Simon Beaufort - The Bloodstained Throne

‘They were the offspring of his union with Queen Ealdgyth,’ explained Magnus. ‘Twins, born after he died. But my mother was his handfast wife, Edith Swannehals.’

‘You are illegitimate?’ asked Geoffrey, realizing as he spoke that it was not a question to pose to such a proud man. He was right. Magnus stopped abruptly to glare at him.

‘You impertinent dog! Still, I expect no better from Norman scum. They are incapable of decency, and having been on the Crusade makes you even more of a villain.’

Geoffrey blinked, unused to men insulting him quite so brazenly. Most took one look at his surcoat and weapons and opted for politeness. He could only suppose that Magnus was more of a lunatic than he had imagined.

‘I met a man in Flanders who went on the Crusade,’ Magnus went on icily. ‘He was a brute before he went, but he returned a monster. He told me the venture took three years because the Normans fought among themselves, rather than uniting against the infidel.’

‘Different factions did bicker,’ acknowledged Geoffrey. ‘But it was not confined to Normans.’

‘But Normans were the worst — they always are. However, I was talking about my mother, Edith Swannehals — “Swan Neck” to you. She bore Harold five children, and I am the eldest surviving son.’

‘I see,’ said Geoffrey, even more convinced the man was insane. ‘But reclaiming your throne from Henry will not be easy. I can tell you from personal experience that he is very attached to it.’

‘You know him?’ asked Magnus in astonishment. He looked the knight up and down. ‘You do not seem the kind of man with whom a king would consort.’

‘I have met him several times,’ said Geoffrey, amazed by the steady flow of insults. He considered challenging him, but there would be small satisfaction in besting a scrawny wretch.

‘You have sworn loyalty to him?’ asked Magnus keenly.

‘I hold my manor at Goodrich from him,’ Geoffrey replied, wondering where the discussion was going. ‘So of course he has my loyalty.’

‘But you do not like him,’ stated Magnus. ‘He does not have your respect. You are unwilling to serve such a serpent, and that is why you were fleeing England in an unseaworthy vessel.’

‘My liege lord is Tancred, Prince of Galilee,’ said Geoffrey, seeing Magnus was more astute than he had appreciated. ‘He-’

‘He is not,’ interrupted Roger, overhearing. ‘Tancred dismissed him, because he spent too long here, helping King Henry. But Geoffrey wants to hear it from Tancred’s own lips. Of course, it is a journey God does not want him to make.’

‘I do not believe Tancred would release me without explanation,’ said Geoffrey doggedly.

‘He did explain,’ said Roger wearily. ‘He said you are insolent and disloyal, and that he will have you executed if he ever sees you again. Still, I do not blame you for hoping there was a mistake. Tancred is ten times finer than Henry.’

‘Amen to that,’ agreed Magnus as Geoffrey winced, still unable to accept that a man he had loved like a brother would have written such things. ‘There is only one man who should be sitting on that throne: me. I tried to overthrow the Bastard in the years following Hastinges — I invaded with my brothers, but something always went wrong. I even begged help from my Norwegian kin, but they declined, and time passed. Now I am ready to try again.’

‘So, you have invaded England alone?’ asked Geoffrey caustically. ‘That was brave.’

Magnus scowled. ‘I have a plan. It begins at the abbey, at the high altar. It stands on the spot where my father was foully slain, you see, so Henry will never touch me there.’

‘Right,’ said Geoffrey, wondering whether they had been wise to take a shortcut across treacherous bogs recommended by a man who was so patently out of his wits. ‘And how will you take Henry’s crown from there?’

‘It is not his ; it is mine,’ snapped Magnus. He glared at the knight. ‘You said earlier that you did not want to know my intentions, but now you are full of questions. Why?’

‘Curiosity, I suppose,’ said Geoffrey, wishing he had remained in blissful ignorance.

Magnus pulled himself up to his considerable full height. ‘All I will say is that La Batailge will go down in history as the place where Saxon honour was restored. And you are the lucky men who will be remembered for helping to bring it about.’

Geoffrey saw the fierce blue light of the fanatic burning in Magnus’s eyes and knew he believed he would succeed. That made him dangerous. Geoffrey stopped walking abruptly.

‘I want no part of this,’ he said. ‘I have seen how the King treats traitors, and I have a wife to consider. You can go to the abbey, but we are going the other direction.’

‘I would not do that, if I were you,’ said Magnus, a crafty look stealing across his thin face. ‘Those sailors are catching up fast and they do not look friendly. Even two Jerosolimitani cannot fight thirty seamen, so we shall have to run again — all of us.’

Geoffrey had not fled from many confrontations during his life as a soldier, and it went against the grain. Besides, he saw no reason why the sailors should mean them harm — if anyone should bear a grudge, it was the passengers against Fingar, for losing the ship — and he was keen to talk to them. Roger was unwilling to let him try.

‘You put too much faith in your negotiating skills,’ he said. ‘Pirates are not reasonable beings, anyway. I am not staying here to be cut down, and Magnus knows somewhere we can hide.’

Just then there was a furious yell from behind, and Geoffrey saw the mariners coming closer, rage etched into every movement. He stared in puzzlement. They had been on the beach together the previous day, and there had been no trouble then. So what had changed?

‘I do not like this,’ gasped Juhel, bending double to catch his breath. ‘They are so determined to get us that they have abandoned their salvage. Why do that, with those scavengers still at large?’

‘Where is this refuge?’ Roger demanded of Magnus, his face red from exertion. ‘If we do not reach it soon, it will be too late.’

Magnus began flailing furiously with a stick at the side of the causeway. He stopped for a moment, closed his eyes in intense concentration, then began prodding a little farther on. He gave a triumphant yell. ‘Here!’

Geoffrey regarded the narrow track he had exposed. It looked like something made by birds, cutting raggedly between two treacherous-looking bogs. ‘I still do not understand why-’

‘Come,’ ordered Magnus urgently. ‘They will never follow us down there. Hurry!’

Geoffrey glanced behind and saw the seamen drawing steadily closer. He frowned. There was definitely something odd about their determination to catch their former passengers. Magnus seemed keen to evade them, and so did Roger. Had one of them done something to antagonize them?

‘Run!’ urged Magnus, plucking at his sleeve. ‘Stealing is a hanging crime among pirates.’

Geoffrey was puzzled. ‘We have not stolen anything.’

Roger looked defiant. ‘No, we have not. We took only what is rightfully ours.’

Geoffrey regarded him in horror. ‘What have you done?’

Roger scowled, then unclenched one of his big fists to reveal three gold coins. ‘They paid for the loss of our horses.’

‘That does not explain why they are chasing us,’ said Geoffrey. He narrowed his eyes. ‘Or did you take it without their permission?’

‘These were lying on the beach,’ said Roger defiantly. He sighed when Geoffrey looked sceptical. ‘All right — they were in that chest. But when they left it unattended, it seemed a good opportunity to claim what was our due.’