‘True,’ agreed Roger. ‘So it is odd that they did not take advantage of the situation – the ones who haunted the beach after the ship went down were determined, to say the least.’
‘It
was
odd,’ agreed Bale. ‘And did I tell you that blood had been smeared on all the doors? Like a warning that it could happen again elsewhere.’
Geoffrey frowned. ‘I did not notice any.’
‘It was not there initially,’ said Bale. ‘It had appeared by the time I returned with de Laigle. Perhaps that is why he did not linger. I wonder if the pirates did it, to warn folk for the future.’
Geoffrey did not know what to make of it. He handed the water flask back to Ulfrith as he considered the matter.
‘Since de Laigle did not explore much, I had a poke around myself,’ Bale continued. ‘But I have not had a chance to tell you because you were too ill. Would you like to hear now?’
‘Not really,’ said Geoffrey. Ulfrith’s water had disagreed with him, and he felt slightly sick.
Bale forged on. ‘De Laigle said it was obvious that the pirates were responsible – that a massacre and rough foreigners in the area could not be unrelated. But you said you were uncertain, so I decided to inspect the corpses for pieces of clothing ripped from their killers in their death throes.’ His eyes gleamed strangely.
‘Did you find any?’ asked Geoffrey, intrigued.
‘No,’ came the disappointing reply. Then Bale grimaced. ‘Moreover, I was so busy looking for clues on your behalf that the soldiers grabbed everything of value before I could get to it. There was nothing left for me.’
‘You got that little cross,’ said Ulfrith comfortingly. ‘And a nice, thick habit to cut up and make into a new tunic.’
Bale reached inside his jerkin and brought out a small wooden cross of the kind worn by novices. ‘It is nothing, and Galfridus will probably ask for it back if he finds out I have it.’
Geoffrey took it from him, then told him to fetch the habit. When it arrived, he inspected it carefully, noting the faint spray of blood across the front. He smiled at Bale and clapped him on the shoulder.
‘You underestimate yourself. You have found a very important clue indeed. You see these letters carved on the cross? They spell “Gyrth”.’
‘Gyrth!’ breathed Roger. ‘The man who tried to kill you.’
‘The very same. And Bale has just found his cross, and probably his habit, in a village where every living soul was murdered.’
Twelve
The following day, the abbey was full of chaos as monks and laymen hurried to make everything perfect for the Duke of Normandy. The other guests were considered a nuisance: they were of no help with the preparations, but still needed to be fed. Magnus was particularly bothersome, complaining vociferously that no such preparations had been made for him.
Bale went to where a scanty breakfast of bread and unripe apples had been left, and swept the lot into a basket, which he then bore away. Realizing they would not eat unless they followed him, Magnus, Harold, Lucian and Juhel trailed him to where Geoffrey and Roger were sitting in the sun on a day as clear and blue as high summer.
Ulfrith was not far behind, carrying a bucket of ale. Geoffrey regarded it with a distinct lack of interest, and since his own water-skin was inside, he deftly unhooked Ulfrith’s and took several gulps before he was discovered. He had spent an unsettled night with uncomfortable griping in his innards, and the bitter taste did little to put him in a better mood. With a scowl, Ulfrith stamped inside the building and pointedly retrieved Geoffrey’s own, thrusting it into his hands.
Geoffrey declined the bread Bale offered, then rested his elbows on his knees and listened to the argument that broke out when Bale refused to share the food. Roger ordered the squire to accommodate the others, but only after he had taken the best for himself.
‘What was in that water, Ulfrith?’ asked Geoffrey after a while.
Ulfrith regarded him in alarm. ‘Nothing! Why?’
‘It tasted bitter. Did you add anything that will make me sick again?’
‘Look!’ Ulfrith seized his flask and took several large gulps, although he winced as they went down. ‘See? The leather is old, so perhaps you can taste the tanning.’
Geoffrey was not convinced but supposed Ulfrith’s concoction could not be too deadly if he was prepared to drink it himself. He turned his attention back to Roger and Lucian.
‘I did
not
kill Edith!’ Lucian was shouting. ‘Galfridus believes me or he would have locked me away.
He
accepts that I was praying all night, so why do you not?’
‘You did not recite a single office aboard ship, so why would you start now?’ snapped Roger. ‘Or were you doing it as penance for Edith’s murder?’
‘Go to Hell,’ muttered Lucian through clenched teeth.
At that moment, Philippa arrived. Still scowling furiously at Roger, Lucian offered her his arm and invited her to stroll to the fishponds with him; good manners would not permit him to leave her in the company of rough knights, stupid squires and loutish Saxons.
‘Do not go down there,’ Harold called after them, cheeks bulging with the best part of a bulb of garlic. ‘There have been reports of pirates in the area, and that part of the abbey is a bit remote.’
‘Pirates?’ asked Philippa in alarm. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes – ask Ulfrith,’ replied Harold. ‘One of them shot at Sir Geoffrey, who is only alive now due to Ulfrith’s remarkable courage and foresight.’
Geoffrey laughed, earning himself a black glare from Ulfrith. The scowl intensified when Philippa declined to ask for details and flounced away at Lucian’s side. Appetite gone, Ulfrith tossed his bread back into the basket, where it was seized by Magnus, moving fractionally faster than Harold. Magnus grinned, gratified by the victory over his rival.
‘Are you saying these pirates came
inside
the abbey?’ Juhel asked uneasily.
‘Fingar told me he has been wandering around as he pleases,’ replied Geoffrey.
‘He had better not wander near me,’ growled Roger, ‘or he will find a sword in his gizzard.’
‘Do you still intend to leave today?’ asked Juhel. ‘To tell King Henry what is happening here? If so, you will have to watch yourselves, or Fingar and his crew will be after you in a trice.’
‘He is still not right,’ said Roger, jerking his thumb at Geoffrey. ‘And I refuse to let him go until he is. Besides, I do not want to leave without meeting the Duke. What is in that bag around your neck, Bale? It seems to get bigger every time I see it.’
‘This?’ asked Bale, shooting a nervous glance in Geoffrey’s direction. ‘Just bits and pieces.’
‘Not from Werlinges, I hope,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I thought the cross and habit were all you took.’
‘They were,’ said Ulfrith, standing up for his comrade. ‘He had the ring from Vitalis on the beach, and he stole money from the dead shepherd in the wood. None of that is from Werlinges.’
Furious, Bale came to his feet fast, a dangerous look in his eyes. Ulfrith was startled, not understanding what he had done wrong. Geoffrey stood, too, and glared at Bale until he subsided.
‘What did you tell him that for?’ Bale demanded furiously.
‘I was defending you,’ snapped Ulfrith, angry in his turn. ‘I told him what you already had, so he does not assume it was from Werlinges. I was being a good friend to you.’
Geoffrey sat again, grateful Ulfrith’s brand of friendship did not extend to him.
Bale pulled a face at him, then turned to Geoffrey. ‘I was going to tell you, sir, but then you gave me that lecture at Werlinges, so I thought I had better keep quiet. I
borrowed
this from the shepherd, because I thought it was odd – a shepherd having this much gold.’
Geoffrey took Bale’s purse and emptied it into his hand. He was astonished – Bale had found a fortune.
‘There are coins here from Flanders and Ireland,’ he said, puzzled. ‘What was a shepherd doing with them? And how did you take Vitalis’s ring when I was watching you?’
‘I did it when I wrapped his body in the cloak,’ replied Bale, with the grace to look shamefaced. ‘Sir Roger taught me a sleight of hand, see.’
Geoffrey sighed, annoyed with Roger as well as Bale. ‘My back was turned for a moment, and you flouted my orders?’
‘I
tried
to tell you about it, sir, but you would not listen. Here.’ Bale passed the ring to Geoffrey, who regarded it in distaste. ‘I took it because, although it was on Vitalis’s hand at the beach, previously it belonged to
him
.’ His accusing finger indicated Magnus.
‘Not me!’ said Magnus, startled. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’
‘Are you sure, Bale?’ asked Geoffrey.
The squire nodded with such conviction that Geoffrey was sure he was telling the truth. Magnus obviously sensed he was about to be exposed, because he leaned forward to inspect the bauble and hastily revised his story.
‘Oh, yes, that
is
mine. It went missing on
Patrick
, and I assumed a pirate had taken it.’
Geoffrey was puzzled. ‘But you said nothing – and it is valuable.’
Magnus was dismissive. ‘When I am king, I shall have a hundred such rings.’
‘But you are not king yet,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘And until you are, you need all the treasure you can lay your hands on. Why you were so stoic about its loss?’
‘It is
not
valuable, actually,’ said Roger, examining it closely. ‘So it would not have been worth making a fuss. Especially with the likes of those pirates.’
‘But it is a pretty bauble even so.’ Magnus held out his hand. ‘Give it back.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. Even if Magnus
was
its rightful owner, there was a reason why he had not mentioned its loss, and it was all very suspicious. He was not about to hand it over.
Harold gazed at him in astonishment. ‘You intend to keep it for yourself? But Bale has admitted to hauling it from a corpse! It cannot be lucky.’
Geoffrey handed it and the purse to Bale. ‘I do not want it, but nor should it go to Magnus. Not yet.’
‘This is outrageous!’ spluttered Magnus furiously. ‘And I do not forget such slights.’
He stalked away, his tall, thin body held rigidly erect.
‘He bears grudges,’ warned Harold unhappily. ‘And he can be spiteful – so watch yourselves.’
It was warm in the sun, and Harold began to doze. Ulfrith wandered away, and Geoffrey supposed he was going to torture himself with the sight of Philippa and Lucian.
‘The boy is a fool for that woman,’ declared Roger, grimacing in exasperation.
‘I shall be glad when we leave this place,’ said Geoffrey unhappily. ‘His infatuation is making him sly and vengeful. He
did
add something to his water flask to stop me from using it, you know. He would never have resorted to such a low trick before.’
‘Did he, by God!’ exclaimed Roger. ‘That
is
low, especially as you have been so sick. If it brings about a relapse, I shall cleave his head from his shoulders. Of course, he is not the only one who likes to tamper with drinks: Lucian poisoned you with his cure-all.’
‘But Magnus took it, too, and he was not nearly as ill as I was.’
‘But he
was
unwell. And he also used Juhel’s balm for his scratched arm. Yes, I know we have been through this before, but think about what Bale said about stealing Vitalis’s ring.’
‘A trick he learned from you,’ said Geoffrey, rather coolly.
‘Yes, yes.’ Roger’s wave of the hand indicated that was irrelevant. ‘But
think
about it: he deceived you with a sleight of the hand. And Lucian and Juhel did the same. Lucian must have had
two
phials – he and Magnus drank from one, but he exchanged it for another when it was your turn. And the same goes for Juhel’s balm: one part of the pot is for healing and the other is for harm. Remember his jar – red one side and blue the other? It is so he can remember which is which.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I accept that if Bale can deceive me with tricks, then anyone can, but I doubt
two
men had the idea of poisoning me simultaneously. And, besides, why me? You are the one with the gold.’
‘But you have wits, and those are dangerous to men like Juhel and Lucian. I bragged about the cases you have solved – obviously, they became worried.’
‘What, both of them?’
‘They are in it together,’ persisted Roger. ‘They are involved in something sinister that saw Vitalis, Edith and that shepherd murdered by Lucian, and Paisnel killed by Juhel. Just because you do not know what it is, does not mean it has not happened.’
‘I suppose it is possible,’ said Geoffrey, although he could not see the two as partners. He looked at Bale, who was regarding him in much the same way as his dog did on occasion: with a certain desperate affection that he was not sure would be reciprocated.
‘You have done well, Bale,’ he sad, watching the man’s face split into a grin of pleasure. ‘You uncovered evidence that put Gyrth at Werlinges during the massacre, and you were probably right to take the ring and the purse – although you should not make a habit of it.’
‘No, sir,’ said Bale. ‘I will not steal from corpses without good cause in future. But how do the cross and habit prove Gyrth responsible for the massacre? I thought they only showed he visited the village.’
‘Because of the way the blood is sprayed across the material. In battles, I have seen many such stains when throats have been slashed. There are also marks in the region of the thigh, where he wiped his blade. Gyrth killed someone at Werlinges without question. Then he donned civilian clothes and came here.’
‘Where he wanted to kill someone,’ mused Roger. ‘But why you, Geoff?’
‘I doubt Gyrth was after him,’ said Harold, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Geoffrey wondered how long he had been listening. ‘It was more likely a monk who had offended him.’