Deadly Inheritance

‘Hugh is wet,’ said Baderon in a strangled whisper. ‘Why is he wet?’

‘Because he was found in the ford,’ explained Durand.

‘Stabbed,’ said Hilde. ‘Or so we were told. Where is the knife?’

‘Actually, he was strangled,’ said Geoffrey, pointing at the bruises. ‘He was probably subdued with a blow to the head and then had the life choked out of him. The stabbing seems to have been an afterthought.’

Hilde stared at him. ‘How do you know?’

Geoffrey took a deep breath. ‘Agnes and Walter claim they saw a ruby-hilted knife embedded in Hugh. It was stolen by the time they fetched help.’

Horror flickered briefly in Baderon’s eyes. ‘Ruby hilted?’

‘Like the one used to kill my brother,’ said Geoffrey, watching him. Alarm replaced the shock on Baderon’s face. Geoffrey glanced at Hilde, but could read only grief, while Lambert was impassive and watchful.

Baderon swallowed hard. ‘I did own such a weapon, but it was stolen months ago. I doubt that killed Henry or Hugh.’

Geoffrey pressed on. ‘You were seen buying one from Jervil on the eve of the fire.’

Baderon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who told you these lies?’

‘I thought you were becoming our friend,’ said Hilde, hurt plain in her voice. ‘I told you before that your witness was mistaken. What are you trying to infer from his lies? That we killed Henry – and now have murdered my own dear brother?’

‘He just wants someone to blame for Henry’s death,’ said Lambert to Baderon. ‘Now he will tell the King you did it – and that you killed Hugh, too.’

‘You bastard!’ exclaimed Baderon, and there was a ringing sound as he drew his sword, and Lambert did likewise. ‘I will kill you!’

Baderon lunged towards Geoffrey, but the younger, quicker knight had no trouble jumping out of the way. He drew his own weapon, and put a pillar between himself and Baderon and Lambert, to gain a moment to speak.

‘We can fight if we must, but before we do, be aware that the King saw you buy the dagger from Jervil, and I am investigating at his request. I now know a similar weapon killed Hugh, and I would like your explanation.’

Baderon froze. ‘The King saw me with Jervil?’

Geoffrey nodded. ‘And several of Goodrich’s servants say you were buying what was originally yours – that Jervil had retrieved it for you.’

Baderon’s sword clattered from his hand, and his shoulders sank. Hilde ran to him, putting her arm around him. Lambert remained armed, however, and Geoffrey stayed behind the pillar.

‘This cannot be right,’ said Hilde to her father. ‘We had nothing to do with Henry’s death. He deserved to die, but it was not at our hands. Tell him!’

‘Henry was murdered with a dagger I owned,’ said Baderon, raising a white, anguished face towards Hilde. ‘I was uneasy when I first heard the description of the weapon that had killed him – the one Olivier told me Eleanor had cursed – but no one connected it to me, and I saw no need to complicate matters by mentioning it.’

Hilde’s protective hug loosened. ‘Your blade murdered Henry?’ She sounded shocked.

Baderon nodded. ‘I knew as soon as I met him that Geoffrey would investigate – and that he would be more thorough than the others. Peace is important to me, and I did not want the dagger to spoil our chance of friendship. So, I asked Jervil to get it back before Geoffrey could identify it as mine. I intended to destroy it, to be free of its evil.’

‘Why ask Jervil to help you?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Why not Joan or Olivier?’

‘What could I say to Joan?’ cried Baderon. ‘My dagger killed your brother, and I would like it back now, please? That was exactly what I wanted to avoid. I want peace, not a feud.’

‘I would have listened to your explanation,’ said Geoffrey reasonably.

‘Yes, and then you would have attacked us,’ said Lambert.

Baderon took no notice of his knight and continued to address Geoffrey. ‘Perhaps you would, but I had already asked Jervil for help. He was good at getting hold of things. He told me he followed your priest to Rosse and bought it from the silversmith – although I suspect he actually stole it. He sold it to me the night of the fire.’

Geoffrey said nothing, but Jervil had lied to Baderon – the weapon that Father Adrian had sold in Rosse was Olivier’s heirloom, not the blade that had killed Henry.

‘And the King saw you,’ said Hilde. She regarded her father in dismay. ‘Could you not have made this transaction in secret? I know you are innocent, but others may not.’

Baderon glanced at Geoffrey with a face that had aged ten years. ‘I did not kill Jervil, lest you accuse me of that, too.’

‘Was this the dagger Seguin gave you?’ asked Lambert. ‘The one intended as a sign of his fealty?’

Baderon nodded. ‘I appreciated the gesture, but the knife was too garish for my tastes. I did not even notice it was missing until I heard about the blade that killed Henry. Then I looked for it – and found it gone. I thought long and hard, and the only time it could have gone missing was at the Feast of Corpus Christi, last June. We had invited our neighbours to celebrate with us. One of them must have taken it.’

‘Whom would you suspect?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘It could have been anyone,’ replied Lambert. ‘Wulfric, Ralph, Eleanor or Douce from Bicanofre; Henry, Joan and Olivier; fitzNorman, Isabel and Margaret. A host of servants.’

‘Was Jervil there?’ asked Geoffrey.

Hilde shook her head. ‘Joan would not let him come, because he had sticky fingers.’

‘Your brother came, though,’ said Baderon. ‘He ruined the occasion for everyone with his rude manners and inflammatory comments. If he had been killed then, it would not have surprised me. But the knife was stolen instead by someone who intended to kill him with it later.’

‘That means his murder was premeditated,’ said Geoffrey. ‘For three months!’

‘Yes, but not by my father,’ said Hilde firmly. ‘He has not killed Henry, Hugh, Jervil or anyone else. All he did was lose a dagger and try to get it back so you would not think badly of him.’

Geoffrey rubbed his chin, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. ‘I believe you, but there are still many unanswered questions. For example, if you bought this knife from Jervil, then how did it come to kill Hugh? And where is it now?’

‘I do not know,’ said Baderon. ‘I assumed it was lost in the fire, but I was wrong to think it could be destroyed so easily. Its curse continues. How many more people will it claim before it is sated?’

Eleven

It was with a heavy heart that Geoffrey rode back to Goodrich, Durand at his side. The day was still clear and fine, with sun streaming through branches beginning to show the first greening of spring.

‘What do you think of Baderon’s story?’ Geoffrey asked. ‘Do you believe him?’

‘No,’ said Durand, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Seguin gives him a dagger with a ruby in it – a ruby, mark you, not a piece of glass – and he shoves it in a chest and does not realize it has been stolen for months? A likely story!’

‘But Goodrich’s servants say Baderon wanted Henry alive.’

Durand was dismissive. ‘He has a temper – you saw how quickly he attacked you in that church. I imagine he did the same to Henry, only Henry was drunk and unable to defend himself.’

Geoffrey supposed that was a possibility.

Durand continued. ‘Then this wretched Black Knife starts to rove all over the place. Joan wraps it in holy cloth, but Olivier removes it from their bedchamber and it disappears for a long time. Then you arrive, and it appears again. The King sees it passed to Baderon, and it is used to murder Baderon’s own son. But Baderon is a liar: I do not believe for a moment that he paid good silver to retrieve a dagger that might cause a rift between him and Goodrich.’

‘You do not like him, do you?’

‘No,’ declared Durand fervently. ‘He would have killed you, had you not ducked out of the way – and then he