‘You mean William fitz Baldwin?’ asked Adrian. He shrugged at Geoffrey’s surprise. ‘It was the talk of the country when he died, because he was rumoured to be a saint. However, Richard did not kill him. I have heard his confessions, and his sins are not of that magnitude.’
‘What are they, then?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘They are confidential, as you well know,’ said Adrian sharply. ‘However, I can tell you that they are nothing compared to yours. Your soul is stained black with the blood of the Crusade.’
‘Do you think Richard capable of poisoning Mabon?’
‘Of course – any knight is capable of murder. And Richard is the kind of man who goes around striking innocent priests.’
Geoffrey felt rather like hitting Adrian himself. ‘Is that the only reason you-’
‘Richard came to me for shriving yesterday – after Mabon’s body was found – and would have mentioned such a foul deed. He is innocent. So are Leah and Edward, should you think to accuse them. All three came to confession, and murder was not among their sins.’
‘And you are certain?’ pressed Geoffrey. ‘You would not lie, just because you dislike me?’
Adrian was offended. ‘I never lie! Richard, Leah and Edward are innocent of Mabon’s murder, I am sure of it. And I do not dislike you, Sir Geoffrey. I am just frightened of you.’
Discussions with Adrian often left Geoffrey with vague feelings of guilt and disquiet, so he hastened to put the priest from his mind by pursuing his enquiries. It was Cornald’s turn to shoot. The butterer was putting on a display of being inept, but the way he held the weapon and the confident manner in which he inserted the bolt told Geoffrey it was an act. Nevertheless, all three of Cornald’s shots went wide of the target. Pulchria went next and managed a considerably better score, although nowhere near high enough to threaten Richard.
‘I am sorry about what happened to Mabon,’ said Geoffrey, when they had finished. ‘He will be a loss to Kermerdyn, I imagine.’
‘A terrible loss,’ agreed Cornald sadly. ‘And wolf-tooth… well, it is a dreadful way to die.’
‘You know about wolf-tooth?’ pounced Geoffrey.
‘I once used it – in very small amounts – for a personal ailment,’ replied Cornald. ‘However, I developed a violent aversion to it. Look at my hand. You see that redness? That is from simply holding Mabon’s phial when you recovered it from the latrine. I no longer have anything to do with the stuff.’
‘But there is some in the castle,’ added Pulchria. ‘Your sister keeps it for killing rats. Anyone could have taken some and given it to Mabon. It is a pity, because he was a fine man.’
‘A very fine man,’ agreed Cornald, either mistaking her meaning or ignoring it. ‘I cannot imagine who would want to kill him. He was a little irreligious for a churchman, but I found that rather refreshing. And he had a wonderful sense of humour.’
‘Could there have been wolf-tooth in the butter William fitz Baldwin ate?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘No,’ said Cornald, amiability fading abruptly. ‘As I told you last night, there was nothing wrong with that butter. It was perfect when it left my dairy. Of course, it was delivered to Rhydygors by Richard, and was a gift from my wife, but-’
‘ I did not poison it,’ said Pulchria, shooting her husband an alarm-filled glance. ‘Besides, dozens of people had access to it – Delwyn and Bishop Wilfred loitered by the kitchen, and had no explanation for why, and half of Kermerdyn was at William’s last dinner-’
‘But no one else had any butter,’ pressed Geoffrey.
‘No,’ said Cornald coldly. ‘It was a gift for William, not for general consumption. And he did not eat it all at once, anyway, but consumed it over several days. William was a lovely man, and we were all shocked when he was taken from us.’
Geoffrey turned to other matters. ‘Why did you pretend to lack skill with the crossbow?’
‘I was not pretending!’ replied Cornald with an uneasy smile. ‘It has been many years since I last touched one, and you, of all people, will know that military skills rust without practice.’
‘Not to that extent,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You could have done better.’
‘Yes, he could,’ agreed Pulchria, shooting Cornald a cross glare. ‘I wanted that gold back.’
‘It would not have been polite to win the prize I provided,’ said Cornald, seizing on the excuse with palpable relief. ‘But my throat is parched after all the excitement, and I need some wine. Come, Pulchria. You can pour it for me.’
Geoffrey watched them go, exasperated. His questions had led nowhere, and neither Cornald nor Pulchria could be eliminated from either enquiry.
Some of the servants were selected to shoot next, giving Geoffrey time to observe Goodrich’s guests. They were generally enjoying themselves, even Richard, and none looked to be suffering from a bad conscience. The only one looking miserable was Leah, who was sitting alone on a bale of straw, shivering.
‘There is hot broth and a fire in the hall,’ said Geoffrey, taking pity on her. ‘It is not necessary to stay outside, especially as your husband has already had his turn.’
Leah smiled, and he thought it was a pity she did not do it more often. She held out a thin, white hand, so that he could help her to her feet. It was icy-cold to the touch, and the veins were blue against it. He released it as soon as it was polite.
‘Will you walk with me to the gate?’ she asked. ‘I have another headache, and my eyesight is blurred. No, do not look concerned. It is an affliction I have had for a long time, and it will be gone in a while. All I need is warmth and quiet.’
‘It sounds unpleasant,’ said Geoffrey.
‘It started just before William died,’ Leah went on. ‘Seven years ago. I had a violent ague that kept me in bed, and I have never fully recovered.’
Geoffrey sensed Richard glowering, but ignored him; he should have looked to his wife’s comforts himself if he did not want others to do it for him. Then he stole a glance at Hilde, sheepishly aware that he had barely exchanged a word with her since the contest had started. But she was taking a turn in the butts, and appreciative applause from Goodrich’s villagers indicated she was putting on a respectable show.
‘Is that why you were not at William’s deathbed?’ he asked.
Leah nodded. ‘Edward and Alberic were not there, either – they were patrolling the woods near Kadweli and visited me on their way home, which was nice. I had been abandoned to the servants, you see, because everyone was more worried about William.’
‘Who do you think killed Mabon?’ asked Geoffrey bluntly.
Leah blinked. ‘I wish I knew, because I would urge him to go to your gentle parish priest and confess. That sort of deed is not good for the soul.’
‘So you have no ideas?’ pressed Geoffrey. ‘No suspicions?’
‘None. However, no one from Kermerdyn will be responsible – I have known them all for years. You will find the culprit is a Goodrich man. A lot of your servants were shocked by Mabon’s irreligious views, and your sister makes no secret of the fact that she keeps a comprehensive store of medicinal herbs in the castle.’
‘Really?’ asked Geoffrey. Joan would not be pleased if it transpired that one of her own people was the guilty party.
‘Look,’ said Leah suddenly, pointing. ‘It is Edward’s turn to shoot. I shall watch him and then go to the hall. Would you mind waiting a moment?’
Edward sauntered up to the line with a good deal of confidence, then made a great show of setting his feet and taking aim. His first bolt whistled so wide of the target that it sent several onlookers ducking for cover.
‘I am still not recovered from vomiting so violently yesterday,’ he explained with an amiable grin. ‘I am normally rather good at shooting. Give me another arrow.’
‘Bolt,’ corrected Sear, handing one over and then helping when Edward struggled to place it correctly. ‘We call them crossbow bolts .’
‘I knew that,’ said Edward, hands on hips as Sear wound the weapon for him. He tried to take it before it was ready, restlessly impatient, like a child. His second shot was worse than his first, raising an indignant squeal from Adrian. But the third slammed neatly into the centre of the target, drawing an appreciative cheer from the onlookers.
‘The luck of a beginner,’ said Richard. ‘That last shot was a fluke.’
‘It was skill,’ countered Edward indignantly. ‘The first two were the flukes. This weapon pulls to the left and
