Geoffrey was not sure. He supposed the dog’s racket had driven off the two men who had tried to kill him, and vaguely recalled kicking his way to the surface after they had gone. He opened his mouth to speak, but coughed water instead.
‘Your dog went wild when it passed this building,’ explained Ulfrith. ‘Roger said it could smell a cat, but it only ever turns in those tight little circles for you, so I said we should look inside.’
‘This is a bathhouse,’ said Helbye. He glanced uneasily at Geoffrey, then gestured at the water. ‘You did not get in that, did you?’
‘He came with a woman,’ said Roger, because it was something he would have done himself. ‘But he let her trap him in an awkward position. That would explain the splashing we heard. She must have escaped through the back when she heard us coming. What did she look like?’
‘She did not steal anything,’ said Ulfrith, casting an eye over Geoffrey’s clothes and armour. ‘We probably disturbed her before she could try.’
‘You were lucky,’ said Durand, inspecting Geoffrey in a way that made the knight want to grab his tunic and clutch it to his chest; he felt like a virgin being examined on her wedding night by some lecherous old bridegroom. ‘You could have lost everything.’
‘It was not a woman,’ said Geoffrey, at last managing to break into their discussion. ‘It was a man.’ He coughed again, wishing he could control the irritating tickle at the back of his throat. ‘Two men.’
‘Men?’ said Durand mischievously. ‘I had no idea!’
‘They burst in on me,’ objected Geoffrey, hauling his tunic over his head. It felt unpleasantly oily and stiff against his clean skin.
‘Where was the woman when this happened?’ asked Roger, looking around as if he imagined some wench might appear.
‘There was no woman,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I—’
‘No woman?’ echoed Roger. He looked suspiciously at his friend’s undressed state. ‘Then what were you doing in here?’
‘Taking a bath,’ Geoffrey replied, coughing again.
‘A bath?’ said Helbye, appalled. ‘Do you not know how dangerous those can be?’
‘I do now,’ spluttered Geoffrey, still trying to catch his breath.
‘I thought you disapproved of baths,’ said Roger, mystified. ‘You have always claimed that men who take them are left prone to chills and fevers. And now you expect me to believe that you took one in here? In the dark, in a strange place and with no clothes on?’
‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ said Geoffrey tiredly. He did not feel like explaining that he had done so because the Saxons had accused him of being unwashed, and that even the King had commented on his unkempt appearance.
‘I suppose you read about these baths,’ said Roger scathingly. ‘No good will come of burying your nose in scrolls, Geoff. The knowledge you get from them is unnatural and will lead you to a bad end.’ He gestured at the bubbling water and slime-coated walls of the bathhouse to underline his point. Geoffrey found it hard to argue.
‘What are you doing here anyway?’ he asked, shaking off Durand’s attempts to help him get dressed. He did not like the feel of the squire’s hot hands on his bare skin.
‘Your dog,’ said Roger. ‘It jumped on to John’s dinner table and made off with the suckling pig. It escaped through a window and set off down the street, and the Bishop asked if we would mind fetching it back – the pig, I mean, not the dog.’
‘We have been chasing it for ages,’ said Helbye, rubbing his hip resentfully. ‘Then it dropped the pig outside this house and started doing its funny circles. We could hear lots of splashing from inside.’
‘So, Roger battered down the door, while I waited outside until it was safe,’ said Durand prissily. ‘You cannot be too careful with strange buildings in towns you do not know.’
‘Quite,’ agreed Roger, fixing Geoffrey with a hard stare. ‘I cannot believe you charged into one and ripped off your clothes without a second thought. You should have asked me to keep guard.’
‘Or me,’ offered Durand with an impish wink.
‘I take it you did not see them escaping, then?’ Geoffrey asked. Roger had re-lit the lamp, so he took it to examine the place where he had struggled with his attackers. A good deal of water had slopped from the bath and was cooling on the stones around the edge. Meanwhile, the door he had missed earlier led directly outside, but it was too dark to see whether anyone still lingered there.
‘I saw no one,’ said Roger.
‘I heard someone running away, but assumed it was the whore.’ Durand frowned, struggling with his memory. ‘But there was more than one set of footsteps, now that you mention it.’
‘Where is my dog?’ asked Geoffrey. Its timely intervention had saved him, and he wanted to make sure it was properly rewarded. But the animal was nowhere to be seen, and Helbye and Ulfrith regarded each other in dismay.
‘The pig!’ yelled Ulfrith, racing outside. ‘It has gone after the suckling pig again.’
‘Damn the beast!’ groaned Helbye. ‘I do not want to chase it all night while Bishop John waits for his dinner. He promised to light one of his big candles for me tomorrow, which he says will cure the pain in my hip. I do not want that vile dog to annoy him, so he does not bother.’
‘If John fails you, there is always Clarembald,’ said Roger kindly. ‘He claims his poultice of hog grease and warm coals is far more effective than John’s candles. I recommend you take both and hedge your bets. If one does not work, the other might.’
‘I shall,’ vowed Helbye, wincing as he sat on a bench. ‘I would take a cure from the Devil himself, if he promised me relief from this gnawing agony.’
Geoffrey walked along the dark, rain-soaked streets, with Roger on one side and Helbye limping on the other. He glanced at his ageing friend in concern. He had not realized the ache in his bones had reached the point where it was difficult for him to run. Helbye had been with him since he was old enough to raise a sword, and he had assumed the man would be a permanent fixture in his life. But it was clear Helbye’s fighting days were at an end, and he wondered how he would tell him it was now time to go home. It would be a wrench for them both.
He coughed, tasting the foul water he had swallowed, then considered the attack. It was obvious why it had happened: they were a day’s ride from Bristol, where his investigation would begin in earnest. It was a desperate, last-ditch attempt to prevent him from reaching his destination and starting his work. Of course, anyone with any wits about him would know that Geoffrey’s inquiry had started the moment he had received his orders from the King, and that he had been asking questions and making observations every inch along the way. But, he supposed, the attack told him that Bristol was where the real answers lay, and that at least two people were determined that he should not reach it.
So, who had tried to kill him this time? He did not think it was Maude – he imagined she would have learnt from her failure the previous night, and would have done a better job – but it could have been Tasso and Rodbert. It was possible they had decided not to challenge him to open combat, because fatal wounds from a broadsword would tell the King exactly who had dispatched his agent. They may have decided on drowning as a viable alternative once they had seen him jump in the bath.
Or was it Sendi and one of his friends? Or Bloet or Warelwast? Geoffrey was increasingly suspicious of the Bishop-Elect of Exeter, and was not convinced that Henry would use a high-ranking churchman merely to keep an eye on Bloet and his hunt for the missing silver. He suspected Warelwast had a different agenda. Or perhaps the attackers were John and Clarembald, working together in a rare display of unity to prevent their exposure as traitors. They had a good deal to lose if Geoffrey found them guilty, and might well decide that murdering him was an acceptable way to defer matters until they had devised a more permanent solution to their predicament.
He considered the attack on him at Westminster. Could it have been carried out by the same men? He considered ca
refully, and decided not. There had been three at Westminster, and he had driven them away with ease. The two in Bath had been tougher and more determined. Or had they just seemed that way because he had been armed at Westminster, and defenceless in Bath?
He and his companions reached John’s house and knocked at the door. The moment it was opened, Helbye shoved past, aiming for the fire. Geoffrey followed, and was surprised to find the hall empty and the feast abandoned. The only person present was Ulfrith, who had helped himself to a sizeable portion of the rescued pig and was starting on a plate of pastries.
‘I found it outside the bathhouse,’ he said, gesturing to the pork. ‘The dog did not go back for it after all, so he must still be hunting your attackers. If he succeeds, there will be some sore ankles tonight.’
‘Where is everyone?’ asked Geoffrey, pouring some wine. He had expected to find his fellow travellers embroiled in one of their arguments as they waited for the return of the feast’s centrepiece.
‘Not here,’ replied Ulfrith, stating the obvious. ‘Perhaps they decided to look for the pig. You can see why: it is the only thing worth eating. Everything else is either bread or vegetables.’ He looked disgusted, being one of those who did not think he had dined unless half a sheep was involved.
‘Everyone?’ asked Geoffrey. It would be difficult to isolate culprits for the attack if the entire party had scattered around the city. It had started to rain hard, which meant he would not be able to identify his assailants by their wet clothes.
The door opened and John entered with Bloet at his heels. Both were breathless and sodden, and Geoffrey regarded them warily. Were they the ones? He saw the simpering exchange between Bloet and Durand, and found himself wondering whether they had perpetrated the attack, so Durand would be free to leave Geoffrey’s service and go wherever Bloet was bound. But Durand was a coward, and would never take on Geoffrey, even when he was unarmed. He crossed Durand from his list of suspects, although Bloet – and John – would remain on it until he knew more about them.
‘There is no sign of that horrible dog,’ said John. He stopped short when he saw the pork on the table. ‘Ha! Where did you find it?’
‘Outside,’ said Ulfrith, prudently declining to mention that it had been hauled halfway around the town’s filthy streets in the dog’s slathering jaws before he had managed to retrieve it.
John went to sit near the fire. ‘It is no night to be out. I am soaked. I swear, if I see that wicked beast again I shall run it through.’
‘Not unless you wish to die in the same way,’ said Geoffrey, experiencing a rare affection for the dog. It bit, behaved badly and was an inveterate thief, but it had saved his life, and he was not prepared to see it killed by an irate prelate over a piece of meat.
John saw he was in earnest and recanted hastily. ‘Forgive me. I did not know you were fond of the thing – I assumed it was some stray that had latched on to you at Westminster. However, I will not have it in my house again. It can sleep in the stable with the servants.’
The door opened a second time, and Warelwast was ushered in. ‘I have been visiting Bath’s taverns with Clarembald,’ he announced. He hurled his cloak to the floor; it was so wet that it made a moist, slapping sound as it landed. ‘He knows some excellent inns, and one of them seemed a good place to wait until the suckling pig was retrieved. Is that it?’
‘There is not much left,’ said Bloet, squelching as he sat. He offered no explanation for where he had been, and merely ripped himself a portion of flesh from the pig’s ravaged carcass.
The last to arrive were the Saxons, also trailing sopping clothes and declaring it was no night to be out. Soon, the only people missing were Clarembald, who had not been invited to John’s hall, and Maude. Rodbert – also dripping – said she had retired with a headache and should not be disturbed.
‘A headache,’ said John, rubbing his hands gleefully. ‘I am good with headaches.’
‘No,’ said Rodbert, more sharply than was polite. ‘She wants to be alone.’
And why was that? Geoffrey thought. Because she was enjoying the company of some other man, and had fabricated an excuse to keep Rodbert away? Because she was one of the attackers, and had been injured in a way that would be hard to explain? Or was she simply tired of her companions and really did want to be alone? He understood why; he longed to be away from them himself.
‘I saw Clarembald walking to his lodgings not long ago,’ said Bloet. ‘He looked as though he had fallen in the river, he was so wet! It must have been quite a tour of taverns to see him so damp.’
‘Please!’ said Warelwast with a shudder. ‘No talk of falling in rivers, if you do not mind. I have had more than enough of near-drowning recently.’
Geoffrey studied him covertly, but there was nothing in the bishop-elect’s expression to allow him to read anything into the comment, just as there had been nothing to read in the demeanour of the others. Analysis was hopeless: no one had any kind of alibi he trusted, and everyone was wet. It was late and he was too tired to think properly, so he allowed his mind to wander as he listened to the desultory discussion that broke out.
‘It is good to be in a decent house,’ said Warelwast politely. ‘One where the roof does not leak.’
‘Lord!’ muttered John, flummoxed. ‘You had better sleep down here tonight, then. We tend to be used to dripping ceilings in this part of the world, where it rains so much.’
Everyone looked up as the door opened yet again. But it was only Geoffrey’s dog, which had managed to slip past the bishop’s servants and make its own way to the hall. John’s eyes narrowed, but he made no attempt to oust it while Geoffrey was there.
‘What does it have in its mouth?’ he asked, watching it warily.
‘Gold,’ said Tasso, rashly trying to remove the object from the dog’s maw. It snapped, and only the presence of the object between its teeth stopped it from breaking skin. ‘It tried to bite me!’
‘Like all Normans, it loves treasure,’ Geoffrey thought he heard Sendi mutter.
‘You will not get it away from him,’ warned Roger, as Tasso looked ready to prise the animal’s jaws apart with a dagger. ‘Not now he knows you want it.’
But Geoffrey knew how to deal with the dog. He took a piece of pork and waved it until the animal agreed to a bloodless exchange. While the animal gulped the meat, Geoffrey inspected its loot. It was a pendant on a chain, comprising a disc with a cross on it. It looked ancient, and its weight indicated it was valuable. There was a thread caught in it, which led him to conclude it had been torn from its owner by force – and that the dog was probably the culprit. Geoffrey regarded it thoughtfully. Did it mean that the dog had caught one of the men who had tried to drown its master? And in that case, if Geoffrey could identify the pendant’s owner, would he then know the identity of one of his attackers?
‘This should go to its rightful home,’ he said, holding it up for all to see. ‘My dog must have found it on the street after it dropped from someone’s neck.’
But that would have been too easy, and Geoffrey did not really expect the culprit to claim the thing. Blank stares met his enquiring gaze, and he saw he would have to devise more devious means to learn why someone was so determined to prevent him from looking into Bristol’s problematic moneyers.
It was several days before Geoffrey was able to leave Bath. Helbye’s hip was too painful for him to ride, and he was feverish from his hectic evening of chasing stolen pork. Geoffrey declined to leave him to the tender mercies of Bishop John, preferring to tend him himself, despite Helbye’s protests that he did not need mothering. It was the first time Helbye’s infirmity had interfered with Geoffrey’s plans, and it pained both of them to know it would not be the last.
‘It got worse after he consulted those physicians,’ said Roger, watching Geoffrey kneel next to Helbye with warmed ale. ‘He was all right before that.’
‘But John only prayed and lit candles,’ said Durand. ‘That should have helped. I
t was Clarembald who did the damage, by slapping that poisonous poultice on him.’
‘The paste contained a harmless mixture of bryony root and yew leaves,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I think the ailment was brought on by the journey from Westminster, in the wet and the cold.’
‘I am not some old woman who cannot go out in the winter,’ snapped Helbye angrily. ‘I am a soldier, and a ride in the rain is nothing to me. I was doing it before any of you were born.’
The Saxons had left as soon as the flood subsided, keen to travel the last fifteen miles to Bristol as soon as possible. They had all been away too long and longed to be back among friends, families and the familiar things of home. Geoffrey had watched them go in the grey light of early dawn. They were arguing as usual, each accusing the others of trying to drown the King’s agent. Geoffrey pointed out that Henry had plenty more spies, and the death of one was immaterial; he would send others until he had what he wanted. There had been silence while this information was digested.
Bloet and Clarembald had also elected to travel to Bristol immediately. Bloet was morose, and confided to Durand that he was so pessimistic about finding the silver, he was tempted to buy some and pretend his hunt had been successful. The only problem was that the stolen load had been huge, and he did not have the funds to match it. Meanwhile, Clarembald’s parting shot was to incense John by declaring Bath a city of thieves: his saddlebags had been ransacked the previous night and some medicines stolen. He added insultingly that they were of little value anyway, because he had bought them in Bath.
Warelwast declined to leave, though, on the grounds that he was indebted to Geoffrey for pulling him from the river. Geoffrey did not want his company, but the bishop-elect was adamant, and could not be persuaded to go with the others. He said he was in no hurry, and claimed that an extra pair of eyes would not go amiss in a place where someone had already made his murderous intentions known. Geoffrey pointed out that his main suspects were going to Bristol, and he would therefore be a good deal safer. But Warelwast refused to be dissuaded, leaving Geoffrey unsettled and suspicious.
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