Simon Beaufort - A Dead Man's secret

‘Well, at least you forced Edward’s men to return the money they stole from Fychan at Lanothni. However, it was unkind to insist that a portion went directly towards a new church. It was Fychan’s money; you had no right to tell him what he could do with it.’

Geoffrey shrugged. ‘I liked Lanothni’s priest, and the money will do more good with him than with Fychan, who would just sit counting it until someone else decided to rob him.’

‘Incidentally, did I tell you that I spoke to Pepin about the two letters that were confused?’ asked Roger. ‘Mabon’s epistle sent to Wilfred, and vice versa?’

‘What did he say,’ asked Geoffrey.

Roger smirked. ‘That he was very, very careful about what went where, because he had made mistakes before. He is certain he made no errors. But he left them for the King to seal.’

‘It was Henry who exchanged them?’ asked Geoffrey, shocked.

Of course it was, he thought. Henry wanted a report on the two churchmen, and what better way to test them than to arrange a ‘mistake’? He would not need Geoffrey’s report, because their reactions would tell him all he needed to know. La Batailge would receive St Peter’s tithes if Ywain was trustworthy and passed the letter to its intended recipient, and if Wilfred was honest, Ywain would write to Henry to claim the promised hundred marks.

‘But La Batailge did get the tithes,’ said Roger in confusion, when Geoffrey explained it to him. ‘And Ywain did not get the hundred marks. So why suppress the abbey? It was Ywain who was honest, not Wilfred.’

‘Quite. And an honest man is likely to lose in the long run. Or perhaps Henry appreciated the fact that Wilfred ensured a claim was not made on the treasury. Regardless, he prefers Wilfred, and my recommendation to let them find their own resolution was ignored.’

‘Leah will not be pleased,’ said Roger. ‘She vowed to stay in that abbey until she received a sign from God to say she is forgiven for murdering William.’

‘Perhaps she will think that is the sign,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Richard has agreed to take her back, so I imagine she will be looking for the first portent that appears. And she might pass Pulchria going the other way when she leaves the protection of the Church, because I understand that Cornald has finally been forced to recognize his wife’s illicit behaviour and is considering sending her to a nunnery. It would be appropriate justice.’

Roger nodded, then looked at Geoffrey’s dog lying contentedly at his feet. ‘Are you really pleased to have that thing back?’

‘Of course I am pleased,’ said Geoffrey, leaning down to ruffle the animal’s fur. It growled softly. ‘I missed him – more than you missed Ulfrith, I suspect.’

‘The King has a lot to answer for,’ said Roger grimly. ‘He had no right to poach Ulfrith from me, or to steal your dog. Still, he soon learned he made a mistake, because neither suited his plans – Ulfrith looks strong and competent, but he is too stupid to be a decent soldier, and your dog did rather a lot of damage to several prize bitches.’

Geoffrey laughed. The failure of Ulfrith and the dog to live up to Henry’s expectations had been one small gleam of victory in a dark and murky affair.

‘Well,’ sighed Roger, nodding to where the box with the statue was sitting with some of the King’s other recently acquired possessions. ‘Perhaps we should hope that goddess does bring out the goodness in people, because if there is one man who could do with some, it is Henry.’

The meeting with the King went better than Geoffrey had anticipated. News had come of trouble in Normandy, and Henry was little interested in events in Wales. He listened absently while Geoffrey gave a carefully worded account of all that had happened.

‘Pity,’ he said, when the knight had finished. ‘Hywel was a good man.’

‘Yes,’ said Geoffrey quietly. ‘He was a good man. And a good ruler, too.’

‘But justice has been served,’ Henry went on. ‘Gwgan is dead.’

‘Richard is not,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He has won himself Rhydygors.’

‘He should have had it anyway,’ said Henry. ‘Seven years ago, when his brother was killed. I do not know what Eudo was thinking when he advised me to hand the place to a Welshman. Rhydygors was built by a Norman and should have stayed in Norman hands.’

‘Yes, sire,’ said Geoffrey, deciding not to point out that this interpretation of events was somewhat at variance with the facts.

‘I shall need you to stay here for a few days, by the way,’ said Henry, as Geoffrey bowed and prepared to leave. ‘One of my ministers has been murdered, and I want you to find the culprit. But I shall tell you about it some other time, because I am busy now. You are dismissed.’

Seething, both at the King’s manners and because his departure for Tancred was going to be delayed yet again, Geoffrey went in search of Maurice. He had raisins to deliver from Hilde. He found the Bishop ushering a giggling serving wench from his rooms. Maurice looked well, and Geoffrey saw he was enjoying life as one of the most powerful men in the court.

‘So I was right,’ said Maurice, indicating that Geoffrey was to enter and sit by the fire. It was a cold day, and rain was pattering against the window shutters. ‘Those letters were evil, although there is nothing to say the King knew what was included in them.’

‘No,’ said Geoffrey noncommittally.

‘He would never condone murder,’ continued Maurice. ‘Eudo obviously acted alone.’

‘Not entirely,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Someone appointed Delwyn to ensure the letters reached their destination. Eudo could not have done that, because he did not know his plan had been exposed until Edward confronted him, and he was killed before he could do anything about it.’

‘What are you saying?’ asked Maurice nervously. ‘That Eudo had an accomplice?’

‘We both know he did,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You knew exactly what he had done, although you grew worried after his murder and begged Henry to let you rewrite them.’

‘Geoffrey!’ cried Maurice, shocked. ‘How can you say such things?’

‘Because they are true. You did not dare break the seals on the letters to see whether Eudo had set the plan in motion, but you were desperate to know. You hired Delwyn to report back to you – and to make sure the letters were delivered if something happened to me along the way.’

‘No,’ said Maurice. ‘If you recall, I told you he was devious. Why would I hire such a man?’

‘Probably to ensure I did not associate him with you. Or to ensure I would not believe him if he ever told me the truth. And you were right to worry, because he was going to tell me the name of his master. Luckily for you, Sear killed him before he could.’

‘But I have no reason to dabble in such deadly affairs!’ claimed Maurice.

‘Yes, you do. You are loyal and devoted, and foresaw problems for the King with a popular Welsh leader in Kermerdyn. There is no reason for a proud, independent prince to subject himself to Norman rule, and Hywel probably would have rebelled in time.’

‘I am not a fool, Geoffrey. Putting Richard in Hywel’s place will be a disaster. He is likely to provoke a rebellion by dint of his unpleasant character.’

‘And that is why you encouraged me to find William’s secret but told me to leave it in Kermerdyn. You hoped it would make Richard as decent as Hywel and William.’

‘Rubbish!’ cried Maurice. ‘This is all rank superstition, and I am a bishop!’

‘It was not superstition as long as there was a possibility that the Blessed Virgin was involved. It was religion. And that is your business.’

‘The secret is a carving of a pagan goddess,’ said Maurice angrily. ‘It is not even Christian.’