Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

‘But they have been nowhere near the coffin – they aimed for us. Besides, how many robbers do you know who wear armour? They are soldiers, not outlaws, and they were after the letters.’

‘That is not possible, Roger. No one but you and Hilde knows I have them.’

‘Delwyn found out about the one to his abbot, and you gave missives to Gwgan and Richard in Goodrich. I would say it is obvious that you have more. Why else would you be going to Kermerdyn?’

Geoffrey gazed at him. Was he right? But ambushing a cavalcade of six knights seemed an extreme way to prevent them from being delivered – and they had had no trouble at all between La Batailge and Brechene. Or did that explain why the attacks had concentrated on the knights, rather than the baggage cart; the intention was to kill the King’s messenger, but all knights tended to look alike, so the villains were obliged to target them all?

‘Do you still have them?’ asked Roger. ‘They have not fallen out?’

‘No,’ replied Geoffrey shortly.

It was not the first time Roger had posed the question, and it was beginning to make him nervous: he found himself constantly checking they were still there. He was not overly concerned about the one to Mabon’s successor, but he suspected Henry would be furious if Wilfred’s was lost, given that it involved money. And he was beginning to suspect that Sear’s was important, too, or Henry would not have issued such peculiar instructions for its delivery.

‘Good,’ said Roger. ‘The moment you have handed them over, we shall take the first ship we can find. Tancred will forgive you for any misunderstandings and will welcome us into his service. And then you will never have to accept a commission from Henry again.’

‘And what about my wife?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Do I abandon her in Kermerdyn?’

Roger shrugged. ‘From our experiences so far, I would suggest she is safer without you. Or perhaps Tancred will find her a post. With a few women like Hilde in his army, he would not need the likes of us.’

It was not long before the forest track emerged into more open countryside, where farmers had cleared away trees for crops. It was good land, made fertile by the meandering River Tywi, and the stubble indicated the harvest had been good that year.

‘Lanothni,’ said Hilde, pointing along the track to where a huddle of houses clustered around a simple little church. ‘I remember it from when I last visited my sister. The beds were clean, although the food left something to be desired.’

She urged her horse forward to lead the way. People came out of their houses to stare, unused to such large parties. Geoffrey saw recognition flash in the eyes of several when they settled on Hilde, and supposed she had said or done something to be remembered. He braced himself for trouble – she could be sharp-tongued when something displeased her. Unerringly, she rode towards the handsome building that stood next to the church. It was neat, clean, and had a tiled roof. A man emerged to see what was going on.

‘Lady Hilde,’ he said, his face falling. He swallowed audibly. ‘What a… a nice surprise.’

Hilde inclined her head. ‘And your name is Fychan.’

‘Yes,’ said the man uneasily. ‘Landlord of this fine inn. Will you be wanting to stay again? Despite all the complaints you levied last time?’

‘I imagine you have rectified those,’ said Hilde loftily. ‘You have had two years.’

Fychan gulped again, then shouted for boys to come and tend to the horses. The travellers dismounted and followed him into a low-ceilinged chamber, full of wood-smoke and the scent of roasting meat. There were fresh rushes on the floor, and the dogs that lounged near the fire were clean and sleek. It was far nicer than anywhere else they had stopped, and Geoffrey felt hopeful it would meet his wife’s exacting demands.

Hilde looked around appraisingly. ‘Yes,’ she said eventually. ‘It will suffice.’

Villagers were ousted from the tables nearest the hearth to make room for the newcomers, although Geoffrey would have preferred a seat by the door. It was warm in the room, and he knew he would quickly become uncomfortable in armour and padded surcoat. Politely, Edward saw the ladies and Delwyn settled, then claimed the next best seat for himself, quickly divesting himself of what little armour he wore and exchanging it for a long robe that matched his gloves.

‘You have been here before, too, sir,’ said Fychan, addressing Sear as he served his guests with a platter of roasted meat, bread and a peculiar mash of boiled vegetables that Geoffrey suspected had been prepared for the pigs. ‘I recognize your fine warhorse.’

‘The King gave it to me,’ replied Sear smugly. ‘I am one of his favourites. Which is why it is strange that Geoffrey was entrusted with the business His Majesty wanted done in Kermerdyn. There was no need for him to have made this journey.’

‘Well, I am glad he did,’ said Hilde mildly. ‘It has been two years since I saw Isabella, and I am eager to know how she fares.’

‘Is she anything like you?’ asked Roger, a little warily.

‘No,’ replied Hilde shortly. ‘She is thinner.’

‘She shares your love of cleanliness, though,’ said Alberic. ‘Gwgan’s home is always spotless. And your love of water has certainly rendered Geoffrey more congenial company, Lady Hilde. He let himself grow filthy between La Batailge and Goodrich, but now he wears clean clothes, shaves, and even washes on occasion.’

This was certainly true – Hilde’s fastidiousness extended to her husband as well as taverns – but Geoffrey did not think it was polite of Alberic to remark on it.

‘Then you could do with a wife, too,’ said Hilde frostily, before her husband could respond. ‘Do not criticize Geoffrey when you leave rather a lot to be desired yourself.’

‘Nonsense!’ cried Alberic, stung. ‘I washed just a week ago. Geoffrey, on the other hand, would probably not have seen a bowl of water since he left the Holy Land, were it not for you.’

‘Well, he is perfectly tidy now, and we should say no more on the matter,’ said Edward, ever tactful. ‘I should like to visit the Holy Land. Will you tell us about it, Geoffrey?’

‘ I will,’ offered Roger eagerly. ‘It is a lovely place, full of willing whores and fabulous brothels. What are the brothels like in Kermerdyn? Are they worth visiting?’

‘I would not know,’ said Edward in distaste. ‘I do not frequent such places.’

‘I do,’ said Sear. ‘The one by the church is better than the one in the market.’

‘Is it?’ asked Richard, startled. ‘I always thought it was the other way around. Of course, I have not visited a brothel in years – not since I was married. You should take a wife, Roger. You will find they are cheaper than whores. I would not be without mine.’

‘I imagine that rather depends on the wife,’ said Delwyn, lips pursed.

‘And the whores,’ drawled Gwgan, smothering a smile.

Talk of whores reminded Geoffrey of Pulchria, and he looked for her, but she was not in the tavern. Bale was still outside seeing to the horses, and Geoffrey stifled a sigh, knowing the woman was taking advantage of the situation. Cornald had not seemed to have noticed her absence and was stretching his plump hands towards the fire, humming to himself.

‘Richard knows as much about brothels as he does about soldiering,’ said Sear unpleasantly. ‘You want to listen to me, Roger. I know what I am talking about.’

‘I have a headache,’ said Leah quickly, as Richard surged to his feet, sword half out of its scabbard. ‘Will you take me upstairs, husband? I need to rest.’

Richard obliged, although he did so reluctantly; it was clear he would much rather have challenged Sear. Geoffrey thought Leah was right to distract him: Richard was competent, but Sear would chop him into pieces.