‘No, although I have plenty of suspects. Top of the list is Sear, the man whose dearest friend I laid in the earth today. He did not shed a single tear.’
‘That does not mean he did not care,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But why do you think he killed William?’
‘Because I do not like him,’ replied Wilfred, as if that was all that needed to be said. ‘And his clerks made an error when calculating the taxes owed by his Pembroc subjects – but he still insisted on claiming the higher amount, even when the mistake was exposed. It makes him a thief.’
‘Doubtless the King did not mind,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Oh, he was very happy. But Sear could not keep collecting it, because it was turning Pembroc destitute. That was why he went to La Batailge – to explain in person why the King would be getting less in future. I did not envy him that task, because His Majesty is partial to revenue and would not have been pleased by the news.’
Geoffrey wondered whether Sear had decided not to do it at the last minute; he had detected no cooling in the relationship between monarch and subject. And Wilfred was right: Henry would not have been pleased to learn he was losing a source of income.
‘Who else is on your list of suspects for killing William?’ he asked.
‘Anyone who was jealous of William’s success,’ replied Wilfred. ‘And that includes all of Kermerdyn and half the surrounding villages. Why? Do you intend to solve that mystery, too? If so, I wager it will take you a good deal longer than it did to identify his secret.’
Thirteen
Geoffrey left the church pleased with his progress. He had identified William’s secret and delivered all the King’s letters, except Sear’s. He also knew what he was going to write in his report about the warring churchmen. Moreover, the germ of a solution had begun to grow regarding William’s murder: he was fairly sure he knew who had committed the crime. The answer to one question would tell him for certain, and he intended to ask it immediately.
There was an apothecary’s shop near the church, but it was closed. Geoffrey waited outside, thinking that it was mid-morning, late for merchants to open. He was about to give up when the owner arrived, rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation when he saw a customer waiting.
‘I am unusually late, because of the news,’ he explained as he unlocked the door. ‘So please forgive my tardiness.’
‘What news?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘Richard fitz Baldwin’s home was attacked last night. He escaped harm, but fled the town, saying he is not going to wait here for another attempt on his life. At first, folk said it was his own soldiers who staged the assault – he is not popular – but two of them were killed in the incident.’
‘Killed by Richard?’
‘Killed by whoever broke into his home with knives and crossbows. From what I gather, it was fortunate more were not slaughtered, although word is that they were aiming for Richard, not his minions.’
‘Was Leah harmed?’ asked Geoffrey, concerned.
The apothecary lowered his voice confidentially. ‘It pains me to say something nice about such a rank villain, but Richard does love his wife. He protected her bravely last night, then gave her to Abbot Ywain this morning, hoping she will be safe inside a holy place.’
‘Where has Richard gone?’
The apothecary waved his hand. ‘The forests that surround us will keep a man hidden for as long as he pleases, and the marshes are lonely and abandoned. He might have gone anywhere. Personally I hope he stays away, because he is not good for Kermerdyn with his brutality and pent-up fury. It is a pity he is not like his brother.’
Geoffrey asked the apothecary his question. When he had the answer, he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, what had happened to William. He thanked the man and retraced his steps to the abbey. The monks were in their chapel, praying for Mabon, but Leah was sitting on the wall where Geoffrey and Ywain had talked earlier. Her eyes were red, and she was pale and wan.
‘You heard what happened?’ she whispered when Geoffrey approached. Tears began to fall. ‘Men broke into our home, and would have killed us if Richard had not fought like the Devil. Now he has fled, and I am left here in the hope that Abbot Ywain can protect me.’
‘I doubt anyone will harm you,’ said Geoffrey gently.
‘I was worried about our travelling companions, too,’ sobbed Leah. Geoffrey perched next to her. ‘So I sent our apprentices to find out whether they were attacked. Gwgan was ambushed as he walked home last night, but everyone else is safe, thank God.’
‘Gwgan fought them off?’
‘He had just dispatched a unit of men to hunt for the outlaws, but, luckily, they heard the clash of arms and galloped back. The villains escaped, though; Gwgan said they knew the area.’
Geoffrey was thoughtful. He had delivered royal letters to Gwgan and Richard. Could it be that the ambushes since Brechene were aimed at them? He wondered whether Sear would become a target when given his letter. But such ponderings would have to wait. He turned to Leah.
‘I did not come here to talk about ambushes,’ he said. ‘I came to ask why you killed William.’
There was silence, and Geoffrey was aware of chaffinches twittering as they squabbled for the crumbs that had been brushed outside the kitchen door. He could hear the river, too, a soft gurgle as it flowed towards the sea. It was peaceful and idyllic, and it was difficult to believe he was sitting next to a poisoner.
Leah gaped at him. ‘But I am one of few people who could not have killed William: I was ill in bed when he died. Anyone will confirm my tale and tell you that my ailment was genuine, because I have never fully recovered my health.’
‘No,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘But that is because you were either careless with what is a very potent substance or unsure how to use it. You put it in the butter that your husband brought for his brother from Pulchria, but you did not need to be present when your victim ate it.’
‘What are you saying?’ cried Leah in horror. ‘These are terrible accusations!’
‘I am saying that I allowed myself to be misled by your alibi. Your whereabouts when William became ill and died are irrelevant – the poison could have been sent ages before he actually consumed it. But I imagine you did select Cornald’s butter as the way to get rid of him. And it was a perfect choice – a lot of people had access to it.’
‘Yes, they did,’ said Leah, white with shock. ‘It was a gift from Pulchria, and she is a much more likely candidate for murder than me – she was terribly bitter when William rejected her. And you know for a fact that she dislikes being repelled, because she threatened you, too.’
‘She did, but it was all hot air. Besides, she thought Joan kept wolf-tooth for killing rats, but it is never used for that purpose. Her knowledge of poisons is deficient. I know she did not kill Mabon for the same reason.’
‘But Cornald’s knowledge is not deficient,’ said Leah. ‘And he made the butter.’
‘Cornald has an aversion to wolf-tooth and would not have used it. I know he is telling the truth, because of the rash he developed after touching the phial that killed Mabon. Besides, he has been Joan’s friend for years, and I trust her judgement.’
‘Then what about Delwyn?’ asked Leah desperately. ‘Or Bishop Wilfred? Both were lurking in the kitchen where the butter was stored.’
‘Neither would have risked meddling with poisons while the other was there – abbey and Bishop hate each other, and any suspicious behaviour would have been exposed with glee.’
‘But there are others,’ insisted Leah. ‘Sear-’
‘Sear’s grief was genuine. He did not kill his friend. The same goes for Richard.’
‘Hywel and Gwgan had access to Rhydygors, too. And Hywel inherited the castle…’
‘Hywel could not have known seven years ago that he would be awarded Rhydygors for fighting Belleme on the Marches. And Gwgan has learned enough about poisons from Isabella not to inflict a lingering death on his victim. If he had been the killer, he would have used something quicker. He was appalled by William’s
