The Bloodstained Throne sgm-7

by Simon Beaufort

  ‘But it is a pretty bauble even so.’ Magnus held out his hand. ‘Give it back.’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey. Even if Magnus was its rightful owner, there was a reason why he had not mentioned its loss, and it was all very suspicious. He was not about to hand it over.

  Harold gazed at him in astonishment. ‘You intend to keep it for yourself? But Bale has admitted to hauling it from a corpse! It cannot be lucky.’

  Geoffrey handed it and the purse to Bale. ‘I do not want it, but nor should it go to Magnus. Not yet.’

  ‘This is outrageous!’ spluttered Magnus furiously. ‘And I do not forget such slights.’

  He stalked away, his tall, thin body held rigidly erect.

  ‘He bears grudges,’ warned Harold unhappily. ‘And he can be spiteful — so watch yourselves.’

  It was warm in the sun, and Harold began to doze. Ulfrith wandered away, and Geoffrey supposed he was going to torture himself with the sight of Philippa and Lucian.

  ‘The boy is a fool for that woman,’ declared Roger, grimacing in exasperation.

  ‘I shall be glad when we leave this place,’ said Geoffrey unhappily. ‘His infatuation is making him sly and vengeful. He did add something to his water flask to stop me from using it, you know. He would never have resorted to such a low trick before.’

  ‘Did he, by God!’ exclaimed Roger. ‘That is low, especially as you have been so sick. If it brings about a relapse, I shall cleave his head from his shoulders. Of course, he is not the only one who likes to tamper with drinks: Lucian poisoned you with his cure-all.’

  ‘But Magnus took it, too, and he was not nearly as ill as I was.’

  ‘But he was unwell. And he also used Juhel’s balm for his scratched arm. Yes, I know we have been through this before, but think about what Bale said about stealing Vitalis’s ring.’

  ‘A trick he learned from you,’ said Geoffrey, rather coolly.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Roger’s wave of the hand indicated that was irrelevant. ‘But think about it: he deceived you with a sleight of the hand. And Lucian and Juhel did the same. Lucian must have had two phials — he and Magnus drank from one, but he exchanged it for another when it was your turn. And the same goes for Juhel’s balm: one part of the pot is for healing and the other is for harm. Remember his jar — red one side and blue the other? It is so he can remember which is which.’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I accept that if Bale can deceive me with tricks, then anyone can, but I doubt two men had the idea of poisoning me simultaneously. And, besides, why me? You are the one with the gold.’

  ‘But you have wits, and those are dangerous to men like Juhel and Lucian. I bragged about the cases you have solved — obviously, they became worried.’

  ‘What, both of them?’

  ‘They are in it together,’ persisted Roger. ‘They are involved in something sinister that saw Vitalis, Edith and that shepherd murdered by Lucian, and Paisnel killed by Juhel. Just because you do not know what it is, does not mean it has not happened.’

  ‘I suppose it is possible,’ said Geoffrey, although he could not see the two as partners. He looked at Bale, who was regarding him in much the same way as his dog did on occasion: with a certain desperate affection that he was not sure would be reciprocated.

  ‘You have done well, Bale,’ he sad, watching the man’s face split into a grin of pleasure. ‘You uncovered evidence that put Gyrth at Werlinges during the massacre, and you were probably right to take the ring and the purse — although you should not make a habit of it.’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Bale. ‘I will not steal from corpses without good cause in future. But how do the cross and habit prove Gyrth responsible for the massacre? I thought they only showed he visited the village.’

  ‘Because of the way the blood is sprayed across the material. In battles, I have seen many such stains when throats have been slashed. There are also marks in the region of the thigh, where he wiped his blade. Gyrth killed someone at Werlinges without question. Then he donned civilian clothes and came here.’

  ‘Where he wanted to kill someone,’ mused Roger. ‘But why you, Geoff?’

  ‘I doubt Gyrth was after him,’ said Harold, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Geoffrey wondered how long he had been listening. ‘It was more likely a monk who had offended him.’

  ‘That is unlikely,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It seems he was only here for a few hours before Galfridus dispatched him to some distant village, to test his sincerity.’

  ‘Then perhaps that is why he went to the hospital,’ suggested Harold. ‘He thought it was the monks’ dormitory, because he had not been here long enough to know better.’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘There was not enough time for a monk to have annoyed Gyrth to that extent. I suspect his arrival here had something to do with your rebellion — and so did the massacre. Gyrth was not the only one to have been involved in that. Your brother Ulf was there, and dry blood, combined with wet, indicates he had been fighting before Bale got him. These stains indicate he did not kill the villagers himself, but he may well have ordered Gyrth to do it.’

  Harold shook his head, horrified by the suggestion. ‘Impossible! We need people alive, not dead. Whatever happened at Werlinges had nothing to do with us.’

  ‘Of course it did. And the fact that Gyrth was involved proves it.’

  ‘Gyrth did support our cause,’ acknowledged Harold unhappily. ‘But I do not see how he thought to further it by slaughtering villagers and stabbing men in abbeys.’

  Geoffrey was sorry for him. Poor Harold was an innocent who attracted supporters by his smiling manners. But, as soon as he was no longer needed, harder, more ruthless men would step in, and Harold would find his throat cut.

  And then something else became clear. Bale had mentioned blood smeared on doors in Werlinges, as though in warning. Geoffrey suspected that was exactly what it was: Werlinges had escaped being laid to waste by King William, and Ulf and Gyrth wanted everyone to know what happened to those who collaborated with the enemy. The hapless priest had tried to make amends by providing horses for Magnus and Harold, but the Saxon rebels had not been appeased.

  ‘So if Gyrth was not after you, and not after a monk, who was he trying to kill?’ asked Roger.

  ‘You,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘Rebellions are always hungry for money, and it is common knowledge that you stole a great deal of gold from the pirates.’

  ‘They wanted to use my money to topple Henry?’ asked Roger indignantly.

  Geoffrey nodded.

  Roger rubbed his chin. ‘Then it is just as well it is in a safe place.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Geoffrey.

  Roger grinned and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Now, that would be telling.’

  The Duke did not come that day, and towards the end of the afternoon the atmosphere of excited anticipation faded to anticlimax. Galfridus retired to the church, although no one was sure whether he was praying for the Duke to arrive or to send word that he was not coming.

  ‘It will be a delight to host him,’ he said morosely, as he and Geoffrey met near the kitchens — the knight to beg a bone for his dog, the monk to snatch a mouthful of carp. ‘But I shall remove the Lamb of God, of course. I do not want him making jokes about the Pig of God, which is how the novices now refer to it, thanks to you. But you know the Duke, do you not? Sir Roger said you were in his service.’

  ‘Many years ago, and as a very lowly squire. He will not remember me. But do not be too anxious — he is easily distracted and might not arrive for days if something amuses him on the way.’

  ‘That would be foolish. The last time the Duke visited England, it was as an invader, and if he dallies before making his obeisance to King Henry, he may find himself attacked.’ Galfridus’s expression turned to alarm. ‘And then perhaps Belleme will come to the Duke’s aid, God help us!’

  ‘If you dislike fighting, why do you allow Magnus and Harold to stay here? Surely you can see Magnus is plotting?’

&
nbsp; ‘He is a dreamer. His schemes will come to nothing.’

  ‘I am not so sure. Look at how many Saxons have gathered in your precinct — they cannot all be pilgrims. Moreover, I saw Harold address a gathering of about fifty men last night.’

  Galfridus swallowed hard. ‘But Magnus has no funds for a rebellion,’ he said weakly.

  ‘I am not so sure. Bale found a considerable quantity of gold on a shepherd, which I am certain was intended to fuel the revolt. I suspect he was not a shepherd at all and was taking the purse to some central fund, but was killed in the storm before he could deliver it.’

  ‘No,’ objected Galfridus miserably. ‘Surely not!’

  ‘I believe Gyrth intended to steal Roger’s gold, too — he mistook us in the dark. And Fingar told me the roads near here are full of carts and horses after dark. It all adds up to a gathering of troops and resources, and suggests a hostile action against the King. You will be deemed their supporter if you do not make a stand.’

  Galfridus rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I have an awful feeling you are right. But what can I do to stop them? I have sent messages to de Laigle, but I am not sure he reads them, let alone passes them to the King. And I can order these assembled Saxons to disperse until I am blue in the face, but they will not obey me, a man of mixed parentage.’

  ‘Your monks-’

  ‘Half my monks and all my lay-brothers are Saxon. The only thing I can pray for now is that Magnus makes his stand elsewhere. But do not let me keep you, Sir Geoffrey.’

  He shot into the kitchen and made for the roast carp in an effort to calm himself. Through the open door, Geoffrey watched him snatch some and eat it fast, pausing only to complain to the cook that there was glass in it.

  ‘Glass?’ demanded the cook. ‘There is not!’ He appealed to Harold, who was sitting on a table swinging his short legs as he ate a piece of cheese. ‘You see? Normans complain endlessly.’

  Later that evening, when the light was fading, Geoffrey sat with Bale behind the chapter house, looking over the battlefield. ‘What do you make of the business at Werlinges?’ he asked.

  Bale considered the question seriously. He was not often asked for his opinion, and when he was, he tended to take his time to formulate a response.

  ‘Well, you and Roger fought bravely, and I stopped King Ulf from joining the affray. But I was surprised King Magnus and King Harold did not help us. They must have received some weapons training, and I did not expect them to be so useless.’

  ‘True, but perhaps we should be glad that Juhel and Lucian stayed out of the way.’

  ‘Juhel would have been all right,’ said Bale. ‘On the ship, he fought a pirate and defeated him with ease, even though the fellow had a dagger and Juhel had only his bare hands.’

  Geoffrey was surprised. ‘You have not mentioned this before.’

  ‘You did not ask. But Juhel is a fighting man. Maybe not with a sword, but with a knife or his hands, he would be a match for most men.’

  Geoffrey considered the information. ‘It seems there is more to Juhel than meets the eye — or more than he is willing to let anyone see.’

  ‘I still think he poisoned you,’ said Bale. ‘He is a sly bastard.’

  When Geoffrey made no reply, Bale took the ring and pouch of gold from his bag and began fiddling with them. Geoffrey took the purse and looked again at the coins, before handing it back.

  ‘You saw the shepherd’s body. Roger believes Brother Lucian killed him. What do you think?’

  There was another lengthy pause. ‘His head was under the tree trunk,’ replied Bale eventually. ‘Squashed almost flat. But there were no other wounds. Lucian may have held him under the tree when it fell, I suppose, but it would not have been easy to manage.’

  ‘Then I imagine it was an accident. Did you notice his clothes? Did he look Saxon?’

  ‘Oh, yes. His hair was long and braided, like Saxons used to wear it. Why?’

  ‘Because it is too much of a coincidence for a shepherd to be loaded with gold near where Saxon princes are gathering. And it is odd that a pauper would oust a monk while a storm raged outside — even the most reclusive of men do not deny shelter under such conditions. But this shepherd did not want witnesses.’

  ‘Witnesses to what?’

  ‘To this rebellion. I am sure there is more to it than we think.’

  Geoffrey’s plan to leave for Winchester before dawn the following morning was thwarted when he found the stables virtually empty. An unhelpful groom eventually admitted that the abbey’s entire stock had been taken to the blacksmith for re-shoeing, and all that remained were Galfridus’s personal nags, which he never lent to anyone. Geoffrey strongly suspected the animals had been quartered somewhere nearby, ready to be used by the Saxons.

  ‘I could walk,’ said Geoffrey, returning to Roger after a frustrating interview with Galfridus, during which his request to borrow one of the remaining mounts was politely but firmly denied.

  ‘You would make poor time,’ said Roger. ‘You are not yet strong enough for such a trek. And I am not leaving you here unprotected, so do not think of asking me to go instead. But Galfridus is playing with fire! I am beginning to think he wants this rebellion to succeed. He does nothing to stop it, and now he refuses to help you warn the King.’

  ‘I suspect he simply does not want to be without a means of escape should the situation turn nasty. Damn! Without horses, our only other option is to stay here and see what we can do to thwart this uprising. I hope to God that Breme has delivered that letter.’

  Roger patted his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Do not fret. He is a reliable fellow.’

  Geoffrey went to the church, but the melodic chanting from the chancel did not soothe him this time, and he prowled restlessly along the nave and aisles, looking at the carvings on the pillars without really seeing them. Roger knelt with his hands pressed together, his heavy features arranged in an expression he imagined was devout. Ulfrith stood behind him and stared miserably at the central crossing, where Philippa loitered with Lucian.

  Meanwhile, Juhel leaned against a pier near the south transept, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Harold, who was chatting amiably to some lay-brothers. The Saxon said something to make them laugh, and the sounds of their mirth caused Ralph to storm from the chancel to berate them. When the sacristan had gone, Harold said something else that sent them into paroxysms of merriment, although the laughter was quieter this time.

  ‘Ulf was not a fellow for giggles,’ remarked Magnus to Geoffrey. ‘He was an iron man, who frightened even his closest friends with his cold heart and ruthless determination.’

  ‘Then you must be glad he is dead. He sounds a more formidable rival than Harold.’

  Magnus’s expression was dismissive. ‘Harold is no rival! Look at how he fraternizes with servants. I cannot imagine how he will manage at the head of an army — he will be too busy gossiping with his stable-boys.’

  ‘What about your cousin Gyrth?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Would he have made a good general?’

  ‘Yes, and his death is a bitter blow to our cause.’ Magnus regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you should join us. There will be great rewards for men involved in our victory — and dire punishments for those who side with the Usurper. You would be wise to consider your future.’

  ‘I will take my chances with Henry.’

  Magnus’s expression turned to anger. ‘You are a fool, and I shall personally see that you regret your decision.’

  He turned on his heel and strode away, not caring that he powered through a procession of monks. Several outraged glances followed him, but Geoffrey saw more that were admiring and hopeful. With the end of prime, monastics and visitors alike began to trail towards their breakfasts. Roger was one of the first, Bale hot on his heels.

  Harold walked with Geoffrey, breathing in air scented with newly cut grass. ‘It is far warmer here than inside that church. Why do builders always make them so cold? When I am king, the first thing I shall do is c
ommission a warm church. Will you accept the challenge? Roger tells me you are interested in architecture.’

  Geoffrey laughed. ‘Such a project would be wholly beyond my meagre capabilities.’

  Harold laid a hand on Geoffrey’s shoulder and lowered his voice. ‘I heard what Magnus said, and I want you to know that I will not let him harm you.’

  ‘I am not worried about Magnus.’

  ‘You should be. Now our time is close, he is becoming unsettled and dangerous. He told me last night that he will not rest until he has eradicated every Norman from England.’

  Geoffrey watched Harold waddle away, thinking he had never encountered a less likely horde of rebels. He was jolted from his musings by a yell and watched Bale lumber after the dog, which was racing away with a piece of smoked pork. Not wanting to be blamed for the theft, he ate his breakfast alone outside the refectory, watching sparrows squabble for crumbs at his feet. Suddenly, droppings splattered on to the bread he was lifting towards his mouth.

  ‘That is a sign of good fortune,’ said Juhel, who happened to be passing. ‘But you are wise to be out here, because Magnus is holding forth again. Do you think his claims have any substance? There is certainly a lot of Saxon coming and going, and the fish ponds are thick with folk.’

  ‘That is because Galfridus told the layfolk to catch as many carp as possible, so there is a good supply for when the Duke arrives.’

  Juhel was unconvinced. ‘Delilah has the right idea about that Magnus, and so does your dog: they both took an instant dislike to him.’

  ‘What do you think they see in him that we do not?’

  ‘That he is more dangerous than he looks. I am a stranger here, and what is happening is really none of my business, but I do not like to see a country torn asunder with silly plots. Do you think there is anything we can do to stop this before it goes too far?’

  ‘I sent a message to the King,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘And de Laigle should have dispatched a warning, too. I imagine it will not be long before someone comes to investigate.’