Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

It was not so bad, he told himself. The very worst that could happen was that he would have to climb back up the stairs again in the dark. But then the tunnel’s narrowness would work to his advantage, because he could brace a hand on either side so he would not fall. Carefully, he clambered to his feet, thinking that he would feel around to see if he could find the torch he had dropped.

Still holding his sword, he began to prod about on the floor. His shuffling feet bumped against something soft, and he bent to put out a hand to feel it. Something flailed out and struck him, sending him sprawling before he realised what had happened. With a sickening clarity, he recalled that Malger had been kneeling over someone who lay prostrate on the ground. Even with Malger and Drogo gone, Geoffrey was still not alone.

Geoffrey sat in the blackness of the cavern, his ears ringing from the blow that had knocked him from his feet. He felt dizzy too, although whether that was from the punch or the disorienting effects of the darkness, he could not say.

“Who is there?” he called, knowing it was a stupid question, but short on other ideas.

“Get away!”

“Rohese?” he called, relieved as he recognised her voice.

“Leave me alone!”

“Rohese, it is Geoffrey. There is a torch on the floor. Help me find it, and then I will take you out of here. There is nothing to fear. Malger and Drogo have gone.”

He was aware of someone moving around behind him, and he turned, looking about him blindly. Then all was silent.

“Rohese, listen to me. Julian is worried about you. Help me find the torch, and I will take you to her.”

There was still no reply. Geoffrey thought he could probably wheedle and comfort all night long, but Rohese would not be easily convinced. He restarted a tentative search of the floor, keeping a careful ear out for any more tell-tale noises that might precede an attack. Eventually, after several collisions with the uneven walls of the cave, Geoffrey found the torch. He sat with it between his knees and struck a flint into the kindling he had brought.

The cave flared into light, and Geoffrey saw the terrified eyes of Rohese regarding him from the other side of it. He smiled reassuringly.

“See?” he said. “It is only me. Come. Julian will be pleased to see you.”

He stood, and walked towards her, holding out his hand. She appeared to be frozen with fear, until the moment when he leaned down to help her to her feet. Then she shied away from him, and darted away to the other side of the cave. Geoffrey did not want to spend all night chasing Rohese across an underground cavern, and felt his patience wearing thin.

“Rohese,” he said firmly, “you are quite safe now. The Earl has gone, and Julian is worried about you. You cannot stay here, so come with me.”

“Please!” she whispered. “Do not kill me. I promise I will not tell!”

“Tell what?” he said, without thinking.

“I promise I will not tell that you killed him,” she whispered.

“Killed who?” he asked, puzzled. “I have killed no one. Well, not in England, at least.”

“Of course!” she said, nodding furiously. “I will tell them that you did not do it.”

“Damn!” said Geoffrey as realisation of what she was talking about dawned on him. “I was hoping you might be able to help me, but now it appears you cannot.”

“I can!” she cried. “I will! Only please do not kill me.”

Geoffrey rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You think I am responsible for my father’s murder. I can assure you, Rohese, I am not.”

Rohese looked at him in confusion. “But who else could it have been?”

“Walter?” suggested Geoffrey. “Or someone who came into the room after I was asleep.”

“Walter left,” said Rohese. “It was not him.”

“Did anyone else come in?” asked Geoffrey.

“I do not know,” sobbed Rohese. “I fell asleep-it was warm inside those mattresses. But I heard you talking to Sir Godric before he died.”

“When exactly?” asked Geoffrey.

Rohese gazed at him in mute terror. He perched on a rocky ledge, well away from her so she would not feel threatened, and spoke gently.

“Think, Rohese. I am hardly likely to murder my own father while you hid under the mattress, am I? And if I were, I would have killed you there and then. After I fell asleep, I spoke to no one until I was awoken the following morning with a bucket of cold water. But tell me what you saw or heard, and we might be able to work out who did murder Godric.”

“Joan came out of the garderobe after you slept-”

“Joan?” asked Geoffrey, startled. “But she was not in Godric’s chamber.”

“She was,” insisted Rohese. “She must have come out of this passage.”

“Yes,” said Geoffrey, his thoughts whirling. “So she might.”

So, Joan knew of the presence of the secret tunnel, too. Had Enide told her? Had Godric? Or had she discovered it by some other means? Geoffrey supposed that Joan was unlikely to be indulging in anything overtly sinister the night that Godric died with the Earl in the chamber below, and so she had probably been checking the passage to ensure Rohese had not hidden there-in which case, Rohese was lucky Joan had not caught Geoffrey hiding her between the mattresses.

And that, Geoffrey realised suddenly, was what Godric had meant when he had warned Geoffrey against letting Joan discover that he had played a role in hiding Rohese away. Godric must have known that Joan was in the garderobe passage searching for Rohese, because he would have seen her enter it and not come out again. Geoffrey rubbed his itching eyes. Godric might have warned Geoffrey and Rohese that Joan was nearby and likely to catch them. But, Geoffrey supposed, if Joan had emerged and caught him red-handed, then Godric would have had a highly entertaining scene to watch-yet another argument between two of his children. The wicked old man was probably hoping Joan would catch Geoffrey hiding poor Rohese.

“What happened after Joan came out of the garderobe passage?” he asked, starting to pace back and forth restlessly.

“She pushed the chest back from where you had put it near the door, and left. Then there was an almighty competition between you and Walter to see who could snore the loudest-”

“I do not snore!” said Geoffrey indignantly.

But he might have done, he thought, since he had been heavily drugged. And Walter was drunk: he had slept through Geoffrey moving the chest towards the door and Joan pushing it back again, and nothing had roused him until dawn the following day.

“Then he left, and-”

“Who left?” asked Geoffrey.

“Walter,” said Rohese, as though it were obvious. “And then you and Sir Godric had this argument before …”

She trailed off. Geoffrey regarded her blankly. “None of this makes sense. Tell me again. After Walter and I were asleep, Joan came out of the garderobe passage, presumably having come through the hidden door, where she had been searching for you in the tunnel. She moved the chest from where I had put it against the door, to where it usually stood at the bottom of the bed. She then left. Correct?”

Rohese nodded, her eyes still wary, and fearful.

“Then Walter also left. How long after Joan had gone was this?”

Rohese swallowed. “I do not know. I fell asleep. But I think it was quite some time, because the fire had almost burned out. Walter was gone when I woke, but you still slept.”

“Good,” said Geoffrey. “Then what?”

“Then I grew uncomfortable under the mattresses. I thought I might never walk again if I did not stretch my legs. I climbed out, and began to walk around the room. Then I saw the door at the end of the garderobe passage. Joan must not have closed it properly when she left. I know now that you need to slam it hard to make it stay shut, and Joan obviously could not slam it if she wanted to sneak out of Sir Godric’s chamber without waking you up. I think she thought she had closed it properly, but it came open later by mistake.”