leaves. Geoffrey breathed in deeply, feeling the satisfaction of having travelled a decent distance that day.
It had been two days since the last attack, although he was too experienced a traveller to assume their assailants had given up. He still had no idea what led the motley band to harry them with such dogged determination – another six skirmishes ensued after the incident in the barn – and he could only conclude that one of his companions had done something seriously wrong in Brechene. But no one would admit it, and he had other matters to occupy his thoughts.
He had concluded that William fitz Baldwin had been murdered seven years before, and the poison had almost certainly been in the butter. Despite Delwyn’s efforts to make him think otherwise, he strongly suspected that the killer was from a pool of Delwyn, Sear, Gwgan, Cornald and Pulchria. He had discounted Edward, Alberic, Leah and Richard – the first three because they had either been away or confined to bed when William had become ill, and Richard because it was clear he had loved his brother far too deeply to have harmed him.
Geoffrey had reached no firm conclusions about William’s secret, however. Sear and Alberic thought it was a mystical weapon; Mabon had believed it was something that had happened in the river, perhaps a vision; Pulchria still maintained William had discovered a potent herb; and Delwyn said it was a gift from the Virgin Mary. Richard also thought the Blessed Virgin was involved, and Cornald continued to claim that William had learned how to eat himself happy. Edward was firm in his conviction that there was no secret, and Gwgan laughingly asserted that William’s saintliness was all to do with him being in Wales.
As regards Mabon’s murder, Geoffrey’s suspects were Sear, Gwgan, Cornald, Pulchria and Alberic. He was inclined to dismiss Richard, Edward and Leah on the grounds of Father Adrian’s testimony, and Delwyn had too much to lose by his abbot’s death.
He was also convinced that Eudo had indeed tampered with his letters to Tancred, and he was now even more determined to travel to the Holy Land and set matters right – the moment Maurice released him from his vow. He had mulled over Eudo’s untimely demise, too, and thought it not entirely impossible that Eudo’s killer was among his travelling companions. One of them had killed William and Mabon, so why not Eudo?
The party was quiet that day, each longing for the journey to end. Roger, riding at the front next to him, had enjoyed a late night in a brothel and was still suffering from an excess of wine. So were Sear and Alberic, who were bringing up the rear.
In the middle, Edward was entertaining Pulchria and Leah with an amusing story, while Richard slouched next to him. Gwgan was with Hilde, listening to embarrassing revelations about Isabella’s childhood with an indulgent smile. Behind them, Delwyn was gabbling at Cornald, who was pretending to be asleep.
‘I have enjoyed the journey from Brechene,’ said Roger eventually. ‘I like a decent skirmish.’
‘I do not – not when my wife is with me.’
‘Eight separate incidents,’ said Roger. ‘Each one fiercer and more determined than the last.’
‘It is a pity Edward’s soldiers were ill,’ said Geoffrey. ‘They would have been useful.’
‘Not if they fight like him,’ said Roger scathingly. ‘Although I suppose his quick thinking did prevent Hilde and the others from being cut down in the barn.’
‘And he saved her in the first attack,’ added Geoffrey. ‘He may not be a warrior, but there is no question of his courage.’
‘Aye,’ acknowledged Roger reluctantly. ‘And Sear, Alberic and Richard cannot be faulted in that respect, either. Gwgan has proved himself useful, too. He may not be a knight, but he is better in a fight than any other politician I have met.’
‘He might not have survived the journey, had he not been,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Every one of the ambushes has concentrated on dispatching anyone in a white surcoat first.’
‘I noticed that, too. So I told him to wear something else, but he pointed out that it would be mean more arrows for the rest of us – that it would be numerically safer if the attacks were aimed at seven men, rather than six.’
‘I hope they do not harry us on the way home,’ said Geoffrey.
‘There will be no trouble going home,’ said Roger with utter conviction. ‘Because you will not have the letters. I have been thinking about it for several days now, and I am sure I am right.’
Geoffrey blinked. ‘What are you talking about? Robbers are not interested in what Henry has to say to vassals. Or do you think they are interested in preventing Maurice from telling Isabella where to buy raisins?’
Roger shot him an unpleasant look. ‘It is obvious from our baggage that we carry little of value – unless you happen to have a penchant for rotting corpses.’
‘I told you – they probably see the coffin as a ruse.’
‘But they have been nowhere near the coffin – they aimed for us. Besides, how many robbers do you know who wear armour? They are soldiers, not outlaws, and they were after the letters.’
‘That is not possible, Roger. No one but you and Hilde knows I have them.’
‘Delwyn found out about the one to his abbot, and you gave missives to Gwgan and Richard in Goodrich. I would say it is obvious that you have more. Why else would you be going to Kermerdyn?’
Geoffrey gazed at him. Was he right? But ambushing a cavalcade of six knights seemed an extreme way to prevent them from being delivered – and they had had no trouble at all between La Batailge and Brechene. Or did that explain why the attacks had concentrated on the knights, rather than the baggage cart; the intention was to kill the King’s messenger, but all knights tended to look alike, so the villains were obliged to target them all?
‘Do you still have them?’ asked Roger. ‘They have not fallen out?’
‘No,’ replied Geoffrey shortly.
It was not the first time Roger had posed the question, and it was beginning to make him nervous: he found himself constantly checking they were still there. He was not overly concerned about the one to Mabon’s successor, but he suspected Henry would be furious if Wilfred’s was lost, given that it involved money. And he was beginning to suspect that Sear’s was important, too, or Henry would not have issued such peculiar instructions for its delivery.
‘Good,’ said Roger. ‘The moment you have handed them over, we shall take the first ship we can find. Tancred will forgive you for any misunderstandings and will welcome us into his service. And then you will never have to accept a commission from Henry again.’
‘And what about my wife?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Do I abandon her in Kermerdyn?’
Roger shrugged. ‘From our experiences so far, I would suggest she is safer without you. Or perhaps Tancred will find her a post. With a few women like Hilde in his army, he would not need the likes of us.’
It was not long before the forest track emerged into more open countryside, where farmers had cleared away trees for crops. It was good land, made fertile by the meandering River Tywi, and the stubble indicated the harvest had been good that year.
‘Lanothni,’ said Hilde, pointing along the track to where a huddle of houses clustered around a simple little church. ‘I remember it from when I last visited my sister. The beds were clean, although the food left something to be desired.’
She urged her horse forward to lead the way. People came out of their houses to stare, unused to such large parties. Geoffrey saw recognition flash in the eyes of several when they settled on Hilde, and supposed she had said or done something to be remembered. He braced himself for trouble – she could be sharp-tongued when something displeased her. Unerringly, she rode towards the handsome building that stood next to the church. It was neat, clean, and had a tiled roof. A man emerged to see what was going on.
‘Lady Hilde,’ he said, his face falling. He swallowed audibly. ‘What a… a nice surprise.’
Hilde inclined her head. ‘And your name is Fychan.’
‘Yes,’ said the man uneasily. ‘Landlord of this fine inn. Will you be wanting to stay again? Despite all the complaints you levied last time?’
‘I imagine you have rectified those,’ said Hilde loftily. ‘You have had two years.’
Fychan gulped again, then shouted for boys to come and tend to the horses. The travellers dismounted and followed him into a low-ceilinged chamber, full of wood-smoke and the scent of roasting meat. There were fresh rushes on the floor, and the dogs that lounged near the fire were clean and sleek. It was far nicer than anywhere else they had stopped, and Geoffrey felt hopeful it would meet his wife’s exacting demands.
Hilde looked around appraisingly. ‘Yes,’ she said eventually. ‘It will suffice.’
Villagers were ousted from the tables nearest the hearth to make room for the newcomers, although Geoffrey would have preferred a seat by the door. It was warm in the room, and he knew he would quickly become
