Simon Beaufort - Deadly Inheritance

‘Hereford. I tried Rosse, but it was full of farmers, so I was obliged to travel farther afield, which is why I was longer than intended. What do you think?’

Geoffrey nodded his approval, and for the first time he started to believe there was a chance of success. Then Roger noticed the battle-stained horses being rubbed down and the swords being cleaned of blood.

‘We are too late!’ he cried in disappointment.

‘You are in time,’ countered Geoffrey. ‘We fended off one attack, but Lambert and Baderon will not make the same mistakes twice. They were overconfident, and we took advantage of them, but it will not happen again.’

‘The news that a large force is gathering to attack Goodrich travelled all the way to Hereford,’ said Roger. ‘Lambert has amassed an army comprising not only half-starved, desperate Welshmen who have decided to test Baderon’s declarations of friendship, but many mercenaries, too.’

‘At least Caerdig is no longer among them,’ said Geoffrey. ‘His heart was never in it, nor is Baderon’s.’

‘It is Corwenna’s doing,’ said Joan angrily. ‘Damn her ridiculous taste for vengeance!’

‘If Caerdig keeps her under lock and key, the attack may lose impetus,’ said Olivier hopefully. ‘She is the one who is firing them up.’

‘She and Lambert,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But Caerdig will not be able to keep her quiet for long.’

‘This army you say has gathered,’ Joan asked Roger, ‘just how large is it?’

‘Several hundred, by all accounts,’ replied Roger.

‘Baderon,’ said Joan bitterly. ‘You say he does not want to fight us – and he held his hand this morning when he could have cut you down – but he still has a lot to answer for. He paid Jervil to get the Black Knife, so it stands to reason that he had Jervil killed.’ She shook her head, attempting to come to terms with the fact that the man who had been a guest in her home should now be trying to raze it to the ground. ‘He and Henry are the cause of all these problems.’

‘Why Henry?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘His arrangement with Baderon,’ explained Joan. ‘Peter the cook said he mentioned it to you, so there is no point in trying to hide it any longer. There is a rumour that Henry made a secret pact with Baderon – he was to marry Hilde, but then he reneged and went after Isabel instead. That is why Baderon has turned against us so bitterly.’

‘But Peter and Torva said the arrangement was not a marriage,’ said Geoffrey, recalling that Baderon had also hinted as much.

Joan sighed. ‘They cannot know what it entailed – Peter witnessed the agreement, but could not read it. A marriage between Hilde and Henry is the only thing it could have been.’

Roger grimaced. ‘Life is very complicated here. Things are so much simpler in the Holy Land.’

‘Will you watch the castle, Roger, and direct the defence if another attack comes?’ Geoffrey asked, walking towards his horse.

Roger nodded. ‘But what will you be doing?’

‘Trying to stop this at its source,’ answered Geoffrey. ‘I am going to speak to Baderon.’

Father Adrian applauded Geoffrey’s determination to bring an end to the dispute, but he was the only one; Joan, Olivier and Roger believed he was needlessly risking his life. Geoffrey declined Roger’s offer of company; although it would have been comforting to have a friend at his side, the northern knight’s blunt tongue was a danger to delicate negotiations. He rejected Bale’s offer for the same reason, and refused Olivier’s because the man looked terrified. He rode out of the castle alone, taking Dun – he wanted to save his own warhorse lest he needed it later.

Geoffrey crossed the ford and rode north to the flat terraces near the river, where he imagined Baderon would be camped. He carried a white pennant on his lance, hoping it would prevent him from being shot at first sight. The forest was eerily quiet, which told him that men were hidden in the trees. Eventually, he reached the first of Baderon’s patrols. The captain of the guard saluted him, before wordlessly leading him to the camp.

Geoffrey was horrified when he saw the size of Baderon’s army. Roger had been right: there were several hundred men sitting round fires or tending shaggy ponies. Some were clearly Welshmen, exploiting the opportunity to acquire grain to feed their villages, but more had the slovenly, undisciplined appearance of men who sold their services for a few coins and the prospect of plunder. The rest were Normans, distinctive in their mail and conical helmets. Appalled, Geoffrey knew that Goodrich could not withstand such a force for long. The guard took him to a tent, shouting in Norman-French that a messenger had arrived. Geoffrey dismounted and waited.

‘Have you come to surrender?’ asked Lambert, emerging from the tent with a scowl. He gestured to his troops. ‘You should: you cannot defeat us.’

‘Where is Baderon?’ asked Geoffrey.

The next person to emerge from the tent, however, was Corwenna.

‘It is Geoffrey Mappestone!’ she exclaimed, pulling a dagger from her belt. ‘This is better than I hoped. We shall send his head back to Joan – that will show her what we think of her attempts to negotiate.’

‘Tempting, but unwise,’ said Lambert laconically. ‘It is not how these things are done.’

‘Hywel was killed this morning,’ she hissed. ‘And my father is a broken man, refusing to fight. Do not talk to me about what is right!’ She spat on the ground at Geoffrey’s feet, and there was a murmur of approval from those nearby.

Baderon emerged at last, with Hilde behind him. Hilde wore a mail tunic over her kirtle and a hefty sword strapped to her side.

‘You should not have come,’ Hilde said. ‘You have risked your life for nothing, because there can be no peace. These men will not disperse until they have the spoils they have been promised.’ She glared at Corwenna.

‘It is true,’ said Baderon hoarsely. ‘Either their food supplies are low and they need an excuse to take cattle and grain, or they have been promised plunder in return for their services. Neither faction will agree to leave empty-handed.’

‘They will be disappointed,’ warned Geoffrey. ‘Our livestock have been hidden, and there are men standing by to fire the granaries if we are overrun. And Goodrich has little to please mercenaries – it is not a wealthy estate. Tell your men that. It may make them less willing to squander their lives when they will have nothing in return.’

‘I am in an impossible position,’ said Baderon. ‘I wanted alliances with my Welsh neighbours, but it has all gone sour. I do not understand-’

‘We shall send Geoffrey’s corpse to Joan,’ interrupted Corwenna imperiously. ‘Then we shall burn Goodrich and slaughter every one of its inhabitants. I do not care about cattle, grain and loot. I just want to see blood spilt to avenge my murdered husband.’

Geoffrey addressed Baderon. ‘Corwenna’s vengeance will cost you dearly. Many men will die – including those who should be planting crops for next year. Your people will take nothing of ours with you; Joan will see to that.’

‘I am sure she will,’ said Hilde. ‘I would do the same in her position.’

‘No grain?’ asked one of the Welsh captains, struggling to understand the Norman-French.

‘Every granary will be fired the moment you appear,’ replied Geoffrey, speaking Welsh to ensure he understood. ‘You will not have a single kernel.’

This caused considerable consternation, and Geoffrey saw the extent to which hunger drove some of them.

‘He lies,’ Corwenna said with contempt. ‘Normans do not destroy grain.’

Geoffrey did not need to press his point: the Welshmen had understood him perfectly. He addressed them directly. ‘We have corn aplenty, and we are prepared to share it with you – but only if you retreat by this evening.’