The Bloodstained Throne

killers had done their work too well, and most corpses had multiple injuries.

‘Christ God!’ breathed Roger, appalled. ‘They sliced the priest’s head clean from his body.’

He pointed to the altar, where an old man with a tonsure had evidently been praying as he had been struck down. There was a tiny room to one side, which had served as a vestry. Harold was in it, sitting on a bench. His head was bowed, his eyes glazed with shock.

‘I cannot find Father Wennec,’ he said dazedly, looking up when Geoffrey entered. ‘Perhaps he escaped. He is an elderly fellow with a tonsure. .’

‘Come outside,’ said Geoffrey gently. ‘There is nothing you can do here.’

‘What evil, wicked monster could do such a thing?’ asked Harold, stumbling slightly as Geoffrey pulled him to his feet. ‘There are children. .’

‘I do not know. But I do not think we should wait here to find out.’

‘They process salt here,’ said Harold as Geoffrey escorted him from the chapel. He was burbling irrelevancies, and Geoffrey supposed it was his way of dealing with what he had seen. ‘Werlinges is famous for its lovely salt, and it made the place wealthy. I suppose that is why it was attacked.’

‘No doubt,’ said Geoffrey. There was no point saying more: Harold was incapable of listening.

‘I saw them all alive before I went to meet Magnus,’ Harold went on. ‘And they told me all about their salt. They were proud of it, you see. And Wennec promised to hire me two good horses.’

Geoffrey stood with him while Roger led the squires in a search of the village’s outbuildings, hoping to find someone who had escaped and might be able to tell de Laigle what had happened. The brutal execution of an entire village was sure to trigger an official enquiry, and it was important to secure eye-witnesses before they disappeared.

‘I am sorry I did not help you fight the pirates,’ said Harold dully. ‘But I did not have a sword. I ran to the chapel to see whether someone might have left a weapon in the porch that I might use — a pike or something. But when I saw. . I must have swooned. . And then you came. .’

‘You were quite right not to have joined the skirmish, Harold,’ said Magnus, coming to stand with them. ‘And so was I. What would happen to England if we were killed or injured?’

‘Ulf would not have acted like a stupid coward,’ said Harold, full of self-loathing. ‘But I am not him. To tell you the truth, I prefer playing the horn to fighting and the like.’

‘You play like an angel,’ said Magnus comfortingly. ‘Do you think Donan did this alone, Sir Geoffrey, or did Fingar help?’

Geoffrey shrugged, thinking that Fingar and his men would have needed a place to stay when the storms struck and might well have imposed themselves on Werlinges. And then, to ensure no one reported pirates at large, they had killed any witnesses. He frowned. But would they really resort to such extremes? Or was it the work of Ulf, the violent marauder? Geoffrey knew that one man with a sword could do a lot of damage to unarmed people in a confined space.

‘The massacre was recent, just as Bale says,’ said Roger, coming to report. Ulfrith was white-faced at his side and making a valiant but futile attempt to conceal his shock, whereas Bale seemed energized. ‘This morning, probably.’

‘Then it must have been the pirates,’ said Magnus. ‘When I am king, I will see them chopped into pieces for this outrage! That evil Donan-’

‘No,’ said Geoffrey, taking a deep breath and forcing his wits to work. ‘You saw how much blood was spilled. The killers would have been drenched in it, but Donan and his men were not.’

‘Perhaps they washed before we came,’ suggested Bale.

‘Their clothes were those they wore when they escaped the wreck, and they were not wet. They are not the culprits. However, that is not to say Fingar and the rest of the crew are innocent.’

‘They may be wandering along some path even now, all red and splattered with gore,’ added Bale, eyes gleaming.

‘They are,’ declared Magnus firmly. ‘And anyone who thinks otherwise is a fool.’

Harold scrubbed his cheeks; he was beginning to pull himself together. ‘Ulf said he would meet me here, so I suppose I should see if he is among the dead. .’ He faltered, then looked at Geoffrey. ‘I do not suppose you would oblige, would you? He looks like me.’

Eight

Harold dropped to his knees in horror when he saw Ulf’s body, and it was some time before the round-faced pretender to the crown was able to speak. He staggered to his feet, and the others came to stand next to him in mute sympathy.

‘He is covered in blood,’ he said hoarsely. ‘How did it happen?’

‘His throat was cut,’ said Geoffrey. He did not look at Bale. ‘By a madman.’

‘Some of this blood is dry,’ said Juhel, kneeling to inspect the corpse’s clothes, ‘and some is wet. What can be deduced from that?’

‘He is a disinherited Saxon in a land inhabited by Normans,’ said Magnus harshly. ‘He was probably obliged to fight for his life at some point.’

Geoffrey looked to where Juhel pointed. Ulf must have been fighting over a prolonged period, if the stains were anything to go by. However, there were no splatters or sprays, which Geoffrey would have expected had he been involved in killing the villagers. So, if Ulf was innocent of the massacre, then it made sense to assume Fingar was responsible — Geoffrey had seen him kill two of his own men without hesitation, so villagers would present no problem. Magnus was right: the atrocity was the work of ruthless pirates furious at being deprived of their ship and gold.

‘I will ask my father to say a mass for his soul if you like,’ said Roger kindly to Harold. ‘From what I heard, Ulf will need it, and prayers from a bishop go a long way.’

‘Thank you,’ said Harold weakly. ‘We did not know each other well — fate meant we have been separated most of our lives — but he is still my brother, and I loved him.’

‘His death may be a blessing in disguise,’ said Magnus, rather baldly. ‘It means one fewer contender for the throne. And his rough temper and violent reputation might have put people off joining our rebellion. I told you to keep news of our plans away from him, and you ignored me.’

‘He has a right to be here,’ said Harold tiredly. ‘His claim is as valid as yours or mine.’

‘Shall we bury them?’ asked Bale, breaking into the discussion before Magnus could reply. ‘If we should treat corpses with respect, we had better not abandon a Saxon king to the carrion crows.’

Geoffrey saw his earnest expression and knew he was trying to make amends for what he had done.

‘Should I say a prayer?’ asked Lucian. ‘I am a monk, so I know how.’

‘Then you should not need to ask whether you should do it,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Of course you should pray. The church is a good place to start.’

‘No,’ said Lucian hastily. ‘I am not going in there. Not with all those. . No!’

Geoffrey frowned. There was no way to know exactly when the massacre had occurred, but Lucian had been alone in the woods all night. There was no blood on his habit, but that did not mean he was not involved in some way.

‘Have you been here before?’ he asked the monk, who was already kneeling.

Lucian opened one eye to look at him. ‘You know I have not: I already told you that I hail from Bath and that I have abbey business in Ribe. Why would I ever have been in Werlinges?’

Geoffrey did not know whether to believe him, but it was not the time for an interrogation.

‘Take Ulf’s body inside the church,’ he ordered Bale. ‘Then we shall seal the doors. De Laigle may have a better idea about what happened if we leave everything as we found it.’

‘Then why seal the doors?’ asked Roger. ‘He should see them as they are: smashed open.’

‘Because he may take some time to arrive, and we do not want dogs and foxes chewing the corpses. Hurry up, Bale! We should aim for the castle as soon as possible.’