Simon Beaufort - Deadly Inheritance

However, just because Baderon wanted peace did not mean Seguin and Lambert – fuelled by ambition and Corwenna’s hatred of Goodrich – felt the same. Geoffrey believed Torva and Peter were right when they said it was only a matter of time before they harmed the whole region.

He shifted into a more comfortable position, aware that people were moving in the hall below, and that he was likely to earn a reputation as a lie-abed if he lingered there much longer. But there were still many questions in need of answers – the most pressing, who had killed Jervil, and why was Baderon so determined to retrieve the dagger if he was not Henry’s killer?

Geoffrey’s thoughts turned to Duchess Sybilla. Walter had owned a pot of mandrake, although Geoffrey doubted its contents had killed Sibylla. Geoffrey had also discovered that Agnes knew about mandrake, and that she had courted the friendship of Eleanor. Eleanor was now missing. Could she be dead? And was Agnes telling the truth about her and Eleanor’s disagreement?

Knowing that he would solve nothing by lounging around, Geoffrey rose and went to the garderobe. He stared at the shelves that concealed the passage to the woods. He still had not asked Joan whether it was intact, and knew he was being remiss. If Goodrich came under attack, it might be a vital part of a plan to protect it. He took a deep breath and pushed the hidden door before his courage failed. It swung open, revealing a black, sinister slit with dusty steps. It was draped with cobwebs, and just looking at it made the bile rise in his throat.

‘Where does that go?’ whispered Bale from behind him, making him spin around in alarm.

Geoffrey pressed a hand over his thudding heart. ‘You must stop creeping up on me like that, Bale, or one of us is likely to die. It leads to the woods. I cannot remember where exactly.’

Bale’s eyes gleamed. ‘I might have known cunning old Godric Mappestone would have installed something like this when he raised Goodrich. Shall we explore it?’

‘I am not going down there,’ said Geoffrey firmly. He saw Bale’s surprise, but did not want to confess his weakness about such places. ‘Another time – I have work to do today.’

He pushed past the squire, and headed for the hall, to see if there was any breakfast. Bale followed, chatting about Olivier’s hawks, and Geoffrey saw that he was not in the least bit puzzled by his master’s disinclination to investigate the tunnel. Durand would have smelt a rat in an instant and set himself to learn why Geoffrey had bolted. Geoffrey smiled. Perhaps there was an advantage in having a servant who was not quite so sharp after all.

Torva nodded affably when they met near the stairs, while Peter, hauling a vat of pottage from the kitchens, gave Geoffrey a grin. Several others acknowledged him with waves, and he began to hope the game had been worth the aggravation – at least some servants no longer seemed to think that he was Henry’s more violent brother.

Tables bearing food were ready, although there were not many takers – most guests had either returned to Goodrich late, or had slept at Bicanofre. Joan and Olivier were on hand to make pleasant conversation, although the only person to arrive so far was Giffard. The prelate had declined to waste an evening on ‘singers with balls’.

‘You kept us awake last night with your noisy revelry,’ said Joan, when Geoffrey sat beside her. ‘What in God’s name were you doing to cause all that cheering and groaning?’

‘Nothing in God’s name ,’ muttered Giffard. ‘I imagine he was gaming.’ He pronounced the last word as though it was a sin tantamount to sodomy.

‘He would not do that,’ said Joan. ‘He knows I do not allow it.’

Peter gave Geoffrey an enormous wink behind her back and tapped the side of his nose. But Geoffrey did not like the notion that he was part of a conspiracy.

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘we did play a game of chance, but Father Adrian says it was not gambling because no one kept his winnings.’

Joan glared at him, unconvinced. ‘If you do it again, I shall not be pleased.’

Geoffrey felt like telling her he would do what he liked in his own house, but did not want to quarrel. He seldom gambled anyway, so it was not something he would miss. He nodded acquiescence, and she turned to make sure that Giffard had enough food.

‘You should not have confessed,’ muttered Peter, ladling pottage into his bowl. ‘We would not have told on you, not like we would have done Henry.’

Geoffrey supposed this represented an improvement in relations, and hoped they would not degenerate again if he were to discover that one of the servants had killed his brother. There was a clatter of hoofs outside, heralding the return of more guests from Bicanofre, so Joan and Olivier hurried to greet them, leaving Geoffrey and the Bishop alone.

‘What have you learnt?’ Giffard asked. ‘Has anyone confided in you yet? You do not have much time. Agnes fluttered her eyelashes at the King, and he is certain to take her to Westminster. Then she and Walter will be beyond my control.’

‘It is not looking good,’ Geoffrey admitted. ‘I am uneasy that she has gone to Bicanofre, where Eleanor lives. Eleanor knows a lot about poisons, although Agnes claims they are no longer friends. However, I am not sure I believe her.’

‘But Eleanor is missing,’ Giffard pointed out. ‘Probably dead in the fire. She is not at Bicanofre.’

Geoffrey thought about the charms at the Angel Springs, and was certain that Eleanor would not have been killed in a fire that had been planned there. Moreover, since Eleanor kept her face veiled, she could be walking around openly and no one would know. He wondered whether to tell Giffard that his nephew had owned mandrake, but decided it would serve no purpose.

‘Joan told me a messenger came to you yesterday,’ he said instead. ‘Did he bring good news?’

Giffard smiled at last. ‘There is one silver streak in the dark clouds around me. The King asked the Archbishop of York to consecrate me, and York agreed. I shall have God’s blessing for my work.’

‘That is good news,’ said Geoffrey, knowing it meant a great deal to his dour 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.’

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.’