Deadly Inheritance

‘Good morning and give me some bread,’ said Walter in Italian, bowing deep and low to the King. ‘My horses are lame and I own seven children.’

‘My son is learning Italian,’ Agnes explained, poking him hard to stop him from showing off. ‘Someone told him it was the language of love.’

‘Actually, French is the language of love,’ said Henry, leaving no room for debate. ‘Italian is the language of poisoners.’ He gazed coolly at mother and son.

‘Then I shall make sure he abandons the project,’ said Agnes smoothly. She smiled at Henry with eyes full of promise, and Geoffrey saw that she was preparing to practise her wiles on him, too. The King returned the smile, and Geoffrey had the distinct feeling that when they next met, they would not be discussing Italian.

‘I will arrive at Goodrich in about a week,’ Henry went on, addressing his subjects again. ‘And then I shall continue to Monmouth, where I shall inspect my borders.’

Baderon stepped forward. ‘It will be an honour, Sire, to explain how I have gone about creating a land that is secure and peaceful.’

Henry gathered his reins and touched a spur to his horse’s flanks. ‘I hope I am not disappointed.’

Henry glanced at Durand as he rode past, and Geoffrey saw their eyes meet. Durand gave a slight nod, as if reassuring the monarch. Geoffrey was more than willing to help Durand on that score: it was in Goodrich’s interests to see Corwenna’s plans exposed. He watched the royal cavalcade ride away and then turned his thoughts to his own investigations.

The first thing he wanted to know was why Jervil had given Baderon a dagger that sounded remarkably like the one that had killed Henry. The opportunity to initiate a conversation about it came sooner than expected, because Baderon came to stand next to him. Hilde was with him, tired and dishevelled from her hunt for Hugh. Seguin and Lambert hovered, but were too far away to hear what was said.

‘It is good of you to offer us the use of Goodrich, now Dene is gone,’ said Baderon amiably. ‘It will be pleasant to spend a day or two hunting and hawking while we wait for the King. Sir Olivier and Lady Joan are excellent hosts, and it is a pity the relationship between our estates is not sealed with a marriage.’

Hilde spoke sharply, embarrassed by his candour. ‘You could at least wait until I have gone. You are obsessed with alliances these days, and think of little else.’

‘I am growing old, and need to consider what I leave behind,’ replied Baderon. ‘If Hugh were strong, I would be content. But he is not, and I worry about what will happen when I die.’

‘You have two daughters wed, and a host of knights who owe us allegiance,’ said Hilde. ‘Hugh is immaterial. Have you seen him, Geoffrey? He is still missing, and I have been looking all night.’

‘Seguin says he is with Eleanor,’ said Baderon, before Geoffrey could reply. ‘You know how he follows her.’

‘Seguin is guessing,’ snapped Hilde. ‘Besides, just because he says something does not make it true. You listen to him far too readily.’

‘Hold your tongue, woman!’ cried Baderon, although Geoffrey thought he would be wise to listen to her.

‘When I was looking through my brother’s possessions, I found something missing,’ said Geoffrey in the awkward silence that followed. ‘He owned a large dagger with a ruby in the hilt, but it is nowhere to be found.’

‘Did he?’ asked Hilde, raising her eyebrows. ‘He was a man who liked show, but I never saw him wearing such a weapon.’

Geoffrey looked hard at Baderon, who refused to meet his eyes.

‘Such baubles come and go,’ mumbled the Marcher lord. ‘They are given as gifts and stolen by servants. I have learnt not to grow overly attached to them.’

‘Are you saying Henry’s dagger was stolen?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘By Jervil, for example?’

‘I would not know,’ replied Baderon, clearly flustered. ‘But your manor is no different from anyone else’s, and retainers have light fingers.’

‘Jervil,’ mused Hilde. ‘He was a thief, was he not? I recall a fuss over thefts at Goodrich. Joan kept him because he was good with horses, but he was not allowed to sleep in the hall, because he plundered his friends while they slept.’

‘Do you know Jervil?’ asked Geoffrey of Baderon, wondering whether the man would admit to buying stolen property from him.

‘I had met him,’ replied Baderon. His face became crafty. ‘I saw him arrive last night and went to greet him. I was afraid he might have brought bad news about dear Joan, but he was just on his way to visit his brother. He stopped here to break his journey. It is a pity, because if he had slept in the forest, instead of at Dene, he would still be alive.’

He took his daughter’s arm and escorted her away. Baderon had guessed that there was a witness to his meeting, and had taken steps to make it sound innocent. Geoffrey rubbed his chin. Baderon was not easy with lies, and there was clearly something amiss.

‘You would be wise to mind your own business,’ said Seguin, advancing on Geoffrey from one side while Lambert approached from the other. ‘No one likes a man who asks too many questions.’

‘I am sure you are right,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘But it is odd that a Goodrich servant should come here to speak to Baderon, but not to me. And it is odder still when money changes hands – money that is now missing.’

‘Henry asked questions, and look what happened to him,’ said Seguin, leaning close in an attempt to intimidate. ‘Go back to Goodrich and tend your sheep. You have quite enough enemies already.’

‘Baderon likes you,’ said Lambert, countering his brother’s bluster with reason. ‘I understand he has offered you Hilde. But he will not continue to like you if you ask dangerous questions.’

Geoffrey studied them carefully. They showed signs of having been in the fire, and Lambert had a gash across his forearm. He thought about the knife in Jervil’s dead hand. If he had used it to protect himself, it was possible he had injured his assailant. However, it being in Jervil’s left hand, and not his dominant right, indicated that it had been placed there after he was dead – either to claim self-defence should the killer be caught, or to confuse whoever looked into the murder.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Lambert uncomfortably. ‘Why are you staring at us like that?’

Geoffrey shrugged. ‘It is possible to tell a good deal from a man’s clothes after a murder.’

Seguin was angry. ‘I will commit a murder if you do not leave us alone. You are treading on thin ice, and I advise you to stop while you can.’

Eight

It was no easy matter to transport several households and their travelling possessions from one manor to another, and Geoffrey, despite having seen entire armies on the move in the Holy Land, marvelled at the arrangements required. They took all morning, before being interrupted by the requiem mass for Margaret.

‘I know the King has charged you to look into Margaret’s death,’ said fitzNorman as they emerged from the chapel. ‘But I forbid it.’

‘Do you?’ asked Geoffrey mildly. ‘And why do you think I should obey you, and not the King?’

‘Because I will kill you if you start asking personal questions,’ replied fitzNorman. ‘You will not pry into my family’s affairs.’

‘Your sister was murdered. Surely you want to know the culprit?’

‘Look,’ said fitzNorman, leading him to one side so they would not be overheard. ‘Margaret was a friendly woman, and liked a dalliance, if you take my meaning. She may have loitered in the stables with this Jervil, and I do not want her name sullied by such a rumour.’

Without waiting for a reply, he was gone. Geoffrey doubted that Margaret had ‘liked a dalliance’, given her devotion to her husband’s memory, and thought fitzNorman cruel to suggest it. Had he killed her himself, because she would not take a new husband? He had a temper, and Geoffrey had seen nothing to imply that he would not turn it on a woman.

After the midday meal, Geoffrey decided to leave, whether his guests were ready or not. He did not want to spend a second night in the hut near the Angel Springs, and space in the ravaged manor house was severely limited. He saddled his horse, sent Bale ahead to Goodrich and prepared to set off himself. His actions prompted the