Simon Beaufort - Deadly Inheritance

‘He is a fine beast,’ she remarked, inspecting the stallion with expert eyes. She wore a green kirtle that fitted rather too snugly over her ample hips, and a wimple that cut severely under her chin. Her face was square and determined, and it was clear that she was not a woman to be crossed. ‘You have ridden him too far today, and he is restless for oat mash and a bed of clean straw.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘And you are keeping him from it. What are you doing out here on your own? It will be dark soon.’

‘I am not afraid of the dark,’ declared the woman. Geoffrey was sure she was not, and imagined there was very little that would disturb her. ‘I am Hilde, daughter of Lord Baderon.’

‘Even more reason why you should not be here alone,’ remarked Geoffrey. He was shocked to think that Joan considered her a suitable match for him – her plain face and powerful shoulders rendered her rather manly. ‘The kin of wealthy barons risk seizure by outlaws-’

Hilde gave a gusty sigh. ‘No outlaw would be so foolish – I would kill him where he stood. But I am not alone. My brother Hugh is with me, and so is Eleanor de Bicanofre.’

Two more people stepped from the shadows. Hugh was smaller than his sister, and his slack jaw and vacant expression indicated that he was not right in his wits. Although his clothes were fine, he wore them untidily, and he carried no sword or dagger, suggesting that he was not trusted with sharp implements.

Geoffrey looked with considerably more interest at Eleanor – another of Joan’s suggested brides. She wore a kirtle that was tight enough to reveal every curve of her sensuous body and a bright red cloak with matching gloves. Oddly, for someone happy to flaunt herself, her lower face was concealed by a scarf-like veil. All he could see was a pair of very bright blue eyes.

‘You are Geoffrey Mappestone,’ she said. ‘Brother of dear Henry.’

Geoffrey could not tell whether she was being facetious. Her voice was soft, his horse was breathing in his ear and he could not see enough of her face to judge her expression.

‘How do you know?’ he asked.

‘Your surcoat,’ said Hilde. ‘There are not many Jerosolimitani in these parts. You would not be our first choice to help us, but you will have to do. As you said, it will soon be dark.’

Geoffrey noticed Hugh was leaning heavily on Eleanor, and supposed there had been an accident. ‘Do you need to borrow my horse?’

‘Hugh does not ride,’ said Hilde. ‘And certainly not a horse of that size. You must go to Dene and send someone back with a cart.’

Geoffrey mounted, thinking he should hurry. Dusk would not be long in coming.

‘Tell them we are near the Angel Springs,’ said Eleanor. ‘Hugh followed me there, then slipped on wet stones and hurt his foot. He was lucky Hilde was close.’

‘I knew you intended to visit the springs this afternoon,’ said Hilde coolly. ‘And I know Hugh follows you. So, when I realized that he was missing, it seemed the obvious place to look. You are fortunate I used my wits, or you would both have been here all night.’

Eleanor’s eyebrows went up, and Geoffrey had the impression that Hugh’s damaged foot would not have stopped her from returning to the castle.

‘I am going with Geoffrey,’ Eleanor said. ‘I do not want to wait until he returns.’

Geoffrey offered her his hand, happy to have her company – and her directions – as he rode the last stage of the journey, but Hilde was having none of it. She stepped forward as Eleanor put her foot in the stirrup.

‘Hugh will be calmer with you here.’

Eleanor’s eyes were furious, but Hilde clearly meant business, so she said no more. She went to sit on a tree stump, and Geoffrey could see she was in a poor mood, even without benefit of a face to assess. He raised his hand in a salute, and rode away in the direction that Hilde indicated.

‘I do not like them !’ exclaimed Bale, when they were out of earshot. ‘It is an odd business: Eleanor slipping off to visit the Angel Springs, and that lunatic Hugh going after her. And then Hilde following him. You should not marry either of them , Sir.’

‘Not Hilde, for sure,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘But Eleanor looked all right – what I could see of her.’

‘It is the bits you cannot see that you should worry about,’ replied Bale enigmatically. ‘Just ask yourself what she was doing at the Angel Springs in the first place.’ He pronounced the name in a way that made it sound sinister.

‘Is it a holy place?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘A well or some such thing?’

Bale regarded him through narrowed eyes. ‘The Angel Springs are not holy – at least, not to our God.’

Geoffrey supposed he should have guessed as much from Bale’s pronunciation. ‘What, then? A pagan temple?’

Bale’s eyes gleamed. ‘Witches linger there. I do not know what they do, but a knife left overnight will have a keen edge in the morning – especially if you leave a coin.’

‘Someone whets them during the night?’ Geoffrey supposed he should not be surprised that Bale had turned the conversation to the thing that seemed to interest him most: sharp knives.

‘They whet themselves,’ asserted Bale firmly. ‘And it is famous for other things, too.’

‘Enlighten me,’ encouraged Geoffrey.

‘Spells,’ elaborated Bale. ‘If you want a man to die, then you leave a lock of his hair and a coin at the Angel Springs and your enemy will be in his grave before the next moon appears.’

Geoffrey did not believe a word of it.

‘So, if anyone offers you a haircut, refuse,’ Bale went on. ‘I would not like to lose you yet. Not before you have paid my first month’s wages.’

It was farther to Dene than he had anticipated, but after a while, a sound caught Geoffrey’s attention, and he reined in, raising one hand to silence Bale.

‘Horses.’ Bale could also hear hoofs and the clink of metal.

‘Several of them,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Men riding together. It must be one of fitzNorman’s patrols.’

‘Or outlaws,’ said Bale, alarmed. ‘We should take cover, so we can ambush them before they attack us. I will cut their throats, while you claim their horses.’

Geoffrey laughed. ‘Outlaws will not be riding along a well-travelled path so close to fitzNorman’s stronghold, so these must be his men. We are on legitimate business; we have no reason to hide.’

The group that rounded the corner was astonished to see him. It comprised a knight, a monk and several soldiers, and all reached for their weapons. Geoffrey raised his hands to show he did not mean to fight, but that did not prevent them from spurring their way towards him with drawn swords. A pair of archers fumbled for bows and soon had arrows pointing in his direction.

‘I told you we should hide,’ whispered Bale accusingly. ‘Now it will be us with slit throats.’

‘Hold!’ shouted Geoffrey, wondering whether Bale had been right to be cautious. He had assumed that a lone traveller and his squire would present no threat, but saw he had been wrong. ‘I am here to see Bishop Giffard.’

‘You are poaching,’ said the knight. Short grey hair poked from under his helmet, and his cloak was blue with an ermine trim. There was embroidery around the hem, sewn to accentuate the presence of several semi-precious stones. His eyes were small and black, and he did not look friendly. ‘There are laws against poaching.’

‘We are not poaching,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I have come to-’

‘There is blood on your saddle,’ snapped the knight, riding forward to inspect it. ‘I can tell when a man has slaughtered an animal and carried it on his horse.’