Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

‘This would not have happened if my troops had been here,’ said Edward. ‘We would have posted guards, and robbers would have come nowhere near us.’

‘Your rabble?’ asked Richard unpleasantly. ‘I doubt they would have made any difference. They are not as good as my men.’

‘You were very brave, Edward,’ said Pulchria kindly. ‘Your quick thinking in shutting the door saved us all; those archers would have had arrows in us otherwise.’

‘It is true, sir,’ said Bale to Geoffrey. ‘Several bowmen appeared near the door when you dashed after the others, and I ran towards them, but Sir Edward shoved the door closed, so they could not fire in on us. They would have killed me, Richard, Gwgan and the ladies, and he took an arrow protecting us.’

‘Were they the same ones who ambushed us earlier?’ asked Cornald.

‘I could not tell,’ said Gwgan. His face was white, and he looked as though he might be sick. ‘They were just shadows. I am sorry I was useless, Geoffrey. These pains in my innards make it difficult to stand, let alone fight.’

‘What did they want?’ asked Edward shakily. ‘Burning down the barn was not sensible; anything of value would have been consumed in the flames, along with us.’

‘Not if we dashed outside to escape, carrying our fortunes with us,’ Roger pointed out. ‘I imagine the aim was to have us all silhouetted by the flames, so we could be picked off.’

‘Strange,’ mused Gwgan. ‘Surely, they would have questioned the villagers first and learned that we carry a dead abbot in the coffin, not treasure. Unless they are interested in the butter-making equipment Cornald bought in Brechene.’

‘They might be,’ said Cornald. ‘It was expensive. And do not deceive yourself that robbers are only interested in gold and jewellery. Our country is poor, and even a decent cloak is a worthy prize to many men.’

‘ Were they the same men?’ asked Roger in an undertone to Geoffrey.

Geoffrey nodded. ‘Yes, I think so.’

‘I was bored travelling between La Batailge and Brechene,’ said Roger with a rather diabolical grin. ‘But things are definitely picking up. I love a decent skirmish.’

‘Well, I hope it is not going to happen every few hours,’ said Geoffrey tiredly. ‘Because it will be a very long journey, if so.’

‘Aye lad,’ said Roger. ‘But what fun!’

Lanothni, Near Kermerdyn, Late October 1103

It was the end of another glorious day. The setting sun was a glowing amber ball in a haze of blue sky and salmon-tinged clouds, which presaged well for the morning. A blackbird sang somewhere in the forest, its voice a clear, clean trill above the lower murmur of the river, and the air was rich with the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. Geoffrey breathed in deeply, feeling the satisfaction of having travelled a decent distance that day.

It had been two days since the last attack, although he was too experienced a traveller to assume their assailants had given up. He still had no idea what led the motley band to harry them with such dogged determination – another six skirmishes ensued after the incident in the barn – and he could only conclude that one of his companions had done something seriously wrong in Brechene. But no one would admit it, and he had other matters to occupy his thoughts.

He had concluded that William fitz Baldwin had been murdered seven years before, and the poison had almost certainly been in the butter. Despite Delwyn’s efforts to make him think otherwise, he strongly suspected that the killer was from a pool of Delwyn, Sear, Gwgan, Cornald and Pulchria. He had discounted Edward, Alberic, Leah and Richard – the first three because they had either been away or confined to bed when William had become ill, and Richard because it was clear he had loved his brother far too deeply to have harmed him.

Geoffrey had reached no firm conclusions about William’s secret, however. Sear and Alberic thought it was a mystical weapon; Mabon had believed it was something that had happened in the river, perhaps a vision; Pulchria still maintained William had discovered a potent herb; and Delwyn said it was a gift from the Virgin Mary. Richard also thought the Blessed Virgin was involved, and Cornald continued to claim that William had learned how to eat himself happy. Edward was firm in his conviction that there was no secret, and Gwgan laughingly asserted that William’s saintliness was all to do with him being in Wales.

As regards Mabon’s murder, Geoffrey’s suspects were Sear, Gwgan, Cornald, Pulchria and Alberic. He was inclined to dismiss Richard, Edward and Leah on the grounds of Father Adrian’s testimony, and Delwyn had too much to lose by his abbot’s death.

He was also convinced that Eudo had indeed tampered with his letters to Tancred, and he was now even more determined to travel to the Holy Land and set matters right – the moment Maurice released him from his vow. He had mulled over Eudo’s untimely demise, too, and thought it not entirely impossible that Eudo’s killer was among his travelling companions. One of them had killed William and Mabon, so why not Eudo?

The party was quiet that day, each longing for the journey to end. Roger, riding at the front next to him, had enjoyed a late night in a brothel and was still suffering from an excess of wine. So were Sear and Alberic, who were bringing up the rear.

In the middle, Edward was entertaining Pulchria and Leah with an amusing story, while Richard slouched next to him. Gwgan was with Hilde, listening to embarrassing revelations about Isabella’s childhood with an indulgent smile. Behind them, Delwyn was gabbling at Cornald, who was pretending to be asleep.

‘I have enjoyed the journey from Brechene,’ said Roger eventually. ‘I like a decent skirmish.’

‘I do not – not when my wife is with me.’

‘Eight separate incidents,’ said Roger. ‘Each one fiercer and more determined than the last.’

‘It is a pity Edward’s soldiers were ill,’ said Geoffrey. ‘They would have been useful.’

‘Not if they fight like him,’ said Roger scathingly. ‘Although I suppose his quick thinking did prevent Hilde and the others from being cut down in the barn.’

‘And he saved her in the first attack,’ added Geoffrey. ‘He may not be a warrior, but there is no question of his courage.’

‘Aye,’ acknowledged Roger reluctantly. ‘And Sear, Alberic and Richard cannot be faulted in that respect, either. Gwgan has proved himself useful, too. He may not be a knight, but he is better in a fight than any other politician I have met.’

‘He might not have survived the journey, had he not been,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Every one of the ambushes has concentrated on dispatching anyone in a white surcoat first.’

‘I noticed that, too. So I told him to wear something else, but he pointed out that it would be mean more arrows for the rest of us – that it would be numerically safer if the attacks were aimed at seven men, rather than six.’

‘I hope they do not harry us on the way home,’ said Geoffrey.

‘There will be no trouble going home,’ said Roger with utter conviction. ‘Because you will not have the letters. I have been thinking about it for several days now, and I am sure I am right.’

Geoffrey blinked. ‘What are you talking about? Robbers are not interested in what Henry has to say to vassals. Or do you think they are interested in preventing Maurice from telling Isabella where to buy raisins?’

Roger shot him an unpleasant look. ‘It is obvious from our baggage that we carry little of value – unless you happen to have a penchant for rotting corpses.’

‘I told you – they probably see the coffin as a ruse.’