delight.
‘So Mistress Helbye had not taken leave of her senses when she said she had seen you!’ said Hilde. ‘But you said you would be gone for months, if not years. What happened?’
‘King Henry happened,’ replied Geoffrey gloomily, dismounting and going to bow over her hand. They had not been married long enough to dispense with the formalities, and he did not want to embarrass her with a more affectionate greeting when there was an audience.
Hilde was a large, square-faced woman with a determined glint in her eye. She was older than Geoffrey by at least three years – she was coyly vague about specifics – and had been foisted on him because Goodrich had needed a politically expedient marriage. Fortunately, Geoffrey valued intelligence more highly than looks, and he had not been disappointed. Moreover, he had found himself blessed with a friend, as well as a wife.
‘Is there more trouble brewing on the borders?’ she asked in alarm. ‘The last time he sent you here, we had a virtual war.’
‘He has ordered me to Kermerdyn,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I leave in an hour.’
‘An hour?’ Hilde cried in dismay. ‘Surely, you can rest here longer than that?’
‘Best not.’
‘Kermerdyn is where Isabella lives,’ said Hilde. ‘Gwgan – her husband, who is visiting us here at the moment – has offered to take me with him. But I would much rather travel with you.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey, more sharply than he had intended. He hastened to explain. ‘Henry told me to take you there, too, but there is something underhand about the whole affair, and I will not see you in danger.’
‘If Henry issued you with a direct order, you must obey it,’ said Hilde. ‘You know what he is like when crossed, and I do not want to be the reason for you being in trouble.’
‘He will never know.’
Hilde shook his arm gently. ‘Of course he will know! Nothing happens in his kingdom without his knowledge. I would be sorry to lose Goodrich, and so would Joan, so we had better do as he says. Besides, I am no swooning maiden who must be coddled. I thought you understood that.’
‘I do,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But-’
‘No buts,’ said Hilde, smiling. ‘I was intending to make the journey anyway, because it has been too long since I saw Isabella. If I do not go with you, I will go with Gwgan.’
Before the discussion could become an argument, a second woman approached. It was Joan – tall, sturdily built and with a fierce face that told everyone who met her that she was not a woman to stand for nonsense. Middle years had made her thick around the middle, and her brown hair was now flecked with grey.
‘I thought I recognized you,’ she said gruffly, never one for unseemly displays of affection. ‘What are you doing back so soon? And where is your horse?’
‘Drowned,’ said Geoffrey unhappily. ‘And I have been ordered to travel west by the King.’
Joan’s face hardened. ‘Has that villain used Goodrich to force you into his service again? I am beginning to suspect that he plans to keep you at his beck and call for ever.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey firmly. ‘Because I will go to the Holy Land as soon as Bishop Maurice releases me from a vow I made never to return there. You see, I believe Tancred did not write the letters-’
‘Stop!’ ordered Joan. ‘This is a complex tale and deserves to be heard properly. We shall have it as soon as we dispatch our guests for an afternoon of hawking with Olivier.’
And Geoffrey had three letters to deliver. He had not forgotten that Richard’s and Gwgan’s were secret, and would have to be handed over when the recipients were alone. And although no such stipulation had been attached to Mabon’s, Geoffrey intended to be cautious anyway. The whole affair was too murky for him to risk doing otherwise.
It was not many moments before Geoffrey’s travelling companions arrived, and he was made proud by the gracious welcome afforded by Joan and Hilde. Cups of welcoming wine were presented, and servants were waiting to take horses and see to baggage.
Even Sear could find no fault with their hospitality, although his eyebrows went up when he was introduced to Olivier. It was not difficult to read Sear’s thoughts: Joan was twice the size of her diminutive husband, and they looked odd together. Although a knight, Olivier lied about his military achievements and was a liability in any kind of skirmish. But Joan loved him and he loved her, and Geoffrey had grown to respect the man’s gentler qualities.
The newcomers knew the other guests, and Edward was unrestrained in his pleasure at seeing them. Geoffrey was slightly taken aback when Edward darted towards a tall, burly knight in black and treated him to a smacking kiss on the cheek. Both men immediately roared with laughter, although Sear grimaced his distaste and Alberic rolled his eyes.
‘As the weather is fine, we have decided to go hawking,’ said Olivier, beaming at the new arrivals. ‘Perhaps you would care to join us? I can promise you a treat. Geoffrey, you will come?’
Geoffrey shook his head, not liking to imagine what Joan would say if he disappeared before explaining his sudden arrival. Besides, he had never really taken to the sport, although he knew that Olivier’s birds were exceptional.
‘He is probably too tired,’ taunted Sear. ‘After all, we must have ridden three hours today.’
‘My husband has business to attend,’ said Hilde coldly. ‘And he always discharges his duties before taking his pleasure. Do you do things differently in Pembroc, sir?’
Sear opened his mouth, but seemed unable to think of a rejoinder, so he closed it again and stamped away, bawling to the servants to find him a fresh horse. Geoffrey grinned, gratified to see the man put so neatly in his place. He went to see his destrier settled in the stable, and it was not long before he was joined by Joan and Olivier.
‘It is good to have you back, Geoff,’ said Olivier, slapping a comradely arm around his shoulders. ‘We feared we might never see you again, and Joan has not been herself since you left.’
‘It was a summer cold,’ said Joan stiffly. ‘It had nothing to do with him.’
‘You missed him,’ countered Olivier. ‘We all did. But tell us what has happened since you left. Or would you rather change first? You are soaking wet.’
‘And dirty,’ said Joan, looking him up and down disapprovingly. ‘You always were a ruffian.’
Geoffrey was more inclined to ask questions than to answer them, at least until Joan thawed a little. And he needed time to think about what he was going to say, because he was certainly not going to give them details of Henry’s orders, suspecting they would be safer kept in ignorance.
‘Which one is Gwgan?’ he asked, going to the door and looking across the milling bailey.
‘The one with the black hair,’ replied Olivier, pointing to a stocky man in fine but functional clothes. He lowered his voice. ‘I know he is married to Hilde’s favourite sister, but I cannot say I like the man. I always have the sense that he is laughing at me.’
‘He would not dare laugh at you,’ said Joan fiercely. ‘Not in my hearing. But I suspect he does that to everyone, and he is not as bad as some of the others who are availing themselves of our hospitality. Richard fitz Baldwin, for example.’
‘He is the one with a glower like thunder and the scar down his face,’ supplied Olivier. ‘I do not think he has smiled once since he arrived, although he has been polite enough. I would have ousted the miserable devil, but his wife seems frail, and Joan thought she needed the rest.’
Geoffrey saw a small, pale woman standing at Richard’s side, dowdy in her unfashionable clothes and nondescript wimple.
‘Her name is Leah, and she is kin to Robert de Belleme,’ explained Joan. ‘It was a good match originally, but now that Belleme is exiled, the association can do Richard no good. He is a surly brute, and if I were in Leah’s shoes, I would knock some manners into him. Olivier is never sullen.’
Geoffrey was sure Olivier was not, because the small knight had a sense of self-preservation equal to none.
‘Helbye told me Richard struck Father Adrian,’ he said. ‘And that you were going to hit him in return.’
‘She was not!’ declared Olivier. ‘That would have been unladylike, and we have standards. But not all members of the party have been objectionable. Cornald has been a delight.’
‘He has, but I wish he had not brought his wife with him,’ said Joan grimly. ‘She is the one with the blonde hair and the come-hither smile. You will have to watch her, or she will be in your bed. And Hilde will not appreciate that, because she will have her own plans in that direction.’
