The Bloodstained Throne

‘Many years ago, and as a very lowly squire. He will not remember me. But do not be too anxious — he is easily distracted and might not arrive for days if something amuses him on the way.’

‘That would be foolish. The last time the Duke visited England, it was as an invader, and if he dallies before making his obeisance to King Henry, he may find himself attacked.’ Galfridus’s expression turned to alarm. ‘And then perhaps Belleme will come to the Duke’s aid, God help us!’

‘If you dislike fighting, why do you allow Magnus and Harold to stay here? Surely you can see Magnus is plotting?’

‘He is a dreamer. His schemes will come to nothing.’

‘I am not so sure. Look at how many Saxons have gathered in your precinct — they cannot all be pilgrims. Moreover, I saw Harold address a gathering of about fifty men last night.’

Galfridus swallowed hard. ‘But Magnus has no funds for a rebellion,’ he said weakly.

‘I am not so sure. Bale found a considerable quantity of gold on a shepherd, which I am certain was intended to fuel the revolt. I suspect he was not a shepherd at all and was taking the purse to some central fund, but was killed in the storm before he could deliver it.’

‘No,’ objected Galfridus miserably. ‘Surely not!’

‘I believe Gyrth intended to steal Roger’s gold, too — he mistook us in the dark. And Fingar told me the roads near here are full of carts and horses after dark. It all adds up to a gathering of troops and resources, and suggests a hostile action against the King. You will be deemed their supporter if you do not make a stand.’

Galfridus rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I have an awful feeling you are right. But what can I do to stop them? I have sent messages to de Laigle, but I am not sure he reads them, let alone passes them to the King. And I can order these assembled Saxons to disperse until I am blue in the face, but they will not obey me, a man of mixed parentage.’

‘Your monks-’

‘Half my monks and all my lay-brothers are Saxon. The only thing I can pray for now is that Magnus makes his stand elsewhere. But do not let me keep you, Sir Geoffrey.’

He shot into the kitchen and made for the roast carp in an effort to calm himself. Through the open door, Geoffrey watched him snatch some and eat it fast, pausing only to complain to the cook that there was glass in it.

‘Glass?’ demanded the cook. ‘There is not!’ He appealed to Harold, who was sitting on a table swinging his short legs as he ate a piece of cheese. ‘You see? Normans complain endlessly.’

Later that evening, when the light was fading, Geoffrey sat with Bale behind the chapter house, looking over the battlefield. ‘What do you make of the business at Werlinges?’ he asked.

Bale considered the question seriously. He was not often asked for his opinion, and when he was, he tended to take his time to formulate a response.

‘Well, you and Roger fought bravely, and I stopped King Ulf from joining the affray. But I was surprised King Magnus and King Harold did not help us. They must have received some weapons training, and I did not expect them to be so useless.’

‘True, but perhaps we should be glad that Juhel and Lucian stayed out of the way.’

‘Juhel would have been all right,’ said Bale. ‘On the ship, he fought a pirate and defeated him with ease, even though the fellow had a dagger and Juhel had only his bare hands.’

Geoffrey was surprised. ‘You have not mentioned this before.’

‘You did not ask. But Juhel is a fighting man. Maybe not with a sword, but with a knife or his hands, he would be a match for most men.’

Geoffrey considered the information. ‘It seems there is more to Juhel than meets the eye — or more than he is willing to let anyone see.’

‘I still think he poisoned you,’ said Bale. ‘He is a sly bastard.’

When Geoffrey made no reply, Bale took the ring and pouch of gold from his bag and began fiddling with them. Geoffrey took the purse and looked again at the coins, before handing it back.

‘You saw the shepherd’s body. Roger believes Brother Lucian killed him. What do you think?’

There was another lengthy pause. ‘His head was under the tree trunk,’ replied Bale eventually. ‘Squashed almost flat. But there were no other wounds. Lucian may have held him under the tree when it fell, I suppose, but it would not have been easy to manage.’

‘Then I imagine it was an accident. Did you notice his clothes? Did he look Saxon?’

‘Oh, yes. His hair was long and braided, like Saxons used to wear it. Why?’

‘Because it is too much of a coincidence for a shepherd to be loaded with gold near where Saxon princes are gathering. And it is odd that a pauper would oust a monk while a storm raged outside — even the most reclusive of men do not deny shelter under such conditions. But this shepherd did not want witnesses.’

‘Witnesses to what?’

‘To this rebellion. I am sure there is more to it than we think.’

Geoffrey’s plan to leave for Winchester before dawn the following morning was thwarted when he found the stables virtually empty. An unhelpful groom eventually admitted that the abbey’s entire stock had been taken to the blacksmith for re-shoeing, and all that remained were Galfridus’s personal nags, which he never lent to anyone. Geoffrey strongly suspected the animals had been quartered somewhere nearby, ready to be used by the Saxons.

‘I could walk,’ said Geoffrey, returning to Roger after a frustrating interview with Galfridus, during which his request to borrow one of the remaining mounts was politely but firmly denied.

‘You would make poor time,’ said Roger. ‘You are not yet strong enough for such a trek. And I am not leaving you here unprotected, so do not think of asking me to go instead. But Galfridus is playing with fire! I am beginning to think he wants this rebellion to succeed. He does nothing to stop it, and now he refuses to help you warn the King.’

‘I suspect he simply does not want to be without a means of escape should the situation turn nasty. Damn! Without horses, our only other option is to stay here and see what we can do to thwart this uprising. I hope to God that Breme has delivered that letter.’

Roger patted his shoulder reassuringly. ‘Do not fret. He is a reliable fellow.’

Geoffrey went to the church, but the melodic chanting from the chancel did not soothe him this time, and he prowled restlessly along the nave and aisles, looking at the carvings on the pillars without really seeing them. Roger knelt with his hands pressed together, his heavy features arranged in an expression he imagined was devout. Ulfrith stood behind him and stared miserably at the central crossing, where Philippa loitered with Lucian.

Meanwhile, Juhel leaned against a pier near the south transept, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Harold, who was chatting amiably to some lay-brothers. The Saxon said something to make them laugh, and the sounds of their mirth caused Ralph to storm from the chancel to berate them. When the sacristan had gone, Harold said something else that sent them into paroxysms of merriment, although the laughter was quieter this time.

‘Ulf was not a fellow for giggles,’ remarked Magnus to Geoffrey. ‘He was an iron man, who frightened even his closest friends with his cold heart and ruthless determination.’

‘Then you must be glad he is dead. He sounds a more formidable rival than Harold.’

Magnus’s expression was dismissive. ‘Harold is no rival! Look at how he fraternizes with servants. I cannot imagine how he will manage at the head of an army — he will be too busy gossiping with his stable-boys.’

‘What about your cousin Gyrth?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Would he have made a good general?’

‘Yes, and his death is a bitter blow to our cause.’ Magnus regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you should join us. There will be great rewards for men involved in our victory — and dire punishments for those who side with the Usurper. You would be wise to consider your future.’

‘I will take my chances with Henry.’

Magnus’s expression turned to anger. ‘You are a fool, and I shall personally see that you regret your decision.’

He turned on his heel and strode away, not caring that he powered through a procession of monks. Several outraged glances followed him, but Geoffrey saw more that were admiring and hopeful. With the end of prime, monastics and visitors alike began to trail towards their breakfasts. Roger was one of the first, Bale hot on his heels.