good.’
‘I believe Rhydygors has been given to Prince Hywel,’ said Geoffrey, thinking of what Eudo had told him.
‘It has. William died seven years ago, and Rhydygors reverted to the Crown; Hywel was awarded it last year. But there was said to be something odd about William’s death. He died of a fever, although he was in his prime, not some old dotard to be felled by a passing sickness. And he had a secret.’
‘A secret?’
Maurice nodded. ‘One he believed brought him success and happiness, and made him a better man. It would certainly explain the transformation I observed.’
‘Did he drink?’ asked Geoffrey.
Maurice scowled. ‘No, he did not! Some men are changed when they are touched by God, so do not look so sceptical.’
‘You think he was touched by God?’
‘Well, he was certainly touched by something. A number of his friends and kinsmen tried to learn the secret while he lay dying, but no one understood his delirious ravings. The secret was lost.’
It sounded like a lot of nonsense to Geoffrey. ‘What happened to Rhydygors between William’s death and it passing to Hywel?’
‘A garrison was stationed there under William’s brother Richard. But Henry appreciated Hywel’s efforts against Belleme and wanted to show it. He appreciated your help, too.’
‘He did not reward me with a castle.’
‘You already have one – you would not have appreciated anything he gave you, anyway. And he is not a man to squander wealth.’
Geoffrey laughed, his good humour beginning to return. ‘So he gave me nothing because he thought it was a waste of a prize?’
Maurice nodded earnestly. ‘But he does not forget those who are good to him, which is why you have been allowed to wander freely after helping Giffard escape. He has a soft spot for you, because you are never afraid to speak your mind, and he is used to sycophants. Although a little more tact when dealing with him would not go amiss…’
‘I shall bear it in mind. What else do you know about Kermerdyn?’
‘Hywel was not the only man rewarded with a castle. At the same time, Henry gave a knight named Sear a fortress in a place called Pembroc.’
‘I have never heard of Sear, although Pembroc is famous.’
‘No one has heard of Sear, and it came as something of a surprise when Eudo was ordered to issue the relevant writ. Indeed, I recall there was speculation of a misunderstanding, and Eudo actually went to Henry and asked him to confirm Sear’s name.’
‘So who is Sear?’
Maurice shrugged. ‘He is just a bold knight. There is nothing unusual or commendable about him, although you would not know it if you met him. He is arrogant and swaggers horribly. I do not like him at all.’
Geoffrey felt as though they were getting away from the point. ‘Is there anything else about Kermerdyn that I should know before I go there?’
‘I was one of those who advised the King to give Rhydygors to Hywel. But it was a mistake.’
‘Because Hywel is popular?’ asked Geoffrey.
Maurice’s eyebrows shot up. ‘We do not want popular leaders in Wales because the locals may prefer them to Henry.’
‘Or they may see Henry as wise for appointing such men.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Maurice. ‘And William’s brother, Richard, cannot be happy about the situation – word is that he rather liked living in Rhydygors. Of course, he is wholly devoted to Henry, so would never voice his disappointment openly. He is in Gloucester at the moment, swearing fealty to the Crown in a formal ceremony.’
‘Does Henry not trust him to stay loyal without such an oath?’
‘Henry does not trust anyone. Richard will return to Kermerdyn to resume control of the Norman garrison. Obviously, Henry will want good men on hand if there is trouble brewing.’
‘Prince Hywel does not object to Norman soldiers in his lands?’
‘He understands that he holds them from Henry, and is said to be quite content with the arrangement. People are happy with his rule, and the garrison is never needed to quell trouble. Richard is thought to be bored with the inactivity, but everyone else is satisfied.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Partly from listening to the King, and partly from letters I have received from Wilfred, Bishop of St David’s. Kermerdyn is in his See.’
‘I am supposed to take a letter to Bishop Wilfred.’
Maurice smiled. ‘Then you must give him my blessings. He is involved in a dispute with Kermerdyn abbey at the moment. Apparently, its head constantly questions his authority.’
‘I have never been that far inside Wales,’ said Geoffrey, trying to look on the bright side of the commission. ‘Perhaps it will be interesting.’
‘I imagine it will,’ said Maurice. ‘But be careful. Any soldier can deliver letters, but Henry has chosen you. There will be a reason for that.’
Two
The letters were still not ready by that evening, and Geoffrey saw he would have to spend another night in La Batailge. When dusk brought with it a drenching drizzle, he decided he would no longer bed down behind the stables. He found a corner in the kitchens and was a good deal warmer than those of Henry’s retainers who had been allocated quarters in the dorter and guest hall, the roofs of which leaked. It allowed him to secure a decent breakfast, too, by raiding the platters before they were carried to the refectory.
However, he did not fare as well as Roger and the squires, who had passed the night in a nearby tavern. He found them there mid-morning, enjoying the company of three whores and a veritable mountain of food. There was plenty of ale, too, although it was cloudy and tasted vaguely rotten. Geoffrey drank it anyway. As a soldier, he had never had the luxury of being fussy about food, except fish soup or raisins; he would rather starve than ingest those.
‘Well?’ asked Roger. ‘What did Henry want? You were certainly with him long enough. We grew tired of waiting for you and came here.’
Roger was Geoffrey’s closest friend, albeit an unlikely one. He was a giant of a man, with thick black hair and matching beard, both worn fashionably long. His father was the notoriously treacherous Bishop of Durham, and it had always amazed Geoffrey that Roger was proud of his infamous forebear. Roger was happiest when fighting, looting or frolicking with any woman willing to tolerate his clumsy advances, and he had a deep-rooted distrust of anyone who was literate. This sometimes included Geoffrey, whose scholarly tendencies he deplored.
‘He wants me to deliver a letter to Kermerdyn,’ explained Geoffrey. ‘Although there is something odd about the affair, and you should not mention it to anyone else.’
‘Where is Kermerdyn?’ asked Roger, scratching his head. ‘And why would he order you to deliver a letter? Henry is a fool if he thinks you are a lackey. You have always been your own man, even when you were serving Tancred. It is what makes powerful men eager to claim your allegiance.’
‘Henry does not care about my allegiance. He makes no attempt to earn it, and forces me to do his bidding by blackmail and coercion.’
‘Because that is the only way you will do what he wants,’ said Roger, uncharacteristically astute. ‘I am sure he would rather you obeyed him willingly, but that will never happen, so he is reduced to other tactics. It is a pity you swore that vow never to visit the Holy Land, because we could have jumped on a ship and been gone before Henry realized.’
‘You were the one who insisted I took it,’ Geoffrey reminded him, resentfully. ‘Besides, it would leave Joan
