Deadly Inheritance

friend.

‘I would like you to come. The ceremony will be in St Paul’s Cathedral in London, and two other bishops – Salisbury and Hereford – will be blessed at the same time.’

Geoffrey was torn. The cathedral was said to be a fabulous building, and he longed to visit it, but he did not want to see the King. He promised to think about it and headed outside, so the servants could clear the hall. Giffard followed, yawning.

‘You should sleep more,’ Geoffrey advised. ‘And pray less.’

‘I will,’ said Giffard, a little irritably, ‘if you cease staying up with the servants and making so much noise.’

Ten

Geoffrey left the hall and ran down the wooden stairs to the bailey. It was a fine day, and he felt his spirits soar. He rubbed his hands, trying to decide whether to go riding or to see if Roger fancied some swordplay.

‘You will be busy this morning,’ said Durand by way of greeting. ‘As your guests trickle back from Bicanofre, I assume you will be on hand to greet them.’

‘Do you think I should?’ asked Geoffrey, feeling his ebullience slip. ‘Joan and Olivier are here.’

‘You cannot delegate everything,’ said Durand. ‘It is unfair to them – and insulting to your visitors. I am always available when guests honour me with their presence.’

Geoffrey reluctantly resigned himself to a morning of duty. Only then did he notice that Durand was pale and his eyes heavy from a lack of sleep.

‘Did you enjoy yourself last night?’ he asked, assuming Bicanofre was the cause of the man’s shabby appearance.

Durand winced. ‘I was grossly misled. The singers were toneless and I can toss and catch balls better than those so-called jugglers. If that is the level of “entertainment” I am to expect here, then I must increase the pace of my investigation.’ He closed his eyes and fanned his face with his hand, looking like an elderly nun.

‘Do not expect nights of wild debauchery when you are with me,’ warned Giffard sternly, as he joined them. ‘My household retires to bed with the sun, and rises early for religious devotions. There is no levity.’

Durand looked alarmed that his sojourn in Winchester might not be as much fun as anticipated, and he swallowed hard. ‘Really?’ he asked in a small voice.

‘Did Geoffrey keep you awake, too?’ asked Giffard pointedly. ‘People returned very late from Bicanofre, but they did not make nearly as much noise as he did. I am used to the quiet of the cloister, where the only sounds are men breathing and bells announcing holy offices. I find it hard to sleep through illicit games of dice.’

‘I agree,’ said Durand ingratiatingly. ‘I saw a good many such games when I was in his service – especially with Roger – but last night was particularly jubilant.’

‘Here come more of your guests, Geoffrey,’ said Giffard, turning at the sound of hoofs. ‘Baderon, his knights and Corwenna.’

‘I am surprised she is here,’ said Durand. ‘She ranted long and hard about how the Mappestones should be destroyed. Baderon tried to silence her, but it needed a stronger voice than his.’

‘Baderon is a God-fearing man, but he should take a stand against his knights – and Corwenna, too,’ said Giffard. ‘Their outspokenness will only lead to trouble.’

Geoffrey only hoped that Goodrich would not bear the brunt of it. He went to greet his guests, staying away from Corwenna.

‘Do not worry,’ whispered Olivier in his ear. ‘I will not allow Corwenna anywhere near Joan.’

Geoffrey gave a tight smile, thinking that if Corwenna decided to do harm, the likes of Olivier would not be able to stop her. Olivier read the thought, and his expression soured.

‘I will not attempt to fight her, so you have no cause to look dubious. My skills lie in other areas: Corwenna is unlikely to strike when Joan is surrounded by people, so that is how I shall protect her – how I have protected her all the years you were away fighting wars. Joan will not be alone for an instant while Corwenna is here.’

Geoffrey saw that he had underestimated his brother-in-law. ‘I am sorry, Olivier. I did not mean to doubt you. I am sure Joan is safe in your care.’

‘She is,’ replied Olivier coolly. ‘So I will look after her, and you can look after yourself. Corwenna is more keen to kill you, because it will mean the end of Goodrich’s hopes for an heir. It is a good thing Sir Roger is here, because you might need him.’

The hall was busy all morning, as guests returned. Geoffrey was amused by their different reactions to Bicanofre’s amusements. Baderon was polite, claiming them to have been an ‘interesting diversion’, but his knights were brutal, describing the performers as ‘lumbering peasants with rough voices’. Corwenna had enjoyed herself, although she thought that next time Wulfric should consider including a rendition from a Welsh bard. She recited a passage from a particularly bloody epic to demonstrate what they had been missing.

‘She is a fine woman,’ Seguin said, standing with his hands on his hips. ‘She rides better than most men and handles her weapons like a knight. You should see her with a battleaxe!’

‘She has an axe?’ asked Geoffrey warily.

‘Your mother was fabulously skilled with an axe, so do not look disapproving,’ snapped Seguin. ‘And your sister is said to be no mean fighter, too – especially compared to that husband of hers.’

‘Are you insulting my sister?’ demanded Geoffrey.

Seguin shook his head impatiently. ‘I am praising her, man. I like a woman who can hold her own, and Joan and my Corwenna can do just that: they are hard, strong and uncompromising. When we are married, I shall be able to leave Corwenna in charge of my estates, and they will be in one piece when I return – just as Joan does for you.’

Geoffrey supposed he was right, although he did not relish the prospect of meeting Corwenna if she were armed with as formidable a weapon as an axe.

When Geoffrey helped Isabel from her horse, she was silent and sad, going straight to the room allocated to her and her father. She barely acknowledged his greeting, and he could tell from the redness around her eyes that she had been crying.

‘Ralph?’ he asked of fitzNorman, as they watched her flee to solitude.

The old warrior grimaced. ‘He barely spoke to her last night and refused to sit near us.’ He looked hard at Geoffrey and cleared his throat. ‘I see you have taken my advice.’

‘I have?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘I told you to forget Margaret’s murder, lest her penchant for men become common knowledge, and you have complied. I am obliged. I loved my sister, and do not want her good name soiled.’

‘I would never soil her name,’ said Geoffrey pointedly, thinking it was a good deal more than her brother was currently doing.

‘Good,’ said fitzNorman. ‘I do not like folk going against my wishes.’

Geoffrey did not want to make polite conversation with people he did not like, so he remained outside, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. To keep himself busy, he went to the stables and removed the dead birds. Then he took a broom and scrubbed away the bloodstains, not caring that it was menial work. When he finished, he sat next to Durand on a wall near the kitchens.

‘Where are Agnes and Walter?’ Geoffrey asked.

‘Agnes captured Ralph’s attention last night, so boy and mother are doubtless still with him, enjoying his “witty” company. The fellow is a beast – and not just for his treatment of Isabel. I am not keen on women, but I do like her.’

Geoffrey eyed him askance. ‘Do I take it Ralph upset you in some way?’

‘He is rough with his servants, unkind to his dogs and he hogs the latrines when his guests are waiting. He also humiliated his priest when the poor man said grace last night – almost reduced him to tears with his criticism.