Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

“Good,” said Geoffrey again, appreciating her logic. “Did you know what this tunnel was, or where it went?”

Rohese nodded. “Enide mentioned it once. Although she would not say so, I think she liked to use Sir Godric’s chamber from time to time so that she could slip out and see her lover.”

“So you hid in this passage?”

“Not immediately. There was no need at first. The Earl seemed to have given up his search, and I thought I could just stay in Sir Godric’s room until the next day.”

“So what happened next?”

“I took a torch, and went to look at the passage-more for something to do than anything else. I had peeped under the window shutters, you see, and it was only just beginning to grow light outside. I did not want to go back to sleep, but it was too dark to do anything in Sir Godric’s chamber.”

“Then what?”

“As I was exploring, I heard voices. I thought it was you talking to Sir Godric. He was shouting with anger, and I was afraid he might wake the Earl and cause him to come to the chamber, where I would be discovered. It was then that I went back and closed the door.”

“And what was my father saying?”

“I do not know,” said Rohese. “I did not listen very carefully. Sir Godric is always angry about something or another, and it is usually something silly or boring. And once I was in the tunnel, I could not really hear anyway.”

“But it was a man’s voice that you heard, talking with him?” asked Geoffrey, thinking that he could at least eliminate Joan as a suspect for the murder-which would be a relief, for he suspected that out of all of them she might prove the most formidable in the end.

Rohese frowned. “It may have been a woman. Joan, Hedwise, and Bertrada often go to Sir Godric during the night. There would have been nothing odd in them being there.”

“There is when my father claimed someone was poisoning him,” said Geoffrey. “Why did they ever need to come anyway? I thought you were his … chambermaid,” he said, selecting the term Julian had used.

“Not for the last few weeks,” said Rohese. “Before he became ill, he would come to my chamber-Enide’s chamber, I should say-and spend the night there. I hate that room of his, and Enide said I did not have to sleep there if I did not want to.”

“And you heard nothing at all of this conversation between this person and my father?” said Geoffrey. “Not a single word?”

“Well, I might have heard a few,” said Rohese vaguely. “But I did not really understand what they were talking about. I only listened so that I could hear when they had gone, and I would be able to come out again.”

“Yes?” asked Geoffrey, his hopes rising. “What did you hear?”

“I cannot be certain. I think I heard Sir Godric say ‘Tirel.’”

“Tirel?” asked Geoffrey. “You mean Walter Tirel?”

“Yes!” said Rohese, giving a faint smile. “Walter Tirel. That was it. Who is he?”

“The man who shot King William Rufus in the New Forest,” said Geoffrey. His thoughts reeled. Was Adrian right after all? First, they found that the dates on Enide’s hidden parchments corresponded to possible events connected with the murder of Rufus, and now the name of the murderer was mentioned in Godric’s chamber by the person who seemed to have killed Godric himself.

Rohese sniffed. “Well, I do not know about things like that,” she said. “But later, I think I heard someone say ‘Norbert.’”

“Norbert?” asked Geoffrey. “Godric’s scribe?”

“I do not know,” said Rohese again. “You keep asking me questions, and I do not know the answers. I do not know whether they meant Norbert the scribe or another Norbert.”

“Do you know another Norbert?”

She considered. “No. I suppose they must have meant Norbert the scribe, then.”

“Is that all?” asked Geoffrey when she was silent. “You heard nothing more?”

“After a few moments, Sir Godric gave a great groan, and started muttering and moaning. I thought he must have made himself ill, perhaps with that vile wine he drinks. Eventually, when I was certain he was alone, I crept out, to see if I could help him, but there he was, lying in the bed and all covered in blood.”

“And he was dead?”

“No,” said Rohese. “He was not dead. He was groaning and crying and making fearful noises, and cursing and swearing. …”

Geoffrey could well imagine how the ill-tempered Godric would take his impending death. “Did he say anything to you?”

“Oh, yes,” said Rohese. “He cursed you all-although he called you Godfrey, so you need not worry too much. He told me that I should go to the tunnel in the garderobe and stay there until I was sure it was safe to come out-he said they would kill me for certain if they knew I had been there. I am still not sure it is safe, so I am still here.”

“Did he say who had killed him?” asked Geoffrey, knowing the question was useless because Rohese, apparently, had thought it was him.

As he had predicted, she shook her head. “He just said that there were dangerous men in the castle, and that I should never reveal to anyone that I had been listening in the garderobe passage the night he died.”

Geoffrey sighed. Godric, with his desire to protect his whore, and by not mentioning the names of the dangerous men to her, had closed an avenue of investigation.

“I stayed with him until he died, and then I left.”

“Did you look at the wound that killed him?”

“No,” said Rohese, surprised by the question. “It was in his stomach, though.”

So, Geoffrey thought, Godric had been stabbed in the stomach with his own dagger and had died. But who had come to his chamber later, after he was dead and after Rohese had left, and stabbed him a second time, on this occasion with Geoffrey’s Arabian dagger and in his chest?

Certain things were clear though. Someone had planned his father’s death with some care. Geoffrey stared at Rohese without really seeing her, trying to make some sense of the mass of information he had gathered. Someone had ensured that Walter and Geoffrey were drugged or drunk while Godric had been murdered, and that Geoffrey was still asleep the following morning to be discovered in a horribly compromising position with Godric’s corpse.

Geoffrey rubbed one eye that was still sore from the dust. Rohese had said that Walter left the room before Godric was murdered. Walter had denied moving the chest to get out, and this was true, because, according to Rohese, Joan had moved it already. Walter claimed he rose early, and that Godric had still been alive. Rohese’s evidence indicated that he was telling the truth.

However, while Rohese had explored the tunnel, someone had entered Godric’s room and argued with him, after which Godric had been stabbed. The killer had then tipped the wine out of the window and followed it with the murder weapon. Rohese had emerged, and found Godric dying. Once he was dead, she had fled back to the tunnel, after which the killer, or yet another person, had entered Godric’s chamber and stabbed the corpse a second time with Geoffrey’s weapon. Was this to make Geoffrey appear guilty of the crime, or to make absolutely certain the old tyrant was dead? Godric had pretended to be dead the morning after Geoffrey had arrived, so that his youngest son would catch the others in the act of looting his corpse. With wily old Godric, it would certainly have paid to be certain.

He rubbed his eye harder. All he could deduce was that someone already inside the castle had murdered Godric, and that the culprit had not left via the tunnel after the crime because Rohese would certainly not be alive to tell the tale. And just because Walter had left the chamber before Godric was killed did not mean that he had not returned later to argue with and slay the old man.