Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

Tears glittered in Adrian’s eyes, but he did not seem angered by Geoffrey’s accusation. “She knew she was in some danger,” he said in a low voice. “The morning of her death, as I have told you, she was anxious and restless, but she would not tell me why. If only she had confided in me, I might have been able to keep her safe.”

“Probably not,” said Geoffrey, using a more gentle tone as the priest turned away to hide his grief. “If she were anxious enough to be talking about her death to you, then she was probably in a greater danger than you would have been able to protect her from.”

“Do you think so?” asked Adrian uncertainly, still with his back to Geoffrey. “But what was it? What could she have done or said that had landed her in such dire peril?”

“I hoped you might be able to tell me,” said Geoffrey, thinking about the letters tucked down the inside of his shirt. “Did she meet anyone unusual, or leave the castle for any period of time?”

“She visited Monmouth last June,” said Adrian. He wiped his eyes on his wide sleeve, and faced Geoffrey. “She said she wanted to purchase new rugs for Godric’s chamber, but when she returned, she had forgotten to buy them.”

“So, she went for some other reason, then,” said Geoffrey. “Did she know anyone in Monmouth?”

“Possibly she did,” said Adrian. “She was an intelligent woman, and people sought her out for advice. She may have met someone-at the Rosse market, for example-who lived in Monmouth. She told me that King Henry was at Monmouth when she visited-although he was not King then, of course. His brother Rufus was.”

“Do you think she went to meet King Henry?” asked Geoffrey, startled.

“I would not imagine so,” said Adrian, with a short, nervous laugh. “She had never met him before, and women do not simply arrive at the court and introduce themselves.”

Unless they had something specific to tell, thought Geoffrey, wondering anew about the pieces of parchment in his surcoat. But he was allowing his imagination to run away with him. How could Enide have anything to say that would interest a prince? And how could she possibly have come by such information anyway, tucked away in Goodrich Castle all her life?

He looked at Adrian, who had slumped on the chest at the bottom of the bed, his hands dangling between his knees. Adrian had been kind to him when he was trying to overcome the unpleasant after-effects of his poisoning and, although Geoffrey knew better than to put too much faith in first impressions, the priest seemed to have been genuinely fond of Enide. Geoffrey decided to take a risk and show Adrian the scraps of parchment. The knight had little to lose, since his own investigations were taking him nowhere, but he might gain considerably if Adrian could throw some light on what the mysterious messages might mean. And if Adrian turned out to be not quite the simple priest that he claimed, then Geoffrey had only a few more days in Goodrich in which to be cautious. He, unlike Enide, was unlikely to allow himself to be caught unawares and have his head chopped off.

“Have you seen these before?” he asked, taking the scraps from his shirt and handing them to Adrian.

The priest rifled through them without much interest. “No. Why? Did they belong to Godric?”

“I do not know,” said Geoffrey. “But I think Enide may have hidden them away for safe-keeping.”

Adrian took the candle from Geoffrey, and inspected them again. “Times and dates,” he mused. “Wait!” Geoffrey sat next to him, and looked at the parchment that had caught the priest’s attention. “This one! ‘Midnight on the fifth day of June 1100. Expect five.’ That was the night before Enide left for Monmouth.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Geoffrey. “It was a long time ago.”

“Because the sixth of June was the Feast of Corpus Christi. It is one of the most important religious festivals in our Christian calendar,” he added when Geoffrey looked a little blank. “Did the knights on God’s holy Crusade not mark such an important occasion?”

“We may have done,” said Geoffrey vaguely. Despite the acclaimed sanctity of their mission, religious celebrations were a long way from the minds of most Crusaders. There were monks and other holy men in the company, but they tended to keep their distance from the rabble of knights and soldiers who formed the bulk of their number. Meanwhile, Geoffrey’s attention had been taken more by battles and fighting the more dangerous enemies of the desert-hunger, thirst, and disease-than with observing religious festivals.

“But what does the Feast of Corpus Christi have to do with Enide?” he asked.

“On the morning that our celebrations were to begin, Enide announced that she was leaving for Monmouth immediately.”

“Just like that?” asked Geoffrey.

“Just like that,” said Adrian. “It takes a good deal of work to organise these festivities, and it would have been pleasant to have had Enide’s help and support. It is one of the most important days of the year for me, and I was hurt that she considered buying rugs for Godric more urgent.”

“But she bought no rugs, you said,” said Geoffrey.

“And that fact made her actions sufficiently odd to stick in my mind,” said Adrian. “I am certain I am correct in my memory about the date.”

“So, we are to assume that Enide met five people at midnight on the fifth day of June and left the following morning to go to Monmouth, abandoning her obligations to the village celebrations,” said Geoffrey. “What could she have been doing?”

“The sixth day of June was two months before King William Rufus was killed,” said Adrian.

Geoffrey gazed at him in disbelief. “What are you suggesting? That Enide killed him? A fine, loyal lover you make for her! Accusing her of regicide!”

Wordlessly Adrian held up another of the scraps of parchment. Geoffrey took it. “‘The first day of August 1100 at Brockenhurst. The evil is about to end,’ “ he read. “So?”

“Brockenhurst was Rufus’s hunting lodge in the New Forest,” said Adrian. “He was killed near it on the second of August.”

Geoffrey looked down at the scrap of parchment again, but then stood abruptly. “This is ludicrous,” he said impatiently. “I do not know why I am here listening to you. There are more important things I have to be doing. I need to find Rohese.”

“Enide left Goodrich for a second time during the third week of July,” said Adrian. “He held up the third scrap. I cannot be as certain of the dates this time, but this one reads ‘Midnight on the twenty-fifth night of July 1100. Everything is almost in readiness. Only details regarding horses left to manage.’ I think she attended this meeting before leaving for another-at Brockenhurst in the New Forest on the first day of August.”

“Enide never went to the New Forest,” cried Geoffrey, appalled by what the priest was implying. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared for her!”

“So I do,” said Adrian.

He sighed heavily and inspected the backs of his hands. When Geoffrey took a step towards the door to leave in disgust, Adrian began to speak again.

“She told me she was going to check your manor at Rwirdin when she left Goodrich in July, and that she would be there for a month or so. It so happened that I found myself in the area at about that time. No, that is not true. I deliberately sought out business nearby so that I could visit her there. A month seemed such a long time to be away from her.”

“Well?” asked Geoffrey uneasily. “What happened?”

“She was not there,” said Adrian. “And the steward said that he had not seen her that summer, and had been sent no word that she was coming. When Enide rode out of Goodrich Castle that morning in July, she never had any intention of visiting Rwirdin.”