‘Then that means Geoffrey stole it without his help,’ said Lifwine. ‘As I said, it went missing the day he came to see us.’
‘But I do not want your dies,’ said Geoffrey, not sure what he could say to make them believe him. ‘Which one was it? One of the old things that I recommended you destroy?’
‘A new one,’ snapped Sendi. ‘With the fleury cross. As well you know.’
‘But you watched me like hawks that day,’ said Geoffrey, lunging at someone who wielded a poker. ‘Surely, you would have noticed me picking up a die and shoving it in my purse?’
‘He could not get a die in that purse,’ said the bald man, assessing the bag on Geoffrey’s belt critically. ‘It is not big enough.’
‘He hid it inside his armour, Ceorl,’ snapped Adelise irritably. ‘Do not speak in his defence.’
‘But I would have noticed that, and so would you,’ said Ceorl. ‘He is right: we watched him the whole time he was here. He could not have stolen the die.’
‘We have another traitor in our house,’ said Adelise coldly. ‘Ceorl, who sides with our enemies.’
Ceorl was comfortable in his innocence. ‘Everyone knows I speak as I find. Sir Geoffrey cannot be the thief, because he could not have removed the die without us seeing.’
‘It must be someone else, then,’ said the man with the poker, lowering his weapon as he considered. ‘Clarembald and John have accused each other, although my money is on Warelwast.’
‘It was him,’ asserted Lifwine, pointing at Geoffrey. ‘He wants us accused of forgery, so Barcwit will be exonerated and his sister freed from the accusations we brought against her. The King should never have appointed him.’
Geoffrey could not have agreed more with the last part. ‘Listen to Ceorl,’ he urged, seeing one or two of the workmen begin to waver when presented with the facts. ‘He seems a sensible man.’
‘He is a traitor,’ hissed Adelise. ‘And we do not tolerate those.’
Geoffrey was not sure what happened next, only that Ceorl toppled forward with a dagger embedded in his chest. It had come from the direction of Sendi, Adelise and Lifwine, although Geoffrey had seen none of them throw it. For a moment, no one did or said anything, and there was a stunned silence as the man fell to the ground. Then pandemonium erupted.
Knives and hammers flailed at Geoffrey, who fought back hard, feeling his sword strike home a number of times. He had not wanted to spill blood, but he was not prepared to let a mob slaughter him without putting up some kind of defence. Sendi had a shovel that he was waving with deadly precision, while Lifwine was in the midst of the affray, prodding at everyone with a dagger. His terrified eyes suggested it was not where he had intended to be, and that he was more interested in escaping the melee than in attacking the knight. Geoffrey grabbed him around the neck, then cleared a path with his sword until his back was against the wall and no one could assault him from behind.
‘Stop!’ he yelled, waving his sword at his captive – not an easy task when the blade was long and Lifwine was short. ‘Or I will kill the cambium.’
He hoped no one would challenge him, on the grounds that it would actually be quite difficult to kill anyone from the awkward position in which he held Lifwine. But the Saxons were inexperienced fighters, and the sight of their cambium in his clutches was enough to make them fall back, confused and unsure what to do next. One person was not so easily thwarted, however.
‘Let him go,’ ordered Adelise coldly. ‘Or you will be sorry.’
She nodded to where one of her men stood in a window, aiming an arrow at something outside. Geoffrey was nonplussed. He would have understood if the bowman had pointed the missile at him, although then Lifwine would have died for certain – if not by Geoffrey’s own hand, then by the archer’s when Geoffrey used him as a shield.
Sendi understood, though, and his face broke into a savage grin when he saw what his clever wife had done. ‘Look,’ he invited, ordering his friends away, so the knight would have an unimpeded view.
Holding Lifwine firmly, Geoffrey edged along the wall and glanced out of the window. There was a tavern opposite, and its shutters were thrown open to catch the evening light. There, sitting perfectly framed in the largest one was Roger, with Helbye on one side and Ulfrith on the next, oblivious to the danger they were in. Even a mediocre bowman could not fail to hit them, and Geoffrey could tell by the archer’s steady hands and unwavering eyes that he was probably a good deal better than average.
‘Release Lifwine, or your friends die,’ said Adelise, with an expression of gratified malice.
‘Alfred is an excellent archer,’ said Sendi gleefully. ‘He will shoot them before they even know they are under attack. So? What will it be?’
Geoffrey stared down at Lifwine and considered. If the archer hit Roger first, then the others were doomed. Helbye’s hip now prevented him from moving quickly, while Ulfrith was slow on the uptake and would sit with his mouth hanging open in astonishment before he thought to jump out of the way. There was nothing for it but to give himself up and hope Alfred did not shoot them anyway.
Once he had made his decision, he began to notice irrelevant things, as he always did when he thought he might be about to die: there was a red line around Lifwine’s neck, where his shirt had chafed, and Roger’s surcoat was so filthy that its Crusader’s cross was almost invisible. Then he looked at Adelise’s pretty face, which was twisted into a triumphant, gloating mask, and wondered whether they would be the last things he would ever see.
Eleven
Slowly, Geoffrey eased his sword away from Lifwine’s throat. ‘How do I know you will not shoot Roger anyway?’ he asked, ready to kill not only Lifwine, but the nearest workmen, too, if the archer made a wrong move.
‘You do not,’ said Adelise. ‘But you are not in a position to negotiate. Drop your sword, then turn around and put your hands on the wall where we can see them – or Roger dies.’
There was no point in arguing; Adelise knew his weaknesses. ‘Lower the bow first,’ he insisted.
The archer did as he was told, so Geoffrey released Lifwine, who scuttled away with a bleat of relief. When the bowman started to raise his weapon again, Geoffrey dropped his sword with a resounding clang and turned to face the wall. The Saxons were on him in moments, searching for hidden weapons with hands that were none too gentle. Lifwine was among them, determined to avenge himself for the fright he had been given, and his small fists packed a considerable punch.
Eventually, Geoffrey was wrestled to the floor, where so many Saxons clambered on top of him that it was difficult to breathe, and there followed an argument about what to do next. Lifwine was all for taking a leaf out of Barcwit’s book and disposing of the knight in a furnace, but Sendi demurred, claiming that the smell would draw complaints from the neighbours. He added that it would be foolish to murder the King’s agent in their own mint, and that they should do it elsewhere. His suggestion met with general agreement, and Geoffrey was bundled unceremoniously down some stairs and shoved into what he supposed was a cellar.
There was no light, and the walls dripped moisture. Geoffrey detested underground places – they reminded him of a tunnel under a castle he had besieged for Tancred some years before, which had collapsed with him inside it – and it took a good deal of willpower not to hammer on the door and beg to be released. He stood with clenched fists and took deep breaths until he had his irrational panic under some semblance of control. Then he explored, running his hands over the walls in the darkness.
He was in a storeroom with a door so thick that it barely made a sound when he thumped it. There were no windows and, no matter how hard he listened, he could hear nothing of the outside world. It was like being in a tomb, and he hoped it would not become one when they decided the easiest thing to do would be to forget about him. That prospect unsettled him more than any other fate they might have had in mind.
He sat on one of the wooden boxes that were scattered here and there, and forc
ed himself to think about what had happened, as a way to take his mind off his predicament. Had Edric stolen the die, or was Ceorl right, and Edric could not be the culprit because he had been under surveillance at the time? Then why had Edric been at Barcwit’s mint? Because he had been unfairly dismissed, and had decided to turn to Sendi’s rival out of spite? If so, then his plan for revenge had misfired dismally.
He thought about Ceorl, who had questioned the ‘facts’, and wondered whether it had been Sendi, Lifwine or Adelise – or someone else – who had thrown the knife that had killed him. Whoever it was had wanted Geoffrey blamed for the theft, and for all the workmen to believe it, although he could not imagine why. Then the answer came to him: Ceorl was probably right to draw the conclusion that Edric could not have stolen the die while he was being watched, which meant someone else had done it – not an outsider, who would find theft impossible with so many watchful eyes on him, but another of Sendi’s men. There was a second rotten apple in the moneyer’s barrel.
Geoffrey had no idea how long he had been sitting in the dark before he heard the door being unbarred. He was on his feet in an instant, struggling to keep his eyes open in the sudden blaze of light. What he saw did not inspire him with confidence. The cellar had rock-hewn walls that oozed slime, while the ceiling was lacy with cobwebs. There were more crates than he had thought, and they were all well made: obviously their contents were valuable and, taking into account the fact that they were stored in a secure room, he was able to draw only one conclusion.
‘Is this the missing silver that was stolen from Barcwit?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Sendi archly. ‘This is our reserve stock, stored so our mint will continue to operate if Barcwit tries to disrupt our supply from the mines.’
Sendi, armed with a long knife, was accompanied by Adelise and Alfred the archer, who had an arrow nocked into his bow and looked more than ready to use it. He indicated Geoffrey should move to the back of the cellar, from where it would be impossible to escape; the knight would be shot before he had covered half the distance to the door, and mail was no defence against steel-tipped arrows.
‘I have brought you some ale,’ said Adelise, shaking a leather flask so Geoffrey could hear the liquid slopping about inside it. ‘You must be thirsty. But first, you must tell us what you did with the die.’
‘We know you have it,’ added Sendi. ‘It is the only possible explanation. Barcwit is not the thief, because there has been no sign of forced entry, and he would not have contented himself with one die anyway: he would have stolen the lot. Besides, we would have heard by now, if he was the culprit.’
‘You have a spy in his mint,’ deduced Geoffrey. The King had mentioned weeks ago that it was common practice among merchants to tempt a member of a rival’s workforce to turn traitor. ‘Who?’
Adelise grimaced. ‘He will die if that information leaks out, and he is far too valuable.’
‘And Edric was in Barcwit’s pay,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You began to suspect him after Westminster, when your rivalry became more bitter and intense than ever.’ The circumstances of Edric’s death were finally becoming clear. The man had been comfortable in Barcwit’s mint, because he had been there before. When Sendi had dismissed him, he had gone to Barcwit, confident in the knowledge that he would be paid for his sacrifice. But no one liked a traitor, and Barcwit did not want one who had outlived his usefulness.
Adelise inclined her head. ‘But we now know that Edric could not have stolen the die, because we were watching him day and night. So, that only leaves one other suspect. You.’
‘Well, you are wrong,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Do you think me a fool, to steal from the people I am investigating for the King? Besides, what would I do with a die? I do not have a mint.’
‘It can be sold to any dishonest coiner,’ said Sendi. ‘Tell us where it is, and we will let you go.’
‘If you do not, we will kill you,’ said Adelise. ‘It is a simple choice.’
‘Very well,’ said Geoffrey, knowing he would never convince them of his innocence. ‘It is in a small recess near the top of the castle well. Now release me.’
Adelise gave a diabolical smile, and indicated that the archer should shoot.
‘No!’ exclaimed Sendi in alarm, pushing Alfred so he staggered.
‘Why not?’ demanded Adelise. ‘He told us what we want to know, and we cannot let him out.’
‘Now he has confessed to stealing our die, he is discredited,’ said Sendi. ‘None of his “evidence” against us will count. We will use him to prove our honesty and Barcwit’s corruption.’
‘We put our faith in the King’s justice once, but it made matters worse,’ said Adelise harshly. ‘Besides, now we have forced him to confess to theft, he will be even more determined to destroy us, so we must make an end of him.’
While they argued, Geoffrey took a surreptitious step towards Alfred, who acted instantly and without hesitation. He aimed at Geoffrey’s legs and released his quarrel, so it snapped into the floor. He had a second one nocked to his bow while the knight was still staggering out of the way. He was watchful and cautious, and the distance was simply too great to allow Geoffrey to reach him before he was shot. Geoffrey would never escape as long as Alfred was present.
‘If you kill me, you will need to kill Giffard, too,’ he said to Sendi, hoping to appeal to his sense of reason. Alfred had a manic glint in his eye that Geoffrey recognized all too well: it was bloodlust, and he suspected the man would side with Adelise, just because he wanted to shoot someone. ‘All we want is the truth – to find out what is really going on under all these accusations and counterclaims.’
‘Truth is like molten silver,’ said Adelise. ‘It can be shaped to how you want it. But we have no time to debate. Roger is already sniffing around because he thinks you are here, and I doubt we will get away with killing two knights. Shoot him, Alfred.’
Alfred raised his bow with obvious pleasure, but Sendi pushed him a second time. ‘We should not do anything we may later regret. Roger says he heard the distinctive rattle of a broadsword dropped on a flagstone floor when he was in his tavern, and we need to make sure he does not tell the King that his agent disappeared while he was in our mint. That would cause problems for certain.’
‘Not as many as Geoffrey would cause alive,’ argued Adelise.
This time Alfred did not wait for Adelise’s order before he raised his bow. Geoffrey tensed.
‘No,’ objected Sendi. ‘I—’
‘No is a good response,’ came a familiar voice, as Alfred crumpled into a heap, bow clattering as it fell. Geoffrey kicked it from his hand, while Roger grinned a smug greeting, knowing the rescue had been in the nick of time and pleased with himself. Helbye and Ulfrith were in the shadows beyond the door, their weapons drawn. There was no sign of Sendi’s vengeful workforce, and Geoffrey wondered what Roger had done with them.
‘We were only trying to frighten him,’ gabbled Adelise, regarding Roger in alarm. ‘Geoffrey stole our die, and we wanted to show him what thieves can expect in Bristol. He has learnt his lesson, so you can have him back.’
‘Thank you, lass,’ said Roger dryly.
‘We should lock up these villains and throw away the key,’ said Helbye in disdain. ‘I would suggest taking them to the castle, but Sir Peter will not keep them.’
Geoffrey glanced at him in surprise, since holding Sendi and his men in a castle cellar until Giffard arrived was exactly what he intended to do. ‘Why not?’
‘Because every chamber is full of supplies for when the King comes to besiege him,’ explained Roger, amused that the constable should think he stood any chance of withstanding well-trained royal troops. ‘There is nowhere to put prisoners.’
‘It does not matter,’ said Geoffrey, reconsidering. ‘They can stay free until Giffard comes.’
Despite his lack of progress, the net was still closing around the moneyers, and they were showing clear signs of unease. If securing them in the castle w
as not an option, then he was just as happy to grant them temporary liberty. They were unsettled, and he sensed he would learn more from them free than if they were incarcerated – and if they turned on each other in their fear, then so much the better.
Roger took the flask Adelise held and lifted it to his lips for a celebratory drink. Geoffrey saw malicious satisfaction flit across her face. He snatched the vessel from Roger and shoved it at her.
‘You first.’
‘I am not thirsty. You have it.’
Roger took it back and sniffed it, before flinging it to the other side of the room. They all watched the liquid pooling on the floor – amber, but with a milky hue that would have gone unnoticed by anyone drinking from the container. It was probably ale, but something had definitely been added.
‘Poison?’ whispered Sendi, regarding his wife in horror. ‘You were going to give him poison?’
She shrugged, putting on a brave face. ‘We have a lot to lose.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Roger grimly, pulling out his sword and advancing on her. ‘You do, lass.’
It was only with difficulty that Geoffrey convinced Roger not to cleave Adelise’s head from her shoulders – the big knight was incensed that she had been so determined to kill his friend. But Geoffrey was confused by the twist the investigation had taken, and wanted his suspects alive so they would be able to answer his questions. Adelise fled when Geoffrey stepped between her and the enraged Roger, wisely opting to hide until the danger was over. Meanwhile, Sendi followed Geoffrey out of the mint, wringing his hands and insisting, not very convincingly, that the whole incident was a misunderstanding. Lifwine appeared, too, and added his voice to the claims of innocence, while Roger told Geoffrey the rest of the men had gone home for the night, which was why the rescue had been delayed: he had known better than to take on a score of angry workmen.
Geoffrey was relieved to be in the clean, frosty air, away from the stink of damp underground chambers and molten silver. He breathed in deeply and glanced up at the starry sky. It was not as late as he had thought, and he had probably been in the cellar for no more than two hours. He started to walk back to the castle, but Sendi and his cambium had not finished with him.
The Coiner's Quarrel Page 26
