Simon Beaufort - A Head for Poisoning

Geoffrey nodded uncertainly, at a loss at how to react to the King’s sudden changes of subject.

“My condolences. He was a loyal man, and you have followed in his footsteps. I always reward loyalty.”

Here he paused, and beamed around at his retinue, allowing his eyes to remain a little longer on the Earl of Shrewsbury than the others.

“I would like to assure you that I will apply to my Archbishop to ask him to honour the marriage made in faith by your father and mother. This means that Goodrich will stay in your family, because all Godric’s offspring will be legitimate once more. I am sure Shrewsbury will not object to my rewarding you for saving my life?”

The Earl gave the King an elegant bow. “Loyalty should always be repaid, my liege.”

He fixed his beady eyes on Geoffrey, leaving the knight in no doubt that the manor of Goodrich was certainly not what he had in mind.

The King smiled and moved away, pausing to inspect Norbert’s body once more, and to work out where his would-be murderers had stood. His courtiers followed, keen to miss nothing of the excitement.

“Really, Geoffrey,” said the Earl, reproachfully. “What have I done to make you hate me so? I was looking forward to adding Goodrich to my estates, and now you have deprived me of it.”

“Not intentionally,” said Geoffrey. “And I have good cause to hate you, as well you know. You took my sister, and allowed her to be drawn into this foolish plot to kill King Henry.”

“Actually, I did nothing of the kind,” said the Earl. “It was Enide who came to me with the plot. I told her to wait. The time is not yet ripe-the Duke needs to be properly warned, or he will miss his opportunity once again; and I am not yet as powerful as I would like, to assure our success. There is little point risking all in an invasion to place the Duke on the throne if we cannot be certain of victory. I urged her to do nothing, but she defied me.”

“But you denied that Malger was in your service-”

“A game, Geoffrey. The King knows as well as I do that Malger was one of my most trusted knights. I denied it and he did not contradict me. The King also knows perfectly well who is responsible for the attempt on his life. Why do you think he did not press you for the names of these plotters? It is because he already knows who they are. In fact, he has known for some time: I told him myself, you see.”

“You?” cried Geoffrey, bewildered. “But why?”

“Because I knew it would fail when Enide refused to wait. I did not want to be associated with a doomed plot, so I told the King about it. Thus, I gain credit for my loyalty to him, but yet I am still in a position to reap the benefits from any attempt on the King’s life should Enide have succeeded. Do not look so shocked, my fine knight! This is called politics. If you do not like the stakes, do not play the game.”

“Would that I had not,” said Geoffrey bitterly. “I hate this sort of thing.”

“Most knights do,” agreed the Earl. “They prefer straightforward slaughter. But I expected more of you, Geoffrey. I thought you were a cut above the rest of the rabble.”

“Who else is involved, other than Enide and Malger?” asked Geoffrey, rubbing his head with a shaking hand. “And Drogo. Whom I suppose you also do not know.”

“Good. You are learning,” said the Earl appreciatively. “Aside from those three and that pathetic little clerk, there was a physician and the wife of one of your brothers-Petrella?”

“Pernel?”

“Pernel, yes. Your father was involved with the plot to kill Rufus, but he declined to have anything to do with the murder of King Henry. And your sister will tell you that there is another plotter, but I do not know whether that is true or not.”

Neither did Geoffrey, and his mind reeled with the possibilities-Walter, Bertrada, Stephen, Joan, Olivier, Henry, or Hedwise? Or was it someone he had not yet encountered-someone from the village, perhaps?

“Of course,” continued the Earl smoothly, “you still have to discover which one of your family stabbed your father on his sick-bed-assuming that you are still interested in investigating plain old murder after you have just averted a regicide. But perhaps the culprit was Enide, slipping up that tunnel she told Malger about. She hid there when she was supposed to be dead, you see.”

But Geoffrey knew that was impossible-Rohese would have seen her. The Earl continued with his reasoning, a smug gloating in his voice that suggested he relished the fact that Geoffrey still had a long way to go before he solved the riddle of Godric’s death.

“But then again, Godric’s death might have nothing to do with this plan to kill the King, and your siblings or their spouses might be responsible. Perhaps one of them believed that he or she stood a better chance of gaining Goodrich with Godric dead than with Godric alive. After all, the old man did delight in producing forged documents to prove one or other of them was ineligible to succeed him.”

“Does the King really want me to hunt Enide down and dispatch her, as he asked?” said Geoffrey, watching the monarch stoop over Malger’s body.

“Yes, I think so,” said the Earl, after a moment of thought. “I would like you to spare Drogo, though. He is my cousin and I am fond of him. I am sure I will be able to dissuade him from other regicidal attempts, if you send him back to me.”

“I will see what I can do,” said Geoffrey flatly. “But I do not understand why the King does not send his own agents after Enide, to ensure the job is done properly-assuming that his chief huntsman has no luck.”

“Oh, that is simple,” said the Earl, “although I have already told you the answer once. The King was not overly surprised when I told him about the plot Enide and her followers had hatched to kill him. The reason, of course, was that he already knew of the one they hatched to kill Rufus. The King would not want Enide yelling details of that to all and sundry as she is dragged to the execution block-his hold on his crown is not so secure that he can risk the scandal of being accused of Rufus’s murder.”

“So, you are saying that King Henry was prepared to stand by and see his brother assassinated?” asked Geoffrey, although he had already surmised as much. “So that he could take the crown for himself?”

“Why not?” asked the Earl. “Your brothers would do the same for you. You see, the execution of Rufus would have done King Henry no good at all if it had been left until later this year. By then, the Duke of Normandy would have rallied enough support to take the crown himself. So, Rufus was killed last year instead.”

Geoffrey suddenly understood exactly why King Henry had changed the subject so abruptly when Geoffrey had been telling him about the plot: he had not wanted Geoffrey to become more explicit in front of his retinue, any more than he had wanted Enide making public statements.

Geoffrey thought about the pale-shafted arrow that had killed Aumary-a message from Enide to the King to tell him that she knew of his role in the death of Rufus. A similar pale-shafted arrow was embedded in Malger, and the King had seen it. His abrupt change of subject had prevented Geoffrey from revealing all he had learned or surmised about the plot. Did that now mean that Geoffrey should expect a dagger in his back one dark night, so he would never complete his story?

“So King Henry was complicit in his brother’s murder last summer, so that he might be King of England,” he summarised.

“Not so loud, Geoffrey. Just because something is common knowledge does not mean that you should bellow it from the roof-tops. But here comes one of your brothers. Draw your dagger to protect yourself: he looks unhinged to me.”