approach anyone else, and Geoffrey doubted there was any such experiment.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘She would have taken it to the Angel Springs and had it cursed,’ said Margaret. ‘Personally, I do not believe such nonsense, but you cannot be too careful. Now, tell me more about the Fall of Jerusalem.’
She asked more questions about the Holy Land and then talked a good deal about her Robert. It was an easy, relaxed discussion, and Geoffrey was grateful for her company. He saw fitzNorman nod with satisfaction, as if drawing up wedding contracts in his mind, and was aware that Baderon watched with irritation. Eventually, Abbot Serlo stood and intoned grace: the meal was at an end.
Margaret patted Geoffrey’s hand in a motherly fashion as she bade him goodnight, and when she had gone, he went outside for air. He sat on some steps, but did not enjoy his solitude for long. A youth of fifteen or sixteen, whose clothes copied those favoured by the most fashion-conscious members of the King’s court, came to stand nearby. Despite his finery, he was unprepossessing, with a bad complexion, poor teeth and a large nose.
‘It is a beautiful morning,’ he said in heavily accented Italian. ‘And the cows are in the river.’
Geoffrey gazed at the boy in bemusement. ‘It is a cold night,’ he replied in Norman-French. ‘And I imagine the cows are in the byre.’
It was the youth’s turn to look surprised. ‘You know Italian?’
‘My liege lord comes from Italy,’ replied Geoffrey in Italian. ‘Have you been there?’
‘You are speaking too fast,’ snapped the boy in Norman-French. ‘And how do you know Italian? There cannot be any call for it in these Godforsaken parts.’
‘I like learning languages,’ replied Geoffrey, reverting to French. ‘And you?’
‘I love the sound of Italian.’ The boy closed his eyes, gesturing with his hands. ‘The bells chime in pigs. Dogs eat cabbages and the trees swear red.’
‘Very poetic.’
‘It impresses women,’ said the boy with a leering grin. ‘They think it is romantic, and invite you to kiss them.’
‘I shall remember that.’
The boy looked around. ‘I will demonstrate. You see that woman over there with the white veil? She is called Douce, and is the daughter of some upstart peasant. Watch me.’
He sauntered to where Douce stood with her brother and father. Both men gaped when the youth doffed his hat, accompanying the gesture with a stream of meaningless words about parsnips fighting inkwells and directions to the latrines.
Douce released a squawk of outrage. ‘Rude!’ she cried, cuffing him around the ears. ‘Rude!’
The boy regarded her with astonishment. ‘I was praising your beautiful eyes in the moonlight,’ he objected. ‘What did you clout me for?’
‘It sounded obscene,’ said Ralph angrily. ‘Push off.’
The boy sensed a lost cause and slunk away, pausing only to mutter to Geoffrey, ‘She is a peasant. It works better on ladies of the court.’
‘What are you staring at?’ demanded Ralph, suddenly recognizing Geoffrey.
Geoffrey was not in the mood to quarrel. He raised his hands to indicate he was sorry, and started to leave. Ralph followed, drawing his dagger, and Geoffrey was about to do likewise when Ralph suddenly beat a hasty retreat. Geoffrey watched in surprise, then jumped when a shadow loomed behind him. It was Bale.
‘He was going to fight you, sir,’ said Bale, who held Geoffrey’s broadsword in his meaty hands. ‘But he backed away when he saw he would have to contend with me, too.’
Geoffrey might have backed away from Bale, too. The squire looked especially intimidating in the dark, with his massive bulk and dome-shaped head. He thanked Bale for his watchfulness, although the squire’s attention was now on a commotion as the gates were hauled open.
Three people were ushered inside: Hilde, Hugh and Eleanor. Hilde carried her brother on her back, and when she set him on the ground, people converged to fuss over his injured foot. He was sobbing, and had evidently not enjoyed the trek. Geoffrey glanced at Bale, who stood with his hand over his mouth and his eyes wide with horror, indicating that he had forgotten to dispatch the cart. Hilde was furious, and Geoffrey tried to escape before she saw him. He was far too slow.
‘What happened to you?’ she demanded. ‘I had to carry Hugh, and Eleanor was all but useless.’
‘The cart did not arrive?’ Geoffrey asked feebly. ‘I am sorry. I-’
But, after shooting him a withering look, Hilde strode away, not waiting to hear excuses.
It was hot in the chamber that Geoffrey shared with Bale, and he was plagued by an itch from the splinters in his arm – as Durand had predicted. He finally abandoned his attempts to sleep, and went to see if there was wine left for guests in the kitchens. The night was pitch-black and he sensed dawn was a long way off. He moved stealthily, not wanting to disturb those sleeping.
His room was at the far end of a long corridor that had another four doors opening off it. Most were open, to allow air to circulate, and he could see people inside as he crept past. In the first were Seguin, Lambert and their servants; Baderon had been housed in the more sumptuous guesthouse. In the middle room were Hilde, Douce and various other women, while the next was occupied by the spotty boy who had spoken Italian and his retinue. In the last room fitzNorman snored, with his female kin around him.
Geoffrey was relieved when he reached the yard, breathing in deeply of the heady scent of wet trees and cold earth. He was waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness when he saw that he was not alone.
‘Do not worry,’ said Eleanor, immediately recognizable by her veil and red cloak. ‘I am not as cross about the cart as Hilde.’
‘I should have seen it on its way. I was remiss to trust others to do it, and I apologize.’
She inclined her head. ‘Apology accepted. I do not mind the forest, although I prefer my own company. Hugh follows me everywhere, and nothing I say deters him. He is attracted by my veil. Most men are unnerved by it, but Hugh is not like other men.’
‘He seems simple-minded.’
‘Yes. He is Baderon’s only son, which is why Baderon uses his knights to establish peace – Hugh will not be capable of maintaining it once Baderon dies. He would like you for Hilde, but I doubt she will have you. Normally, a strong lord like Baderon would not care about the likes and dislikes of daughters, but Hilde has refused more suitors than you can imagine. Meanwhile, my father wants you for Douce. Or for me. But I expect your sights are set higher?’
‘They are not set at all. What are you doing out at this time of night?’
‘The same as you, I imagine. I want something to drink.’
They walked to the kitchens, where she lit a candle, then poured wine into a cup. When the heavy jug slipped in her grasp, she removed her scarlet gloves to hold it more securely, and Geoffrey saw that her hands were marred by a rash. Something had aggravated her skin, which perhaps explained why she covered everything except her eyes. He indicated she was to drink first, curious how she would do it without removing the veil. Her eyes crinkled in a smile, as if she knew what he was doing, and she turned away as she set the cup to her lips.
‘You keep scratching your arm,’ she said, as he sat near the dead hearth. ‘Let me see.’
She moved next to him, but he edged away. There was something unnerving about being inspected by a woman when only her eyes were showing, and he had a flashback to an unfortunate incident in the Holy Land, when he had inadvertently burst into a gathering of Muslim ladies. Covered from head to foot, he could only see their eyes, but there was no question that they were furious. Eleanor, however, was laughing at him.
‘You are afraid of me,’ she said.
‘I am not!’
‘Then let me see what is making you scratch like a dog with fleas.’
‘Splinters. I do not need help.’
The humour in her eyes faded. ‘We all need help, Sir Geoffrey, and only a fool refuses an offer of kindness. Let me see.’
With considerable reluctance, he pulled up his sleeve. She removed her gloves again and began to press with her fingernails, hauling his arm this way and that to see in the dim light of the candle. When he objected to her ministrations, she sighed in irritation.
