Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

‘The King has intimated that he would like you all to travel together,’ blurted Pepin. ‘Brother Delwyn, Sir Edward, Sir Alberic and you two. He is fond of you all, and you will be safer in one big group.’

‘I am quite capable of looking after myself,’ said Geoffrey, becoming even less enamoured of the mission. Sear did not look pleased, either. ‘And large parties travel more slowly than smaller ones. I will make better time alone.’

‘You must do what the King suggests,’ said Pepin unhappily. ‘He does not like it when people ignore his requests.’

Geoffrey was ready to argue, but Sear spoke first. ‘Well, I am not a man to question His Majesty. I shall be honoured to travel with a fellow knight, especially one who, like me, has the King’s favour. I understand you fought on the borders last summer and helped to defeat Robert de Belleme.’

‘I played a small part,’ acknowledged Geoffrey cautiously.

Sear smirked. ‘I heard you fought him in single combat – and would have won, but the King stopped you from killing him. It is a pity. The world will never be safe as long as he is in it.’

Once away from the Chapter House, Geoffrey set out to hunt down Eudo, so that the releases for the letters could be signed. He did not understand why Henry should insist he travel with others, and intended to dissuade him of the notion. Surely, he would want his messages delivered as quickly as possible and would see there was no sense in wasting time while others dallied? Unfortunately, Eudo was nowhere to be found, and his scribes were concerned, because they had important documents that needed his attention.

‘I saw him with Brother Delwyn earlier,’ said Maurice helpfully, after ushering two scullery maids from his quarters.

‘I cannot see Delwyn being conducive company,’ Geoffrey said, watching the women scurry away, all giggles and shining eyes. ‘Especially for a man with elevated opinions of himself, like Eudo.’

‘Eudo is a nasty fellow,’ agreed Maurice. ‘Still, he is better than Delwyn. The man brought complaints from his abbot about Bishop Wilfred, and I doubt Henry enjoyed hearing them – he is not interested in the Church’s squabbles, or in emissaries who smell.’

‘In Welsh, del means pretty and w yn means lamb. His parents were deluded!’

Laughing, Maurice indicated that Geoffrey was to step into his rooms and partake of a glass of wine. ‘What is Welsh for “sly”? That is the word that suits him best. Far be it from me to malign a man I barely know, but he seems devious.’

‘The King wants me to travel west with him,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But I will make better time alone.’

‘You will go with Delwyn, if that is what Henry desires,’ said Maurice severely. Then his expression softened. ‘Please do not defy him, Geoffrey. I do not want to see you in trouble – I count you among my friends. And I do not have many.’

‘But it is-’

‘And think about it logically,’ interrupted Maurice. ‘These letters cannot be urgent, or you would have been on your way days ago. Ergo, it cannot matter whether you take two weeks or two months to travel to Kermerdyn. Do as Henry asks – there is nothing to be gained by flouting his wishes.’

Geoffrey knew he was right. He took the cup Maurice proffered and took a gulp.

‘I am to travel with Sear, too,’ he said gloomily.

‘I have yet to gain his measure, although my instincts are to distrust him,’ said Maurice. He frowned. ‘However, Sear and Delwyn are paragons of virtue compared to Eudo. It is a pity he invented those tamper-proof seals, because I would like to open the letters you are to deliver.’

‘You would read Henry’s private correspondence?’ Geoffrey was shocked.

The prelate winced. ‘It is not something I indulge in regularly, but I distrust Eudo. It would not be the first time he has meddled in matters without the King’s consent, and he has accrued altogether too much power. I am afraid of what he might have included in these messages.’

‘Pepin said he was not permitted to see them, and that only Eudo knows their full contents.’

Maurice sighed. ‘Well, there is nothing we can do about it, I suppose. I dare not meddle with the seals, because I do not want to be exiled like Giffard – or to see you hanged. You will have to deliver them as they are, but I advise caution.’

‘I am always careful.’

‘It might be wise not to mention them to anyone else. Delwyn will know about the one to his abbot, but that is from the Archbishop, not Henry.’

‘Pepin told Sear I was delivering letters from you.’

Maurice beamed suddenly. ‘What a splendid idea! I shall write some immediately. I promised Giffard I would look after you, and this will go some way to salving my conscience.’

Geoffrey regarded him doubtfully. ‘Do you know anyone in Kermerdyn? If not, the lie may be unconvincing.’

‘I know lots of people there,’ declared Maurice, sitting at a table and reaching for pen and ink. ‘First, there is Robert, the steward of Rhydygors. He is distant kin, so I can regale him with details about my cathedral in London. You will like him. He is very odd.’

Geoffrey regarded him askance. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He has a gift for seeing into the future. I have it, too, although to a lesser extent. It must run in the family.’

‘And what do you see in mine?’ asked Geoffrey gloomily. ‘Death and danger?’

‘Of course, but you are a warrior, so that is hardly surprising.’

‘I will be a farmer when I have finished this errand. At Goodrich.’

Maurice reached up to pat his shoulder. ‘Good. I shall visit you there, and you can arrange for me to spend another enchanted evening with Angel Locks. But back to the business in hand. I shall write to Bishop Wilfred, too – I will send him a copy of a rather beautiful prayer that Giffard wrote.’

It sounded contrived to Geoffrey. ‘Can you not think of something else?’

‘Nothing comes to mind,’ said Maurice after a few moments of serious thought. ‘I do not like Wilfred very much. But I met a Kermerdyn butter-maker called Cornald in Westminster last year; he seemed a nice fellow. I shall write to him, too, and send him a recipe for a lovely cheese I sampled in Winchester.’

Geoffrey groaned. No one was going to believe such matters required the services of a knight. It would be worse than folk thinking he carried missives from the King.

‘These will be sealed, Geoffrey,’ said Maurice, seeing what he was thinking. ‘No one will know their contents are trivial until they are opened. And by that time, you will be in Kermerdyn. This ruse will serve to keep you safe.’

‘Very well,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Although it still does not explain why the King ordered me to join Sear, Edward and Delwyn. If I am your messenger, my plans are none of his concern.’

Maurice chewed the end of his pen. ‘Then we shall turn it about and say His Majesty is eager to ensure his constables arrive in one piece – that you are elected to protect Edward and Sear.’

Geoffrey regarded him in horror. ‘I doubt Sear will appreciate that!’

Maurice waved a dismissive hand. ‘Leave him to me. I think I shall pen a line to Isabella, your sister-in-law, too.’

Geoffrey’s jaw dropped. ‘You have not seduced…’

‘No!’ said Maurice hastily. Then he looked wistful. ‘Although I would not have minded her help with my health. However, I tend to stay away from ladies with jealous husbands, and my message will give her the name of a London merchant who sells excellent raisins. I may even include a sample. You will not eat them, will you?’

‘I will not,’ said Geoffrey firmly.

Maurice set the pen on the table and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘There is something else I should probably tell you, although I am not sure what it means. Before I do, will you promise not to leap to unfounded conclusions?’