‘Not really.’
‘Poor crops, flooded rivers and now this suspiciously nice weather. But Walter and his creatures arrived at the same time that Ivar took his vows, so I believe they are responsible for our downturn in fortunes. They say Ivar has been seen worshipping the devil, but he is a monk now, so clearly they are lying.’
‘Do you think Walter killed Leger to give credence to their tales?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘The murder of Ivar’s friend would certainly damage his reputation further-’
‘It damages them,’ declared Odo fiercely. ‘I would not have believed they would stoop to such wickedness, but perhaps you are right. They will almost certainly say Ivar did it. And their spy will fabricate “evidence” to prove it.’
‘You have no idea about the identity of this spy?’
Odo suddenly looked old. ‘No. I have charged Brother Marcus to find out, because he is a dedicated and thorough man. His questions have seen him arrested and held prisoner at the castle on several occasions, but he has no answers yet.’
‘It seems a sorry state of affairs,’ mused Geoffrey. ‘Castle and Church bandying accusations back and forth like fishwives.’
Odo glowered. ‘They started it!’
‘Where does the town stand in this dispute?’
Odo’s glower intensified. ‘The sensible ones see we are the wronged party, but the lunatics support Walter and his villains.’
‘In other words, the feud is pulling the place apart.’
Odo continued to glare but made no other reply.
‘I had better ask my questions,’ said Geoffrey, wanting the case solved as quickly as possible. With such a bitter quarrel, it would not be wise to risk becoming embroiled in it.
‘We shall say a psalm first,’ said Odo piously. ‘And then a prayer. And then you may ask us anything you like.’
Geoffrey studied the monks as they stood and allowed their prior to lead them in their devotions. They sang lustily — with the exception of Ivar, who did not seem to know the words — and clearly enjoyed impressing their guest with their chanting. It confirmed Geoffrey’s initial impression: that the priory put great store in outward appearances. But what lay within?
‘Brother Leger thought someone was trying to kill him,’ said the large, amiable monk who had been addressed as Brother Aidan in the market. His companion, the hot-tempered Marcus, sat next to him. ‘We were disinclined to believe him, because we did not imagine for a moment that Walter and his henchmen would murder any of us.’
‘He hates us all,’ said Marcus, fingering his gold cross. ‘But I still refuse to accept that he stooped so low as to stab a monk in a church. I think Cadowan and Nest did it. They were probably looking for the sky-stone. Leger caught them, so they killed him.’
‘Did Leger see who threw the dagger at him earlier?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Or who tampered with his food?’
‘Not that he told me,’ said Aidan. ‘And I questioned him about both incidents.’
‘Then what explanation did he give? He must have had some notion as to why someone meant him harm.’
‘He thought it might be something to do with our feud with the castle,’ replied Aidan. ‘Meanwhile, we heard and saw nothing of his killer. We all retired to bed, and everything was quiet and peaceful until we rose to pray before dawn. Finding him with a dagger in his back was a terrible shock.’
There was a chorus of agreement, but Geoffrey could not tell how much of it was sincere. Would one stab a comrade, just because it would be assumed that Walter had done it, and thus topple the constable from his seat?
‘Did you keep the dagger?’ asked Geoffrey, wondering whether it might be identified and its owner traced. It would not be the first time an inexperienced murderer had made a careless mistake.
‘I threw it in the river,’ said Marcus. He shot Geoffrey a defiant look, as if daring him to criticize. ‘It was a hateful thing and had no place in our holy precinct.’
‘It did not occur to any of us that it might be needed,’ added Aidan.
‘Is it retrievable?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘No,’ said Marcus immediately. ‘The Wye is fast and muddy, and it will be long gone by now. That is why I deposited it there — I did not want anyone else to touch the filthy thing. It is tainted and evil, like the hand that wielded it.’
‘What did it look like?’
Marcus shrugged and would not meet the knight’s eyes. ‘Just some cheap, nasty thing that can be bought in the market.’
‘I think Walter, Revelle or Pigot is responsible for Leger’s murder,’ said Aidan quietly. ‘Because he was Ivar’s friend, and we all know they would do anything to hurt Ivar.’
‘But we have no evidence to make such a claim,’ said Marcus bitterly. ‘Like my belief that Nest and Cadowan are the guilty party. Both theories are just suspicions — ones that may well prove true, but not ones we can prove.’
‘I am surprised you do not leap at the chance to accuse Walter,’ said Aidan, turning to the younger monk and raising his eyebrows. ‘After all the grim nights you have spent incarcerated in his dungeons.’
‘I hate him,’ acknowledged Marcus. ‘But there is no evidence that he or his henchmen killed Leger.’
Odo sighed as he turned to Geoffrey. ‘This case will not be easy to solve.’
Geoffrey had a bad feeling he might be right.
While the Benedictines began to talk among themselves, Geoffrey went to sit next to Ivar, who had not taken part in the discussion. He was reading a book, but when Geoffrey looked at it he saw it was held upside down. His first thought was that the monk’s eyes were failing, but Ivar regarded Geoffrey sharply enough, and the knight supposed he was just one of many monastics who was illiterate, but who did not like to admit it.
‘Walter de Clare likes to tell tales about me,’ the monk said softly. ‘He thinks I commune with the devil. But if I did, why would I have come to live in a priory? It would be difficult to speak to my familiar in a community of Benedictines.’
‘Perhaps he means to malign all the priory’s residents,’ suggested Geoffrey. ‘And chose you as a scapegoat, because…’ He faltered.
‘Because of Eleanor,’ said Ivar bitterly, and Geoffrey saw tears sparkling in his eyes. ‘If I could have saved that little angel, I would have. But it was beyond me. Walter thinks I failed deliberately, but he is wrong. He says the town’s problems started that day — and he is right. I decided to join the priory, and castle and Church have been at loggerheads ever since.’
He had a curious accent — one that Geoffrey had heard before, when he had joined men from many nations to march towards Jerusalem. ‘You sound as though you hail from the kingdom of the Danes.’
Ivar smiled. ‘I have been told that before, although I have never been there. Many years ago, I lived in a village in a country far to the north. I was called Ivar Jorundsson then.’
‘Greenland? My father had some gaming pieces made from Greenlandic ivory.’
Ivar inclined his head, still smiling. ‘It is rare to meet someone who has heard of my homeland. Most cannot believe such a place exists — a land of ice and snow and mountains.’
‘So how do you come to be here?’
‘When I was a young man, it was arranged that I would take the cowl in Iceland, but there was a terrible storm during which many sailors were lost, including the navigators. We drifted aimlessly for weeks, never in sight of land. Then pirates took us prisoner, but another storm wrecked their ship, and I was washed up on the shore of Hibernia.’
‘I see.’ Geoffrey wondered if Walter might have a point when he claimed Ivar had brought bad luck. One storm was bad enough, but two and pirates was remarkably unfortunate.
‘There were few survivors,’ Ivar continued. ‘But we were brought to the west of this land by the noble Prince Rhys of Deheubarth. When he was killed in battle and his territories taken by the Normans, I continued east with another survivor of the shipwreck, and when we found this perfect country of woods and rivers we took it as a sign from God that we should settle here.’
