The Bloodstained Throne Read online

  ‘That is not the same.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ insisted Roger. ‘At the end of the day, you are Tancred’s servant, no matter how many times you fought at his side – or saved his life. It is time you forgot him and accepted what God has given you: fertile lands, a good wife and a sister who does all the work.’

  ‘I am still going,’ said Geoffrey stubbornly.

  Roger sighed and lay back down again, turning on his side and pushing Geoffrey with his back until he had them both in a position where he was comfortable. ‘Then you go alone, Geoff, because I will not ignore Heaven’s wishes. Ulfrith and I will ride to Durham once we see you to Dover.’

  Geoffrey’s early escape was thwarted by Roger’s fay. Shortly before dawn, it resumed howling, although much closer than before. It woke everyone, and Roger’s declaration that it was an evil spirit looking for blood was sufficiently convincing that a consensus was reached that the gate should not be opened. By the time he announced that all fays must have returned to their dark holes, the sun was shining brightly. A bank of clouds in the distance and a nip in the air indicated it would not stay fine for long, however, and even as Geoffrey watched, the waves seemed to swell in size, as if in anticipation of another tempest.

  They were served a meagre breakfast of ale, gritty bread and some kind of fish that stank enough to make Geoffrey’s eyes water. His dog declined the one he tossed it, so he decided to abstain, too.

  ‘Give the rest to me,’ ordered Magnus. ‘They are a Saxon delicacy and too good to waste on that revolting creature. This Norman fortress may be a temple to Sodom, but at least someone knows how to provide a decent meal.’

  ‘The cows are under the hedge,’ said Juhel conversationally, pointing to where four skinny bovines huddled near a straggly line of hawthorn bushes at the far end of the bailey. ‘That means rain is in the offing.’

  ‘And the gulls are aiming inland,’ agreed Roger. ‘That is always a sign of a brewing storm.’ He cast a baleful eye at Geoffrey.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Juhel, intrigued by the meaningful look.

  ‘I mean it is a sign from God,’ said Roger. ‘He has already sent several, warning against going to the Holy Land. I imagine He thought a shipwreck would have been sufficient to prove His case, but someone continues to be obstinate, so He is obliged to summon yet another tempest.’

  ‘The wreck was your doing, was it?’ asked Juhel, humour gleaming in his eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ said Roger before Geoffrey could reply. ‘And now he is intent on going to Dover, to find another boat that he will lead to its doom.’

  ‘Dover?’ asked Magnus. ‘That will take you back the way we came yesterday.’

  ‘I suppose it will,’ said Geoffrey.

  ‘Then I shall come with you,’ determined Magnus. ‘I need to travel that direction myself.’

  ‘I thought your destination was Ribe.’ Geoffrey was reluctant to have anything to do with him.

  ‘No – Fingar said he would make one or two brief stops en route,’ said Magnus. ‘One of those was my destination.’

  Geoffrey frowned. ‘He told me he had no intention of stopping anywhere.’

  Juhel laughed. ‘It would have been foolish in the extreme for him to put in along the English coast, given the amount of contraband he collected in Bristol. The King’s agents would have been after him in a trice.’

  Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. ‘I knew he was smuggling, but I did not know it was on the scale you are suggesting. That answers why his crew was gathering up all the wreckage.’

  ‘Evidence,’ explained Juhel when Roger looked puzzled. ‘They can hardly wander off leaving barrels of contraband strewn across the beach. They must destroy it first.’

  ‘Is that what they were doing?’ mused Roger. ‘I thought they were hoping to sell it.’

  ‘Pepper and sugar mixed with sea water will not fetch much,’ said Juhel. ‘And that was what was under all those Irish pelts: spices – the gold of the East.’

  ‘It is a good thing Lord de Laigle is away,’ said Magnus. ‘He is an efficient taxor and would have arrested the lot of us. I doubt he would have believed we were innocent.’

  ‘But I had no idea there were spices aboard,’ cried Roger indignantly.

  ‘Neither did I until we were underway,’ said Juhel. ‘Although the cheap berth did arouse my suspicions. But that is immaterial – we all would have hanged at Fingar’s side had we been caught.’

  ‘I thought you dealt in parchment – a lucrative commodity,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Why should you seek out a cheap berth?’

  Juhel winced. ‘Business was poor this year, and I am short of funds. Paisnel was able to pay for my passage, as well as his own, by opting for Fingar’s ship. What about you? Are you trying to evade justice?’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Geoffrey, startled. ‘We just wanted a route that would not involve journeying through Bellême’s territory.’

  Juhel nodded understanding. ‘He is a bad enemy, and I am fortunate that he likes me. But I may accompany you to Dover, too. Now poor Paisnel is dead I have two reasons for reaching Ribe: to make arrangements with Danish leather sellers and to deliver Paisnel’s dispatches to the Bishop. Paisnel was devoted to his prelate and would have wanted me to complete his work.’

  ‘I am leaving today,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But I am used to travelling quickly in unfavourable conditions. You should wait for better weather, then join a larger party.’

  ‘I cannot wait,’ objected Magnus. ‘I want Sir Roger to escort me to an abbey that stands nearby. It is no more than ten miles from here.’

  ‘Do you mean the abbey that was built after the battle?’ asked Geoffrey. His father had told him how the Conqueror had ordered a fine monastery to be founded on the spot where so many men had died. It had been a decision rooted in self-interest: the shocked Church was appeased over the terrible bloodshed, and it meant there were plenty of monks to pray for the souls of those who had died, lest the battle was held against the instigator on Judgement Day.

  Magnus nodded. ‘There are a number of Saxon villages surrounding the abbey, and I will be safe there until I decide my next move. You will appreciate that, as the true claimant to the crown, I did not intend to be washed up in England with little more than my clothes.’

  ‘I shall come with you,’ said Juhel. ‘It would be prudent to pay for a mass, to give thanks for our deliverance. I do not want to experience another violent storm.’

  ‘I shall do the same,’ said Edith, coming to join them. ‘We are lucky to be alive, and I want God to know I am grateful. Philippa and I will travel with you to the abbey.’

  ‘We are not going there,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Roger is going home, and I am going to Dover.’

  ‘Actually, Geoff, I think we should, so we can purchase masses, too,’ said Roger. ‘And if you want to borrow money for your journey to the Holy Land, you must come with us – it is my condition for lending it to you.’

  Geoffrey was unimpressed by Roger’s stipulation, although he did appreciate that they had had a narrow escape. He just wished Roger would simply let him say a few prayers in a church along the way instead.

  However, his displeasure was nothing compared to that of Philippa and Edith when they learned that Lord de Laigle’s wife – somewhat fragile that morning – had offered to keep them at Pevenesel until their kin could collect them. Geoffrey accepted the offer with alacrity. Ulfrith was distraught, and Roger disappointed, especially as Edith’s irritation from the previous day seemed to have dissipated. She appealed to him to persuade Geoffrey to allow them to go to the abbey instead.

  ‘They will be no trouble, Geoff,’ wheedled Roger. ‘And it will please Ulfrith. He is like a moonstruck calf with Philippa.’

  ‘She will never submit to the charms of a squire, and they will have to be parted sooner or later,’ said Geoffrey, unmoved. ‘It is better to do it before matters get out of hand.’

  ‘Then I will make it a condition of your loan,’ countered Roge
r craftily. ‘Either we take the ladies or I will not lend you the money.’

  ‘Then I will manage without it,’ said Geoffrey, suspecting there would be an ongoing set of provisos if he did not take a stand.

  Roger glared. ‘You will find that difficult.’

  ‘But not impossible. There will be some merchant or pilgrim who will accept me as a guide or protector. It is a long and dangerous journey, and I have made it several times. Someone will pay my passage in return for my skills.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Juhel with one of his cheery grins. ‘You look far too disreputable. We all know what kind of men went on the Crusade, and you appear to be one of the rougher ones. Your surcoat is stained with blood, and your armour has clearly seen too much use to be respectable.’

  Geoffrey stared at him. ‘I am a soldier – of course it has seen plenty of use. And these stains are not blood, but rust. Bale left my shield lying on top of it.’

  ‘I think you are very handsome,’ said Philippa, sidling up to him. ‘You have beautiful eyes and you are not badly scarred like many warriors. All you need is a good wash and some clean clothes, and you will be an Adonis.’

  Ulfrith’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who is Adonis? And where do you know him from?’

  ‘If you accept payment for that sort of commission, you will be a common mercenary,’ said Roger, conveniently forgetting that he often sold his talents to anyone who had enough gold. ‘And is it so much to ask that you let me take these women to the abbey?’

  Fortunately, Juhel began to chat to the women about the perfumes Adonis was alleged to have used, so Geoffrey took the opportunity to haul Roger away. There was no point in trying to reason with the big knight while Edith had him fixed with great, piteous eyes.

  ‘We cannot, Roger. Their fathers and brothers will assume we abducted them – and I am a married man. They must stay here, where women of their own status are willing to look after them.’

  ‘I could look after them,’ said Roger with a meaningful wink.

  ‘Quite, and it will not do. Besides, what happens if we arrive at this abbey and find it has no facilities for women? It is a community of Benedictine monks, so there is no reason to suppose they can accommodate females. You may be obliged to take them as far as Dover.’

  ‘I would not mind.’

  ‘You would, because then you will be forced to stay there until their relatives decide to fetch them. You could be waiting months, and it will be expensive to feed and house them.’

  ‘Are you ready?’ bawled Roger to the squires, thoughts of extra costs quickly bringing him in line with Geoffrey’s position. He made a perfunctory bow to the women. ‘I am sorry, ladies: my friend is right. We cannot expose you to unnecessary danger.’

  He strode out of the bailey, his possessions wrapped in one of the castle’s blankets and slung over his shoulder. Magnus shot after him, determined to walk next to the man he considered his protector. With considerable reluctance, Ulfrith followed, Bale murmuring sympathetically in his ear. Geoffrey went last with Juhel at his side, chicken swinging in the cage next to him.

  Juhel chattered incessantly, and since his monologue did not require much response, Geoffrey’s mind wandered. He was brought back to the present when Ulfrith suddenly stopped at an oddly shaped tree that had grown twisted in the coastal winds.

  ‘This is where Philippa came ashore,’ he said. ‘We should make sure the tide has not washed Vitalis out of his grave. It is a small service, but she may be grateful when she learns I suggested it.’

  ‘No, we should press on,’ argued Magnus. ‘We do not have time for the dead.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Juhel. ‘Those black clouds are coming up fast. Can you not feel the tingle in the air as thunder gathers?’

  ‘No,’ said Ulfrith shortly. ‘But I can manage alone. You go ahead. I will catch up.’

  ‘I will stay with him,’ said Geoffrey to Roger, suspecting that the lad might take the opportunity to return to Philippa if he was allowed to linger on his own.

  ‘You want to claim the credit for a good deed that was my idea,’ said Ulfrith accusingly.

  Geoffrey fought down his irritation. ‘I am offering to help you, boy. I am not interested in your lady. I am married, remember?’

  ‘But only to big old Hilde Baderon,’ Ulfrith muttered in a sufficiently low voice that Geoffrey could not be absolutely certain he had heard him right. He decided to overlook the remark in the interests of harmony, hoping Ulfrith would soon forget about Philippa and be back to his normal ebullient self.

  ‘Come,’ he said shortly. ‘We will not have so far to run if we hurry.’

  Ulfrith followed him down the beach, Bale trailing behind.

  ‘I see no grave,’ said Ulfrith, looking around with his hands on his hips.

  Geoffrey pointed to a knot of squawking, flapping gulls a short distance away. ‘I imagine it is over there.

  Ulfrith gaped. ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘I thought you grew up near the sea,’ said Geoffrey, advancing cautiously. The birds took to the air, although they did not go far. ‘You must have seen this sort of thing before.’

  ‘You mean they are eating him?’ exclaimed Ulfrith, appalled. ‘But he was a man!’

  Geoffrey did not reply but stared at the body in the sand. Vitalis’s wives had made a poor job of burying him. They had interred him below the high-water mark, so the next tide had scoured him out. Their hole had been too shallow, and they had not protected the grave with stones. Moreover, the birds were not the only ones to have ravaged Vitalis; it appeared that the villagers had been at him, too.

  Geoffrey indicated that Bale was to help him carry the corpse to the boggy meadow behind the beach. He then set the squires to scooping out a decent hole with pieces of driftwood, while he gathered rocks to make a cairn. Fortunately, the soil was soft, and it was not long before they were able to roll Vitalis into his new final resting place.

  ‘He has a nice cloak,’ said Bale, fingering it. ‘And I like that ring.’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey sharply. He and Bale had had this discussion before. ‘We do not steal from the dead. Besides, clothes harvested from cadavers carry diseases.’

  ‘Only after they begin to rot, sir,’ countered Bale. ‘Vitalis is relatively fresh. And the ring—’

  ‘The ring belongs to Vitalis,’ said Geoffrey firmly. ‘And with Vitalis it will stay.’

  ‘But he will not be needing it where he is going,’ reasoned Bale. ‘And you are about to embark for the Holy Land without so much as a spare shirt. The ring would mean you would not have to borrow funds from Sir Roger. Besides, if we do not take it, those greedy villagers will.’

  ‘That is why we are burying him deep,’ replied Geoffrey. He looked around uneasily, suddenly assailed with the sense that they might be being watched. ‘Put the ring back, Bale. We are not corpse robbers.’

  Bale looked sorry but did as he was told. Geoffrey gazed out to sea, wondering what it was about corpses that Bale so liked. He was one of the least greedy men Geoffrey had ever known, but he seemed unable to resist items belonging to the dead.

  ‘You should say something, sir,’ said Ulfrith. He was pale, and Geoffrey supposed he had not buried many men who had been half-eaten by birds. ‘We cannot just leave. It would not be right.’

  ‘Say something in Latin,’ suggested Bale helpfully. ‘That always sounds nice.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ agreed Ulfrith keenly, removing his hat in anticipation. ‘Like a priest. Lady Philippa will like that when I tell her.’

  ‘I wish my horse had not died in this wretched place,’ said Geoffrey in Latin, staring down at the dead, sand-brushed features of the old knight but thinking of the animal he had lost. ‘Should I have listened to Roger about the omens? But that is odd! What is that line on Vitalis’s neck?’

  ‘Amen,’ said Ulfrith and Bale in unison as Geoffrey dropped to one knee to inspect the mark more closely. It lay under Vitalis’s cloak, which Bale’s rummaging had dist
urbed.

  ‘Something is tied around his neck,’ said Geoffrey, turning the dead man’s pecked head in his hands. ‘A piece of twine.’

  ‘It is tight,’ said Bale, squatting next to him and touching it with his forefinger. He took one of his sharp little knives and cut through it, showing where it had bitten deeply into the skin below. Then he leaned all his weight on Vitalis’s chest. Nothing happened. ‘There,’ he said in satisfaction.

  ‘There what?’ asked Ulfrith, bemused.

  ‘He did not drown,’ explained Geoffrey. ‘Or Bale would have been able to squeeze water from his lungs. No, he was strangled with that piece of twine.’

  ‘Not twine,’ said Bale, handing it to Geoffrey. ‘Ribbon. Fine red ribbon.’

  ‘I have seen its like before,’ said Ulfrith, staring at it. ‘But I cannot remember where.’

  Geoffrey frowned. ‘Paisnel used red ribbon to keep his documents in order.’

  The documents that had been in Paisnel’s bag, he thought, but that he himself had seen Juhel inspecting the day after Paisnel’s mysterious disappearance.

  ‘Then Juhel killed Vitalis!’ exclaimed Ulfrith, wide-eyed. ‘Philippa said he killed Paisnel, so he must have strangled Vitalis, too.’

  ‘There is no evidence to suggest that,’ said Geoffrey, his thoughts whirling. He had red ribbon of his own in the saddlebag he had saved from Patrick, but his was coarser. He looked at the stuff in Bale’s hand and tried to assess whether it was the same kind that Paisnel had owned. But ribbons were often used by clerks, and it could belong to anyone.

  ‘It was a long time before Juhel rejoined us yesterday,’ Bale pointed out. ‘He could have been off throttling Vitalis. And Lady Philippa was right to accuse him of dispatching Paisnel, because they were always squabbling. Men get a taste for killing, see, and they cannot help themselves.’

  ‘Well, this is definitely Juhel’s ribbon,’ declared Ulfrith, as Geoffrey wondered uneasily whether Bale had a taste for killing, too.