Deadly Inheritance

Elgiva pursed her lips. ‘You and Hugh are the only ones who think so. He is smitten, and it is to her credit that she has not pushed him over a cliff. I wonder what she is planning with him this time. The last time they went missing was September.’

‘That is when Henry died.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Elgiva, meeting his eyes. ‘I saw them in the woods about a week before his murder. It is rumoured that she put a curse on Henry.’

‘Why would she do that?’

‘He pulled off her veil in a drunken rage. He claimed it was accidental; she says otherwise. But she was angry, because it showed her jaw had been blown off during a demonic experiment.’

‘So, you consider her a suspect for Henry’s murder?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Because even if she did not wield the dagger herself, she chanted evil charms?’

Elgiva took a sip from her cup. ‘I do not know who dispatched your brother – his killer made sure there were no witnesses, although Jervil heard them talking. Later, Jervil told me Henry cursed everyone with his dying breath, including Joan. Henry predicted you would come and expel her, and subdue Goodrich with a mailed fist.’

‘Is that why people are suspicious of me? Henry’s deranged ramblings?’

‘They do not know what to expect!’ called Father Adrian, listening once again. ‘Perhaps it is my fault. I preached hard against the Crusade, and my descriptions of Jerosolimitani as blood- drenched, lust-craven thieves were powerful.’

‘Jervil is dead,’ said Geoffrey to Elgiva, not deigning to address the priest’s prejudices. ‘He was strangled after selling a dagger to Baderon. He was paid in silver, but that had disappeared when I saw his body.’

‘You had a rummage, did you?’ asked Elgiva wryly. ‘Perhaps you are not so different from Henry, after all. But tell me about this dagger. What did it look like?’

‘There was a ruby in its hilt.’

‘A ruby?’ asked Elgiva. ‘The Black Knife Joan gave Father Adrian contained an emerald.’

‘It did,’ agreed Father Adrian. ‘In that case the dagger Jervil sold Baderon was not the one I had in my church. It was not the one that killed Henry, either – so Jervil’s transaction with Baderon can have nothing to do with your brother’s death.’

‘I think it was exchanged in Joan’s bedchamber,’ explained Geoffrey. Jervil had the real one; you did not.’ He turned his attention to Elgiva. ‘How well did Jervil know Baderon?’

Elgiva grinned, pleased to show off her knowledge. ‘Joan used Jervil as a messenger, because he was a good rider. He often visited Monmouth when she needed to communicate with Baderon.’

Geoffrey rubbed his chin. It seemed obvious that Baderon or one of his knights had killed Jervil, either so he could never tell anyone that Baderon had the murder weapon, or to retrieve the silver Baderon had paid for it. And Margaret was murdered because she had witnessed the killing. Or was that too simple an explanation?

‘Can you tell me any more about Henry?’ he asked.

‘I cannot list all the folk who bore him a grudge,’ said Elgiva. ‘We would be here all day. There was not a man, woman or child on Goodrich’s estates who did not hate him.’

‘But none of these owned a jewelled dagger,’ Geoffrey pointed out. ‘And if they had, they would not have left it behind.’

‘True,’ admitted Elgiva. ‘That narrows your list. But you still have Caerdig, Corwenna, Ralph, fitzNorman and Isabel. Margaret also disliked Henry, because of what happened to her niece. Then there are Baderon’s knights. Not Baderon himself, though.’

‘Why not?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘Too indecisive,’ replied Elgiva. Geoffrey dismissed her opinion; Baderon’s indecision was not a good enough reason to strike him from the list.

‘I do not think it was Baderon, either,’ said Father Adrian. ‘He and Henry treated each other with respect, and were on better terms than one would have imagined – especially given Henry’s callous rejection of Hilde.’

‘You say no one from Goodrich killed Henry, because the dagger was such a fine weapon,’ said Elgiva. ‘However, Joan and Olivier like to entertain, and many of their visitors are wealthy. Some are so rich that they might not miss a jewelled dagger, if it were “borrowed” by a servant.’

‘You think a servant stole the blade and used it to kill my brother?’

Elgiva shrugged. ‘Why not? Jervil detested Henry, and so did others. Many would have willingly stabbed him. And do not forget Joan and Olivier, either. They struggled to protect Goodrich from Henry’s depredations. So ask yourself why they are so determined to let his murder lie?’

It rained that afternoon, bringing those who had gone hawking home earlier than expected. Joan lit additional fires, and the whole castle became hot, stuffy and uncomfortable. The conversation was mostly about the upcoming entertainment at Bicanofre. Walter and Agnes were delighted at the prospect, while Baderon intimated that they were likely to be disappointed. Maliciously, Seguin and Lambert exaggerated Bicanofre’s charms to the point where the Bishop’s family could not help but be disappointed. Geoffrey grew tired of the lot of them, and climbed the spiral stairs until he reached the battlements.

It was peaceful away from the hubbub, and he did not mind the drizzle that blew in from the west. He leant his elbows on the wall, and for some reason Margaret’s husband came to mind. He recalled a skirmish in which they had fought near each other, and Robert had screamed her name several times. It was a pity, Geoffrey thought, that he would never enjoy such a marriage, but would be obliged to take a woman who would rather have someone else – or no one at all.

He heard footsteps and turned to see Durand, wrapped in a thick, well-oiled cloak and wearing a hood to protect his golden mane. He looked angry.

‘Baderon has the manners of a peasant,’ he snapped. ‘He has just informed me that manors in Suffolk are inferior to those in Gloucestershire.’

‘Did you goad him?’

Durand glared. ‘I said Suffolk is fertile, and my land is worth three times his.’

‘Then it is not surprising. No man likes to be told his estates are worthless.’

‘But it is true,’ said Durand sulkily.

‘Perhaps,’ said Geoffrey, not wanting to argue with Durand, either.

‘You seem preoccupied,’ said Durand after a while.

Geoffrey nodded. ‘Did I tell you I met Margaret’s husband on the Crusade?’

Durand shook his head, and his spiteful face softened. ‘I know people do not respect me – I am different from other men – but Margaret was always kind. If I can help you to catch whoever snuffed out her life, ask. I promise I will not use it as a lever to persuade you to help me with other investigations.’

Geoffrey stared at him in surprise. It was not often his old squire was sincere, and even more rare that he liked someone enough to be touched by a death. ‘I think she saw Jervil killed, and was murdered in her turn, so she could not tell anyone what she had witnessed.’

‘Perhaps she saw the villain placing the knife in Jervil’s dead hand – his non-dominant hand, as you so quickly established. That must have been what happened. She would have run to raise the alarm, had she seen the culprit actually strangling Jervil.’

‘So, to find out who strangled her, I need to know who killed Jervil. But he was wary and suspicious – and would have been even more so after receiving a purse of coins. Why did he relax his guard? I looked at his hands, and there were no marks on them. Why did he not fight back?’

‘Perhaps he was hit on the head and stunned first.’

‘I saw no bumps, but it is possible.’ Geoffrey smiled: it was good to have someone of Durand’s intelligence and insightfulness to talk to, because it helped clarify his own thoughts. ‘We are right to assume Jervil was killed first, are we not? It is not possible that Margaret was strangled, and then Jervil dispatched to ensure his silence?’

Durand shook his head. ‘She was worried about Isabel. I imagine she went to the stables looking for her and surprised the culprit while he was covering his tracks.’

Geoffrey supposed he was right. He told Durand all he knew about the deaths, and then outlined his thoughts about Henry. Unfortunately, however he presented the facts, it was difficult to see how Baderon could be innocent.