‘Edward knows nothing about horses – he can barely ride,’ snapped Geoffrey. ‘And the nag he bought in La Batailge is a miserable specimen. Moreover, he saddled the thing back to front the other day. No self-respecting stable-boy would have listened to him. He lied.’
‘But I thought he was looking into Eudo’s murder for the King,’ said Sear. ‘He certainly gave us that impression as we were riding towards Goodrich.’
‘Yes, he did,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘Very cleverly, because we were less likely to suspect him.’
‘There cannot be two cold-blooded murderers in our company,’ said Cornald. ‘So it stands to reason that Edward killed Mabon, as well as Eudo. But why?’
‘Because he was aiming at Richard,’ explained Geoffrey. ‘Richard is selfish, and Edward predicted he would steal Mabon’s tonic. I assumed the same. Edward must have decided it was safer to poison him than to fight. He stole wolf-tooth from Leah, who keeps some for her headaches…’
‘But Richard must have been too drunk to steal,’ finished Cornald. ‘You were not exactly sober yourself, Geoffrey – your sister and Olivier know how to ply the wine.’
‘Edward was horrified when Mabon died,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I remember his face. Of course, it did not stop him from using poison a second time. In Brechene.’
‘No one died in Brechene,’ said Sear, bewildered.
‘No, but two men became very sick after eating fish soup – the fish soup that was enjoyed by the locals with no ill effects.’
‘Richard and Gwgan!’ exclaimed Cornald. ‘The recipients of the letters.’
‘But although he used too much on Mabon – enough to leave evidence that screamed murder – he used too little in Brechene,’ Geoffrey went on. ‘Mabon’s fate made him overly cautious.’
‘What shall we do?’ asked Cornald, frightened. ‘Who is in the right? Richard and Gwgan, who believe they are under the King’s orders? Or Edward, who is almost certainly acting alone?’
‘We cannot look the other way while murder is committed,’ said Geoffrey, snatching his horse’s bridle from the stable-boy.
‘But that is what Edward is doing,’ said Sear. ‘And I imagine it is why he left Kermerdyn earlier today – I doubt he has gone to Kadweli, as he claimed. We should leave it to him and not become embroiled in such unholy matters.’
‘He will fail,’ said Geoffrey, climbing into the saddle. ‘As he has failed so far.’
‘Do as he says, Sear,’ said Cornald urgently. ‘The King will not want Hywel murdered, because he will be accused of ordering it. Besides, if you thwart Richard, he may give you the Kermerdyn garrison in his place. It is not Pembroc, but it is better than being second in command.’
‘Very well,’ replied Sear reluctantly. ‘I shall summon my men.’
‘And I will hire messengers to fetch Hywel’s soldiers back,’ determined Cornald. ‘You will be heavily outnumbered, even if you do join forces with Edward, because Gwgan has his personal guards and Richard has his garrison.’
Geoffrey nodded his thanks, but he knew any such help would arrive far too late.
Fourteen
Geoffrey fought down his impatience as Sear saddled his horse and summoned his men. He was itching to be away, but common sense prevailed – he could not defeat Gwgan’s guards and Richard’s troops single-handed, and there was no point in squandering his life on futile heroics, especially when the addition of Sear’s force might make a difference.
His agitation was transmitted to his horse, which pawed and wheeled restlessly. Geoffrey’s attention was more on the problems that loomed ahead than on keeping it in line, so he was startled when he heard an indignant squeal from near its feet.
‘If you cannot control that thing, do not ride it!’ It was Delywn, his dirty face pinched with anger.
‘What do you want?’ asked Geoffrey curtly.
‘Ywain sent me with a message. Leah fled the abbey this morning and ran to Edward, who she said was her only friend, but he returned her. She was furious and spat some terrible curses. I could scarce believe she was the same woman.’
Geoffrey was about to tell Delwyn to warn Ywain to be wary of a second escape attempt, when Sear surged towards the monk and grabbed him by the throat.
‘You knew about this business,’ he snarled. ‘You are too sly to be innocent. The King knew it, too, which is why he gave Mabon’s letter to Geoffrey. He did not trust you.’
‘What business?’ squeaked Delwyn in alarm. ‘Leave me be! I am a monk, a man of God.’
‘A monk, perhaps,’ said Geoffrey with distaste. ‘But no man of God. You are Eudo’s helpmeet.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Sear. A dagger appeared in his hand.
‘Do not kill him,’ warned Geoffrey. ‘We need him as a witness. Besides, he is not worth hanging for.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Delwyn indignantly. ‘I am worth a great deal. But you cannot blame me for what Eudo and his cronies did. I am no organizer of murders.’
‘And there is your confession,’ said Geoffrey to Sear. ‘How could he know what Eudo planned unless he was party to it? He has been spying on us ever since we left La Batailge. Or, rather, spying on me, to ensure I delivered Eudo’s deadly missives.’
‘Lies!’ cried Delwyn, alarmed. ‘You do not-’
‘I enjoyed Edward’s company, and you became worried that I might tell him I was carrying letters for Richard and Gwgan. I wondered why you kept asking for Mabon’s, but I understand now: you wanted to see where I kept it, so you could steal the others and deliver them yourself.’
‘Where did you keep them?’ asked Delwyn sullenly. ‘Not in your saddle-’
‘No, not in the saddlebags that you searched so assiduously,’ said Geoffrey, glaring at him. ‘But you need not have worried. I am not in the habit of blathering about the missions I am ordered to complete.’
‘But I did not know that,’ said Delwyn. ‘Knights tend to be braggarts, not known for their discretion. I was constantly worried that Edward would have it out of you.’
‘I kept my counsel,’ said Geoffrey coolly. ‘Besides, Edward did not ask, because he believed that killing Eudo was the end of the matter.’
‘Yes – but Eudo wrote the letters and passed them to Pepin before he was killed,’ said Delwyn. ‘Do not wave that knife at me, Sir Sear. I have done nothing wrong. I was asked, by men loyal to the King, to ensure two messages were delivered. And that is what I did.’
‘Except you failed,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You have no idea whether I delivered the letters or not.’
‘I assume you did it here,’ said Delwyn. ‘After you visited the abbey. Are you telling me you have not done it yet? For God’s sake, man! It has been two days!’
‘I did it in Goodrich,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Did you?’ asked Delwyn, startled. ‘I did not see. Of course, I only have your word that you did it. You made a mistake with Wilfred’s and Mabon’s, I understand.’
‘The mistake was Eudo’s,’ said Geoffrey curtly. ‘I can only assume he was a little more careful with the ones he deemed more important. But you are a monk. How can you condone murder, especially of a man like Hywel – a decent man and a fellow countryman?’
‘I have my price,’ Delwyn flashed back. ‘And so do you – you carried these letters because you want to protect your family. You are no different from me.’
‘And what was your price?’ asked Geoffrey coldly.
‘My abbey,’ replied Delwyn. ‘It comprises Welsh monks serving a Welsh saint. But there are plans to turn it into a Norman foundation. I was promised that if I helped get the messages delivered, the abbey would stay Welsh.’
Geoffrey regarded him in surprise; he had assumed Delwyn had been paid in coins. And there was something else, too: he had assumed Eudo had acted alone, but Delwyn’s claims suggested there was a wider conspiracy.
