The Coiner's Quarrel

by Simon Beaufort

  ‘I would not have her if she was the last man in Christendom,’ breathed Roger. ‘That is Durand!’

  With an uneasy pang, Geoffrey saw he was right, and was appalled by the completeness of Durand’s transformation. It was only the familiar golden curls that gave him away, because everything else was different. His cheeks were reddened with pigment, the charcoal around his eyes made them larger and darker, and the mincing walk was magnified. Uncomfortably, Geoffrey wondered whether his odd skills were the source of some of his money, and recalled how handsomely Bishop Maurice had paid for the services of Angel Locks.

  ‘I do not like this,’ he said to Roger. Clarembald had warned him to curb Durand’s more colourful behaviour, and he suspected the physician would not be pleased when he discovered his beautiful woman was not all she appeared. ‘Durand can risk execution for unnatural acts if he is so inclined, but I do not want to be accused with him. We are leaving.’

  ‘Now?’ asked Roger, dismayed. ‘But we have only just arrived!’

  ‘I do not care. Besides, Maude asked me to meet her in St John’s Church tonight, and I want to inspect it before she arrives.’

  ‘Maude?’ asked Roger doubtfully. ‘I would not go meeting her in dark places if I were you. It will be a trap, and you will end up in Barcwit’s cellar while he interrogates you about his missing silver. I do not think I will be able to rescue you from him as I did from Sendi.’ He shuddered.

  ‘Barcwit has you unnerved?’ asked Geoffrey, surprised. ‘You, Roger of Durham?’

  ‘We all have our limitations,’ said Roger crossly. ‘And Barcwit is among mine. He makes me uneasy, because he cannot be seen. He is like Satan: you cannot see him, either, and yet he is all around us. I saw him yesterday, though. Barcwit, I mean, not Satan, unless they are one and the same …’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Standing in the window above his mint, staring down into the street. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and all I wanted to do was hurry away. He unsettled others who were passing, too. Have you noticed how no one loiters in that part of the street?’

  ‘When was this?’ asked Geoffrey.

  ‘Yesterday afternoon. I was following Warelwast, who was following you. Later, I followed Maude, who was following Warelwast, who was following you.’

  Geoffrey nodded, and it occurred to him that Maude had been on his tail because she knew he had witnessed Edric’s murder. He wondered how long it would be before she tried to silence him, and supposed she intended to put some sort of plan into action at midnight. ‘Was anyone following you?’

  ‘Ulfrith and Helbye, but they are confident they were the last. But Barcwit stood in the window like a demon, eyes boring into folk who passed.’

  ‘You saw his face?’

  ‘Gleaming under his hood. I do not want to see it again! What do you say to leaving tomorrow? Joan does not like you here, and there is no other reason for us to stay. We have made too many enemies, and I am tired of being watchful all the time.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Geoffrey, to Roger’s relief. ‘Joan refuses my help, and I can do no more, anyway. I will leave my report for Giffard, and he can unravel the rest. Joan was right: it is too complex for me.’

  ‘No: it is not complex enough,’ said Roger consolingly. ‘There is no cunning plot, just several simple ones intertwined. Barcwit wants to kill the King, and is amassing a fortune and followers to help. Those who refuse are coerced. Meanwhile, Sendi is jealous of Barcwit’s success. The two sides will do anything to hinder each other – stealing dies, committing murder, issuing threats – and everyone we have met has been sucked into the mess, including the physicians, Peter and Idonea, Joan and Olivier, the folk of Beiminstre, Bloet and even Warelwast, although he pretends he has not.’

  ‘You are probably right.’ Geoffrey noticed Clarembald and Durand had gone, so decided to leave, too, sure it would not take Clarembald long to discover the truth. The man was a physician, after all.

  Outside, he took a deep breath and gazed up at the sky, where stars blazed like a sheet of diamonds. The air smelled of wood smoke and spilled ale, overlain unpleasantly by the rubbish that lay in the street. He became aware at the same time as Roger that someone was moving behind them. They glanced at each other, and a silent exchange of information took place. They separated, with Roger walking towards the quays and Geoffrey and his dog moving towards the high street.

  The shadow chose to follow Roger, so Geoffrey doubled back on himself, padding stealthily along deserted streets until he caught up with the silent figure. He made his move when they reached the wharves, silent and abandoned now work had stopped for the day. He slipped an arm around the person’s neck and pressed a dagger to his throat, while Roger spun around, ready to add his strength to subduing the fellow if necessary. It was not. The man immediately began to beg for his life in a high, terrified whine, and Geoffrey released him in disgust.

  ‘Durand! What are you doing here?’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked the squire in turn. ‘I thought you were going to meet Maude. It is not midnight yet, but you always go early to such assignations, to assess any possible dangers.’

  Geoffrey regarded him warily. ‘How do you know about Maude?’

  ‘Clarembald overheard her talking about it with Rodbert. He was giving a lecture on the pox at their mint yesterday, and he heard them discussing you as he left. They were so engrossed with each other, that they did not notice him listen for a moment or two.’

  Geoffrey recalled how he had been obliged to hide on the stairs when Clarembald had left the mint, and also remembered that it had taken the physician longer than it should have done to walk up the corridor and open the door. Clarembald had told Durand the truth about that, at least.

  ‘What is Clarembald’s relationship with Barcwit?’ demanded Roger. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Investor and physician,’ replied Durand promptly. ‘I pumped him for information in that horrible tavern, enduring his pawing hands, so I would have something to tell you when I made my approach. That is why I am here: to pass information to Sir Geoffrey.’

  ‘Then why did you follow Roger?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘He and I were walking in opposite directions.’

  ‘Because I thought Roger might listen to me, and I knew you would not. I have learnt things from Clarembald that I am prepared to share. However, I am no longer in your service, so there is a price.’

  Geoffrey was inclined to walk away and have no more to do with him, but Roger was not. The insult of being charged for things that should have been freely shared was too much to bear. ‘Will this information help Geoff with his investigation?’ he asked softly, fingering his dagger.

  Durand nodded, clearly terrified, but remained firm. ‘I have worked hard to collect it, and it was done at considerable risk to myself. I will not give it for no return.’

  ‘Oh, there will be a return,’ promised Roger menacingly. ‘Tell him all you know, and I will let you live to flaunt your wares tomorrow night.’

  ‘No!’ cried Durand, almost in tears. ‘I do not want to flaunt them tomorrow. That is my price: I want to come back into his service until we leave this place. And then we can rethink our positions.’

  Geoffrey laughed in disbelief. ‘Why? You have already earned a fortune spying, and I thought you intended to buy a post in some decadent abbey. What changed your mind?’

  ‘Bloet,’ said Durand miserably. ‘He robbed me last night.’

  Roger was astonished. ‘But we taught you how to avoid that sort of thing happening. It was the only lesson you took any interest in.’

  ‘I lowered my guard, because I thought he was a friend. My money was in my saddlebags when I went to bed, and it was all gone this morning. Then he asked me to pay my share of the wine we consumed to celebrate my freedom last night, and of course I could not. In return for paying my “debt”, he took everything except these clothes. I am destitute.’

  ‘I could have told you he was treacherous,’ s
aid Roger, shaking his head in disgust.

  ‘You could not!’ declared Durand. ‘It was not possible to tell.’

  Geoffrey was unimpressed that Durand had been so trusting. ‘The morning we left Westminster, when Sendi began the argument over the missing horse, I read in Bloet’s face that your attraction was not wholly reciprocated. He intended to trick you from the start.’

  Geoffrey expected Durand to burst into tears or protest that he was mistaken, but he did neither. Anger flashed in his eyes. ‘Bastard! I shall repay him, but I will need money.’

  ‘How do you propose to get it?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Do you think I should give you the chance to earn more from whoever pays you to spy on me, before you leave me at a time that suits you more?’

  ‘That is a good idea,’ said Durand, relieved. ‘I am grateful to you for being so understanding.’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey firmly.

  ‘But you must!’ pleaded Durand. His expression became crafty. ‘Tancred will be furious if he learns you abandoned me in a strange town, clad only in a kirtle – and I will make sure he knows if you do. I said we should not part company here, but you would not listen and, sure enough, I am robbed within hours and forced to sell my body.’

  ‘You sold yourself to Clarembald?’ asked Geoffrey uneasily. It would not matter how Tancred reacted to the news that Geoffrey had left his charge to work in a brothel, if Clarembald made a complaint to the King first.

  Durand nodded. ‘He paid me well, although not as much as I earn for spying. Once I had him ensnared, he was like clay in my hands. He was eager to indulge my innocent curiosity by answering questions – even ones that should have aroused his suspicions, such as what he had seen and heard at Barcwit’s mint.’

  Roger was curious. ‘He is a physician. Surely he knows the difference between men and ladies?’

  Durand sniggered in a way Geoffrey found distasteful. ‘I am very skilled in making womanly—’

  ‘No,’ interrupted Geoffrey firmly. ‘We do not want details.’

  ‘And you claim to have an open mind,’ said Durand insolently. ‘But now you have agreed to take me back until a mutually acceptable time, I shall keep my end of the bargain. You should meet Maude tonight, because you will learn something important.’

  ‘Such as what?’ asked Geoffrey, not sure that particular snippet was enough to warrant him putting up with a self-confessed spy for an indeterminate period.

  ‘She intends to give you evidence that will solve your case. I do not know anything more specific, only that you should go.’

  ‘How do I know it is not a trap?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Or that you have not invented this wild story about Bloet robbing you to earn my trust and ensure I go?’

  ‘There will be no ambush,’ said Durand confidently. ‘And I have invented nothing. Why would I, when I have just persuaded you to hire me again? Everything I have told you is the truth.’

  ‘Then you can tell me a little more truth,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Who has been paying you to spy on me?’

  ‘The King.’ Durand regarded Geoffrey in surprise. ‘Surely you guessed? I did not even try to be discreet about it, so we would both know where we stood. He has given me assignments ever since we met on the Bellême campaign. I am sorry: I thought you knew.’

  ‘All your money comes from Henry?’

  ‘Half. The rest came from that woman you took a fancy to last Easter – Matilda. I sold her a document, but it was a forgery, so had no bearing on the war between the King and the House of Montgomery–Bellême. But Henry has been generous. He says a good spy is worth good pay.’

  ‘What have you told him about me?’ Geoffrey was irked, and tempted to let the squire stew in the mess he had made. The implication was that Durand was a better agent than his master, who had received nothing for his work for Henry – not even a pardon for Joan, if he failed to solve the case.

  ‘That you are a man who lives by a code of honour we both find hard to fathom. I told him you are honest – that he could give you a chest of gold to guard, and when he returned, every piece would still be there. I told him he would have to count it if Sir Roger was around, though …’

  ‘Here,’ said Roger indignantly. ‘I do not steal!’

  ‘You call it “borrowing” or “taking a commission”, but it is stealing nonetheless. I also told him you are fond of Joan. I hate to admit it, but it is probably that particular nugget that saw us dragged off the ship in Southampton and taken to Westminster. He thought you might appreciate an opportunity to help her.’

  ‘I did,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Unfortunately, she does not feel the same way.’

  ‘Do not take her coldness to heart. She is afraid of showing her true feelings, because she does not want to appear weak,’ said Durand, surprisingly insightful. ‘Give her time; she will come round.’

  ‘I do not have time. Giffard will be here soon, and I am no further along with this enquiry than when we arrived on Sunday – four days ago.’

  ‘Then go to St John’s and see Maude. You will soon have your solution now I am helping you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ asked Geoffrey coolly. ‘Then answer me this: how can I go about speaking to Barcwit? Who stole Sendi’s missing die and where is it? Does a shepherd from Beiminstre know the whereabouts of Barcwit’s missing silver? What is Clarembald’s role in all this? And Warelwast’s?’

  ‘Clarembald is a medicus,’ said Durand. ‘He knows lots of people, so do not read too much into the fact that he overheard Maude and Rodbert plotting. I do not know the answers to your other questions, although I will help you find them, if I can. But time is passing, and we have talked enough. Sir Roger and I will return to the castle, where he can find me some clothes that will not see me raped by half the garrison, and you can go to St John’s Church and meet Maude.’

  ‘I do not want to meet her,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But you have declared yourself willing to enter my service again, which means you are obliged to obey orders. You can do it.’

  Durand was appalled that Geoffrey expected him to put himself in danger, but Geoffrey remained firm: either the squire could meet Maude, or he could consider himself dismissed permanently. Durand nodded reluctant agreement, then sniffed miserably all the way to the church. Geoffrey knew he was crying, but was too disgusted about the spying to feel pity for him.

  While Durand fumbled with the latch, Geoffrey and Roger waited in the shadows of the graveyard. Geoffrey had no idea what the time was, but sensed it was nearing midnight. He was alert for suspicious movements and unusual sounds, but all was still and silent until Durand had closed the door, at which point voices started to murmur from within. He poked a hole in one of the rotten window shutters and peered through it. Maude was nowhere to be seen.

  Because it was a clear night, and therefore chilly, someone had lit a fire, and five or six unkempt men huddled around it, greedy for warmth. Maude had mentioned that the door was always kept open – presumably Feoc was sympathetic to the plight of the homeless – and was surprised she should choose such a place for her liaison. He watched Durand approach the beggars, wringing his hands in front of him.

  ‘Maude,’ said the squire tearfully. ‘I have come to meet her. Do you know where she is?’

  ‘Not here,’ said a man with a shock of matted black hair and scabs on his face. His accent was so strongly local, that Geoffrey had trouble deciphering it.

  ‘I can see that,’ said Durand. ‘I have come to—’

  ‘This is one of Barcwit’s women,’ said Black Hair to his friends, who did not seem to care who Durand was, as long as he did not lay claim to a share of the fire. They closed ranks, to indicate there was no room.

  ‘I most certainly am not,’ objected Durand, offended. ‘What do you take me for?’

  ‘What you look like,’ replied a man who was missing a hand. ‘Barcwit used to trawl the taverns for whores, but not any more.’

  ‘He has grown,’ said Black Hair. ‘He communes with the Devil, and gets bigger ever
y day.’

  ‘I see,’ said Durand weakly, while Geoffrey wished he would either break off the conversation, and look for Maude, or ask again whether they had seen her. ‘I know nothing of his habits.’

  ‘He used to be all right, but these days he just stands and waits for the hangman to come,’ said Black Hair with a shudder. ‘He scares me, with that dark cloak and them staring eyes.’

  ‘I am looking for Maude.’ Durand sounded desperate. ‘Have you seen her?’

  ‘She came earlier,’ replied One Hand. ‘She said she was expecting a knight later – one of that pair with the funny crosses on their tunics. Both are rough, dirty fellows.’

  Geoffrey was horrified, thinking that if beggars thought him unclean, then more polite company must be deeply repelled. He had washed once since his arrival in Bristol, and his new clothes helped, but he saw that both he and Roger had some way to go before they broke their Holy Land habits, and became respectable in the eyes of their peers – and even to poor men dressed in rags.

  ‘She said he would chop off our limbs if we touched what she left for him,’ said One Hand. He held up his stump, then gestured to a withered foot. ‘And I do not have many left.’

  ‘She was telling the truth,’ said Durand, gaining confidence. ‘Sir Geoffrey has been known to chop the limbs off men who annoy him, particularly those who tell him lies.’

  ‘If that were true, then he would be no more than a torso,’ muttered Geoffrey. The alarmed expressions on the beggars’ faces told him that the squire’s threats were having an effect.

  ‘We have not lied,’ bleated Black Hair. ‘And we have not touched the package she left, neither. It is on the bench at the back of the nave, just where she put it.’

  Durand left the circle of light surrounding the fire and went to where the beggars pointed. Geoffrey saw him pick up a parcel, then look under the bench to make sure there was nothing else. While the men went back to their fire, Durand tucked his findings under his arm and left. When Geoffrey went to meet him, Durand shoved the package into his hands without a word, and he saw the man was shaking. The beggars had presented no threat, and if Durand was frightened of them, then there was no hope for him as any kind of warrior.