‘What is it?’ asked Roger, intrigued by the parcel’s weight and size. He brightened. ‘It might be a bribe, some of that missing silver everyone has been chasing. We can take it, head for the coast, and let Joan and the King finish the battle between them.’
Geoffrey supposed it could be some kind of payment, to ensure he stopped poking in her business. But the discussion Clarembald had overheard indicated the gift would help Geoffrey solve the mystery, not encourage him to abandon it.
‘We should unwrap it in the castle,’ suggested Durand, glancing around uneasily. ‘It is dark here, and we cannot see what we are doing.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey, aware that Durand was thinking only of his own comfort.
‘No what?’ asked Roger. ‘No to opening it? Or no to returning to the castle?’
‘We do not know what it might contain. I do not want to unwrap it with an audience, only to find it contains a severed head or some such thing.’ Edric was on Geoffrey’s mind.
‘Why should it contain a head?’ asked Durand in alarm. ‘Where are Helbye and Ulfrith? Are you suggesting one of them has been murdered, like Nauntel? Perhaps I would be better on my own after all. I do not want to be a sacrifice in this dark game.’
‘It is your decision,’ said Geoffrey, thinking about his diminishing finances and quite happy for Henry’s spy to leave him. ‘Roger, do you have your tinderbox? Light a candle, so we can see.’
While Roger set about igniting one of the candle stubs he always carried, Geoffrey inspected the package. It was large, comprising a wooden box wrapped in an oiled cloth. It was secured with twine, which he cut with his knife. His dog sniffed it curiously, tail wagging, then lost interest. Geoffrey was relieved, concluding that at least it did not contain any part of the murdered Edric, or the animal would have been far more eager to see it opened.
With Roger, Durand and the dog looking on in various attitudes of hope, fear and boredom, he prised off the lid. The box was full of straw. He rooted through it until his fingers encountered something hard, which he drew out with care.
Twelve
‘Is that it?’ asked Roger, acutely disappointed as he took the metal object from Geoffrey’s hand in the dark graveyard of the Church of St John the Baptist. ‘A spike? Is it a weapon?’
‘Here is another,’ said Durand, drawing a second piece from the box. ‘And two more.’
‘Dies,’ said Geoffrey, bemused. ‘Two trussels and two piles, comprising a complete pair of dies.’
Roger frowned. ‘Maude sent you her money-making presses? How odd! I was under the impression they were expensive, and can only be bought from London.’
Geoffrey took one and studied it in the unsteady light of the candle. ‘They must be the ones that were stolen from Sendi, which he accused me of taking.’
‘Sendi said one die was stolen,’ said Durand. ‘If he lost two, he would have been far more agitated.’
Geoffrey recalled the incident in the cellar. ‘He was agitated, believe me.’
‘Perhaps, but neither of these can be the one Sendi lost,’ insisted Durand. ‘They are old – you can tell by the mushrooming of the trussels – and he claims the one stolen from him was new, with a fleury cross. Do you remember him explaining all this when we visited his mint, and you made him open that cupboard? It is common knowledge that it is one of his new dies that has gone missing, not ancient ones, like these things.’
‘True,’ said Geoffrey, annoyed with himself for not noticing the damage to the trussel himself.
‘But if these are Sendi’s old dies,’ said Roger, confused, ‘then how does Maude come to have them? And why has she given them to you, when Barcwit could use them to make himself a fortune?’
Geoffrey inspected the dies in the candlelight, scrubbing their surfaces with his sleeve to clean them. The writing was backwards, so it would read the right way when punched into the blanks. At first, he could not make out the letters, because they were so badly worn – and it appeared someone had deliberately damaged a few of them – but he gradually worked out what had happened.
‘These are Sendi’s dies. I can just make out the letters S, E and D. But someone has been to considerable trouble to obliterate his name and substitute other letters. The second die is further along the process, and bears the name Sewine.’
‘Sewine?’ asked Durand.
‘He is Exeter’s moneyer, mentioned when I visited Osmaer’s mint in Bath. You can see SENDI has been changed to SEWINE, by adding a few scratches and some judicious smoothing. However, it is not easy to change BRISTO – how Sendi writes Bristol – to EXCESI for Exeter, so that has been rubbed off altogether, leaving only the B, a T and something that looks vaguely like an N.’
‘It is supposed to look like BATHAN,’ mused Durand. ‘Bath.’
Geoffrey nodded. ‘And unless you happen to know that Sewine is located in Exeter, you would happily accept such a coin. But it would be a forgery.’
‘And if enough are made, the currency is devalued, just as Henry feared,’ said Durand. ‘He was right. The plot is to oust him from his throne through his economy.’
Geoffrey shook his head. ‘We cannot draw that conclusion from these dies alone. All we know for certain is that someone is guilty of forgery. Also, the plot to kill Henry is supposed to originate with Barcwit, not Sendi. I suspect these altered dies are Sendi’s work, not Barcwit’s.’
‘Sendi is the forger?’ asked Roger. ‘Barcwit did not get hold of Sendi’s dies and alter them?’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘For two reasons. First, Barcwit would not have bothered to change Sendi’s name to Sewine – he would just have minted poor-quality coins in Sendi’s name. And second, Sendi would have made a terrible fuss if he had discovered any of his old dies missing: so far, he has only complained about the loss of the new one.’
‘Perhaps he has not noticed they have gone yet,’ suggested Durand.
‘You are right: he has not. And he has not, because I suspect they are very recently stolen – perhaps even tonight.’
‘How can you tell?’ asked Roger doubtfully.
‘Because I imagine it takes a lot of time to deface dies – days, perhaps. Sendi would have noticed dies missing for days. But he has not, which suggests they have only just been taken from him. He had a cupboard full of them, and I thought at the time that it was odd he should keep them, when it is safer to destroy them. Now we know why.’
‘But how did Maude come by them?’ asked Roger, perplexed.
Geoffrey shrugged. ‘Each mint has a spy in the other’s camp. Barcwit had Edric, and I am fairly certain there is another; he – or she – killed Ceorl when he started to ask awkward questions. So, I imagine this traitor told Maude that Sendi is corrupting his old dies, and was ordered to steal a couple, so they could be given to me. They prove Sendi is a forger. There can be no better evidence, and I do not think he will be able to lie his way out of this. Maude has cornered him.’
‘He could claim the blacksmith sold them, instead of destroying them,’ said Durand.
Geoffrey disagreed. ‘Sendi would not have trusted the smith to burn them, when everyone claims Barcwit has long arms that reach everywhere. He would have seen them inside the furnace himself.’
‘There is something else in here,’ said Roger, who had been rummaging in the box in the hope that there might be a few examples of counterfeit coins he could steal. He was disappointed when it was empty except for more straw and a scrap of parchment. Geoffrey took it from him and when he unfolded it, a key fell out. He scanned the brief message.
‘We were right. Maude says these dies were taken from Sendi this evening, and she hopes they will end the investigation. She also says we should look in Sendi’s cellars if we need more evidence against him. This key will unlock the pertinent door.’
‘Will we find an illegal mint?’ mused Durand. ‘Or piles of counterfeit coins?’
‘Probably the latter,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It would certainly seal the case agains
t Sendi, because he will not be able to explain away large quantities of forged pennies.’ He recalled the ingots in the room where he had been held captive, and now knew exactly how Sendi planned to use them.
‘So, you will expose two bad moneyers,’ said Durand. ‘Sendi the forger and Barcwit the regicide.’
‘Stupid Sendi, trying to secure the King’s help against Barcwit when he is corrupt himself,’ said Roger disdainfully. ‘He should have known the truth would come out.’
Geoffrey tossed the dies back in the box and climbed to his feet. ‘It is late, and there is no more we can do tonight. But tomorrow, at first light, we will ask Peter for soldiers. We shall visit Sendi and search every last corner of his mint, then do the same to Barcwit. I tried the gentle approach and it did not work, so it is time to see what force can achieve.’
‘Good,’ said Roger. ‘I sense we are almost finished with this case, and then we can leave. I do not like it here.’
Geoffrey entirely agreed.
Peter was horrified when Geoffrey woke him two hours before dawn and informed him he wanted two dozen men for a raid on Sendi’s mint. The constable claimed that fighting against Sendi would make the King think he was pro-Barcwit, and then he would never persuade him that he had been dragged into the regicide plot against his will. Geoffrey argued that the same men would later be used against Barcwit, too, and that if Peter wanted Henry to know he was sorry, then lending troops was a good way to start. Peter accepted his logic, but only reluctantly.
‘What will you do with Sendi and his forgers?’ asked Roger, watching Idonea harry the soldiers into orderly lines. ‘The reason you did not arrest them before was because there was nowhere to put them: Peter has every cellar stuffed with provisions. Hah! As if he could hold out against Henry.’
‘Idonea could,’ said Geoffrey. ‘For a while, at least.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Joan. Her face was pale in the torchlight. ‘I shall do some reorganizing while you are gone, and there will be a secure room ready for prisoners by the time you return.’
Geoffrey nodded his thanks, knowing he could trust her. She was good with supplies and their rapid deployment, just as Idonea was good at organizing the castle garrison. Joan left immediately, walking briskly and rubbing her hands together in anticipation of a busy morning.
‘You are making a terrible mistake,’ said Peter, as he and Idonea approached together. ‘It is not Sendi you should raid, but Barcwit. He is the one who has broken the law with his forgeries and plots of regicide. There is no need to harry Sendi.’
‘There is every need,’ said Geoffrey shortly. ‘He is just as corrupt as the man he accused.’
‘I do not like it,’ said Peter worriedly. ‘It does not seem fair.’
Idonea agreed. ‘Sendi had the courage to go to the King and complain about Barcwit’s rule of terror, but look where it has taken him. Your attack tells everyone that the King’s “justice” leaves a lot to be desired, and that if Sendi can fall foul of it, then there is no hope for the rest of us.’
‘We really did not know what Barcwit planned when we first invested with him,’ said Peter miserably, reverting yet again to his pitiful claims of innocence. ‘We were just pleased by the profits. Then it was too late. It was the same for Joan.’
‘Tell Henry that,’ suggested Geoffrey, reluctant to begin another such discussion when he needed to plan the attack. ‘He said from the beginning that he wanted to know which investors are fools and which are traitors. You must convince him that you fall into the former category.’
‘You tell him,’ said Idonea. ‘You intend to save Joan – she told me – so you can save us, too.’
‘It does not work like that,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘I do not—’
‘You must!’ Idonea’s voice had steel in it, and Geoffrey glanced at her in surprise. ‘I worked hard for what we have here, and I will not lose it because we have made a mistake. I want Peter to remain constable, and for everything to be as it was before you arrived.’
Peter put his hand on her arm. ‘It is too late, dearest. If Geoffrey had not meddled, then Giffard would have done. Our only option now is to run. We should go today, while we are still able.’
‘No.’ Idonea was adamant. ‘I will not abandon all we have built. If Geoffrey will not speak for us, then we will hold our castle against the King. Then, when he comes to fight, we can negotiate a truce that will be more to our advantage than slinking away with nothing. Henry will not waste money on a siege when his coffers are depleted from fighting Bellême, so he will listen to our demands.’
‘He is not that poor,’ warned Geoffrey, suspecting he would not be poor at all once he had seized the assets of Barcwit and Sendi. He gestured to where the soldiers waited for orders. ‘But your troops are about to help expose two corrupt merchants. That will count for something.’
Neither Idonea nor Peter looked convinced, and Geoffrey did not blame them. He was unhappy himself, about what would happen to Joan when the full details of the case were brought to light.
‘Very well,’ said Peter with a sigh. He glanced at Idonea. ‘But I am sure I am right: we should escape, not brazen it out here.’
‘I will not leave,’ vowed Idonea. ‘But Geoffrey’s proposal is worth a try, I suppose. We will help him bring down Barcwit, and in return he will tell the King we were unwilling participants in the treachery.’
‘But we will tackle Sendi first,’ said Geoffrey.
Idonea was distinctly unenthusiastic. ‘Very well, then.’
It did not take a genius to see she was far more willing to attack Barcwit. She picked inexperienced or indifferent soldiers for the raid on Sendi and held the best ones in reserve, claiming that Barcwit would be the more formidable opponent. Peter supported her to the hilt, and since Geoffrey could hardly confront Sendi with only Roger for company, he was obliged to accept the sorry squad she selected for him. He left Helbye to impose some semblance of order on them, and went to stand near the motte, thinking about how to deploy them. He needed to be alone, but first Olivier joined him, and then Durand and Ulfrith.
‘Peter is terrified,’ said Durand gleefully. ‘Look! He is trying to slip away, so you will not ask him to go with you when you mount your attack.’
Geoffrey saw the constable making for the gate at a rapid clip, glancing this way and that as he went. ‘Fetch him back,’ he said tiredly to Ulfrith. ‘I do not want his flight to put Sendi on the alert.’
Ulfrith obliged, and Geoffrey winced when the squire launched himself at the fleeing constable in a flying leap that knocked him clean from his feet. Even Olivier, resplendent in spotless armour and a sword that had never seen blood, shook his head at the man’s cowardice.
‘The man is a fool – and a feeble one at that. We have been friends for years, and fought countless battles together, but I am no longer proud to claim his acquaintance. He does not seem to care that he has dragged his wife into this deadly business, whereas I would give everything I own to turn back time and prevent Joan from becoming embroiled.’
‘You could not have stopped her,’ said Geoffrey, watching Helbye check that the soldiers had remembered to bring their weapons. He was appalled to see that some had not, and were obliged to borrow from the more elite forces being held in reserve for Barcwit. ‘Neither of us could.’
‘I should have tried. I am deeply fond of her, Geoffrey, and should have warned her more forcefully not to become involved.’
Geoffrey regarded him uneasily. ‘You make it sound as if she knew it was nasty from the start – not that she invested in all innocence, and learnt of the regicide later, like Idonea and Peter.’
‘We knew something was amiss, but went ahead anyway.’ Olivier’s hands flew to his mouth in panic. ‘Do not tell me she told you something different? Lord! For God’s sake do not tell her I contradicted her! She is determined to safeguard you at all costs – even prepared to drive you away with unkind words, although it hurts her to do it.’
Geo
ffrey rubbed his head, sorry Joan had not told him the truth because of some misguided attempt to protect him. It made his obligation to the King even more awkward, because Joan being drawn into something against her will, and Joan gleefully leaping to embrace the prospect of Henry’s murder were two very different things. He was not sure whether the King would spare her now, no matter what he did, and was faced with the sickening realization that he would lose the last member of his family to a hangman’s noose.
‘I will not tell her,’ he said. He nodded to where Peter was trying to wriggle away from Ulfrith. ‘But meanwhile, will you keep your friend here and out of mischief?’
Olivier nodded. ‘If that is how I may serve you best today.’
‘It is,’ said Geoffrey. His request was partly so no one would know about the raid from the terrified constable until the soldiers were on their way, but mostly so the little knight would not feel compelled to join them, either. He would not comport himself well, and Geoffrey did not want Roger to denounce him as a fraud – nor did he want Olivier to get in the way of the fighting.
Olivier sped off obligingly, while Durand handed Geoffrey his shield, sword, helmet and the saddlebag he always carried when he rode, which contained such useful items as a spare dagger, a few strips of linen to use as bandages, a whetting stone and a flask of wine.
‘You must be careful on that new horse,’ advised Durand. ‘It has probably never been in a skirmish before.’
‘This is not a raid for mounted soldiers,’ said Geoffrey, surprised Durand should think it was. Once again, the squire demonstrated an appalling lack of understanding about military tactics. He pushed the bag back at him, indicating he did not need it, but the squire’s hands were shaking in anticipation of violence to come, and it fell from his nerveless fingers to the ground. Something rolled out, and Geoffrey saw it was the doll the dog had stolen from Beiminstre; he recalled guiltily that he had forgotten to ask Durand to mend it. He bent to retrieve it at the same time as Durand, and their heads cracked together. Durand yowled in pain, although Geoffrey felt nothing through his helmet.
The Coiner's Quarrel Page 29
