Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

Pepin sketched a blessing at him. ‘Very well, you are absolved, although you should bear in mind that God only forgives those whose penitence is genuine.’

‘Where is the letter to Abbot Mabon?’ asked Geoffrey.

Pepin held out a folded piece of parchment. ‘I have drawn a small green circle on the bottom, so you can tell it apart from the others, because it would not do to confuse them. You will not mistake Wilfred’s, because it is the thickest.’

‘I can read,’ said Geoffrey coolly. ‘Your coloured circles are quite unnecessary.’

‘Really?’ asked Pepin in surprise. ‘How curious! However, I would not attempt to digest these missives, if I were you. Even I do not know what is in some of them, because Eudo wrote them himself. The seals are special, too – tamper-proof. If you try to open them, they crack, and the recipient will know. Even I cannot bypass them, and God knows I have tried.’

‘I see,’ said Geoffrey. It had not occurred to him to interfere with the King’s messages, and he was astonished that the scribe should have done so.

‘So I am afraid you will have to carry them without knowing exactly what they say,’ Pepin went on. ‘But most messengers are in that position.’

‘I suppose they are,’ acknowledged Geoffrey.

‘I know what is in Abbot Mabon’s, though. It is not from the King, but from the Archbishop of Canterbury, and tells Mabon he must subjugate himself to Bishop Wilfred’s rule and defer to him in all things.’

Geoffrey groaned. It would not be easy gaining the measure of the two churchmen when he was the bringer of such unwelcome news. Had Henry done it deliberately, to make the commission more difficult? Or was it to annoy them both to indiscretion, to make Geoffrey’s task easier? Somehow, he suspected an agent’s ease would not be uppermost in Henry’s mind.

‘One of Mabon’s monks is here in La Batailge,’ said Pepin. ‘I imagine Brother Delwyn will ask to travel with you to Kermerdyn. The highways are not as dangerous as they were under King William Rufus, but it is a rash man who risks them alone.’

‘Then why does he not deliver the letter to Mabon?’ asked Geoffrey irritably.

‘He is keen to do just that, but the King gave specific orders that you were to do it.’ Pepin shrugged. ‘I have no idea why, and neither does Eudo.’

Geoffrey rubbed his head. The quest was becoming less appealing by the moment. ‘The next letter is to Gwgan,’ he said, reading the name.

Pepin nodded. ‘I understand he is the husband of your wife’s sister.’

‘News travels fast,’ remarked Geoffrey.

‘The King told me,’ said Pepin. ‘He also said that you can be trusted absolutely.’

‘Good,’ muttered Geoffrey, wondering whether he should bungle the mission, so Henry would be less inclined to ask for his help in future.

‘Its contents are secret, so I cannot divulge what is in it,’ said Pepin. Then he grimaced. ‘Well, I could not even if I wanted to, because Eudo would not let me see it. The fourth letter is for Richard fitz Baldwin. Its contents are highly sensitive, too.’

‘Richard fitz Baldwin,’ said Geoffrey, frowning. ‘He is the brother of the man who built Kermerdyn’s castle – and then died of an inexplicable fever.’

Pepin nodded appreciatively. ‘Taking the trouble to learn about the people there shows initiative. There were rumours that William fitz Baldwin was poisoned because he was believed to have acquired some kind of secret.’

‘A secret that made him happy and successful.’ Geoffrey was thoughtful. ‘Perhaps he learned something that allowed him to blackmail someone in authority. That would bring him riches and promotion – and happiness would follow.’

Pepin was shocked. ‘That is a terrible thing to say! There was not a malicious or greedy bone in his body. As I understand it, his secret had to do with something more… ethereal. He found a way to cover himself with holy blessings.’

‘Right,’ said Geoffrey, feeling he was wasting his time. He brought the discussion back on track. ‘So I am to deliver a message to this man’s brother. I do not suppose its sensitive contents pertain to what happened to William, do they?’

‘I sincerely doubt it,’ said Pepin scornfully. ‘He died seven years ago, and I cannot imagine anyone still being interested. Richard runs the Kermerdyn garrison, so I imagine the message will be about troops or supplies.’

‘And the last letter?’

Pepin pursed his lips. ‘That is to be delivered to Sear.’

‘Sear? Of Pembroc?’

Pepin nodded with a disagreeable face. ‘I cannot abide the man. He is arrogant, condescending and ignorant. Moreover, he is in La Batailge, so I do not know why the missive cannot be passed to him here. The King’s orders are explicit, however – you can read them for yourself.’

Geoffrey was startled to recognize the King’s own handwriting. ‘It says that Sear’s letter is not to be delivered to him until we reach Kermerdyn. Why?’

Pepin scowled. ‘As I said, I have no idea. But it must be important, or Henry would not have gone to such trouble.’

It smacked of politics to Geoffrey, and he hated being part of it. ‘Why does Sear not carry these messages? He is here and is due to travel to Wales anyway. Or Edward, for that matter? Or Brother Delwyn. Why does Henry need me?’

‘He can hardly ask Sear to deliver a letter to himself, can he?’ said Pepin with a shrug. ‘However, it might be a good idea not to let anyone know what you are charged to do. Tell anyone who asks that you are delivering messages from Bishop Maurice instead. He will not mind.’

Geoffrey had grown increasingly appalled as Pepin described what Henry expected him to do, and he was annoyed that two more letters had been added. Moreover, if Henry trusted Sear enough to award him Pembroc Castle, then what was wrong with him carrying the messages? He did not understand at all, but thought the entire affair reeked of dark politics – the kind he tried to steer well away from. He was racking his brains for an excuse that would allow him to dodge the mission when the door opened and Sear himself strode in.

‘Sir Sear!’ exclaimed Pepin, shoving the letters out of sight in a way that was distinctly furtive. The auburn-headed knight’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I was not expecting you today.’

‘Well, you should have been,’ growled Sear. ‘I cannot leave for Kermerdyn until Eudo has checked my tax-collector’s arithmetic, and I am tired of kicking my heels here. Where is he?’

‘Out,’ gulped Pepin, looking frightened.

‘Out where?’ demanded Sear, shoving past Geoffrey to grab Pepin by the front of his habit.

‘Easy,’ said Geoffrey, stepping forward to push him away. ‘He does not know where Eudo is.’

Sear’s expression was murderous, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. Then he let it drop, although his posture said he had not relaxed his guard completely.

‘I saw you three days ago,’ he said. ‘You are Sir Edward’s friend.’

‘Hardly!’ exclaimed Geoffrey. ‘I have only met him twice.’

‘He is Sir Geoffrey Mappestone,’ gabbled Pepin. ‘Who will travel to Kermerdyn at first light tomorrow – or sooner, if Eudo signs the release for the messages he is to deliver.’

‘Messages for Kermerdyn?’ asked Sear incredulously. ‘Then why not ask me to take them?’

‘And there is Edward,’ added Geoffrey. ‘I imagine he would make a good courier, too.’

‘Bishop Maurice is a law unto himself,’ blustered Pepin. ‘And if he says he wants Sir Geoffrey to take these messages, then it is not for me to question him. Is that not right, Sir Geoffrey?’

Geoffrey nodded reluctantly, loath to be drawn into lies. He hoped Sear would not storm up to Maurice and demand an explanation, because Maurice was certain to look confused, and Sear did not look like the kind of man Geoffrey wanted as an enemy.