‘The answer is obvious now we have all the facts,’ said Geoffrey, rubbing his chin. ‘We have been misled about Barcwit. He does exist, because Alwold would not have expended his dying breath on a message for a man who does not. He also said, “He will be angry if you betray him. You do not know what he can be like when he is angry.” You do not say that about someone who is not real.’
‘Perhaps he was perpetuating the myth they had created,’ suggested Giffard. ‘You say that is how Maude and Rodbert kept people afraid.’
‘Then why say Maude did not know what Barcwit could be like when angry? He should have said the opposite – that she did know. There is only one conclusion: Barcwit does exist. He must, or none of this makes sense. Alwold hid the silver for some reason: it was not stolen. That explains why Barcwit was so remarkably sanguine about its loss – to the point where he even asked Alwold to escort his wife to Westminster. It also explains why Alwold wanted Barcwit – and Barcwit alone – to know where it is. But I think I have unravelled his clues.’
‘You have?’ asked Giffard, startled. ‘Where is it, then?’
‘In Beiminstre, which is the last village Alwold would have passed through on his return from the silver mine in Devon. We know he stopped “just outside Bristol”. But it was not Feoc he entrusted with his secret. It was the priest of another St John’s.’
‘Is there a St John’s in Beiminstre?’
‘Yes. I should have seen this days ago – and I should have guessed the truth about Barcwit.’
‘But you did not,’ came a voice from the stairs, accompanied by the click of a crossbow. ‘And that is very fortunate for me.’
‘You are Barcwit?’ asked Geoffrey, realizing too late that he should have been more suspicious of an empty tavern in the middle of the day. He had made the assumption that Giffard had cleared it, whereas the disenfranchised moneyer, whose premises were all but stripped, was clearly responsible. It explained the pot-boy’s behaviour, too: his display of hostility had been for his old neighbour’s benefit. Barcwit and the men who now clustered behind him had been hiding upstairs, and had doubtless been very interested in the discussion between bishop and agent.
‘I am Barcwit,’ replied the man. Geoffrey saw Tasso behind him, sword at the ready. The knight indicated that Geoffrey was to relinquish his weapons, which he only did when one of the men aimed his bow at Giffard. ‘I am sorry we did not meet sooner, but my children thought it unwise.’
Geoffrey could see why. Barcwit was tiny, with twinkling blue eyes and a fluffy white beard that was about as far away from the menacing spectre in black created by Maude and Rodbert as it was possible to be. He looked like a kindly grandfather: no one would be frightened of this Barcwit.
‘You have caused me all manner of inconvenience,’ Barcwit went on. ‘My daughter and son are dead, my mint is dismantled, and most of my workmen are either killed, arrested or have fled for their lives. You have destroyed a lifetime’s work.’
‘That is what happens when you cheat the King,’ admonished Giffard.
Barcwit covered the small distance between him and the bishop in a flash, and hit him with his bow. Giffard yelped in pain, and blood oozed from a cut on his scalp. Geoffrey reassessed Barcwit when he saw the expression on the man’s face. It was neither kindly nor twinkling, and there was a distinct malice in the glittering eyes. He interposed himself between them. Barcwit would have to go through him before he struck an unarmed monk again.
‘Why did Maude and Rodbert insist you change your appearance?’ he asked. ‘Were they ashamed of you?’ He thought about the beggars in Feoc’s church, who had said Barcwit had grown larger and no longer trawled taverns for women. They remembered the old Barcwit, before his transformation.
Barcwit regarded him coldly. ‘Why would they be ashamed?’
A number of responses sailed through Geoffrey’s mind, most involving derogatory comments about his size and elfin features. ‘How did you persuade the people of Bristol to believe you went from a normal man to an enormous black-cloaked monster?’ he asked instead.
‘People have short memories. Maude suggested I stay out of sight, because folk are more frightened by things they cannot see, than by something they know. She was right: even my name reduces people to paroxysms of terror these days. It went further than we intended, though. We wanted people in awe, not believing me guilty of dealings with the Devil. But it resulted in us making more profit than any mint in the country, so it seemed a pity to correct the misunderstanding.’
‘We know this,’ said Giffard, hand to his head. ‘And it is time to put matters right. We—’
‘Put matters right?’ snarled Barcwit. ‘Matters will never be right again! You have destroyed all I have. Or do you think Henry will give me another mint, as compensation for the one I have lost?’
‘No,’ admitted Giffard. ‘I do not think he will do that.’
‘Sendi was jealous of our honest success,’ said Barcwit, blithely ignoring the fact that creating monsters to frighten folk was hardly an ethical business practice. ‘He accused me of treason, and then Maude and Rodbert betrayed me.’
‘By lying with each other?’ asked Giffard sympathetically. ‘It was a sinful union.’
But Geoffrey did not think Barcwit was referring to their incestuous relationship. ‘They did not give you Alwold’s message about the silver?’
‘They did not,’ said Barcwit sourly. ‘Alwold told me – before I sent him to Westminster to keep Rodbert away from his half-sister – that the silver was safe, and we agreed to retrieve it on his return. Unfortunately, he never came home.’
‘I knew none of this,’ said Tasso, startled. ‘Why did you allow him to leave Bristol without telling you where he had put it?’
Barcwit grimaced. ‘We were rushed. He only had time to mention that he had hidden the silver and shot the guards to make it look as though outlaws were responsible. He thought Rodbert might try to steal it from me.’
‘Rodbert would never betray you in such a way,’ said Tasso, shocked.
‘Yes, he would,’ argued Barcwit sharply.
‘He betrayed you more than you know,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He killed Alwold – to get Maude and to silence a man who was apparently suspicious of him. He worked out everything in advance. He murdered Fardin first, so it would look as if Sendi had killed Alwold in revenge.’
Giffard agreed. ‘One of my clerks saw Rodbert covered in blood shortly after Fardin’s death. He did not tell anyone at the time, because he thought rival Saxons killing each other on deserted riverbanks was none of his concern. He knows now that he was wrong to stay silent.’
‘Were you plotting to kill the King?’ asked Geoffrey, wanting the answer to the question that affected Joan once and for all. He saw Giffard’s start of surprise: it had not been in his report.
Barcwit was dismissive. ‘Why would I? I want a stable economy that needs coins, and Henry provides that. I even sent a donation for his war against Bellême, to make sure he won. I have – I had no reason to harm Henry.’
‘Joan lied to you, Geoffrey,’ jeered Tasso. ‘She invested in us purely for profit. She had no grand or noble motives. She is simply greedy – like Peter, Idonea, Clarembald and the others.’
‘Then what about the letter I found?’ pressed Geoffrey, ignoring Giffard’s growing horror. ‘The one you wrote to Joan outlining the details of King Henry’s intended murder?’
‘Written by my drunken cambium under Colblac’s malign influence,’ said Barcwit. ‘Do you remember Colblac? He was the clerk who answered my door on occasion. We had our spy Lifwine in Sendi’s mint – but Sendi had Colblac.’
Geoffrey was surprised. Colblac had not seemed like the kind of man to engage in treachery. But then, neither had Lifwine.
‘I killed him this morning,’ said Tasso. ‘But, before he died, he confessed to what he had done. He forced our dying cambium to write the letter to Joan, then he left it in a barrel at Sendi’s mint. He thought Sendi would fi
nd the letter and use it to destroy Master Barcwit. But you got it first.’
‘Why address the thing to Joan?’ Geoffrey was disgusted.
‘To hurt you,’ said Barcwit simply. ‘Like everyone else in this town, Colblac had no love for the King’s agents. They are greedy, corrupt and seek only to accrue power and wealth for themselves.’
Giffard gave a short bark of laughter. ‘Most, perhaps, but not Geoffrey! Look at him in his grimy armour and unwashed clothes. Does he look like a wealthy and powerful man to you?’
‘No,’ acknowledged Barcwit. ‘But it alters nothing. Both of you will die, and I shall collect my silver from Beiminstre. Then I shall start another life with those few of us you have spared.’
Tasso moved forward, sword in his hand, and Geoffrey saw he intended to dispatch them as he had Edric. Barcwit nodded to him, while his bowmen watched in gleeful anticipation of bloody slaughter.
‘Wait!’ cried Giffard,. ‘You cannot send me to meet God while I am steeped in sin. You must give me time to make my confession and cleanse my soul.’
Without waiting for permission, he dropped to his knees and began to pray in a loud, commanding voice. Tasso hesitated, doubtless fearing for his own soul if he killed a bishop at his devotions. Some of Barcwit’s men, overwhelmed by the power of Giffard’s convictions, removed their hats and lowered their weapons. Others bowed their heads as Giffard’s beautifully intoned Latin filled the room. Barcwit’s jaw dropped at the spectacle, and Geoffrey seized his chance.
While Tasso’s sword wavered uncertainly over Giffard’s shoulders, he tore forward and bowled the knight from his feet, snatching a handful of Barcwit’s tunic at the same time. Barcwit uttered a shrill scream of outrage as he fell, and began to flail with his fists. Then he was everywhere, making it difficult for his men to come to his aid. Maude had already been killed that day with a friendly arrow, and they had evidently been warned about what would happen if they did it again. The result was that they stood stupidly immobile while Geoffrey fought with Tasso. Meanwhile, Giffard continued to pray, confusing the men still further about what they should do.
Tasso scrabbled for the sword he had dropped, while Geoffrey struggled to stop him from reaching it. Barcwit screeched and scratched, and one or two of his men, with more initiative than their fellows, dodged this way and that with their weapons at the ready while they waited for a clear shot. Geoffrey grabbed Tasso around the waist and rolled, so his opponent was on top when one man started to lay about him with a stave. Tasso cursed foully, and the man backed away in alarm.
Then Giffard abruptly finished his meditations and joined the affray. He grabbed Barcwit in a bear-hug, holding him off the ground so his short legs flailed in fury. Several men caught painful blows on heads and arms as they tried to rescue him. Meanwhile, Tasso had reached his sword, and a triumphant grin crossed his dark features. Someone trod hard on Geoffrey’s hand, pinning him to the floor, and the vital moments needed to free it were more than enough for Tasso to scramble to his feet.
Geoffrey expected to be skewered immediately, but Tasso had other ideas. The henchman knew whom he held responsible for the disintegration of the empire he had helped to build, and he wanted revenge. He drew back his foot and kicked Geoffrey in the side. Geoffrey finally wrenched his hand free and tried to roll away, but Tasso’s boot found him again. While his senses reeled, he saw Barcwit wriggle out of Giffard’s grip and turn to plunge a dagger into the prelate’s chest. With a startled expression, Giffard toppled backward and lay still.
‘Horses!’ shouted Barcwit urgently. ‘I hear horses.’
‘Just Giffard’s thieves,’ snarled Tasso. ‘Making off with every last item from your house – even the stick you use for poking the fire!’ He kicked again, and Geoffrey felt the breath rush from his body.
‘No!’ said Barcwit urgently. ‘I have a feeling we were not the only ones who overheard this pair babbling about Beiminstre. Someone else now knows where Alwold hid my silver. The bishop is dead, so finish the agent, and come with me. Hurry!’
He tore open the door and shot outside, yelling for his men to follow. All obeyed, except Tasso, who drew back his foot for another onslaught. Geoffrey’s ribs ached viciously, and it took a good deal of effort to rise to his knees and grab a dagger someone had dropped. Tasso knocked it from his hand, so it went skittering across the floor. Geoffrey knew he could not hold out much longer. He fumbled for the knife in his boot, which Tasso had failed to find when he had disarmed him. He gripped its hilt, and when Tasso moved in for another kick, he thrust upwards with the last of his strength.
Tasso reeled, but then pulled back, and Geoffrey saw that while he was injured, he was far from incapacitated. He advanced on his victim again. Then he stumbled, and Geoffrey reacted instinctively by raising the dagger. Tasso gasped when the blade slid into his stomach, and dropped to his knees. Giffard was behind him, white-faced and unsteady. Then Tasso pitched forward and lay still. A spreading stain underneath him suggested he would not be trying to kick anyone else to death.
‘I thought Barcwit had killed you,’ said Geoffrey, accepting Giffard’s help to climb to his feet.
‘He tried,’ said Giffard shakily. ‘I have never been stabbed before, and I cannot say I enjoyed it.’
‘You will not abandon your see and become a warrior, then?’ asked Geoffrey, wincing as he took a deep breath and felt a stabbing pain that suggested cracked ribs.
‘I will not, although I recommend a change of profession for you. Fighting men like these is far too dangerous. Now I know why Henry insisted I wear this bulky and uncomfortable thing.’ He pulled his habit away from his neck to reveal a mail tunic underneath.
‘Why did you let him go?’ asked Geoffrey, recalling how Giffard had lain still while Barcwit escaped.
Giffard gazed at him in astonishment. ‘I did not “let” him do anything. He just went. Besides, I am a monk and cannot raise weapons against other men.’
Geoffrey glanced at Tasso. ‘Tell him that.’
‘That was not me,’ said Giffard firmly. ‘All I did was give him a shove. It was your dagger that plunged into his vitals, so it was you who brought about his death. I do not want his murder staining my soul when I stand before God on Judgement Day.’
‘Well, it saved my life,’ said Geoffrey gratefully, suspecting God would make up His own mind about what constituted Giffard’s sins when his soul was weighed, and that the bishop would not be permitted to present a pre-prepared list.
‘You saved mine, too,’ said Giffard. ‘When Barcwit struck me, you interposed yourself between us without a moment’s hesitation. I always sensed you were a good man.’
‘Henry will not be pleased when he hears Barcwit escaped with the silver,’ said Geoffrey, thinking about why the coiner had left so abruptly. ‘Especially since we essentially told him where it was.’
‘Him and someone else.’ Giffard was rueful. ‘He was right: another person was listening outside.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I posted two soldiers there, to guard me while I sat in here with you. But when Barcwit opened the door to leave, I saw them dead. Barcwit did not do it, because he was with us. Someone else killed them and heard us unravel the mystery of the silver. He will be on his way to Beiminstre as we speak.’
‘Then he will meet Barcwit,’ said Geoffrey. ‘There will be a fight and the winner will take the ingots.’
‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ demanded Giffard challengingly. ‘Let Barcwit and this other traitor steal what belongs to the King?’
‘I was under the impression that it belonged to Barcwit, actually,’ said Geoffrey, rubbing his side. ‘Besides, I am done fighting for today. I feel as though I have been trampled by a herd of horses.’
‘It is not Barcwit’s,’ snapped Giffard. ‘He is now an outlaw, because he cheated the King. Pull yourself together! We must find out who is racing him for the silver, and at least try to get to it first.’
‘It
will be Bloet,’ predicted Geoffrey. ‘Or Clarembald. He is more deeply embedded in this plot than is proper. Or perhaps Warelwast, the friend who is always trying to help me – except when I really need him. It would not surprise me to learn he had abandoned Joan and returned here.’
‘Then come,’ shouted Giffard, tugging at his sleeve. ‘Hurry!’
Geoffrey resisted. ‘How many men do you have? Or did you send them all to Bath?’
‘Just the two outside,’ said Giffard, agitated by the delay. ‘The rest were needed to guard the carts, given that every robber in the county will be after them.’
‘But the two outside are dead,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘So you have none.’
‘I have you,’ insisted Giffard. ‘And Peter has soldiers …’
‘All fled,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I doubt you and I will be able to do much against Barcwit and his men, plus this other would-be thief, especially when you decline to use weapons lest murder stains your soul. I cannot fight any more, Giffard. I am spent.’
‘You must,’ urged Giffard, desperately. ‘Barcwit may harm the good people of Beiminstre unless we are there to protect them. We cannot leave them at the mercy of a man like him.’
Geoffrey thought about Kea and his sister. The villagers’ paltry defences would be useless in repelling a determined man like Barcwit, who would kill every last one of them in his determination to have what he believed was rightfully his.
‘Roger will help,’ he said, aiming for the door. ‘But you will need to count the silver afterwards.’
‘I do not care,’ said Giffard, almost dragging him forward in his haste to be underway. ‘I will give him some, if he lends his sword to thwarting these villains.’
Fourteen
Roger had had enough of Bristol, and had made the decision that he and Geoffrey were leaving that day, aiming for Barfleur, where they would meet Joan. He had packed their bags, saddled the horses, and was on the verge of sending Ulfrith to look for his friend so they could get underway.
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