Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

Geoffrey and Roger also had to put up with Delwyn and Edward, who were poor travellers. Edward was an abysmal rider, incapable of making even half the distance the knights had expected. They might have abandoned him – and Delwyn, too – had Pepin not appeared as they were leaving and read a declaration from the King that commanded them to remain together until Kermerdyn. The order was unequivocal and made Sear responsible for ensuring it was so. Sear took his duties seriously, and although Geoffrey could have given him the slip, it did not seem a prudent move. The rest of the company left a lot to be desired, as well. It had not taken long for Geoffrey to come to dislike the arrogant, smug and condescending Sear, and Alberic was almost as bad.

Geoffrey also missed his dog. There had never been much true affection on either side, but he found himself constantly aware that it was not there. For the first few days, he thought it would reappear, as it had done in the past, but as days passed into weeks, he knew it was gone for good. Roger and Bale assured him that he was well rid of it, but he was astonished to learn he missed it as much as his previous horse.

Despite his lack of equestrian ability, Edward proved to be intelligent and amiable, and won almost everyone around with his unfailing cheerfulness. He encouraged Geoffrey to debate the philosophical texts they both had read in the past, although Sear and Alberic scoffed their disdain at such unmanly activities. However, they were all mystified by Edward’s penchant for womanly gowns of an evening, and Geoffrey steadfastly refused to borrow one, preferring his own sodden clothes to Edward’s flowing kirtles.

‘They are warm, dry and comfortable,’ Edward declared one evening, pulling a pair of pale purple gloves over his hands before stretching them towards the fire. ‘I shall wake tomorrow refreshed and happy. You, on the other hand, will wake shivering and stiff – if you sleep at all.’

‘It is not a good idea to remove your armour in a strange place,’ Geoffrey cautioned.

‘It is not a good idea to be uncomfortable all the time,’ Edward shot back. ‘Thank God I was not rash enough to have rallied to the Pope’s call for a Crusade. I would have been miserable the entire time if it involved sitting around in damp clothes for weeks on end!’

‘It involved a lot more than that,’ Bale murmured, eyes gleaming. ‘It involved killing, too.’

‘Lord!’ Edward shuddered. ‘Worse and worse!’

Meanwhile, Delwyn endeared himself to no one with his constant litany of complaints. Geoffrey was not the only one who itched to knock him off his horse. And there were Geoffrey’s saddlebags: someone rifled through them regularly. Geoffrey did not think the culprit was a fellow knight – although Roger did so on occasion – and Delwyn was the only likely culprit. The monk denied it vigorously, but Geoffrey suspected that Delwyn was looking for the letter intended for Abbot Mabon, which Pepin had inadvertently mentioned.

‘I am Mabon’s envoy!’ Delwyn whined on a daily basis. ‘What will he think when I return empty-handed, but you carry a missive from the Archbishop?’

‘I am sorry,’ said Geoffrey shortly. ‘But I am under orders to deliver it myself.’

‘Then show me the letters you carry from Bishop Maurice instead,’ wheedled Delwyn. ‘I will study his handwriting and pen one from him to Mabon. Mabon will never know it is a forgery and will reward me for securing him such a powerful friend.’

‘And what happens when Mabon replies?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘When Maurice receives the letter, he will write back in such a way that Mabon will know exactly what has happened.’

‘He will not,’ declared Delwyn, ‘because I shall deliver it myself, amended accordingly. Do not look shocked. It is a clerk’s prerogative to tamper with other men’s correspondence.’

‘Yes,’ said Geoffrey, bitterly thinking of Tancred, ‘so I have learned.’

Even Roger proved to be a mixed blessing. Geoffrey was glad of his companionship, but Roger needled Sear constantly. Geoffrey was obliged to prevent several fights with his sword, and Edward averted even more with his capacity for gentle diplomacy.

It felt like an age before the first familiar landmarks of home appeared on the horizon, and when they did, Geoffrey was so relieved that he no longer cared what Hilde and Joan would say when he rode into Goodrich’s bailey with a party of men who were unlikely to be gracious guests.

Geoffrey itched to give his horse free rein as they rode along the wooded path on the final few miles. It was raining again, his armour chafed, and he longed to don dry clothes and sit by a fire. But the track was potholed and rutted, and some of the puddles were knee-deep. It would be a pity to ruin his horse, just because he was eager to be home. He pulled the destrier to a halt at the crest of a hill and waited for the others.

‘What place is this?’ asked Sear, looking disparagingly at the village on the slope below them.

‘Rwirdin,’ replied Geoffrey, supposing it did look dismal in the drizzle. Rain had turned its thatches brown, and the road was awash with mud. Moreover, there was not an open door or window in the entire settlement, although smoke said people were home. ‘It belongs to Goodrich.’

‘Then why have you not trained them to greet you with a welcoming cup?’ demanded Sear. ‘I would not tolerate such a display of insolence in Pembroc.’

‘Because I have encouraged them to be wary of unidentified horsemen,’ said Geoffrey tartly. ‘Peace is fragile in this region, and incursions can be bloody.’

‘Then crush such insurrection,’ suggested Sear. ‘Or step aside, so a stronger man can do it for you.’

‘William fitz Baldwin would have stamped out rebellion,’ added Alberic. ‘He may have been a saint, but he was no weakling. I still miss him, even though he has been dead for seven years.’

‘His spirit is still strong,’ agreed Sear. ‘And his secret lives on.’

‘What secret?’ asked Geoffrey innocently.

‘The one that made him a great man and a powerful leader,’ replied Sear. ‘I am inclined to think it was a magical sword, like the one King Arthur owned. I think William found one just like it.’

‘Do you have any idea where it might be?’ asked Geoffrey with a sinking heart, thinking the King would certainly want to get his hands on such an object. Geoffrey would be expected to steal it, and he had never been comfortable with theft, not even on the Crusade, when looting was a way of life.

‘He never told us,’ replied Sear shortly, and Geoffrey saw that William’s failure to confide had hurt his feelings. ‘After he died, I looked in all the obvious places, but with no success. Perhaps it disappeared when William died, as these mystical objects are apt to do.’

Geoffrey wondered what Henry would say to that explanation. Feeling gloomy, he led the way through Rwirdin, towards where the River Wye was barely visible through the rain.

It was not long before Edward caught him up, flopping about in his saddle like a sack of grain, his friendly round face red from exertion.

‘How much farther?’ he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. ‘We have spent the last three nights in the open, and I hope there will not be a fourth.’

‘So do I,’ said Geoffrey fervently.

‘Well,’ said Edward with a sigh, ‘at least our journey has been blessed with a lack of trouble from outlaws. It is Henry’s doing, you know. The highways are much safer now. He is not called the Lion of Justice for nothing.’

‘Is he called the Lion of Justice?’ Geoffrey had never heard the title before, and it was certainly not one he would have chosen.

‘You might want to lower your voice,’ said Edward dryly. ‘Sear will take umbrage if he hears the doubt in your voice. His loyalty to the King is absolute – I am faithful myself, but I do not feel the need to prove it every few moments.’