Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

“He was,” said Enide. “But we will need to travel quickly now he has failed to kill the King, and Norbert, although an excellent shot, is not a good rider. He would be caught in no time at all-and then he would reveal our identities to the first person who asked, to save his own miserable neck. He has not been himself since his marriage to Helbye’s wife was dissolved.”

Geoffrey knew from personal experience that Norbert was not a fast mover. He had almost caught the scribe once before-when Norbert had loosed an arrow at Geoffrey as he had looked for Rohese in the woods near the river. The glimpse of the scribe’s face as he had glanced back after Geoffrey had collided with Adrian’s cart had not been sufficient to identify him, but the archer had worn the same dark clothes and had run with the same distinctive gait as Norbert. Geoffrey was surprised that he had not associated Norbert’s penchant for bows-which Geoffrey had discovered when he had followed him into his outhouse in the castle bailey one night-with the mysterious archer before.

“Who else was involved in this plot?” he asked. “I now know about Malger, Drogo, Norbert, Stephen’s wife, the physician, Father, and Adrian.”

“Not Adrian,” said Enide. “I could never trust him with business like this. It was bad enough persuading him to help me feign my death. I had to cry all night to achieve that. But you are right about the others.”

“And you killed Pernel?”

“Malger did. He is good at that sort of thing. He should have gone on Crusade; he would have been a hero.”

Malger blushed modestly.

“Pernel was a silly, empty-headed woman,” said Enide. “She was so proud to be part of a plot to kill Rufus that she wanted to tell everyone about it. She was, quite simply, too dangerous for us. Malger had some concoction that he fed to her in a sweetmeat during mass-serve her right for eating in church-and it brought on the ‘falling sickness’ that the whole village witnessed.”

“I do not understand why you are doing this,” said Geoffrey. “You can scarcely rule Goodrich if you are thought to be dead.”

“I do not have to stay dead,” said Enide. “The Earl of Shrewsbury will sort it all out. We will have Goodrich yet.”

“You trust the Earl to pay you for all this?” asked Geoffrey doubtfully.

Drogo stiffened angrily at the insult to his liege lord, wielding his sword dangerously. Enide raised her hand imperiously, and the heavy knight stayed his hand.

“Why not?” she asked. “He is no more and no less honest than the next man.”

Geoffrey suspected that the Earl was a good deal less honest than the next man, assuming of course that the next man was not a Mappestone or King Henry.

“And who else is involved in this plot, if not Adrian?”

“There is one other person-”

“Enough!” snapped Drogo, striding forwards. “Listen-they are searching for us. Kill him, and let us be gone.”

“Who is the other?” asked Geoffrey, ignoring Drogo.

“If you cannot guess, you will never know,” said Enide lightly, as though she were playing a game of fireside riddles with him.

“Enide!” warned Malger. “Time is short. We must kill him and be away.”

“I am sorry, Geoff,” said Enide, with what seemed to be genuine regret. “I would love to let you live-for old times sake-but you know all about us, and that will not do at all. All right, Malger. Do what you will.”

Malger brought up his bow and pointed the arrow at Geoffrey, while Drogo stood next to him, his sword in his hand as he glanced around uneasily. Enide gave Geoffrey a sad, parting smile, and then turned away. Malger’s eyes followed her, admiring the way her hips moved under her close-cut gown. While his attention strayed, Geoffrey hurled himself forwards, crashing into the tall knight, and sending him sprawling. Arrows scattered everywhere, and Geoffrey heard the bow snap under their weight. Malger struggled to draw his dagger, while Drogo advanced on them both with his sword. Geoffrey pummelled Malger’s startled face with his mailed fists, and then rolled, hauling Malger’s body on top of his as Drogo began to stab indiscriminately with his sword.

Enide screamed, and Geoffrey saw her throw herself at Drogo to make him desist, lest he harm Malger. Malger, finding himself unexpectedly uppermost, scrabbled to clasp his fingers around Geoffrey’s neck, and then gasped in shock as Drogo scored a hit with his sword.

“Drogo!” screamed Enide. “Kill Geoffrey, not Malger! Be careful for Malger!”

Geoffrey jammed the heel of his hand under Malger’s nose, and heaved him to one side, struggling free of his grasping hands. Drogo hurled Enide away from him, and took his sword in both hands, preparing to dispatch Geoffrey with a single swipe.

“Kill him now!” screamed Enide, as Geoffrey began to back away.

Geoffrey had dropped his own sword when he had leapt from his horse to chase Norbert, and his shield was lying in the clearing with Norbert’s arrow embedded in it. Drogo, like Geoffrey, was a trained knight, and Geoffrey knew his chances of winning a fight while he was unarmed were small, especially with Enide hurling stones to keep him off balance, and Malger struggling to his feet behind her. But Drogo was slow and brutal, and Malger was brash and over-confident; Geoffrey, unlike either, was used to fighting with his wits as well as his weapons.

He dodged behind the oak tree, hearing its bark splinter as Drogo’s sword smashed into it, then whipped round to thump the knight as hard as he could in the small of his back as he strained to pull his blade from the tree. Drogo dropped to his knees with a cry of pain, and Geoffrey turned his attention to Malger, who was trying to haul his sword from his belt. It had become tangled in the fight, and Malger could not free it. Geoffrey drew his dagger and sprang forwards, raising one hand to protect himself from the hail of stones and sticks cast by Enide.

“Help!” yelled Malger in a most unknightly way as Geoffrey advanced.

“Stop!” shrieked Enide. “Leave him alone, Geoffrey! Damn you!”

An especially large stone struck Geoffrey’s helmet, knocking it from his head. He staggered backwards as Malger’s sword came free. With a sigh of relief, he faced Geoffrey, holding the weapon in two hands. Unlike Drogo, he did not swing wildly, but waited, ready to see whether Geoffrey would move to the left or to the right.

Geoffrey did neither. He flung his dagger at Malger, using the instant when the knight ducked out of the way to launch himself into him. Both fell to the ground, and they were back to fighting with their bare hands. Malger, too, lost his bassinet, then Enide came in close, flailing at them with a rotten branch. When the branch began to disintegrate without having added any perceptible advantage to Malger, she abandoned it, and went back to pelting Geoffrey with her stones. Meanwhile, Drogo had begun to recover. He reeled across to them, and hauled Geoffrey away from Malger, wrapping one arm around his neck. Malger scrambled to his feet, but then stumbled dizzily as his bare head came into the direct path of one of Enide’s stones. He fell backwards and lay still.

Although slow, Drogo was strong, and Geoffrey found he could not struggle free of the brawny arm that gripped his neck. And he was beginning to tire, so that the more he fought and squirmed, the less chance there was of him escaping. Enide, meanwhile, was bending over the inert form of Malger. Then she stood and, throwing back her head, uttered a long, low keening sound that made Geoffrey’s blood run cold. Even Drogo was affected, for the arm that held Geoffrey slackened slightly. When the echoes from the eerie sound had faded, Enide turned to Geoffrey.

“You have killed him,” she whispered. “He is dead. There is an arrow in his back.”