Simon Beaufort - Deadly Inheritance

‘You played together as children,’ said Caerdig, trying to silence his daughter by gripping her knee in a painful pinch.

‘Stop babbling in that infernal tongue,’ ordered Seguin testily. ‘I will have no Welsh spoken in my home once we are married.’

‘Geoffrey speaks it badly anyway,’ said Corwenna venomously. ‘It hurts the ears when it comes from the mouth of a Norman. There should be a law against it.’

‘Corwenna!’ exclaimed Caerdig, aghast. ‘That is no way to speak to an honoured guest!’

‘He is not an honoured guest,’ retorted Corwenna hotly. ‘He is Henry’s brother – the man who slaughtered our cattle, burnt our granaries and murdered Rhys.’

Seguin roared with laughter, while his brother grinned. Both evidently considered Corwenna’s bold temper a fine thing. Geoffrey wondered how amusing Seguin would find Corwenna’s sour moods when they were directed against him, and suspected it would only be a matter of time before they fell out.

The tension eased when Hywel returned with the wine, and measured it into wooden cups. Maliciously, Geoffrey hoped it was acidic enough to make the Normans and Corwenna sick, although he bore Caerdig no ill will. When everyone held a goblet, Caerdig spoke.

‘To future liaisons,’ he said ambiguously, and everyone other than Geoffrey upended their cups, only to spit the contents out again.

‘God in Heaven!’ exclaimed Baderon, gagging. ‘Is this what you drink in the Holy Land?’

‘No,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘That is saddle oil. Hywel used the wrong flask.’

Corwenna rubbed her lips with a cloth. ‘Why did you wait until we had swallowed it? Are you trying to poison us?’

‘It was a mistake,’ said Caerdig, although he had noticed that Geoffrey had not touched his own cup.

Seguin spat into the fire and then stood. ‘It is time to go home. It will be dark soon, and not even knights are immune from outlaws in Wales.’

Caerdig followed his guests outside. ‘It will not be pleasant having such a man in the family,’ he whispered to Geoffrey, ‘but Corwenna likes him, and the cattle he brings will be useful.’

‘He is a bag of air,’ declared Geoffrey, also in Welsh. He refrained from adding that Seguin and Corwenna deserved each other.

‘He is, but everyone seems happy about the union. It is only I who has reservations. I wish she was marrying you instead.’

Geoffrey did not, much as he liked Caerdig. He did not care whether marriage brought him riches, and did not even mind if his wife was plain – he would settle for one capable of intelligent conversation. However, he certainly did not want one who hated him.

‘God’s blood!’ exclaimed Seguin, stalking towards Geoffrey’s horse. ‘That is a deer! And you killed it with a sword.’

‘It was caught in a trap,’ explained Geoffrey.

‘Where?’ demanded Baderon, suddenly angry. ‘Where precisely ?’

‘In a clearing about three miles from here,’ said Geoffrey, wondering what was upsetting them. ‘It was on my land.’

‘How do you know ?’ demanded Baderon hotly. ‘You have been away for two decades. How can you know your boundaries when they twist and turn so tortuously?’

Seguin took a step towards Geoffrey. ‘FitzNorman enforces forest law vigorously on the lands under his control, and we do the same for Lord Baderon. No one kills his venison. It is a hanging offence.’

‘It is as well the venison is mine, then,’ said Geoffrey mildly. ‘I found the trap on a hill just south of the river, and even someone who has been away for twenty years cannot be mistaken about which side of the river he is on. It was Goodrich land.’

‘Then I shall believe you,’ said Baderon. ‘But I will not suffer thieves on my land, no matter who they are.’

Geoffrey would have preferred to travel alone, but Baderon offered to accompany him part way, and he did not want to appear churlish by declining.

‘What do you think?” asked Caerdig in a whisper, holding the reins of Geoffrey’s horse while he mounted. ‘Will Baderon be a trustworthy ally?’

‘God knows,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘He is certainly determined to have you on his side, since he is prepared to give away a manor and cattle to make sure Seguin marries Corwenna.’

Caerdig was thoughtful. ‘I sense he is a better man than his two knights.’

‘He barely controls them – they act more as equals than vassals. Do you want this deer? It will compensate you for the embarrassment of having served saddle oil to your guests.’

Caerdig chuckled as he tugged the corpse from Geoffrey’s horse. ‘You can embarrass me any time, if you bribe me so handsomely. Stay here tonight and share it with us.’

‘Corwenna would have a knife in me,’ said Geoffrey. ‘The others are waiting, so I should go.’

He followed Baderon, Lambert and Seguin, knowing they would take the same road for about half a mile before their paths diverged. Daylight was fading, and his horse skittered as old leaves blew in the wind. At first, Seguin and Baderon talked about poachers, while Lambert told Geoffrey about his own marriage prospects, naming women from three villages Geoffrey had never heard of. Then the path narrowed, so they were obliged to ride in single file. Conversation waned.

Geoffrey allowed his mind to wander, wondering whether Corwenna had killed Henry. It took little strength to push a blade into a drunken man. His thoughts were interrupted when Baderon spoke.

‘Seguin’s union with Corwenna is an integral part of my plans for peace – to enhance the stability of the region,’ he said. ‘Caerdig is poor but respected, and the Welsh lords listen to him. Obviously, you appreciate that a good marriage is vital for good relations, because you are looking for a wife yourself. My daughter Hilde is-’

‘I do not want to marry,’ replied Geoffrey, with more heat than intended.

‘Marriage is a good thing: it saves you having to look for a whore,’ declared Seguin. ‘I am looking forward to having a ready wench in my bedchamber whenever I feel like her.’

Geoffrey thought Seguin was deluded if he imagined Corwenna would be there whenever he ‘felt like her’.

‘I offered Hilde to your brother,’ Baderon went on. ‘He refused her rather cruelly. Still, it did not matter, because Hilde said she would not have Henry if he was the last man on Earth, and I could never force her to do what she does not want. No man could.’

‘I see,’ said Geoffrey, filing the information away: Hilde was fierce and ungovernable, which would not make for a peaceful domestic environment.

‘There are other ways, though,’ said Baderon enigmatically. Geoffrey had no idea what he meant. ‘But this is where our pathways part. Goodnight, Sir Geoffrey. Beware of outlaws.’

Geoffrey nodded, then touched his heels to his horse’s flanks and rode away. He had not gone far before he spotted someone else. When the man saw him, he gave a yelp and turned to flee. It was Goodrich land, and the grim fate of the deer was still fresh in Geoffrey’s mind. With his dog barking furiously, he galloped after the shadow and quickly had the fellow by the scruff of the neck.

‘What do you want?’ the felon cried with rather more indignation than was warranted. ‘I have no money to give you.’

The voice was instantly familiar – high and irritable. It sounded exactly like his old squire, Durand, although Geoffrey did not see how that was possible: Durand was currently enjoying a successful career as a royal clerk, revelling in the luxuries of courtly life. Geoffrey peered down at him, and was astonished to see flowing golden locks. There was only one person he knew who sported such glorious tresses.