and Hilde to bear the brunt of his ire. I will not do that.’
Roger sniffed. ‘They can look after themselves. The Crusade would not have lasted half as long if the army had been populated with the likes of Joan and Hilde. I have never encountered such fierce women. They are true Normans!’
Geoffrey began to respond, but Roger continued. ‘You can pay a monk to release you from your promise, you know. You did not want to take it, so God will not object when you renege. Besides, you are a Jerosolimitanus, and all your sins have been forgiven. You can do no wrong in God’s eyes.’
Geoffrey laughed, amused by Roger’s fluid approach to religion. ‘Only past sins were forgiven for joining the Crusade, not ones committed since. And I cannot break my vow, anyway.’
‘Perhaps I should not have coerced you,’ said Roger sheepishly. ‘But I honestly thought we were going to die when that storm struck – and everyone said it was God’s disapproval of your travels. But God will understand. And if He does not, you can pay for a few masses in Jerusalem. That should take care of any misunderstanding.’
‘A misunderstanding with God,’ mused Geoffrey, smiling at the notion. ‘No. There is nothing I would like more, but it cannot be done.’
Roger grimaced. ‘I cannot see Tancred staying angry with you forever. You were like brothers in the Holy Land, and he valued your counsel more than that of any other. He will forgive you, and then we shall be given the best opportunities for looting and fighting. It will be marvellous!’
His eyes shone. Looting and fighting were two activities very close to his heart.
‘And my vow?’
‘Well, then, I suppose we must stay here to deliver your letter instead,’ said Roger stoically. ‘Besides, life with you is never dull. You will find us a battle somewhere. You always do.’
Geoffrey sincerely hoped he was wrong.
Geoffrey went to the Chapter House at noon, wondering why there was such a delay. Even if the letters to Gwgan, Abbot Mabon and Bishop Wilfred had not been written when Henry had ordered Geoffrey to deliver them, it should not have taken long for one of Eudo’s many scribes to dash them off.
He was not the only one waiting for the clerks, and the yard outside the Chapter House was full of courtiers and messengers, all kicking their heels while the ponderous wheels of administration turned at a slow, deliberate pace.
‘Perhaps later today,’ Eudo snapped when Geoffrey insisted on speaking to him. ‘Or tomorrow. His Majesty’s affairs cannot be rushed just because you are in a hurry.’
Geoffrey resisted the urge to grab him by the throat. ‘I am eager to do what the King has asked of me before he thinks I do not intend to bother.’
‘He will not notice whether you are here or not,’ retorted Eudo, truthfully enough. ‘He has far more important business to attend.’
The door was slammed with an abruptness that was rude and gave rise to an angry murmur from the people in the yard. Geoffrey studied them, noting that they included Bishop Maurice and several other high-ranking churchmen, along with two earls and a smattering of knights. If Eudo felt sufficiently secure to treat them with such insolent insouciance, then it showed the extent to which clerks now ruled Henry’s kingdom.
‘You are in good company,’ came a voice at his ear. ‘We are all at Eudo’s mercy.’
Geoffrey turned to see it was Sir Edward, the foppish Constable of Kadweli. He was even more splendidly attired than before, and his flowing locks and beard had been crimped into crisp curls. His cloak was fastened with a jewelled clasp that was decidedly feminine, and his fashionable tunic was a delicate purple.
‘I thought Henry was efficient,’ muttered Geoffrey resentfully. ‘It seems I was wrong.’
‘Oh, he is efficient,’ said Edward, smiling to reveal white, even teeth. ‘If your message was urgent, it would have been penned within moments. But on lesser matters, his clerks like everyone to know who is in charge. And the more you agitate, the longer they will make you wait.’
‘Then I shall not bother them again,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Or Henry may find he has one less clerk, because Eudo is asking for a sword in his gizzard.’
Edward laughed. ‘Much as I would like to see the man’s pomposity punctured, I cannot recommend that: Henry holds him in high esteem. But I understand you are lord of Goodrich, on the Welsh border. I shall travel west soon, too. Perhaps we could go together. There is safety in numbers, after all.’
‘You are a knight – you do not need such protection.’
Geoffrey was reluctant to accept company. He was used to travelling fast and hard, using every moment of daylight, sleeping under hedges and trees if necessary. Edward did not look as though he would appreciate journeying under such conditions, and Geoffrey assumed he would slow him down. Of course, there was no particular urgency in Henry’s quest, and he supposed it would not matter if he took longer to accomplish it. Yet old habits died hard, and the notion of dawdling when there was work to be done was anathema to him.
‘I have a knighthood,’ hedged Edward. ‘But I am not sure I would call myself a knight.’
Geoffrey was puzzled. ‘I do not understand.’
‘At the risk of sounding immodest, I am an extremely able administrator. The King appointed me Constable of Kadweli several years ago, but knowing the garrison was unlikely to follow orders from a parchment-hound, he knighted me.’
Geoffrey regarded him askance. ‘What happens when you need to deploy your troops? Surely, your lack of military experience will show?’
‘I was trained in the basics, like all men of noble family, so I am not wholly without knowledge. But, more often than not, it is wiser to negotiate peaceful solutions – and, on the few occasions where it is not, my captains are competent.’
‘I see,’ said Geoffrey. He was inclined to think it was a foolish state of affairs, but then reconsidered. If Edward really was able to parley his way out of confrontations, then surely it was better for all concerned? Geoffrey had seen too often the havoc needless skirmishes could wreak.
Edward smiled again. ‘So what do you say to my suggestion? I will be no trouble, I assure you. And I may even be of some use – I know the roads extremely well.’
Trapped, Geoffrey nodded reluctant agreement.
‘Look at them!’ exclaimed Edward suddenly, pointing to two knights who had pinned a monk against the wall. The monastic was cowering, hands over his head. ‘I know Brother Delwyn is a dreadful little worm, but it is not kind to bully him.’
The two knights were strong and tall. Both wore plain white surcoats, and the swords at their sides were well-honed and functional. One was Geoffrey’s age – mid-thirties – with dark hair and blue eyes. The other was older, larger and distinctly better-looking, with long auburn hair and a neat beard.
The monk was an unappealing specimen, with lank, greasy hair, eyes that went in slightly different directions, and a grubby habit. Geoffrey recalled that Bishop Maurice had mentioned a Brother Delwyn, sent by Kermerdyn’s abbey with messages to the King. Maurice had deemed him sly, and, judging from his appearance, Geoffrey suspected he might be right.
‘I will send you word the moment Eudo gives me the letters,’ said Geoffrey, beginning to walk away. He did not want to become embroiled in squabbles that were none of his concern.
‘Wait.’ Edward gripped his arm. ‘Sear and Alberic are violent men, and though my instincts clamour at me to leave well alone, my conscience will not let me walk away while a man of God is molested. Neither will yours, I am sure.’
With a resigned sigh, Geoffrey allowed himself to be led towards the trio, heartily cursing Eudo and his tardiness.
‘What seems to be the matter?’ asked Edward pleasantly. ‘Brother Delwyn?’
‘They say I smell,’ squeaked the monk, raising a tear-stained face to his rescuer. ‘And they are threatening to throw me in the fishponds.’
Geoffrey thought they had a point. He was not particularly devoted to hygiene himself, but he was a good deal more respectable than Delwyn.
‘The same might be true of others around here, too,’ said the larger of the knights. He did not look at Geoffrey, although the inference was clear. ‘The court is letting its standards drop.’
‘I could not agree more,’ said Edward amiably, pulling a pomander from his purse and pressing it against his nose. ‘It is quite disgraceful, and I am glad I shall soon be returning to Kadweli.’
