‘Sorry, Father,’ called Geoffrey hastily. ‘We came to see whether we could identify this man.’
‘I see,’ said the priest, advancing cautiously. He was in his fifties with a sizeable paunch and grey hair that clung in greasy wisps around the back and sides of his head. ‘And can you? This is a peaceful village; we cannot imagine why anyone should sully it with so foul a deed.’
‘You do not know him, then?’ Geoffrey asked.
The priest came to look at the body, and an expression of compassion filled his face. ‘No, but I am sorry circumstances brought him to this. I am Ninian, vicar of this parish. Who are you?’
Roger made the introductions, and Geoffrey was not surprised when Ninian was unimpressed by the big knight’s ecclesiastical connections.
‘Fychan told me what had happened last night,’ Ninian said, speaking good Norman-French. ‘He is distraught.’
Geoffrey nodded sympathetically. ‘I imagine it is not every day that a man dies under his roof.’
‘Or that innocent travellers are attacked under it,’ added Roger.
Ninian shook his head wryly. ‘It is not that – it is that all his money was stolen. The felons invaded while he was counting it – as he likes to do each night – and did not leave him so much as a penny. He has been amassing that hoard for years, and its loss is a serious blow to him. And to my church, too.’
‘Why to your church?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘Because he was going to pay for a new one,’ explained Ninian. He gestured around him. ‘As you can see, we need it desperately. This building will not survive the winter, and we shall be reduced to saying our devotions under a tree if we do not raise another soon.’
Geoffrey frowned. ‘But this church looks as though it has been in decline for years, and the stones in the graveyard have been left long enough to gather moss. If Fychan was wealthy, why has the new church not been built already?’
Ninian grimaced. ‘You touch on a sore point. Fychan says we can only have the gold when he is dead. Counting it gives him so much pleasure that he wants to keep it for as long as possible.’
‘Sensible man,’ said Roger approvingly.
Geoffrey was staring at the priest, his mind working furiously. ‘Does anyone else know he counts it so often?’
Ninian nodded. ‘Oh yes. He is the wealthiest man in the village, so we are all interested in the state of his finances. He is not generous with it, but we live in hope.’
Geoffrey was relieved. ‘The attack had nothing to do with us,’ he said to Roger. ‘If Fychan is in the habit of poring over his money each night, and the whole village knows it, then it is hardly surprising that robbers visited his tavern.’
‘No,’ countered Ninian immediately. ‘We have never had any trouble before. Prince Hywel keeps good order in these parts, fine ruler that he is. You must have attracted them.’
‘Attracted them?’ demanded Roger, although he had said as much to Geoffrey not long before. ‘Only fools attack a company with several knights.’
‘Several knights with a baggage cart,’ said Ninian. ‘Although I understand that most of it is taken up by poor Mabon. Still, outlaws will not know that. You cannot blame thieves for chancing their hand. Of course, it was rash to tackle six Norman knights, even if you were all drunk.’
‘None of us was drunk,’ declared Roger indignantly. ‘Sear, Alberic and I were enjoying a quiet game of dice, Geoffrey and Edward were asleep, and Richard had gone to stay with friends. So had Gwgan, although he is not a Norman knight.’
‘Gwgan,’ said Ninian fondly. ‘A fine man, and a wise counsellor for Prince Hywel.’
‘I thought the fighting made a lot of noise,’ said Geoffrey to Roger. ‘Yet it took an age for anyone else to come and help me.’
‘Well, perhaps our dicing was a little rowdy,’ admitted Roger. Then his face hardened and he lowered his voice. ‘Or are you saying that Sear and Alberic made a racket deliberately, so I would not hear you yelling? Or even that Richard and Gwgan were not visiting friends at all, but were directing assassins in the middle of the night?’
‘I do not know,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But Delwyn, Edward and Cornald were not carousing or visiting friends. Why did they not come?’
‘You should be glad Edward and Delwyn stayed out of the way,’ said Roger. ‘They are hopeless in a fight. Meanwhile, Cornald is a mystery to me. Perhaps he wanted to pay us back for sleeping with his wife.’
‘ I have not slept with his wife.’
‘Did either of you kill this man?’ asked Ninian, breaking into their muttered discussion. ‘Because, if so, the culprit had better kneel in front of my altar and allow me to bless him. Murder is not good for the soul. Of course, I see you are Jerosolimitani, so I imagine this death is but just one of many.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Roger, taking it as a compliment. ‘But Geoff here is responsible for this one.’
‘He was trying to kill me,’ said Geoffrey defensively. ‘And my wife was in the room.’
‘Well, God will decide who was in the right,’ said Ninian. ‘Kneel and let me do my duty.’
Geoffrey did as he was ordered, feeling he needed all the blessing he could get.
When Ninian pronounced himself satisfied, Geoffrey left the church and returned to the inn, Roger in tow, hoping Fychan was not so stricken by his loss that he would be unable to provide breakfast. The inn’s main room was cold and empty. The fire had not been lit, the place reeked of spilled ale, and there was no sign of any of their companions. Fychan was there, sitting at a table with his head in his hands, eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
‘They took everything,’ he whispered brokenly. ‘Every single penny. I am glad you killed one of them. I hope he burns in Hell!’
‘Were you saving the money for a reason?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Ninian told us that you intend to donate some for a new church-’
‘I saved it because I loved it,’ interrupted Fychan. ‘Now it has gone, and I have nothing.’
‘You have your life,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘They could have killed you.’
‘I wish they had,’ said Fychan bitterly. ‘They have deprived me of my reason for living.’
‘Aye,’ said Roger, gruffly sympathetic. ‘It must be a terrible blow.’
‘It is like having your soul ripped out,’ said Fychan. ‘Much worse than when my wife died.’
‘Did you see anything that might allow us to identify them?’ asked Geoffrey, trying to mask his bemusement.
‘No!’ wailed Fychan. ‘If I had, I would have told you last night. You promised to take word to Prince Hywel today. He is a good man, who will see my distress and do what he can to get my money back. I would go out hunting the villains myself, but I am too ill with shock.’
‘Have there been rumours of thieves in the area?’ asked Geoffrey.
Fychan shook his head. ‘None at all. This is a decent place, with law-abiding people, and Prince Hywel keeps everything in order. Indeed, were it not for the fact that you were a victim, too, I might have assumed one of your party was the culprit.’
‘Now, just a moment,’ began Roger dangerously. ‘We had no idea that you had a hoard of coins for the taking. Only locals would know that sort of thing.’
He made it sound as though he would have launched an assault on Fychan’s hoard, had he known about it in advance. But there was no more to be learned from the distraught Fychan, so Geoffrey asked him to provide breakfast.
By the time it was ready, the others had joined them. Cornald and Edward were yawning and rubbing their eyes, as if the incident had not prevented them from having a good night’s sleep. Sear and Alberic were slightly green about the gills, and Geoffrey wondered whether Fychan had plied them with ale past its best once they had become too inebriated to notice. Gwgan and Richard also seemed quiet, both claiming they had enjoyed boisterous welcomes from friends.
Delwyn was aggravatingly spry, though, and talked in a deliberately loud voice that had most of the party wincing. Leah was the only one who demonstrated any concern for Geoffrey, coming to take his hands and peer into his face.
‘He is pale,’ she said to Hilde. ‘And the cut on his head is nasty. Perhaps we should not leave today.’
‘He should stay and regain his strength,’ said Delwyn immediately. ‘But the rest of us should proceed to
