Roger ignored the remark. ‘Do you remember when we met Lucian by that shepherd’s hut? The shepherd was dead under a fallen tree. Well, I think Lucian killed him, too. And, for all we know, he might have murdered Vitalis and Paisnel into the bargain. I said from the start that there was something nasty about him.’

‘Very well!’ snapped Harold loudly, his voice breaking into their discussion. ‘I will play if it will make you happy, but do not expect beauty. This instrument is no better than a piece of pipe.’

He put the horn to his lips and began to blow. Geoffrey winced at the raw, rasping sound that emerged, although Roger bobbed his head and tapped his feet in polite appreciation. Bale listened with a sober, intent face, and Ulfrith put his hands over his ears. Eventually, the noise stopped.

‘That was “Sumer is a Cumin in”,’ said Harold in the silence that followed. ‘I told you the instrument was not up to my talents.’

‘It was very nice,’ said Roger, whose idea of good music was anything with a bit of volume. ‘Do you know any dances?’

Harold obliged, with Bale hammering a pewter pot on a table and Roger adding his own rich bass to the cacophony. Geoffrey felt his headache return and was relieved when Aelfwig came to say the noise was disturbing the monks at their devotions.

‘Oh dear,’ said Harold with a conspiratorial grin. ‘Now we are in trouble!’

‘They are just jealous,’ said Roger. ‘They would rather be singing pretty songs, too, not chanting those tedious dirges.’

‘How much of the pirates’ gold did you take, Roger?’ asked Geoffrey the following day, as they ate breakfast with the squires on the steps outside the hospital.

He had slept soundly and was well on the road back to full health. His mind was sharp enough to think about the questions that had been plaguing him since the shipwreck, though there were frustrating blanks in his memory that included much of his meeting with Galfridus, and he was uncertain whether some of the discussions he recalled had actually taken place.

Roger pursed his lips. ‘I showed you in the marshes — a few coins for horses.’

‘You did not make off with the whole chest?’

‘If I had, you would have noticed, surely? That box was large and heavy.’

Geoffrey was not so sure. Roger’s salvage had been wrapped in the blanket he had taken from Pevenesel, so it was entirely possible that it had included a chest of gold. Roger was certainly strong enough to carry one and make it appear as if it were of no consequence.

‘Have the others gone?’ he asked, realizing he was unlikely to have the truth. ‘Lucian said he wanted to return to Bath, and Juhel was going to continue to Ribe.’

‘Galfridus suggested everyone remain here until we are sure there is no invasion,’ replied Ulfrith. ‘He said it was too dangerous to roam about until then. So everyone is still here. Well, almost everyone. Poor Philippa.’

‘Philippa?’ asked Geoffrey in confusion. ‘I thought it was Edith who died.’

‘Murdered,’ corrected Ulfrith. ‘Philippa is distraught about the loss of her companion. They loved each other like sisters, despite sharing the same husband.’

‘Philippa seemed more fond of Vitalis than Edith was,’ said Geoffrey, ‘although I suspect the security his money offered was a factor. Now she is afraid of being poor.’

‘She did say she wanted a husband,’ admitted Ulfrith, ‘but that she will not begin her search until the proper period of mourning is over. She spent much of yesterday with Brother Lucian, although I do not think he will renounce his vows and marry her.’

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows, recalling Roger’s contention that the monk was a prime suspect in Edith’s murder, and hoped Philippa knew what she was doing.

‘I think she is trying to catch him out,’ explained Roger in an undertone. ‘She is not a fool and doubtless drew the same conclusions I did.’

‘Then let us hope we do not have another strangling on our hands.’

‘She gave him a necklace,’ said Ulfrith, trying to hear what the knights were saying. ‘I think it was because Edith lent him a ring, and she did not want to appear mean by comparison.’

‘It was not valuable, though,’ said Roger, who had an eye for such things. ‘It was coloured glass and cheap metal, whereas the ring held a real ruby. Most monks cannot tell the difference, but Lucian can, of course.’ He shot Geoffrey a meaningful look, as if this was evidence of the man’s dubious claims to monasticism.

‘Well, he is a bursar,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘I imagine they are very familiar with jewels.’

‘I have barely spoken to Philippa in days,’ said Ulfrith, looking around wistfully for a glimpse of her. ‘But I thought I had better spend my time with you instead.’

‘Thank you,’ said Geoffrey, sensing that some acknowledgement of the sacrifice was expected.

‘I was worried,’ said Ulfrith in a small voice. ‘I thought you were going to die.’

‘He nearly did,’ said Roger grimly. ‘And when I find the culprit, he will wish he had never been born.’

After breakfast, Aelfwig talked about the ships that had been seen and his fear that they might be Belleme’s. Geoffrey pointed out that the Duke of Normandy was rumoured to be in St Valery, so they were more likely his, but Aelfwig countered that the Duke would not dare visit England without an official invitation from his brother.

‘I assume de Laigle has sent word to the King, regardless?’ Geoffrey asked, shaking his head when the herbalist offered him another draught of his raspberry tonic.

‘Who knows?’ muttered Aelfwig. ‘De Laigle is so addled by wine that it may not even have occurred to him to warn His Majesty. Did you hear what he did in Werlinges, when Galfridus told him to investigate? He gave his men leave to loot the place, then set it on fire.’

‘Did Bale tell you that?’

‘No — I was there. Galfridus sent me to monitor proceedings. It was disgraceful, and your squire was the only one who did not leave with his arms full of other folks’ possessions.’

Geoffrey was relieved by that at least. He watched Aelfwig pour his medicine back into its flask, thinking that if the Duke or Belleme were on the brink of invasion, the King should be told. He should also be informed about the simmering revolt. As Geoffrey did not want royal vengeance to descend on his wife and sister for the want of a letter, he decided to write to Henry that very day. Then he would borrow a horse from Galfridus and deliver it in person.

He was sorry to betray Harold and Magnus, but they both knew the risks and should be ready to suffer the consequences. He considered telling them what he intended to do, to give them a chance to escape, but his recent brush with death made him think twice about rash magnanimity.

While Roger and the squires played a quiet game of dice, Geoffrey wrote an account of all he had learned since the shipwreck, although he hesitated when he reached the part about Werlinges, not sure what was fact and what was speculation. Fingar had said that Ulf, not his sailors, was responsible for the massacre, but Geoffrey could not be sure that discussion had actually taken place. In the end, he merely reported that an entire village was dead for reasons unknown.

‘You cannot take that today,’ said Ulfrith as Geoffrey sealed the letter and stood. ‘You are not well enough.’

Geoffrey smiled at his transparency: Ulfrith did not want to leave Philippa, still hopeful he might be in with a chance if her other choices fell through.

‘He is right,’ agreed Roger, for more altruistic reasons. ‘Moreover, it is not wise to let Henry know you were slipping out of the country. He likes you here, at his beck and call.’

‘I doubt he will care. Besides, our names will be in de Laigle’s account, so it is only prudent to give our version of events.’

‘Then send a dispatch — I will even give you a ring to pay a good man — but do not ride yourself. You are still too pale for my liking.’

‘And who here is a good man?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Not Bale — he is too easily distracted.’

‘What about Breme?’ suggested Roger, pointing to the peddler of writing materials who was preparing to leave the abbey, pack already on his powerful shoulders.

Geoffrey still wore Breme’s charm — a bundle of herbs and an unusual stone, all tightly bound in twine. Breme had recommended that he keep it until the next full moon, and Geoffrey felt compelled to comply because it

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