Anger suffused Roger’s face. ‘I am not being ousted by this upstart. And his henchmen can try to make me leave if they dare. It would be a pleasure to skewer them.’
‘We will not be gone long,’ murmured Geoffrey in his ear. ‘Just follow me now. I will explain later.’
‘There is something bewilderingly perverse about you,’ grumbled Roger, deliberately knocking into Pigot as he followed Geoffrey outside. Pigot staggered, and it was only Revelle’s warning glare that prevented him from drawing his sword. ‘I never know what you are going to do next.’
But he was used to deferring to Geoffrey in tactics, so he let the matter lie. Walter’s men had already been in the stables, and the horses were saddled and ready. To make the point that he was not to be bullied, Roger began to make a fuss about the way his bags had been secured.
‘The strap is broken,’ he declared. It had been fine earlier and Geoffrey wondered whether he had cut it himself. Roger looked directly at Pigot. ‘You had better mend it for me.’
‘Mend it yourself,’ snarled Pigot. ‘I am no man’s servant.’
‘No?’ responded Roger. ‘I thought you were the constable’s lackey.’
Pigot’s sword was out of its sheath in seconds.
There would have been bloodshed had not Revelle stepped in front of Pigot, then clicked his fingers to several men in the crowd that had gathered to watch, ordering them to mend the strap.
‘Do not annoy Pigot,’ whispered a man who stood near Geoffrey. It was the red-faced merchant called Cadowan, his pretty wife Nest at his side. ‘And tell your friend he is pushing Walter too far. Our constable is a dangerous man.’
‘In what way?’ asked Geoffrey. A messenger had arrived, claiming the attention of Walter, Revelle and the other two knights, while Pigot continued to banter words — but at least not blows — with Roger.
‘We are fairly sure he killed his predecessor — Drogo de Hauteville,’ replied Nest. Her voice was low and pleasant, and Geoffrey found himself wishing Hilde had some of her looks. ‘Drogo plummeted over a cliff in the woods, even though he knew the area well and was unlikely to have lost his way.’
‘He was killed instantly,’ added Cadowan, taking up the tale. ‘And within hours, Walter arrived. He said he just happened to be passing when he heard the news, and he stepped into Drogo’s shoes because no one else was to hand.’
‘The King must be satisfied with him or he would have been replaced.’
‘Walter put down a small rebellion,’ said Cadowan, his voice dripping disgust. ‘Although we suspect it was engineered by Revelle to give his master an opportunity to shine.’
Geoffrey frowned. The whole affair did sti nk of treachery.
‘We suspect Walter killed Leger, too,’ whispered Cadowan. ‘Although I imagine he will have blamed the monks in the priory. Or even us. Am I right?’
Geoffrey shrugged, unwilling to gossip. ‘I have been listening to accusations all afternoon. It is difficult to keep them straight.’
Cadowan shot an angry glare towards Walter. ‘Nothing has been right since that devious dog arrived. He blames it on Ivar, but it was hardly Ivar’s fault that he could not save Eleanor — the sky-stone does not work for everyone. Thank God it did on Nest.’
‘I could feel myself dying,’ said Nest quietly, ‘but then Ivar put the stone in my hand, and the life began to course through me again. Walter can say what he likes, but the stone is sacred.’
‘The monks want it badly,’ said Cadowan. ‘But they are not very saintly men, and I would not like to think of such a pure thing in their hands. I tried to buy it from Ivar, so I could take it to a monastery with devout monks, rather than this worldly horde. But Ivar will not sell.’
‘Does he explain why not?’
Both shook their heads. ‘He said he would wait for God to tell him who to give it to,’ said Nest. ‘But-’
‘Enough,’ roared Walter, finishing with the messenger and seeing Geoffrey speaking to the merchant and his wife. ‘Get on your horses and leave. You have wasted enough of our time.’
Eager to avoid further confrontation, Geoffrey mounted up. But Roger once again had to have the final say.
‘Perhaps you could bend down so that I could step on your back to mount,’ he said to Pigot.
The other knight’s face was a mask of unbridled hatred as he reached for his sword. But Roger struck him on the forehead with the metal hilt of his dagger, and Pigot dropped senseless to the ground.
The constable squawked in alarm as all the knights immediately assumed fighting stances. In a move born out of sheer terror, he lobbed his sword at Geoffrey. It was an unconventional manoeuvre, and not one any sane knight would perform — it would leave him effectively unarmed. But because of its very nature, it took Geoffrey by surprise, and there was a burning pain in his arm — his armour had leather sleeves, and the blade had sliced through one of them. He struggled to raise his shield as first Elias and then Revelle began a series of hacking blows.
‘The King will have your head for this,’ Roger bellowed, realizing too late that the odds were not very favourable. ‘He will not appreciate his agents being murdered.’
‘Agents?’ asked Walter, making an abrupt gesture that stopped his knights from attacking, although they remained alert. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Geoffrey is one of his most trusted officers,’ said Roger loudly.
‘Geoffrey?’ asked Walter uneasily. ‘Not Sir Geoffrey Mappestone? Of Goodrich?’
‘The very same,’ shouted Roger. ‘Which you would have known, had you bothered to ask.’
‘My cousin, William Giffard — who is the Bishop of Winchester — mentioned Geoffrey Mappestone in a letter he wrote to me,’ said Revelle, sheathing his sword. ‘And his description matches this man. Giffard said Geoffrey has helped the King with a number of difficult problems.’
‘Then why did you not tell us who you were?’ said Walter, expansive and oily. ‘Your reputation goes before you, and His Majesty has often sung your praises. Elias! Seine! Why are you standing there like great apes? Welcome our new friends. We must amend this silly misunderstanding.’
Geoffrey did not want to step inside Castelle de Estrighoiel — not because it was the lair of a man who had lobbed a sword at him, but because it was owned by the King. He had learned from bitter experience that it was safer to stay well away from anything under Henry’s control.
‘We will stay in an inn,’ he said, trying not to show how painful his injury was.
‘Nonsense,’ declared Walter. ‘They are likely to be full by now, and there is plenty of room at the castle. Besides, it is the least I can do. You do understand that I would never have tackled you had you told me your name, do you not?’
Geoffrey nodded, although he was not much comforted. It meant Walter was not averse to ambushing other innocent visitors, which hardly made Estrighoiel a place of safety.
‘Then we will stay at the priory,’ he said. ‘There is no need for-’
‘You will not be safe there,’ said Walter darkly. ‘Please, Sir Geoffrey. You will be much more comfortable with us. And you know I mean you no harm — if I had, you would be dead by now. And you are still very much alive.’
‘Why did you stay your hand?’ asked Geoffrey. The King would be vexed to lose the services of a retainer, but no more — Geoffrey might be useful to Henry, but Henry did not like him, and the feeling was wholly reciprocated.
‘Because the King told me you were a good man to call in times of trouble,’ replied Walter. ‘And this is a turbulent region. If I am to maintain my hold on Estrighoiel, then I shall need all the allies I can get.’
‘Your hold on Estrighoiel is insecure?’
If that were the case, then Geoffrey was disgusted, because defending such a mighty fortress should have been child’s play. Then he looked at the constable’s shiny mail and untried sword, and understood the situation: Walter was but a shadow of his older brothers. Estrighoiel was his chance to make a mark, but it was unlikely that he would be equal to the task.
Walter shot him a furtive glance. ‘Treachery is rife. No one can be trusted, with the exception of these four knights — Revelle, Pigot, Seine and Elias.’
‘Why is treachery rife?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘There will be grievances between Normans and locals — both English and Welsh — but you should be able to manage those with diplomacy.’
‘People will not do as they are told,’ said Walter sullenly, and Geoffrey saw he was a petty despot — that he
