‘There he is!’ He had been spotted, and he recognized the voice as Peter’s. ‘Bring the archer. I want this man dead, before he does any more harm.’
‘I should have guessed,’ Geoffrey yelled, struggling to make his last knot. ‘You killed Nauntel, not Barcwit. You murdered your friend, just to divert suspicion from yourself. But Nauntel’s death did not make sense. He was one of Barcwit’s investors, and Barcwit did not want him dead. It was obvious that someone else had done it.’
‘Shut up,’ snarled Peter, rattled. ‘Nauntel is not your concern.’
‘Peter did the right thing,’ said Idonea, more for her husband’s benefit than for Geoffrey’s. ‘Nauntel was becoming unstable, and we were afraid he would tell someone what we were doing. We had no choice but to kill him.’
‘Here is the archer,’ said Adelise. ‘Move out of the way, Peter, so he has a clear shot.’
‘Willingly,’ said Peter icily, and Geoffrey could see the archer’s feet directly above him.
‘And my sister?’ asked Geoffrey. One of his fingers was caught in the rope, and he struggled to free it. ‘Is she involved in this, too?’
Peter’s voice was maliciously satisfied. ‘You will die not knowing.’
Geoffrey yelled to Kea at the top of his voice, still trying to free his hand. ‘Now!’
Nothing happened.
‘Kea,’ he yelled. ‘Pull!’
Still nothing.
‘Are you speaking to this little fellow?’ asked Sendi. Just above him, Geoffrey saw Kea struggling helplessly against one of the workmen. His heart sank and he sagged against the wood in defeat. His plan had failed and there was nothing else he could do.
‘We saw the rope trailing in the water, so we went to see what it was attached to,’ said Sendi gloatingly. ‘It was a clever idea, and it is a pity for you that it will not work.’
‘Come on,’ Adelise urged the archer. ‘We do not have all day.’
Geoffrey risked a glance upwards and saw it was the same bowman who had been in Sendi’s mint. He recalled thinking then that the man was good – and that he was desperate for a kill – and Geoffrey had no illusions about his fate. Exhausted and overcome with hopelessness, he rested his head against the pier, abandoning his efforts to free his hand. Suddenly, the rope went taut. The pillar protested the sudden tug with a tearing creak, and everyone on the platform jumped in alarm.
‘What is happening?’ Adelise demanded. ‘I thought you brought the horses here.’
‘I did,’ said Sendi, startled. ‘You can see them over there.’
There was another groan, and the quay listed violently to one side. Geoffrey wrenched his hand away from the straining rope and glanced up, seeing the entire structure begin to topple towards him. He kicked out for all he was worth, aware of the heavy, rotten wood tilting slowly just above his head. Its shadow fell over him, and he sensed it dropping faster and faster. The current worked with him, but it would not be enough. It was going to fall right on top of him, and crush him on the river bed.
He swam harder, using the very last ounce of his strength, then was caught in a sudden maelstrom of foam and waves. The pier had missed him by no more than the breadth of a hand. He heard Roger shouting, and suspected the big knight had made short work of the guard while he was distracted. Adelise screamed, and he was aware of men splashing into the water all around him. He saw one head break the surface, and then another by its side: Kea and Adelise. She flailed for a moment, then grabbed the boy.
‘Fool!’ she snapped at Geoffrey. ‘Now we will have to dive for the silver. It will delay our escape!’
Geoffrey was bemused. Who had pulled on the rope, when Kea and the horses were in Sendi’s hands? And why did Adelise not see she might have opponents to defeat before she turned her attention to the silver again? He glanced towards the bank, and saw Roger and Ulfrith fighting those few who had not been on the pier when it had collapsed. Meanwhile Giffard was “helping” others out of the water, then dashing them over the head with his boot before they could join the affray.
‘You should have left yesterday, while you had the chance,’ said Geoffrey, paddling towards Kea. Adelise was pushing him under the surface in an attempt to keep herself afloat, and he did not want her to drown the child. ‘You allowed yourself to become blinded by this silver, and now you will not even escape with your life.’
Adelise twisted around, and saw other people hurrying into the clearing, weapons at the ready. Those of her men who were not in the water were quickly overpowered, and Roger was already kneeling next to the silver they had recovered, shoving an ingot or two inside his surcoat before anyone thought to count them. Sendi was floundering wildly, yelling that he could not swim, when Peter, apparently in the same position, grabbed him and used him as a float. Geoffrey knew they would drown each other if no one intervened. Adelise saw all was lost, and, with a blazing glare of hatred, she forced Kea’s head under the water and held it there, spite and defiance in every fibre of her being.
Geoffrey punched her lightly on the jaw, not enough to stun her, but enough to make her release the boy. She relinquished her grasp with a screech of shock, so he snatched Kea away from her and struck out for the shore. Then he felt himself seized from behind, and his world turned green and frothy. He realized he should have hit her harder, because she was now trying to drown him, snaking her fingers into his hair and pushing him down with the whole weight of her body. Then, just as abruptly, he was released, and came spluttering to the surface.
Adelise was face-down in the water, where the current was bearing her away in a cloud of red. Kea had a dagger in his hand.
‘Did you stab her?’ Geoffrey gasped.
‘She tried to kill me,’ retorted the boy defensively.
Geoffrey was so tired he could barely summon the energy to flap towards the bank. He saw Peter’s body twisting this way and that in the wreckage of the quay, prevented from floating away because his cloak had snagged, while Sendi flapped towards the shore and Giffard’s shoe. Idonea, wet and bedraggled, sat with several other captives. Everyone who posed a danger was now dead or caught. Geoffrey felt himself slide under the surface, unable to make his exhausted muscles work any more.
Small hands hauled him up again, and Kea’s insistent high-pitched voice urged him to swim. By the time he had struggled to the shore and hauled himself up the slippery bank, he was finished. He lay in the clearing with his eyes closed, and hoped Roger did not need his help, because this time he was certain he could not do it.
‘Sit up,’ came a soft voice at his side. He recognized it, and was immediately on his guard. ‘You will feel better if you sit up.’
‘I will feel better when I have the truth,’ said Geoffrey, struggling to his knees and pulling his arm away when Joan tried to help him. ‘Were you involved in this plot to steal the silver?’
‘She was not,’ declared Kea, outraged by the accusation. ‘And you owe your life to Dame Joanie, so watch what you say.’
‘Do I? Why? What did she do?’
‘She pulled on the rope after Sendi caught Kea and took the horses away,’ explained Warelwast, coming to stand next to them. ‘As did I, Olivier and a few of the villagers, although I suspect most of the strength was hers.’
Geoffrey glanced around and saw that Helbye had taken charge of securing the prisoners, ordering Giffard away when he offered to subdue more of them with his boot; Roger had declared himself keeper of the silver. Others were there, too: Clarembald and Bishop John still argued, even as they worked together to tie up Sendi, while Bloet, sword drawn, helped Helbye guard those captives who were not yet bound.
‘I do not understand,’ said Geoffrey tiredly. Nothing made sense. Joan, Olivier and Warelwast should have been on their way to Exeter, and he had no idea why Bloet and John should be there.
‘The villagers hid Joan after she managed to escape from Peter,’ explained Helbye, glancing away from his charges to explain. ‘But when I told her what was happening
here, she insisted on coming to see what she could do for you.’
‘If she had not pulled on that rope when she did, we all would be dead,’ added Kea. ‘And Sir Peter and Sendi would have escaped with the silver.’
‘We thought we were heading to Exeter,’ elaborated Warelwast. ‘But then Peter and Idonea drew weapons and told us we were going back to Bristol. We were as surprised as you to learn that they were in league with Sendi, but we should have guessed. Sendi could not have operated so long without the consent of a powerful town authority: namely the constable. Of course Sir Peter de la Mare was involved. He pretended to be under Barcwit’s spell just to confuse you.’
‘But we escaped,’ said Olivier proudly. ‘Joan bit through the ropes that bound us.’ He gazed fondly at his wife.
Joan smiled back at him. ‘But Olivier and I would never have made it without Warelwast. He risked his life to save ours, by distracting the guard while we fled. I flung a dagger and killed the man, but Warelwast was prepared to sacrifice himself to help us nonetheless.’
‘I promised,’ said Warelwast, looking steadily at Geoffrey. ‘I gave you my rope as a pledge.’
Geoffrey handed it back to him, and watched him secure it around his neck. ‘So, that is it?’ he asked wearily. ‘It is over?’
‘Almost,’ said Giffard. ‘We must retrieve the rest of the silver from the river and take it to the King, but we have a complete set of culprits. Peter and Idonea were late to show their hand, but they are the last. All the others who were on Sendi’s list of investors – the physicians, Bloet, Warelwast and your sister – are exonerated.’
‘Even Clarembald?’ asked Roger. ‘He has been acting very oddly.’
‘Under the King’s orders,’ explained Warelwast. ‘Please do not look at me in that angry way, Geoffrey. You should have guessed Henry would send more than one agent to sort out this mess. Bloet was sent, too – to find the silver.’
‘And Warelwast was charged to protect you,’ added Giffard.
‘To protect me?’ asked Geoffrey in astonishment. ‘How?’
‘By being your friend,’ replied Warelwast shyly. ‘Henry knew you would make enemies with the task he set you, so he sent me as a man you could trust. Unfortunately, you never did. But remember that I did pull very hard on the rope to destroy the pier.’
‘It is true,’ said Joan. ‘Warelwast is a true friend, and you can never have too many of those.’
It was not long before Giffard became aware that Roger was stealing rather more of the ingots than Henry would want to lose. To distract him, he and the others walked to the riverbank to discuss how best to recover what had been lost during Geoffrey’s desperate gamble to thwart the thieves. Meanwhile, Joan removed her cloak and placed it around her brother’s shoulders.
‘But you cannot have my pink shoes, too,’ she said with a smile. ‘They are special.’
Geoffrey was not in the mood for humour. ‘You were deceived in this business just as much as me. There never was a plot to kill Henry.’
She agreed. ‘But I did not know that until yesterday. Peter and Idonea confessed that they made it up, to frighten me and prevent me from co-operating with you. They were afraid that if I did, you would identify them as two of the worst offenders. But I did not invest willingly with Barcwit, not even at the beginning. I lied when I said we had spare funds from Olivier selling a horse.’
Geoffrey pulled the cloak more closely around him. ‘I should have known. If you had spare funds, you would not have used them on investments. You would have bought a cow or built a barn.’
‘I was forced,’ she said. ‘I did not want to do it, but I had no choice.’
‘By whom?’ asked Geoffrey, wondering who would be brave enough to make Joan do something she did not want to do.
‘I was told, back in March, that if I did not invest with Barcwit, then Olivier would suffer. Of course I did as I was ordered – what is gold, when compared to the lives of those you love? I was surprised when we started to make substantial profits, then Peter told me Barcwit was saving money to fund an attempt on the King’s life. I did not understand what I had been dragged into. Then you arrived, and I saw you were going to be sucked into the mess, too. I did everything I could to drive you away: begging, lies, threats. All I wanted was for you to be gone, away from the danger closing around me.’
‘Who did this to you?’ asked Geoffrey harshly. ‘I swear I will kill him.’
‘No,’ said Joan in horror. ‘Do not vow such things when you do not know what you are saying. The man who forced me to invest with Barcwit is the same man who forced you to come here to defend me. He was testing us, to see whether we are worthy of him.’
Geoffrey stared at her, wondering whether they had passed the test or whether they had been found lacking. Would they be allowed to go about their lives unmolested now? Or would he come after them again?
‘Henry?’ he asked, to be sure. ‘The King?’
‘Yes, Henry,’ she whispered. ‘The King.’
Epilogue
Winchester, three weeks later
Winter had arrived in earnest by the time Geoffrey made the long, dismal journey from Bristol to Winchester. The roads had degenerated into seas of mud, knee-deep in places, and riding was slow. Geoffrey did not want to meet the King, and dragged his heels, blaming their lack of progress on the fact that his ribs were sore, or that he did not want to tire his horse. This last excuse was a poor one, because the warhorse Kea had returned was a new animal. There was a spring in its step, its coat glistened with health, and it galloped at every opportunity. Durand had been killing it with his careless ministrations, and had been banned from tending it again. The squire sulked at the reprimand, clutching something that looked suspiciously like the doll the dog had stolen from Beiminstre.
‘I told you to take that back,’ said Geoffrey angrily. ‘What is wrong with you?’
‘I forgot,’ said Durand sullenly, shoving the thing into Geoffrey’s bag. ‘When Henry pays me for my services, I will hire a messenger to return the damned thing, if it makes you happy.’
Geoffrey was not the only one who did not want to see the King. Joan was not looking forward to the meeting either, and was uncommunicative, speaking only to give her opinion of the inns at which they stayed – usually rude ones – or to ensure her brother wore clean clothes. She declined to discuss anything relating to the mission Henry had devised for her, and forbade Olivier to speak of it, too. Geoffrey did not care. The whole adventure had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he felt he had learnt far more than he needed to know already.
They found a small, clean inn in a quiet alley near the abbey, and Geoffrey was looking forward to an evening by the fire, when a messenger arrived. Henry had learnt of their arrival, and wanted to see them immediately. Geoffrey set out with Roger and Durand in tow, and Joan walking stiffly by his side. She was anxious, and he patted her hand encouragingly.
The messenger conducted them to a small but luxuriously appointed chamber on an upper floor of the palace. The windows were open, and Henry stared out across the chilly, grey countryside, watching the shadows lengthen and the last glimmers of daylight disappear. It would be dark in an hour, and the damp, foggy coldness of a December night would settle in. Geoffrey had a sudden vision of the Holy Land sun in all its parched glory, and longed to feel its dry heat in his bones.
He was not particularly pleased to see others had been summoned, too. Bloet sat near the window, scrubbing at his long nose with the sleeve of his tunic. Durand glowered at him, but was intelligent enough to do no more. Warelwast stood with Clarembald, and smiled in genuine pleasure when Geoffrey entered, while Giffard sat by the embers of a dead fire. Warelwast wore the habit of an Austin Canon, and a plain wooden cross had replaced the piece of rope. He saw Geoffrey notice.
‘I gave it to Kea’s sister,’ he whispered, while the others made their obeisance to the King. ‘She was distressed over the loss of a doll, and my rope – with its oddly human fe
atures – seemed to comfort her. So I let her have it.’
‘You parted with it?’ asked Geoffrey, surprised. ‘After wearing it for so long?’
‘I did not have the heart to take it back,’ admitted Warelwast ruefully. ‘Besides, I no longer need a reminder to tell me I am God’s servant. I have taken the cowl.’
‘Right,’ said Henry, when the messenger had closed the door. ‘We are all here – and Geoffrey has even deigned to clean himself up for the occasion. Is that a new tunic I see?’
Geoffrey shot Joan a resentful glare when the others joined Henry in sycophantic laughter. It did not last long. Henry wanted to get down to business.
‘I have read the reports each of you sent,’ he said. ‘Bloet.’
Bloet shot to his feet. ‘Sire?’
‘The missing silver is now in my care, so your task is completed to my satisfaction.’
Bloet started to smile, obviously relieved by the verdict. ‘Yes, sire. I—’
‘However, its safe delivery had nothing to do with you. You were asleep when Sendi and Peter de la Mare tried to steal it from me.’
‘I had had a late night,’ objected Bloet. ‘And I did my—’
Henry raised an imperious hand and Bloet’s words died in his throat. ‘You failed. I gave you this chance, because I am fond of your father, but you have proved yourself unreliable. I have no further use for you; return to Lincoln, and resume your duties as dean.’
Bloet opened his mouth to object, but saw the flash in Henry’s eyes and decided against it. Durand opened the door for him with smug pleasure, and Geoffrey poked him, to prevent him from gloating too openly. He sensed no one would have cause for celebrating much that evening: Henry was angry.
‘Clarembald.’ The physician waved his ginger eyebrows in alarm. ‘You were partly successful and, if you had not allowed yourself to be trussed up by the people of Beiminstre, you probably would have caught the traitors. But you made mistakes and you are not as quick-witted as my spies need to be. I will not employ you in this capacity again, so you may go back to your medicine.’
The Coiner's Quarrel Page 37
