Deadly Inheritance (21 page)

‘Because I will kill you if you start asking personal questions,’ replied fitzNorman. ‘You will
not
pry into my family’s affairs.’

‘Your sister was murdered. Surely you want to know the culprit?’

‘Look,’ said fitzNorman, leading him to one side so they would not be overheard. ‘Margaret was a friendly woman, and liked a dalliance, if you take my meaning. She may have loitered in the stables with this Jervil, and I do not want her name sullied by such a rumour.’

Without waiting for a reply, he was gone. Geoffrey doubted that Margaret had ‘liked a dalliance’, given her devotion to her husband’s memory, and thought fitzNorman cruel to suggest it. Had he killed her himself, because she would not take a new husband? He had a temper, and Geoffrey had seen nothing to imply that he would not turn it on a woman.

After the midday meal, Geoffrey decided to leave, whether his guests were ready or not. He did not want to spend a second night in the hut near the Angel Springs, and space in the ravaged manor house was severely limited. He saddled his horse, sent Bale ahead to Goodrich and prepared to set off himself. His actions prompted the others to shift themselves, and the yard quickly became a hive of activity, with horses readied and the last few travelling chests tossed into carts.

Agnes had intended to flout the King’s orders and follow him to Gloucester, believing Henry would not object once she presented herself. Geoffrey remembered the looks that had passed between them and was sure she was right, but Giffard insisted that she and Walter go to Goodrich. Mother and son were angry, but Giffard was immovable.

Baderon and his knights were also ready, although Hilde resolutely refused to abandon the hunt for Hugh. Corwenna grudgingly accompanied Seguin, and Geoffrey felt like telling her that since she did not want to come, and he did not want her to, she should return to Wales. But he did not want a row, so he held his tongue.

‘Must
he
come, too?’ muttered Lambert. Geoffrey glanced behind him and saw Durand, mounted on a small pony.

‘The King wants him to audit my accounts,’ muttered Baderon. ‘I cannot imagine why.’

‘If you are concerned about the grain you “forgot” to tax, do not worry,’ said Seguin. ‘I imagine Durand will overlook anything, for a price.’

‘Is that true, Durand?’ asked Baderon. ‘Are you amenable to bribes?’

Geoffrey started to laugh, amused that Baderon should phrase his question quite so bluntly.

‘Why?’ Durand asked frostily. ‘Are you thinking of offering me one when I discover you have not been paying the King’s taxes?’

‘What makes you think you will find evidence of dishonesty?’ asked Baderon, offended. ‘You may uncover mistakes, but you will find no deliberate wrongdoing.’

‘I shall make up my own mind about that,’ sniffed Durand, and Geoffrey was sure that he would find something to embarrass Baderon, whether true or not.

On the way they stopped in Rwirdin, where the villagers brought wine for Geoffrey’s companions. Seguin and Lambert were soon bored, and wandered off to play dice. While they waited for the horses to be watered, Baderon talked to Geoffrey about his ambitions to make the region prosperous and safe, and Geoffrey realized that the man had a genuine, deeply held conviction that he was acting in the best interests of his people. There was a lot to like about him, and Geoffrey thought it a pity that he had surrounded himself with louts like Seguin and Lambert – and that he had purchased a murder weapon from Jervil.

It was even more of a pity that Corwenna had attached herself to Baderon’s party, and Geoffrey jumped when he straightened up from inspecting his horse’s leg to find her nearby with a knife.

‘I do not want to go to Goodrich,’ she said coldly. ‘I made a vow never to set foot in it again, unless it was to kill every last Mappestone.’

‘Then go home,’ said Geoffrey, walking away from her. He sensed her moving behind him and ducked as the knife sailed towards him. It fell harmlessly in the grass, and he picked it up and added it to his personal arsenal.

‘I saw what she did,’ said Durand, coming to hold Geoffrey’s stirrup while he mounted, as he had done as a squire. ‘You should not let her inside Goodrich.’

Geoffrey watched her stalk towards her horse. ‘I cannot believe she tried to kill me when so many people are watching. Does she want to be hanged?’

‘She is a woman,’ replied Durand with a shrug. ‘They are not the same as you and me, and there is no point trying to understand them. Why do you think I prefer men?’

Geoffrey smiled, but declined to follow up on the discussion. When they left Rwirdin, he contrived to ride with Giffard. He would not have minded hearing more about Baderon’s plans for the region, but to talk to the Lord of Monmouth meant he would have to be near Corwenna. However, the journey was doing nothing for the Bishop’s fragile health, and he was a poor travelling companion, morose and irritable.

‘I shall
never
touch wine again,’ he vowed miserably. ‘I feel sick.’

‘I am not surprised. I thought you rarely touched wine, and it was hardly a brew that warranted unrestrained guzzling.’

‘I had a burning thirst,’ said Giffard, ‘which the wine did nothing to quench. It was poor quality, was it? I am no judge of such matters.’

‘I am sure someone put salt in it, and that it was intended for something other than drinking. Cleaning the silver, perhaps. Joan uses salty cloths soaked in wine to polish spoons.’

‘Agnes gave it to me. I might have known
she
would resort to a low trick. I thought it was a peace offering, but—’

‘Did you hear anything about Eleanor and Hugh before we left?’ asked Geoffrey, changing the subject before Giffard launched into a diatribe. ‘Are they still missing?’

Giffard nodded. ‘But they did not perish in the flames. No more bodies have been found. Glance behind you, and tell me whether Agnes and Walter are still glaring at me. Walter is sulking, because he resents being told what to do, and Agnes is peeved because she hoped to seduce the King today. But neither can afford to be too cross, because they want me to make Walter my heir.’

‘Walter is scowling like a spoilt brat,’ said Geoffrey. ‘You should leave everything to the Church. He does not deserve anything.’

‘I fully intend to,’ said Giffard with a humourless smile. ‘My will is already drawn up to that effect – although he does not know it.’ He then became uncommunicative, so Geoffrey dropped behind to ride with Agnes. She smiled prettily, her eyes full of mischievous promise.

‘Sir Geoffrey,’ she crooned. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Have you spoken to Eleanor since the fire?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘We do not like each other.’

‘Why not?’ Margaret had told Geoffrey that the two women had spent time together in Normandy, so he suspected that she was lying.

‘We had a disagreement.’

‘It was not about the Duchess and poison, was it?’ Geoffrey watched her intently.

She gaped at him. ‘What makes you think I know anything about that sort of thing?’

‘I found a phial of mandrake recently. It is good for killing – strong and fast.’

‘The Duchess did not die quickly. She was ill for weeks.’

‘Then perhaps it was administered in small doses,’ suggested Geoffrey.

‘Perhaps, but not by me. I know very little about mandrake – only that it shrieks when pulled from the ground and its root, leaves and fruit are poisonous. Tell me about Goodrich’s palace instead. Will I like it?’

‘Probably not – and it is no palace.’

Agnes showed her small teeth in a tinkling laugh that had Giffard glancing back admonishingly. She poked her tongue out at him.

‘Gloomy old fool! He hates the notion of anyone being happy. He thinks we should all be miserable, cheerless and thinking only of our eternal souls.’

‘He is a good man,’ said Geoffrey, a little coldly.

‘That is what makes him a bore. I warrant
you
are not so saintly. What do you say we slip away and get to know each other better? We can tell the Bishop we are looking for firewood.’

‘I doubt he will believe that,’ said Geoffrey, trying not to show astonishment at her suggestion. ‘He is not totally naïve.’

‘He most certainly is! Moreover, he needs to open his eyes to the world instead of keeping them fixed on a Heaven that does not exist. Do not look shocked! We all know the Bible is a lot of nonsense.’

‘What do you believe in, then?’ Geoffrey asked, declining to voice an opinion on such a dangerous issue.

‘In having a damned good time before I die,’ Agnes replied fervently.

He thought about her visit to the Angel Springs. ‘Do you believe in frequenting stone altars at dawn?’

‘I suppose Giffard told you I went there? I thought I heard him snoring in that shepherd’s hut. If you must know, I was looking for Eleanor.’

‘Whom you dislike?’

She scowled. ‘You are too quick with your questions! But let us talk of nicer things. You have a fine, strong body and a handsome face. Would you like to—’

‘I would like to know why you were looking for Eleanor,’ interrupted Geoffrey, rather repelled by her salaciousness.

She pouted. ‘You prefer Eleanor to me? I am prettier.’

‘I could not say: I have never seen Eleanor’s face.’

‘She has no lower jaw,’ confided Agnes. ‘One of her magic potions blew it off.’

Geoffrey laughed, thinking it an outrageous claim. ‘What were you really doing at the spring? Was it you who did the drawing of the manor?’

‘That was probably Eleanor. I went to
cancel
the spell, so the fire would not break out again. My actions were noble.’

‘You know about cancelling spells, do you?’

His questions were making her angry, and her answer was sharp. ‘I learnt from my mother, who was a very wise woman.’

‘Did she teach you about poisons, too?’

‘As I told you before, I know nothing about those.’

Geoffrey was relieved when Goodrich’s sturdy walls appeared. He was tired of Giffard’s misery, Agnes’ attempts to make him behave indiscreetly and her son’s resentful looks.

‘My mother is recently widowed,’ Walter said tightly. ‘And she loves the Duke, so leave her alone. I did not teach you how to seduce women in Italian so you could have
her
.’

‘Where did you learn Italian?’ Geoffrey asked, before he felt compelled to box the boy’s ears for his impudence.

‘I spent much of my life in Italy,’ replied Walter loftily.

‘How much of your life?’ asked Geoffrey, wondering why he had not, then, learnt the language properly.

‘A whole week. There is much that is admirable about Italy.’

‘Including its poisons?’ asked Geoffrey.

‘You must ask Eleanor the witch about that,’ replied Walter.

‘I would, but she seems to be missing. Have you seen her since the fire?’

‘I saw her before the blaze, playing some game with Hugh that made him squeal like a pig,’ replied Walter. ‘But not after. I hope they are dead.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Hugh is an imbecile, and I want Baderon to leave his property to Hilde – if he does, then I might marry her: she will be sufficiently wealthy. And because Eleanor is a witch.’

‘I thought you and Eleanor were friends.’

‘We were – but she turned against me when I tried to bed her. I cannot imagine why, because I spoke Italian. I do not like women who are friendly one moment and hostile the next.’

‘There are rumours the Duchess was poisoned,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Do you think Eleanor provided the toxin?’

‘It would be the kind of thing she would do,’ agreed Walter spitefully.

When the travellers arrived at Goodrich, smartly dressed servants hurried out to tend the horses. Joan and Olivier appeared almost as quickly with wine. Olivier served Baderon and his knights, while Joan offered it to Giffard – who refused with a shudder – Agnes and then Geoffrey, who was touched by the courtesy. Durand was given a sip of ale by Torva.

‘Why is
he
here?’ whispered Joan. A plain-speaking woman herself, she did not like Durand’s slippery, unscrupulous ways, or that he had earlier been disloyal to Geoffrey.

‘To spy on Baderon. Henry thinks the alliances with the Welsh might not be good for England.’

Joan was thoughtful. ‘Henry is right. It is always better to have hostile nations divided into factions. Baderon is knitting them together too efficiently. They have been restless for war ever since Prince Iorwerth promised them one last summer. And many are starving. It is only a matter of time before they encourage each other to raid English granaries, and ours will be one of the first.’

‘It will, if Corwenna has any say in the matter,’ said Geoffrey, looking to where she sat astride her horse, frostily refusing the wine that Olivier proffered.

Joan grimaced. ‘She made a vow to see us in our graves. I have tried to win her round, but she is implacable. Still, as long as she is here, she is not encouraging the Welsh to unite against us.’

‘Do they listen to her?’

‘She is Caerdig’s daughter, and he is highly respected. Also, she likes to orate about honour and glory, and knows the kind of talk to get men’s blood up. Still, if the King is aware of the problem, I imagine it will soon be resolved.’

‘I hope so,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Have you heard about Jervil?’

She nodded. ‘Bale told us when you sent him ahead with the news that we were to expect guests. It is a pity; he was not nice, but he had a way with horses. But what was he doing at Dene?’

‘I wish I knew.’ Geoffrey lowered his voice. ‘The King saw him talking to Baderon, and says money changed hands.’

Joan’s eyes narrowed. She did not like the King, either. ‘Do you believe him, or was he making up tales so you would agree to conduct another of his investigations?’

Geoffrey thought about it. ‘He had no reason to lie.’