Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

‘My diplomatic skills have been admired by kings and princes,’ said Geoffrey flippantly. ‘You need not worry about me. Besides, after more than two decades of fighting, I should be able to hold my own.’

‘That is probably what Mabon thought,’ said Joan soberly. ‘But a sword is no use against poison. However, I see you have made up your mind, so I suppose I shall have to be content with a promise that you will be careful.’

‘I am always careful.’ That was certainly true: Geoffrey would have perished long ago if he had been reckless. ‘What will you do with your guests today to keep them occupied? Do you want me to arrange a joust? Or sword practice?’

Joan gaped at him. ‘No, I do not! Whoever shot at you last night might use it as an opportunity to finish the job, and the inevitable injuries would prevent half the competitors from leaving with you tomorrow. However, Gwgan suggested an archery contest, which should be safe enough. I will tell Father Adrian to officiate – a killer is unlikely to strike with a priest looking on.’

Geoffrey was not so sure about that, but he conceded that it would be difficult to stage an ‘accident’ if the competition was properly policed – and Adrian, with his visceral dislike of anything remotely martial, was the perfect man for the task.

‘It will be a good opportunity for questions, too,’ he said, more to himself than Joan.

‘Geoffrey!’ she cried, aghast. ‘How can you think it is sensible to interrogate people when they are armed with bows?’

‘They cannot shoot me in front of witnesses.’

‘That depends on what you ask. I doubt Richard will stop to consider the consequences.’

‘You think he is the culprit?’

‘He is one of my suspects, certainly. You may think he is more likely to kill with a sword, but he is sly and dangerous.’

‘Who are your other suspects?’

‘Gwgan, because he has been here for days, and I still do not know him – he is an enigma. Besides, he is an extremely able politician, and we all know politicians are not to be trusted. The same goes for Edward. Then Sear and Alberic were out a lot last night, and so was Delwyn – possibly frolicking with Pulchria once Cornald was asleep, but possibly up to no good.’

‘What about Cornald himself?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Could he be a killer?’

‘No. I have known him for years, and there is not a malicious bone in his body. Of course, I would not say the same about his wife. She would stop at nothing to have her own way.’

The Marches were an uneasy place, and border skirmishes were frequent and unpredictable. Geoffrey had left instructions that all Goodrich’s tenants were regularly to practise their skills with the bow and crossbow, so permanent butts had been set up outside the bailey. Because Father Adrian was to be in attendance, Joan ordered the human-shaped targets to be replaced with simple bull’s-eyes.

Word spread quickly, and people from the village came to watch, as did most of Goodrich’s servants, many of whom intended to compete themselves. The prize was several gold pieces donated by Cornald, and guests and residents alike were determined to have them. Joan provided warm wine and cakes for the spectators, and there was a celebratory atmosphere in the air. If Mabon’s death had cast a pall over the castle, it was not in evidence.

Richard was the first guest to compete and gained the highest score by a considerable margin. There was a sigh of disappointment from the servants, and Geoffrey saw the man’s sullen manners had made him unpopular. Richard left the field scowling, just as he had entered it, taking no pleasure in his achievement.

‘You did well,’ said Geoffrey pleasantly. ‘You may win.’

‘Not with the crossbow you provided,’ growled Richard. ‘It is not fit for a peasant.’

‘It was my father’s,’ said Geoffrey coolly. ‘He used it at Hastinges.’

Neither statement was true, but they had the desired effect.

‘My apologies,’ said Richard stiffly. ‘I did not mean to insult a family heirloom. And I should also say that I am sorry your house has been sullied by murder. Your sister and her husband have been hospitable, and if I learn who poisoned the abbot, I will kill him – to satisfy their honour.’

‘But that would mean two murders under their roof,’ Geoffrey pointed out. He saw Richard’s puzzled look and decided nothing was to be gained by pursuing the matter. ‘Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Mabon?’

‘Anyone,’ replied Richard. ‘I do not like anyone here, except Joan, Olivier and your wife. I am not very keen on you, either.’

‘Why?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Crusaders in general are-’

‘I mean, why do you not like everyone else?’

‘Because they are all vermin, and if I ever attain a position of power, I shall either execute them or throw them in my dungeons.’

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows and supposed the good people of Kermerdyn had better hope he was never promoted. ‘Did you dislike Mabon?’

‘Intensely – he was always trying to tell me how to run my garrison. But I did not kill him – I had hopes that he would relent and give me some of his tonic.’

‘But now he is dead, you can take it all – you do not need to rely on his generosity.’

‘Now he is poisoned, I shall eat and drink only what I am sure is safe – and nothing belonging to him will be. I did not kill Mabon, and if you accuse me, I will kill you.’

He could try, thought Geoffrey, regarding him with dislike. He turned to another matter. ‘I understand you delivered some butter to your brother William just before he-’

Richard surged forward and took a handful of Geoffrey’s surcoat, before slamming him against the palisade. He was strong and fast, but Geoffrey punched him away, sending him reeling, then whipped out his dagger, and it was Richard who found himself pressed against the fence.

‘How dare you infer that I would harm my brother,’ snarled Richard, uncaring of the blade that pricked his skin. ‘I loved him and would give my life in an instant to see him alive again.’

‘What are you doing?’ came the querulous tones of Father Adrian from behind them. ‘Sir Geoffrey! Put him down at once, or I shall have you doing penance for a week!’

Geoffrey released Richard, who took the opportunity to land a sly kick before stalking away.

‘You deserved that,’ said Adrian.

‘A monk was poisoned last night,’ snapped Geoffrey, rubbing his leg. ‘And a good man was probably poisoned seven years ago, too. I was trying to bring them justice.’

‘You mean William fitz Baldwin?’ asked Adrian. He shrugged at Geoffrey’s surprise. ‘It was the talk of the country when he died, because he was rumoured to be a saint. However, Richard did not kill him. I have heard his confessions, and his sins are not of that magnitude.’

‘What are they, then?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘They are confidential, as you well know,’ said Adrian sharply. ‘However, I can tell you that they are nothing compared to yours. Your soul is stained black with the blood of the Crusade.’

‘Do you think Richard capable of poisoning Mabon?’

‘Of course – any knight is capable of murder. And Richard is the kind of man who goes around striking innocent priests.’

Geoffrey felt rather like hitting Adrian himself. ‘Is that the only reason you-’

‘Richard came to me for shriving yesterday – after Mabon’s body was found – and would have mentioned such a foul deed. He is innocent. So are Leah and Edward, should you think to accuse them. All three came to confession, and murder was not among their sins.’

‘And you are certain?’ pressed Geoffrey. ‘You would not lie, just because you dislike me?’