‘Surely, then Walter would have killed him at the castle?’
Odo gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘He would not — it would have laid him open to accusations, and Satan’s spawn is nothing if not clever. It would be entirely within keeping with his sly character to kill Leger later, in his own church. Of course, he would not do the deed himself — that is what Pigot and Revelle are for.’
‘Did Leger have any friends outside the priory who-’
‘Cadowan and Nest!’ exclaimed Odo. ‘They are desperate to have the stone, too, and he was fond of them. Perhaps he told them the secret, and they killed him to make sure he did not tell anyone else.’
‘I doubt they would have waited a week,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘There would be no point in dispatching him then.’
Odo pressed his lips together in a long, firm line. ‘So you say, but there is no accounting for what folk might do when they are determined.’
There was little point in arguing with him. ‘We discussed the possibility earlier that Walter has a spy in the priory-’
‘Walter has spies everywhere,’ declared Odo angrily. ‘But he does seem to have recruited one who sells him sensitive information about us. I am not a drunkard — I like a little wine on occasion, but who does not? And our sacristan is not dishonest, nor our cellarer debauched. But these lies are spread around the town, so we become a laughing stock.’
‘Perhaps this spy learned what Ivar had told Leger,’ suggested Geoffrey. ‘He is clearly adept at listening to conversations not intended for his ears, so perhaps-’
‘Leger and Ivar would have taken more care,’ interrupted Odo. ‘The spy is not one of my monks, and the lay brothers are beyond reproach, so I imagine it is some sly dog from the castle or the town. God knows, Walter has enough of them in his pay.’
‘May I inspect Leger’s possessions?’ asked Geoffrey, doubting there would be much to find but supposing he had better be thorough.
‘Not today,’ said Odo. ‘It is almost time for vespers, and I would like to be present when you do it. Come tomorrow, after dawn prayers.’
‘It would be better to start now,’ objected Geoffrey, not liking the delay. If the culprit was in the priory, then it would give him hours to eliminate crucial evidence.
‘I have spoken,’ declared Odo loftily. ‘Return tomorrow. I shall be expecting you.’
‘You cannot investigate this,’ said Roger irritably, sitting in the White Lion with a jug of cool ale. ‘It is none of your business.’
‘I cannot return to Hilde without answers,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘Leger was her favourite uncle. She will want to know that his killer has been brought to justice.’
‘Then let the constable do it,’ argued Roger. ‘You have no jurisdiction here, and the whole thing sounds farfetched, anyway. I have never heard of sky-stones.’
‘Nor have I, but that does not mean they do not exist.’
Roger sighed. ‘This is a bad idea. Let Hilde come to ask questions, if she is going to be curious. I do not like it here and want to leave. It feels like a place where trouble is brewing.’
‘Then you should feel at home,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You thrive on trouble.’
‘I like fighting,’ acknowledged Roger. ‘But I only like doing it with enemies I can see. Here, I feel they are all around me and I cannot tell who they are. I do not like it, Geoff. We should leave this place. Tonight. I would rather sleep under the stars than stay here after nightfall.’
Geoffrey raised his hands in surrender. ‘Then go. Return to Goodrich and tell Hilde what has happened, and that I am trying to investigate. But do not let her come.’
‘Why not? She is the one wanting answers.’
‘Because you are right: there is something strange going on, and I would rather she stayed well away. She is my wife, Roger.’
‘Yes, but I have never met a lass better able to take care of herself.’ The admiration was clear in Roger’s voice, and Geoffrey wondered whether he should have married her. ‘I have rarely seen such skill with a battleaxe.’
‘You are not easily unsettled, and if you do not feel safe here then neither will she be.’
‘And neither will you,’ Roger pointed out.
Geoffrey went on as if he had not spoken. ‘Besides, I do not trust what Odo and his monks told me, and I do not understand Ivar. There is a peculiar story to be unravelled, and I would like to do it. For Hilde and for Leger.’
‘It is-’ began Roger, but stopped speaking abruptly when the door opened and Revelle and Pigot shoved their way inside. The tavern immediately divided between those who made for the rear door and those who exchanged nods and smiles with the two men. Three others followed Revelle and Pigot — two more knights, and someone who was obviously their leader. The leader was smaller than the others, with reddish hair and eyes oddly close together. Geoffrey suspected, from the richness of his clothes and the shine on his sword, that his spurs had been earned because he was nobly born, not because he had proved himself in battle.
The newcomer peered around, letting his eyes become accustomed to the gloom after the bright sunlight outside, then strode towards the table at which Geoffrey and Roger sat.
‘I understand you visited the priory,’ he said icily. ‘Why?’
‘What business is that of yours, little man?’ demanded Roger, unwisely hostile in his turn.
‘I am Sir Walter de Clare, constable of the castle,’ the man replied. ‘I am ordering you to leave Estrighoiel immediately. My family holds the favour of the King, so you will do well to do as you are told.’
‘I have never heard of you,’ said Roger rudely. ‘I know Gilbert and Roger de Clare, who are always hanging around the royal courts. But who are you? Some distant cousin?’
‘I am their younger brother,’ said Walter, angered by the insult. ‘And a knight in my own right. Now, are you going to leave peacefully or do my men have to use force?’
Geoffrey supposed Walter did bear a resemblance to the de Clares he had met when serving the King. He had not taken to them, although he suspected his dislike stemmed from the rumours regarding the peculiar death of King William II in the New Forest — and the fact that the archer who had loosed the fatal ‘accidental’ shot just happened to be married to one of their sisters. He found them sly and secretive, and he could tell that Walter was cast in the same mould.
‘Force?’ asked Roger, his voice dripping scorn as he looked Walter and his four knights up and down with calculated disdain. ‘You think they can best two Jerosolimitani?’
The loutish Pigot reacted immediately by drawing his sword, but Revelle stepped between his friend and their quarry.
‘Wait,’ he muttered. ‘Give them a chance to go peaceably.’
‘My men can best you with ease,’ said Walter to Roger, ignoring his henchman’s efforts to calm the situation. Geoffrey was amused to note that he did not include himself in the challenge.
‘Can they indeed?’ asked Roger dangerously. ‘Perhaps we should have a wager on that.’
‘Why?’ snarled Pigot. ‘You will not be alive to pay it.’
‘Why do you object to us visiting the priory?’ asked Geoffrey, cutting across the furious rejoinder Roger started to make. ‘Did we upset someone?’
‘I am not prepared to wait and find out,’ said Walter. ‘I know you were asking about Leger’s murder and the whereabouts of the sky-stone. These are not matters that concern you.’
Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. ‘Your intelligence network is impressive, but-’
Walter looked pleased with himself. ‘I know everything that happens in my town.’
‘Then who killed Leger?’ pounced Geoffrey.
‘Pigot! Elias! Escort them out,’ ordered Walter. ‘Revelle and Seine bring up the rear. I do not have time for this nonsense.’
‘We are not going anywhere,’ said Roger. He seemed to have forgotten that he had been eager to leave not many moments before. ‘We are free men; we have the right to go where we please.’
‘Not in Estrighoiel,’ replied Walter. There was a cant in his eyes that was every bit as dangerous as Roger’s, and Geoffrey saw it would be unwise to antagonize him any further.
‘We are leaving,’ he said, standing. ‘We do not want trouble.’
