issue of the missing silver. The King asked again if Maude would like to refute the charges Sendi had levelled, then looked meaningfully at the tables being readied in the hall. She did not have long before he went to his dinner.

  ‘First, we are accused of having a drunken cambium,’ she said. ‘Send someone to meet him, sire. Your representative will find him sober and diligent.’

  ‘Assuming the representative is introduced to the right cambium,’ Durand whispered. ‘Bloet tells me he is always in his cups.’

  ‘Then I shall,’ said Henry, which had Tasso and Rodbert glancing at each other in alarm.

  Maude smiled, to indicate she was pleased by Henry’s decision. Geoffrey supposed Durand was right: she intended to impose an impostor on the King’s agent. ‘Second, we are accused of making bad coins. But the coins you inspected just now are not from our mint.’

  Henry raised his eyebrows. ‘They bear Barcwit’s name.’

  ‘They are forgeries.’ She gazed coolly at Sendi. ‘Anyone can see they are mules.’

  ‘They are what?’ asked Maurice, simpering at her.

  ‘Mules,’ repeated Maude. ‘It means the side bearing the King’s head is genuine, but the reverse – which carries the name of mint and moneyer – has been struck using an old or a corrupted die. We call such coins mules, and they are illegal. I can assure you that no mules ever emerge from our mint, so someone made the ones you hold in your hand, for the express purpose of discrediting us.’

  ‘Lies!’ spat Sendi. He turned to the King. ‘Sire! She is accusing us—’

  ‘Silence!’ snapped Henry. ‘You have had your say; now it is her turn. Pray continue, madam.’

  Maude edged closer still, stroking the cross that lay at her throat. Maurice’s glittering eyes were fixed firmly on the creamy skin of her chest, while Henry leaned back in his chair and met her gaze with an unreadable one of his own. Geoffrey wondered whether she would be entertained in the royal bedchamber that night; he was sure she would be delighted to put her case a little more intimately.

  ‘Thirdly, Sendi objects to the number of our investors,’ she said. ‘But Barcwit has been a moneyer for a long time, and people trust him. He works hard – and even sent an additional payment to the treasury at Easter, when he knew funds would be needed to fight the evil Bellême.’

  ‘That is true, sire,’ confirmed Giffard. ‘Barcwit did send more money than required, and he included a letter saying he hoped it would help you against the rebels.’

  Geoffrey was impressed. If Barcwit was indeed plotting to harm Henry, then it was clever to make a donation to disguise his true intentions.

  Maude pressed her point. ‘People invest with us because they know us. Ask Sendi what happened when Abbot Serlo gave him ten pounds last year. Serlo lost twenty per cent of it, because the dies broke and it took a month to acquire new ones. Word spreads quickly about that sort of thing.’

  Adelise flushed deep red. ‘We were only able to give Serlo eight pounds when he asked for his ten, but we returned the rest – with interest – before Easter. She has twisted the truth!’

  ‘Not really,’ mused Henry, scratching his chin. ‘The bald fact is that when the abbot needed his money, you were only able to give part of it back.’

  ‘It was Barcwit’s fault!’ shouted Sendi. ‘He damaged our dies, then arranged for our couriers to be ambushed so the new ones were late in arriving. And he encouraged Serlo to make a withdrawal.’

  ‘No yelling,’ said Henry sharply. ‘If you howl at me again, I shall have you fined.’

  Adelise stepped forward to speak, but Henry raised his hand. It remained in the air until she backed away, and only then did he gesture that Maude was to continue.

  ‘If you do not believe us, then study the list Sendi has fabricated,’ said Maude softly. ‘On it are men he claims cheat you by accepting higher rates of interest. But some of these men are here today, and you know they are honourable. For example, Simon Bloet is the Bishop of Lincoln’s son. With an ecclesiastical father, his character is beyond reproach.’

  Bloet cleared his throat nervously, aware that not all bishop’s sons were paragons of virtue – and neither were all bishops. When he spoke, his voice was oddly nasal, as though the physicians’ remedies had done more harm than good. ‘My father has always been proud of my achievements, sire. He thinks I will be of great value to you—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Henry. ‘We know you are keen to enter my service. But I want to know about these investments you made with Barcwit.’

  ‘I have never done – nor will I ever do – anything to harm Your Majesty,’ declared Bloet fervently.

  ‘You deny making investments with Barcwit?’ asked Giffard.

  ‘I deny making dishonest investments. I have a glittering future ahead of me, and will not risk it for a few illicit pennies. It is not worth it.’

  ‘Well, that is honest, I suppose,’ said Henry, amused.

  ‘Your physicians, Clarembald and the Bishop of Bath, are also on Sendi’s list,’ Maude went on.

  ‘My Lord Bishop,’ said Henry, gesturing to John de Villula. ‘What do you say to these charges?’

  ‘I have done nothing wrong!’ cried John. ‘I invest with Barcwit, because he owns an old and established business and I trust him. The same cannot be said for every moneyer in England.’

  ‘There is a mint in Bath,’ said Henry, watching him carefully. ‘You own it yourself. Why do you not invest with that moneyer?’

  John began to gabble. ‘Because Bristol is just fifteen miles from my home in Bath, and investing with Barcwit provides me with an opportunity to visit the place. I like it: it is vibrant and busy, and one can buy all manner of
exotic spices not available elsewhere, while its leather goods are unsurpassable. I bought these shoes there.’ He raised the hem of his habit to reveal some very handsome footwear.

  ‘Nice,’ said Henry, leaning forward to inspect them. ‘Bristol is good for shops, then?’

  ‘Excellent, sire. And purchasing attractive items is good for the health. I always feel so much better after a visit to Bristol’s traders. You should try it. You will find yourself a new man.’

  ‘Find myself a new man!’ breathed Durand in Geoffrey’s ear. ‘I am beginning to like the sound of Bristol more and more.’

  ‘Master Clarembald,’ asked Henry, ‘do you invest with Barcwit because it provides you with an opportunity to spend money on fripperies?’

  Clarembald’s impressive eyebrows waved disdainfully. ‘I do not demean myself with trivialities, sire. I invest with Barcwit because the roads to Exeter – where I live – are spangled with outlaws, and I have been robbed twice. It is safer to leave my money in Bristol, and Barcwit provides as good a place as any. I am certainly not involved in anything corrupt.’

  ‘The last of Sendi’s claims – that Barcwit frightens people – is arrant nonsense,’ Maude concluded coolly when the courtiers had finished protesting their innocence. ‘Barcwit has no patience with liars and cheats, so his wrath descends on corrupt men like Sendi. But good citizens have nothing to fear.’

  ‘I would like to visit Bristol and assess this situation,’ said Henry. ‘And perhaps even go shopping for the good of my health. But other matters require my attention. However, I shall do as you suggest and send a representative to meet Barcwit’s cambium and ask a few questions on my behalf.’

  ‘Who, sire?’ asked Sendi nervously. His unease was reflected in the faces of Maude’s companions: neither side wanted a King’s agent poking too deeply into their affairs, giving the impression that both engaged in practices that might be construed as murky by a diligent inspector.

  ‘I think Giffard, the Bishop of Winchester,’ replied Henry, as if the name had just popped into his head. Everyone turned to look at Giffard, who acknowledged with a nod.

  ‘Lord!’ muttered Sendi, regarding the austere bishop with trepidation. ‘He will have us all paupers.’

  ‘He only persecutes criminals,’ said Henry, which did little to soothe their fears. ‘However, I need him here for the next few days, so, Sir Geoffrey Mappestone of Goodrich will conduct a preliminary investigation. He will travel with you to Bristol tomorrow; Giffard will come later.’

  ‘Why do you need two investigators?’ demanded Rodbert, alarmed by the prospect.

  ‘Giffard has no time to chase witnesses and collect detailed information,’ replied Henry tartly, not pleased to have his decisions questioned. ‘So, Geoffrey will do that; Giffard will review his findings.’

  ‘Geoffrey comes from Goodrich?’ asked Adelise, eyes narrowed. ‘But that means he is related to Joan of Goodrich, who is on our list of corrupt investors. So, that explains why he asked about her last night. Well, we will not have him!’

  ‘For once, I agree,’ said Rodbert. ‘Geoffrey has already insulted me and I do not want him poking into my affairs. Tasso shoved him in the mud, and he will want to avenge himself for the humiliation.’

  ‘He tried to fight us, too,’ added Lifwine in a petulant voice. ‘He is not the kind of man you should appoint, sire. Choose someone else.’

  Henry’s face was angry as he stood, and Lifwine tottered backwards in alarm. ‘Very little happens in my Court that I do not hear about,’ he said, his voice softly menacing. ‘I know exactly who pushed whom in the mud, and I know who charged along the riverbank intent on slaughter, when they only had half the facts.’ His gaze raked across the assembled Saxons.

  ‘But what about his connection to Joan?’ persisted Edric, not clever enough to know the battle was lost. ‘He will find Barcwit innocent, regardless of any evidence he uncovers to the contrary.’

  ‘He knows better than to deceive me,’ said Henry, his voice still dangerously low. This time, it was sibilant and unsettling enough to silence even the outraged Edric. ‘He would not dare to present me with anything other than the truth – and if you have any sense, you will follow his example. All you moneyers will travel to Bristol together, and he will accompany you.’

  ‘The hearing is over,’ announced Giffard in the silence that followed. ‘Sir Geoffrey is appointed as King’s agent, and I shall come later, to assess his evidence. You are dismissed.’

  ‘You knew!’ snarled Sendi at Geoffrey, as soon as the King and his bishops had left. ‘You knew he planned to appoint you, so you encouraged us to argue with you, just to weasel information from us.’

  ‘Not so,’ replied Geoffrey calmly. ‘You accused me of killing Fardin yesterday morning, but my audience with the King was in the afternoon. Ask anyone.’

  ‘I cannot imagine why Henry wants you as his agent,’ said Rodbert in disgust. ‘You are dirty, quick to take offence and have a bad temper.’

  ‘I was irritable yesterday,’ admitted Geoffrey. ‘But that was due in part to Saxons picking fights with me.’

  ‘But you are still dirty,’ said Lifwine, looking Geoffrey up and down in distaste. ‘And it will not be pleasant to travel with you.’

  Geoffrey glanced at his surcoat and acknowledged that it might benefit from a wash. The rest of his clothes were hidden under his armour, so no one could know they were full of holes and more grimy than was decent. He usually considered himself presentable if he was cleaner than Roger, but it occurred to him that his friend was not a good measure of respectability, and that he might have allowed his standards to slip over the years.

  ‘We do not want to travel with you, either,’ Sendi was saying to Maude.

  ‘The feeling is mutual,’ replied Maude icily. ‘But it is safer in large groups, and a second knight might come in useful.’ She smiled at Geoffrey in a way that suggested the usefulness had nothing to do with his skills as a warrior.

  Rodbert saw the look and was furious, but Tasso spoke before he could begin a tirade. ‘If we ignore the King and travel separately, his creature here is sure to report us. We have no choice but to go with him to Bristol.’

  ‘If he lives that long,’ hissed Sendi. ‘It is a long way, and the roads are notorious for outlaws.’

  ‘True,’ agreed Geoffrey, refusing to be goaded. ‘But none of us are free to do what we want, so I suggest we make the best of the situation and at least be civil to each other.’

  ‘It is too late for that,’ growled Rodbert. ‘Men who push others in mud are not the civil kind.’ He shouldered his way out of the hall, with Tasso at his heels. Maude shot Geoffrey another of her suggestive smiles and followed, with the rest of her companions trailing behind.

  Sendi pushed close to Geoffrey and waved a finger in his face. ‘I do not like the fact that Henry has appointed the kin of one of Barcwit’s investors. It stinks of corruption. But I was right in what I said: the roads to Bristol are dangerous, so you had better be on your guard.’

  He stalked from the hall. Lifwine lingered long enough to follow his master’s example and wag a finger at Geoffrey, but scurried away when the knight took a step towards him. Adelise did not deign to speak at all, while Edric spat on the floor at Geoffrey’s feet. When they had gone, Geoffrey blew out his cheeks in a sigh and wondered how he was going to conduct an investigation when everyone was hostile and unhelpful. He had the feeling he might have nothing to show Giffard when he arrived, and worse, that he would not have enough to persuade Henry to keep his promise and spare Joan.

  ‘Not good,’ said Durand, breaking into his thoughts. ‘This is not a good start.’

  That evening, Geoffrey sat in the hall and considered all that had happened, while, outside, a gale raged, rattling the window shutters and gusting down the chimney. Roger, Helbye and Ulfrith were playing dice in a quiet corner, declining the requests of others who wanted to join their game, on the grounds that Roger would not be able to resist ch
eating them, and Geoffrey had warned him not to start a fight.

  Durand was with Bloet. They sat in a window seat, whispering and giggling like a pair of virgins, but when Durand released one of his piercing girlish laughs, it drew the attention of the Bishop of London. Maurice was in a terrible state after his brush with Adelise and Maude, and was determined to have a woman at all costs. Fortunately, Durand saw him coming and fled, dragging Bloet with him.

  ‘Damn!’ muttered Maurice angrily, seeing Geoffrey alone nearby and coming to talk to him. ‘Why does she always run when she sees me coming? And why does she insist on wearing the clothes of a man? It is a sin for her to disguise her womanly curves, which—’

  ‘He has already secured himself a partner for tonight,’ interrupted Geoffrey hastily, wanting to hear no more of that particular description.

  ‘She will be gone tomorrow,’ said Maurice, declining, as always, to take issue with him over Angel Locks’ sex. He sighed wistfully. ‘I shall never forget that night at Bridgnorth. She certainly knows how to please a man! There are many things the lasses in Henry’s Court could learn from her!’

  Geoffrey felt the matter had gone quite far enough. ‘Durand really is my squire, you know. He—’

  Maurice gave a weary smile and patted his arm. ‘You are trying to make me feel better, because she will not have me. It is a kindly thing to do, but I shall survive without her. Look, there is Maude. Perhaps she will deign to spend a few quiet moments with a needy bishop.’

  ‘Giffard warned you not—’

  Maurice cut him off. ‘That was when Alwold was alive to tell tales to Barcwit. But he is dead and she wants me badly. You must have seen the way she looked at me today during that hearing.’

  ‘I think you will find she was directing her attentions towards Henry. He has more to offer her at the moment.’

  ‘She is a woman ready to seize any opportunity and turn it to her advantage,’ said Maurice astutely. ‘I imagine she will try the same with you, on your way to Bristol. She will want to ensnare you with her charms, so you will believe her husband’s innocence. But you must be ready to separate business from pleasure – enjoy what she offers, but do not let it turn your head.’