The Bloodstained Throne sgm-7

by Simon Beaufort

  ‘Lord!’ muttered Geoffrey. ‘I accused Juhel of doing it. I shall have to apologize.’

  ‘I did not hurt you deliberately,’ mumbled Ulfrith. ‘I was confused. Philippa was so cold-’

  At the name of the woman, Roger’s temper snapped. He advanced on his squire with a murderous expression in his eyes. Terrified, Ulfrith darted behind a table, but Roger flung it away as though it were made of feathers.

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey, moving to stop the dreadful advance. He had seen that expression before and knew Roger would be sorry once his squire lay dead. ‘That is enough.’

  ‘It is enough when I say so,’ snarled Roger. ‘He almost killed you.’

  ‘I promise I will never do it again!’ squealed Ulfrith.

  ‘Damn right, lad,’ growled Roger, moving forward, dagger in his hand. ‘You will not.’

  Geoffrey dived at the big knight’s knees, bringing him crashing to the floor just as the knife flashed towards Ulfrith’s throat. For a moment, he thought Roger meant to continue the fight and braced himself, but the fall had brought Roger to his senses. He shoved Geoffrey away.

  ‘Damn you, Geoff,’ he growled. ‘You have just ripped my best shirt.’

  Because he did not feel like being in the same room as Ulfrith, Geoffrey wandered across the battlefield, wishing he did not have to wait until the following day to leave La Batailge. He walked to the tree trunk on the ridge, thinking about his father and the warriors of Hastinges. Pondering the scene of such slaughter made him maudlin, so he went to the church, where he spent a long time staring at the high altar. Several monks knelt around it, their whispered prayers hissing softly.

  ‘Roger told me your father died by his own hand,’ came a voice. Geoffrey turned to see Wardard. ‘You must have been distressed that he should meet such an ignoble end.’

  ‘Goodrich is a happier place without him,’ said Geoffrey shortly, thinking of the misery Godric had inflicted on family and tenants during his violent life.

  ‘So I heard from Bale.’ Wardard was rueful. ‘It seems I was over-hasty when I declined to tell you of Godric’s role in the battle. Most men whose fathers fought here revere them as heroes — and some were abject cowards. But Roger tells me you are well aware of Godric’s faults.’

  ‘He was flawed. Like all of us.’

  ‘Your mother deserved better,’ said Wardard, almost to himself. ‘She was a fine woman.’

  ‘So I am told,’ remarked Geoffrey dryly.

  Wardard grinned suddenly. ‘Perhaps I would be wise not to reminisce too freely about her. Well, we shall discuss Godric instead, then. Men fight better when they have friends around them, but Godric was not a man for friends. He was too brutal, too outspoken and too arrogant.’

  ‘Did he run away that day?’

  Wardard nodded. ‘But he was not the first, nor even the second. And he rallied with the rest when they were given orders to attack again. He was braver than some, less than others.’

  ‘Truly? He did not balk at the first hurdle and call for others to flee?’

  Wardard rested his hand over his heart. ‘As God is my witness. Godric fell back early, but I did not hear him calling for anyone to go with him. He was not a hero, just a man.’

  ‘Then why did Vitalis tell me such a tale?’

  ‘I told you: his illness confused his memories. There was a knight who screamed his terror at the first charge and unnerved others. But it was not Godric. You will find your recollections become hazy with age, too. It happens to us all.’

  ‘So why did the Conqueror give him his estates?’

  ‘That was in recognition of your mother’s contribution,’ replied Wardard. ‘Herleve really did fight valiantly. She was an inspiration to all who saw her. Godric never knew the truth — and would not have acknowledged it if he had.’

  Geoffrey was silent for a while, wondering how his mother could have borne listening to Godric’s self-aggrandizing lies all those years. He was not generally proud of his family. With the exception of Joan, they had been acquisitive, dishonest, violent and selfish. But, for the first time, he saw his mother might have possessed qualities he could admire.

  ‘Fear not,’ said Wardard, seeming to read his thoughts. ‘You are more like her than him.’

  Geoffrey was relieved and grateful to know Vitalis had been mistaken. He tried to imagine the formidable Herleve at Hastinges with her axe, but he could not recall her face, and the features that came to mind were those of his wife. It was dusk as he stepped outside the church, and, full of thoughts and memories, barely heard Harold, who waylaid him to say again that he would protect him from Magnus once the Saxons had triumphed. Seeing himself ignored, Harold went to talk to some of the lay-brothers instead, all of whom were delighted to see him.

  Geoffrey had not gone much farther when he saw Magnus slinking away from the abbey and towards the fishponds. Intrigued by the Saxon’s almost comic furtiveness, Geoffrey followed. Magnus glanced behind frequently and stopped to listen on several occasions, but Geoffrey had no trouble staying out of sight, even on the open battle land.

  Eventually, Magnus reached the trees that shielded the ponds, and Geoffrey heard him speak, his tone urgent and confidential. Cautiously, Geoffrey eased through the vegetation to see that a number of men — many of them lay-brothers — had gathered around the largest pond. There was a good deal of splashing, some grunts of exertion, the sound of metal against metal, and then a deep plop. Magnus hissed some additional instructions, and the cohort trailed back towards the abbey, chatting happily and making no attempt to disguise where they had been.

  When he was sure they had gone, Geoffrey eased forward and knelt where Magnus had crouched. The edge of the pond was thick with churned mud, amid which lay a flat stone. He lifted it and saw a rope underneath. One end disappeared into the water, and he traced the other to where it was securely fastened to a tree. He noted it was carefully concealed under grass the entire distance. Back at the pond, he discovered another two rocks, a rope leading from each.

  He sat for a while, thinking, then walked to the hospital to fetch what he needed. Roger was already asleep — his vigil evidently forgotten — and although he stirred when Geoffrey moved about the room, he did not wake. Geoffrey returned to the fishponds and took up station in the undergrowth again. Gradually, daylight faded to dusk and then to night.

  He was perfectly relaxed, and for the first time in days his thoughts were clear. He had answers to nearly all his questions — and he understood why he had made mistakes and drawn erroneous conclusions. Perhaps more importantly, he knew how to make amends. But first he had to wait until he heard the telltale scrape of a leather boot on the wall. When the sound came, he eased forward, so that as the dark figure dropped he was ready to meet him.

  ‘Fingar!’ he called softly. ‘It is Geoffrey.’

  The pirate captain looked around wildly, sword in his hand. ‘Come out, where we can see you,’ he snarled.

  More sailors swarmed over the wall, several holding crossbows and all carrying daggers. Geoffrey sincerely hoped his assumptions were right and that he was not about to make a fatal mistake. He stepped into the open. A crescent moon dodged in and out of flimsy clouds, just bright enough to let them see him. An owl hooted nearby, low and eerie, followed by the answering call from a marsh bird that had the pirates glancing around in alarm.

  ‘Fays,’ muttered Donan. ‘They have not gone far since Patrick went down.’

  ‘I have come to offer you some gold,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I do not know how much. It may be more than you lost to Roger, it may be less. If I tell you where it is, are you prepared to forget what he took and leave us alone?’

  ‘That depends,’ said Fingar. ‘I do not want to leave with next to nothing, because I make some Devil’s pact with you.’

  ‘The Saxons are mustering a rebellion and have been raising money to fund it. I know where they have hidden it. You can have it all. But you must give me your word that you will leave Roger alo
ne.’

  ‘How much gold have they gathered?’ asked Fingar.

  ‘I told you: I do not know.’

  ‘Where is it?’ demanded Donan. ‘Tell us, and we will let you live.’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘That is not the bargain. I want you to swear — on your lives — that you will never trouble Roger or my squires again. You will forget about your own gold.’

  ‘No,’ said Donan suspiciously. ‘It sounds like a trick.’

  Fingar agreed. ‘And how do you know you can trust us — that we will not take this Saxon gold and hunt Roger anyway?’

  ‘Because I have invoked a curse,’ replied Geoffrey calmly. ‘With those marsh fays you heard. If you break your word, the curse will follow you until they snatch away your souls.’

  At that moment, the bird cried again, piercingly, so that some of the sailors crossed themselves. The moon ducked behind a thicker cloud, and the night was suddenly very dark.

  ‘All right,’ said Fingar, unsettled. ‘I am of a mind to be generous. Show us.’

  ‘Swear first,’ said Geoffrey.

  ‘You will tell us, and then I will thrust my sword into your gizzard, so you can thank God for a quick death!’ cried Donan, darting forward with his weapon raised. This time the bird’s cry was high and wavering. Fingar jumped forward and grabbed him.

  ‘Fool!’ he hissed. ‘Can you not see he can summon these creatures? Why do you think I did not kill him in the hospital?’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Donan, although the unsteadiness in his voice said he was growing frightened. He was not the only one: the sailors had gathered in a tight knot, finding reassurance in each other’s close proximity. ‘I did not understand it then, and I do not see why we cannot kill him now.’

  ‘Because the fays protected him when he was poisoned,’ snapped Fingar. ‘I heard what the herbalist said — that Geoffrey should have died. But he recovered. We cannot kill a man who has the love of fays. Now sheath your sword before you see us cursed.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Donan. He tried to sound reluctant, but it was obvious he was relieved to have an excuse to back down.

  Fingar turned to Geoffrey. ‘We accept your offer, and I swear, by all I hold holy, that I will take this Saxon gold and not trouble you or your friends again.’

  His crew muttered similar oaths. Donan was made to repeat his, to ensure it was done properly. When they had finished, Geoffrey showed them the ropes running into the water, then stood aside as they drew them up. The first bundle appeared, and its coverings were eagerly pulled away. Geoffrey held his breath, aware that if he had guessed wrongly, the sailors would certainly turn on him, vows or no vows. But he need not have worried. Inside was an odd but substantial collection of cups, coins and jewellery. The pirates whooped and gasped, and Fingar was obliged to order them to silence.

  ‘I do not understand you,’ the captain said, watching Donan retrieve the second haul. ‘You could have had this for yourself.’

  ‘Roger will never part with what he took from you, and I do not want him killed.’

  ‘He is lucky to have a friend like you.’ Fingar sounded as though he would never have contemplated such an exchange.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Geoffrey, changing the subject, ‘did you and Donan come to the hospital when I was ill? I believe you did, but I would like to hear if from you.’

  ‘Yes — the moment Ulfrith left you unattended. But Donan did not. He was elsewhere.’

  ‘I imagined Donan?’ Geoffrey thought about the man’s thin face and how it had assumed the appearance of a rat and then a weasel.

  Fingar shrugged. ‘You must have done. He was not there.’

  ‘Did any of your men find a heavy gold medallion?’ asked Geoffrey.

  ‘Kell did, in one of the chests, along with documents I recognized as Juhel’s. Apparently, Roger accused Juhel of poisoning you, and he left in a huff. One of your squires hid his belongings for spite — to annoy him.’

  Geoffrey was confused. ‘Does Kell have this medallion?’

  Fingar regarded him in wonder. ‘I am truly amazed you do not recall that part! Juhel came in and caught us. We outnumbered him, but he fought noisily and threatened to raise the alarm. We did not want that, and the medallion was left behind in the confusion of our escape. We had intended to ambush Roger, but Juhel made that impossible.’

  ‘Did you tell me you had eaten my dog?’

  Fingar looked shocked. ‘Of course not! What sort of man do you think I am? I do not eat dog!’

  Geoffrey saw Kell look decidedly furtive, and supposed that although Fingar had not taunted him, one of his men certainly had.

  ‘Juhel accused us of torturing you,’ Fingar went on. ‘But we did nothing of the kind. I am not so reckless as to harm a sick man in an abbey — especially one who has fays watching out for him.’

  The bird whistled softly, and Geoffrey frowned, wishing it would go away. It unsettled the sailors, too, and they began to hurry. Soon, two more bundles had joined the first, both equally stuffed with treasure.

  ‘This is far more than Roger stole,’ said Fingar, regarding it professionally. ‘And he did take our whole box — do not believe him when he says otherwise. But this is a handsome night’s work. Would you like a share?’

  Geoffrey shook his head. ‘Just take it as far away from here as you can.’

  ‘No problem there,’ said Fingar, indicating his men should gather their booty and leave. They hastened to obey. ‘Goodbye, Sir Geoffrey. We shall not meet again.’

  He vaulted to the top of the wall like a monkey and raised his hand in salute. The marsh bird sang piercingly, making him jump in alarm, and then he was gone.

  ‘Thank you, Ulfrith,’ said Geoffrey, as the squire emerged from the shadows. ‘But you did not have to overdo it. Your eager bird almost gave us away.’

  ‘I was only trying to help,’ said Ulfrith. ‘So, what do we do now? Wait to see which of the lay-brothers comes to check this sunken treasure?’

  ‘We go to bed,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘And, at first light, we shall visit the King’s agent — who has been monitoring this business from the start.’

  Ulfrith gaped at him. ‘The King has an agent watching? Who is it?’

  ‘Come with me tomorrow and you will find out.’

  The hours of darkness passed slowly as Geoffrey considered the solutions he had uncovered. Some were so obvious he wondered he had not seen them before, whereas others were more complex and he was not surprised it had taken him so long to find answers. His thoughts were full of Godric, too, and his vainglorious lies. Eventually, the grey light of dawn began to fill the sky, and he slipped out of the hospital, Ulfrith at his side and his dog at his heels, both panting from the brisk pace he set.

  ‘Philippa really did murder Edith,’ he said, bracing himself for trouble. ‘There is no question.’

  ‘I know,’ said Ulfrith softly. ‘I followed her after you tackled her yesterday, and eavesdropped on her confession to Brother Wardard. He urged her to give herself up, but she told him she was free of sin now she had made her act of contrition. She is evil, Sir Geoffrey.’

  ‘No, just misguided,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But I am sorry you had to learn-’

  ‘I almost killed you in order to get her,’ interrupted the squire. ‘I did not mean to, but that does not make it right. I should have thrown my potion away when I saw what was happening, and I am sorry. . To make amends, I vow never to fall in love again. It is too dangerous and painful.’

  ‘Do not make promises you will not keep. There will be other women — better than Philippa.’

  ‘But love hurts,’ moaned Ulfrith.

  ‘I know,’ said Geoffrey softly. ‘Believe me.’

  ‘I suppose you are in love with Lady Hilde.’ Ulfrith shot Geoffrey a puzzled glance, as if he could not imagine why, but wisely changed the subject. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I owe Juhel an apology.’

  As they approached the hut, Juhel was sitting outside in the
semi-darkness, watching his chicken scratch in the grass. Geoffrey’s dog promptly slunk away. Juhel stood as they approached, and Geoffrey noticed he held a long hunting knife.

  ‘Delilah likes to be up early,’ Juhel said, smiling a cautious welcome.

  ‘Have you been here all night?’ asked Geoffrey.

  Juhel laughed. ‘What a curious question! Of course. I woke a few moments ago, when Delilah clucked to say she wanted to be let out.’

  ‘Your boots say otherwise. They are covered in wet mud. Have you been watching Magnus?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ Juhel’s expression became far less friendly.

  ‘Because those are your orders. King Henry is too cautious to allow pretenders to his throne to wander freely around his domain. He would set intelligencers to watch them — to follow them from Ireland and to report on them here.’

  ‘And you think I am one of these agents? I am flattered!’

  ‘The story about Paisnel being a spy for Belleme was a lie, designed to lead me astray — which it did, of course. However, it does not make sense. Why would Paisnel travel from Dublin to Ribe, if he was to carry information about England’s defences to Belleme?’

  ‘Poor Sir Geoffrey,’ said Juhel, gentle and solicitous. ‘Your wits are still awry from-’

  ‘You are an excellent agent — as shown by the fact that no one has guessed who you are — but Paisnel was not. He gave himself away almost immediately, and you argued about it on the ship — you were seen quarrelling by most of the passengers and some of the crew. You were friends, but his amateur carelessness was endangering your mission.’

  ‘You give me too much credit,’ said Juhel, shaking his head. ‘I am just a simple parchmenter.’

  ‘You even declined to leave the sinking ship before Magnus. You watched him go overboard and only then jumped yourself. But a current dragged you away and it was some time before you found him again. And you have been monitoring him ever since, including at Werlinges, when Roger and I could have done with your help.’