Joan eyed it disapprovingly. ‘You will not improve your reputation if you walk around armed like a Saracen. You do not need a sword to speak to your friends, surely?’
Given what had happened to Henry, Geoffrey was not so sure.
‘You must marry soon,’ said Joan, as they sat in the solar the next evening. Geoffrey had spoken to Helbye that morning, but had been unable to persuade the old warrior not to portray him as a bloodthirsty brute. Then Helbye’s wife had given them a large jug of her strong ale, and sensible conversation went out the window. Geoffrey still felt dizzy, even after sleeping most of the afternoon, and he was barely listening. He nodded absently at what he thought had been a question.
‘That was easy,’ said Olivier. ‘I thought he would object.’
‘He just agreed,’ said Joan, pleased. ‘You saw him nod.’
Geoffrey glanced up and wondered what he had done. ‘Marry?’ he asked, forcing his muddled wits to concentrate before he found himself in deep water.
‘Goodrich needs an heir,’ said Joan, making it sound like it was his fault it did not have one. ‘And the sooner you make a start, the better. If you die without one, the estate will pass to Baderon, our overlord. But fitzNorman will counterclaim, because part of Goodrich lies in the forest.’
‘And Wulfric de Bicanofre will become involved, too,’ added Olivier. ‘Some of the manors we own were once under his lordship – before the Conqueror divided them up.’
‘The only way to prevent a dispute is to provide heirs,’ said Joan. ‘At the moment you are the only thing standing between our neighbours and extra land. You should marry – to protect yourself, if for no other reason.’
‘Later,’ replied Geoffrey tiredly.
Joan scowled. ‘No, soon. Within a month.’
Geoffrey gaped at her. ‘
‘It is the price you pay when you inherit an estate that is strategically important and wealthy. There are several candidates to choose from.’
‘Henry did not marry within a month of inheriting Goodrich,’ Geoffrey pointed out resentfully.
‘He started thinking about it, though. As we said, he set his heart on Isabel fitzNorman – much good it did him.’ Joan’s eyes lit up. ‘Are you interested in her? She would certainly be the best, and an alliance with fitzNorman would solve numerous problems.’
‘After what Henry did to her?’ asked Geoffrey uneasily. ‘I doubt she will be very keen.’
‘She did dislike Henry,’ agreed Olivier. ‘But her father is a practical man who knows good value when he sees it.’
‘Speaking of which, did you speak to Helbye about stopping his tales of slaughter?’ asked Joan. ‘You will have greater value, and will be easier to sell, if people think you are polite and gentle.’
‘
‘You are a commodity,’ countered Olivier. ‘Much like Baderon’s prize ram, which is the envy of the region. Both represent a way to greater wealth.’
‘Lord!’ breathed Geoffrey, shocked.
‘You said you wanted to be appraised of all the details surrounding Henry’s death,’ said Joan tartly. ‘And his wedding plans were certainly a factor: it is possible he was killed because someone thought he was looking in the wrong direction. Like you, he had six heiresses to choose from. FitzNorman was furious at what happened to his daughter, but, even so, Isabel would be my first choice. He is Constable of the Forest, and a favourite of the King.’
‘Then Isabel is out,’ said Geoffrey firmly. ‘I do not want to attract the King’s attention. Besides, if fitzNorman did kill Henry, he may believe that what worked for one brother will work for another. I do not want to be stabbed when he decides I am not appropriate for his daughter.’
‘He has a sister,’ said Joan tentatively. ‘Margaret – a gentle woman with a sizeable dowry . . .’
‘How old a sister?’ asked Geoffrey suspiciously.
Joan was dismissive. ‘That does not matter. Since she is a widow, she knows her duties and will require little training.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘For the same reasons as Isabel.’
Joan pursed her lips. ‘Then there is Hilde, Baderon’s daughter. He would not normally be interested in us, but he has been ordered to secure peace in the region, and combining his estates with ours would certainly keep fitzNorman quiet.’
‘He has already tied three of his daughters – and several of his knights – to useful alliances, and is looking for a match for his son Hugh, as well as Hilde,’ added Olivier.
‘I will not marry Hugh,’ said Geoffrey flippantly.
Joan ignored him. ‘Baderon offered Hilde to us once. He may be prepared to do so again.’
‘Why did Henry refuse her?’ asked Geoffrey warily.
‘He wanted someone pretty,’ said Olivier bluntly. ‘And someone . . . well, someone who does not behave like a man. I can see his point: Hilde seems just as happy wielding a battleaxe as a needle.’
‘There are rumours that she may be barren,’ Joan continued. ‘In which case, she will not suit our needs at all. But people have unkind tongues, and the rumour may have arisen because she is older than her sisters and not yet wed. I shall make enquiries.’
‘Did Henry refuse Hilde
Joan looked furtive. ‘Comments were made by both parties, which ended with her leaving in a rage. It was unfortunate, and I later berated him for not being more tactful.’
Geoffrey sighed. ‘So Baderon – and Hilde – had a reason to kill Henry, too? Because he refused her in an unpleasant manner?’
‘Possibly,’ hedged Joan.
‘Then I do not want her, either. I cannot marry a woman who may have murdered my brother. It would be rash, to say the least.’
Joan was becoming exasperated. ‘Then what about Wulfric de Bicanofre’s daughter – Douce?’
‘Did Henry refuse her, too?’
‘He pointed out that he could do better.’
‘God’s teeth!’ muttered Geoffrey. ‘Is there any woman whom Henry has not offended?’
‘Well, there is Wulfric’s older daughter,’ said Joan. ‘Eleanor. But you will not want her.’
‘Why not?’
‘Just trust me,’ replied Joan. ‘There is also Caerdig’s daughter Corwenna, but an alliance with him would be of little benefit.’
Geoffrey was surprised. ‘I thought good relations with the Welsh were important.’
‘They are, but Caerdig is too poor to risk open warfare. He would be delighted were you to accept Corwenna, but you can do better. Besides, she has no love for our family.’
‘Why?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘Because Henry killed her husband, Rhys,’ said Olivier. ‘Henry fired some cottages, and Rhys was trapped inside.’
‘Christ’s blood!’ muttered Geoffrey.
‘Caerdig knows grudges are detrimental to his people’s welfare, but his daughter is young,’ said Joan. ‘You could be the most charming man in Christendom, and she would not have you.’
‘So, she might have slipped a dagger into Henry, too?’ asked Geoffrey.
Joan nodded. ‘It would have been easy for her to enter our stables after dark.’
‘I will make
‘Baderon would never permit it,’ said Joan. ‘You would need his permission, and he will not give it when he stands to lose. You have no choice: you must marry, and you must do it soon, so these issues can be resolved.’
‘But I do not like the sound of any of these women,’ protested Geoffrey. ‘Perhaps Roger will know a suitable
