The Bloodstained Throne

matter.

‘Since de Laigle did not explore much, I had a poke around myself,’ Bale continued. ‘But I have not had a chance to tell you because you were too ill. Would you like to hear now?’

‘Not really,’ said Geoffrey. Ulfrith’s water had disagreed with him, and he felt slightly sick.

Bale forged on. ‘De Laigle said it was obvious that the pirates were responsible — that a massacre and rough foreigners in the area could not be unrelated. But you said you were uncertain, so I decided to inspect the corpses for pieces of clothing ripped from their killers in their death throes.’ His eyes gleamed strangely.

‘Did you find any?’ asked Geoffrey, intrigued.

‘No,’ came the disappointing reply. Then Bale grimaced. ‘Moreover, I was so busy looking for clues on your behalf that the soldiers grabbed everything of value before I could get to it. There was nothing left for me.’

‘You got that little cross,’ said Ulfrith comfortingly. ‘And a nice, thick habit to cut up and make into a new tunic.’

Bale reached inside his jerkin and brought out a small wooden cross of the kind worn by novices. ‘It is nothing, and Galfridus will probably ask for it back if he finds out I have it.’

Geoffrey took it from him, then told him to fetch the habit. When it arrived, he inspected it carefully, noting the faint spray of blood across the front. He smiled at Bale and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘You underestimate yourself. You have found a very important clue indeed. You see these letters carved on the cross? They spell “Gyrth”.’

‘Gyrth!’ breathed Roger. ‘The man who tried to kill you.’

‘The very same. And Bale has just found his cross, and probably his habit, in a village where every living soul was murdered.’

Twelve

The following day, the abbey was full of chaos as monks and laymen hurried to make everything perfect for the Duke of Normandy. The other guests were considered a nuisance: they were of no help with the preparations, but still needed to be fed. Magnus was particularly bothersome, complaining vociferously that no such preparations had been made for him.

Bale went to where a scanty breakfast of bread and unripe apples had been left, and swept the lot into a basket, which he then bore away. Realizing they would not eat unless they followed him, Magnus, Harold, Lucian and Juhel trailed him to where Geoffrey and Roger were sitting in the sun on a day as clear and blue as high summer.

Ulfrith was not far behind, carrying a bucket of ale. Geoffrey regarded it with a distinct lack of interest, and since his own water-skin was inside, he deftly unhooked Ulfrith’s and took several gulps before he was discovered. He had spent an unsettled night with uncomfortable griping in his innards, and the bitter taste did little to put him in a better mood. With a scowl, Ulfrith stamped inside the building and pointedly retrieved Geoffrey’s own, thrusting it into his hands.

Geoffrey declined the bread Bale offered, then rested his elbows on his knees and listened to the argument that broke out when Bale refused to share the food. Roger ordered the squire to accommodate the others, but only after he had taken the best for himself.

‘What was in that water, Ulfrith?’ asked Geoffrey after a while.

Ulfrith regarded him in alarm. ‘Nothing! Why?’

‘It tasted bitter. Did you add anything that will make me sick again?’

‘Look!’ Ulfrith seized his flask and took several large gulps, although he winced as they went down. ‘See? The leather is old, so perhaps you can taste the tanning.’

Geoffrey was not convinced but supposed Ulfrith’s concoction could not be too deadly if he was prepared to drink it himself. He turned his attention back to Roger and Lucian.

‘I did not kill Edith!’ Lucian was shouting. ‘Galfridus believes me or he would have locked me away. He accepts that I was praying all night, so why do you not?’

‘You did not recite a single office aboard ship, so why would you start now?’ snapped Roger. ‘Or were you doing it as penance for Edith’s murder?’

‘Go to Hell,’ muttered Lucian through clenched teeth.

At that moment, Philippa arrived. Still scowling furiously at Roger, Lucian offered her his arm and invited her to stroll to the fishponds with him; good manners would not permit him to leave her in the company of rough knights, stupid squires and loutish Saxons.

‘Do not go down there,’ Harold called after them, cheeks bulging with the best part of a bulb of garlic. ‘There have been reports of pirates in the area, and that part of the abbey is a bit remote.’

‘Pirates?’ asked Philippa in alarm. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes — ask Ulfrith,’ replied Harold. ‘One of them shot at Sir Geoffrey, who is only alive now due to Ulfrith’s remarkable courage and foresight.’

Geoffrey laughed, earning himself a black glare from Ulfrith. The scowl intensified when Philippa declined to ask for details and flounced away at Lucian’s side. Appetite gone, Ulfrith tossed his bread back into the basket, where it was seized by Magnus, moving fractionally faster than Harold. Magnus grinned, gratified by the victory over his rival.

‘Are you saying these pirates came inside the abbey?’ Juhel asked uneasily.

‘Fingar told me he has been wandering around as he pleases,’ replied Geoffrey.

‘He had better not wander near me,’ growled Roger, ‘or he will find a sword in his gizzard.’

‘Do you still intend to leave today?’ asked Juhel. ‘To tell King Henry what is happening here? If so, you will have to watch yourselves, or Fingar and his crew will be after you in a trice.’

‘He is still not right,’ said Roger, jerking his thumb at Geoffrey. ‘And I refuse to let him go until he is. Besides, I do not want to leave without meeting the Duke. What is in that bag around your neck, Bale? It seems to get bigger every time I see it.’

‘This?’ asked Bale, shooting a nervous glance in Geoffrey’s direction. ‘Just bits and pieces.’

‘Not from Werlinges, I hope,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I thought the cross and habit were all you took.’

‘They were,’ said Ulfrith, standing up for his comrade. ‘He had the ring from Vitalis on the beach, and he stole money from the dead shepherd in the wood. None of that is from Werlinges.’

Furious, Bale came to his feet fast, a dangerous look in his eyes. Ulfrith was startled, not understanding what he had done wrong. Geoffrey stood, too, and glared at Bale until he subsided.

‘What did you tell him that for?’ Bale demanded furiously.

‘I was defending you,’ snapped Ulfrith, angry in his turn. ‘I told him what you already had, so he does not assume it was from Werlinges. I was being a good friend to you.’

Geoffrey sat again, grateful Ulfrith’s brand of friendship did not extend to him.

Bale pulled a face at him, then turned to Geoffrey. ‘I was going to tell you, sir, but then you gave me that lecture at Werlinges, so I thought I had better keep quiet. I borrowed this from the shepherd, because I thought it was odd — a shepherd having this much gold.’

Geoffrey took Bale’s purse and emptied it into his hand. He was astonished — Bale had found a fortune.

‘There are coins here from Flanders and Ireland,’ he said, puzzled. ‘What was a shepherd doing with them? And how did you take Vitalis’s ring when I was watching you?’

‘I did it when I wrapped his body in the cloak,’ replied Bale, with the grace to look shamefaced. ‘Sir Roger taught me a sleight of hand, see.’

Geoffrey sighed, annoyed with Roger as well as Bale. ‘My back was turned for a moment, and you flouted my orders?’

‘I tried to tell you about it, sir, but you would not listen. Here.’ Bale passed the ring to Geoffrey, who regarded it in distaste. ‘I took it because, although it was on Vitalis’s hand at the beach, previously it belonged to him.’ His accusing finger indicated Magnus.

‘Not me!’ said Magnus, startled. ‘I do not know what you are talking about.’

‘Are you sure, Bale?’ asked Geoffrey.