The King's Spies

by Simon Beaufort

  ‘Her bones come together almost every night,’ said Emma in a voice that was strangely distant. It made the hairs on the back of Geoffrey’s neck stand on end. ‘They rattle and heave, and her tortured soul screams out that she must be whole. She has promised us great rewards if we succeed – rewards that will see Henry writhe with envy.’

  ‘Well, I have never heard her,’ said Matilda doubtfully.

  ‘You do not have the Gift,’ said Emma dismissively. ‘She calls to me all the time. If we do not discover her head soon, she will become so angry that who knows what she might do? You know what she was like when she did not have her own way.’

  ‘But you said you had another head that would suffice – you arranged for Hugh’s to be severed, on the grounds that he was a Bellême and mother might be appeased by it.’

  Geoffrey was disgusted, but recalled what Durand had said when he had discovered the two heads in Emma’s ‘reliquary’. He claimed one had been familiar, and he had been right.

  ‘Well, she is not appeased, and she still wants her own. Let us hope this siege does not last long, or she may decide to look for it herself. Just imagine what that would do for our reputations.’

  ‘It would make little difference,’ said Matilda dryly. ‘We are already feared, and a walking headless corpse will not surprise most people. Will it, Geoffrey?’

  Geoffrey remained stock still, hoping he had misheard, but Matilda walked to his barrel and pulled him out.

  Emma pulled a disagreeable face to indicate she did not approve of eavesdroppers. ‘Do you have any idea where it might be?’ she demanded of him. ‘Have you heard the King mention maps, or know whether he has dispatched his best agents to unusual places with spades?’

  ‘No,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘Are you sure he knows you are looking for your mother’s head?’

  ‘He knows,’ said Emma with conviction. ‘And he will try to stop us from getting it.’

  ‘I can see why,’ admitted Geoffrey. ‘Yet another Bellême ranging herself against him – especially one like Old Mabel – will not be an attractive proposition.’

  ‘We do not want her to fight for us,’ said Matilda with a hard look at her sister. ‘Some of us just want her poor body whole in its grave, to see her soul at peace.’

  ‘And the rest of us think that uniting head and body will increase the Bellême power beyond anything that the world has seen before,’ snapped Emma. She gave a rather nasty smile. ‘But I doubt you will be here to see it, Geoffrey. You will hang in a few days.’

  Nine

  Geoffrey had two tasks to complete in Arundel Castle: bring about its fall for Henry and discover who had murdered Hugh. Since he considered the latter more pressing, and did not trust Bellême not to shorten his allotted time out of sheer malevolence, he decided to make a start on questioning anyone who might have been involved in the death. He began at the bottom, with servants and grooms, but the Bellêmes were cautious about what they revealed to their retainers, and none knew anything of relevance. He saw he would have to move higher up the chain, to the siblings themselves.

  This was easier said than done, because by the end of the first day, everyone was more interested in the arrival of a smattering of the King’s troops, who established a camp some distance away. Bellême led a sortie against them, but the skirmish ended in stalemate, and Bellême cantered back having killed a dozen of Henry’s soldiers and lost twelve of his own.

  On the morning of the second day, there was a shout of alarm, and Geoffrey ran with others to see a massive contingent of King’s men approach. They pitched their tents and soon had the castle surrounded. Work began immediately on counter-fortifications, and long before sunset the air rang with the sound of hammering and sawing. Henry had not simply gathered his forces and descended on Arundel: he had come prepared. He had timber and metal, and evidently intended to construct siege engines in full view of the castle’s occupants, letting their fearful imaginations work in his favour. Geoffrey admired his strategy. It was something he would have done himself, wearing down his opponents’ minds, so they would be more willing to surrender without a fight.

  ‘He did not wait long,’ remarked Arnulf, watching their preparations uneasily. ‘I suspect our flight to Arundel did not surprise him at all. He anticipated what we would do.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ asserted Bellême scornfully. ‘He did not expect us to take a stand against his injustice.’

  ‘Of course he did,’ argued the surly Roger. ‘He wanted us to run away. As soon as we left Winchester he declared us outlaws: we have played directly into his hands.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Arnulf.

  ‘Well, I do not,’ retorted Bellême angrily. ‘Did you hear he issued another summons to me this morning, ordering me back to Winchester? He had no idea I would come here.’ He saw Geoffrey listening, and his face broke into a scowl. ‘Why do you skulk here when you are supposed to be learning who murdered my nephew?’

  ‘People refuse to talk to me,’ said Geoffrey with a shrug. ‘I told you it would be difficult to solve the crime so far from where it was committed.’

  ‘Everyone will answer any questions you put,’ said Bellême in a loud voice, glaring around at his assembled clan. ‘Anyone who is uncooperative will answer to me.’

  ‘Well, I shall not be quizzed,’ said Josbert sullenly. ‘I have nothing to say to the likes of him.’

  ‘Then I shall assume you have something to hide,’ declared Bellême, glowering at his assembled household. ‘So, you will all – all – answer anything he asks. Is that clear?’

  There were rebellious mumblings, and Geoffrey thought Bellême had done him a grave disservice. By giving him authority, Bellême had ensured they would be on their guard and less likely to reveal something inadvertently in the course of a conversation. He had also ensured no one would volunteer information, while the likes of Josbert and Roger would reply just enough to claim they were following Bellême’s orders, but refuse to divulge anything useful.

  When Bellême stalked away to sit in the hall and gaze broodingly into a goblet of wine, Roger and Josbert turned their backs on Geoffrey. He decided to talk to them later, because he would learn nothing from them while they still smarted over Bellême’s sharp orders. He approached Arnulf instead, who was by far the most amiable of the three.

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Bellême’s youngest brother, backing away with his hands raised. ‘I need to check my horse. I will talk to you another time – if I am not busy.’

  Geoffrey interpreted Arnulf’s response as a more polite version of the message given by Roger and Josbert. He left the battlements and wandered to the inner bailey, where he spotted Matilda sitting on the wall that surrounded the well.

  ‘You took a risk at that tavern in Winchester,’ she said, indicating that he should perch next to her. ‘My brother is unpredictable, and might just as easily run you through as accept you into his service. I credited you with more sense than trying to secure an allegiance with him.’

  ‘I am supposed to discover who killed Hugh,’ said Geoffrey, cutting to the chase. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘Emma and Sybilla believe you did it. They applaud Robert for obliging you to discover the identity of the murderer on pain of death, because they think you have no way out of your predicament.’

  ‘And you? I doubt you would have come to my bedchamber for favours if you thought me a killer.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Her black eyes glinted with humour. ‘But perhaps not. I wasted my time with you that night. You did not intervene with the King on my behalf, and now I am locked in a castle surrounded by hostile troops, even though I have done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Henry would not have listened to me anyway,’ said Geoffrey. ‘His mind was already made up, and you can see his point: your House has taken part in three invasions to put the Duke of Normandy on his throne, and he will never have peace as long as you are in England.’

  She raised her eyebrows and started to laugh. ‘You are a bold man! You t
ell me King Henry is right to place me and my family in this position? No wonder no one here trusts you!’

  ‘I did not say I agreed with him,’ said Geoffrey, realizing that honesty was probably not a good policy at Arundel, and that he would be wise to dissemble if he did not want to be hanged as a traitor before his week was up. ‘I was just putting his side of the argument.’

  ‘Then I strongly advise you not to.’ She was still laughing at him. ‘Robert is imaginative when it comes to killing, and I doubt he will be merciful if he thinks you side with Henry.’

  ‘Tell me what you know about Hugh,’ said Geoffrey, thinking he had better change the subject before he incriminated himself further. ‘People claim he was a halfwit. Is it true?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Matilda. ‘Or he would not have allowed himself to be caught and killed. My brothers think he used a slowness of speech to hide a clever mind, but they are mistaken.’

  ‘But you trusted him,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He carried your messages to the King.’

  ‘I would rather you did not mention that around here,’ said Matilda, although she did not seem overly concerned. ‘Robert suspects that my sisters and I tried to negotiate with Henry, but he does not have definite evidence, and I do not want you to give it to him.’

  Geoffrey scratched his head, wondering whether he was in danger from her, too. If she really did not want Bellême to know what she had done, then the only way to ensure he never did would be to kill the one person in the castle who had details. Or was she merely trying to make him nervous because it was something all Bellêmes did so well? Geoffrey had never before encountered so many people he found impossible to understand. He narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him.

  ‘When you came to my room that night, did you expect me to have the map revealing the whereabouts of your mother’s head? I recall you referring to Old Mabel’s “property”.’

  ‘Emma does. She thinks you killed Hugh because he had seen the chart, and you wanted to ensure he never told anyone what was on it.’

  ‘And it would have had to be a map – a picture – because Hugh could not read,’ surmised Geoffrey. He recalled Oswin the landlord saying as much. ‘A letter with words would be meaningless to him.’

  ‘To all of us, except Emma and Sybilla,’ said Matilda. ‘Emma was taught to read when she entered the Church, and Sybilla learned so she could be of use to Robert.’ She sounded disgusted that such effort should be expended for the sole purpose of pleasing a brother.

  ‘But you were not interested in a map.’ Geoffrey watched her intently. ‘You were more concerned about the reply from Henry, although at the time you pretended it was the other way around.’

  She smiled wryly. ‘I admit that keeping my estates was more pressing than trying to ascertain the whereabouts of a skull that was probably tossed into a river years ago. But Emma and the others are obsessed by it.’

  ‘Because they think it will save them from their current predicament by supernatural means? It is not an unusual reaction: some people pray, others put skull to rotting corpse. I suppose this is what Wulfric meant when he said he had overheard Old Mabel referred to as the “head” of the family.’

  ‘Do not be facetious or I shall answer no more questions,’ said Matilda sharply. Geoffrey surmised that she did not know whether Emma and her siblings were right to be fanatical in their search for the thing, and wanted the option of taking their side if they transpired to be right. ‘But, on the occasion you mention, I was indeed more keen to know whether the King had responded to my suggestion. I am still uncertain whether to believe the reply you say you read.’

  ‘I did not lie.’

  ‘That is not what I meant. What I am saying is that I do not know whether it came from Henry, or whether someone else wrote on his behalf. And now Hugh is dead, I doubt I ever shall. He may have delivered my message to Henry, as I asked, but he may have shown it to someone else and delivered their response instead. He was not especially trustworthy, as it happens.’

  ‘So, who do you think killed him?’

  ‘A number of people, for all kinds of reasons. And do not forget that Oswin, the landlord of the Crusader’s Head, was also killed to prevent him from talking.’

  ‘To prevent him from talking about the meetings your family held in his tavern with Old Mabel in attendance? Or to stop him telling anyone about the fact that your family has Greek Fire?’

  ‘Or about the fact that I may not have been the only one trying to reach Henry to suggest a truce. Or perhaps Hugh’s death has nothing to do with my family’s troubles, and he died for reasons none of us have yet considered.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Hugh had an unnatural fondness for Philip, his cousin. It is not unusual for young men to form such attachments, but my brothers disapproved. Why do you think they attacked King William Rufus so many times? It was because he, too, had a penchant for men.’

  ‘Are they sufficiently averse to homosexuality to kill Hugh for it?’

  ‘You know my brother. He will kill if his wine is too warm or he does not like the colour of a man’s tunic. And, although Roger and Arnulf are gentle saints by comparison, they also have foul tempers. Meanwhile, my sisters did not like Hugh’s slow speech and transparent attempts at cunning – although he sometimes acted as their go-between, too.’

  ‘Like Bellême, you seem to think the murderer is one of your own kin,’ observed Geoffrey.

  ‘They are the most likely culprits,’ she agreed carelessly. ‘But then there is Beaumais, who is everywhere and the friend of all. Meanwhile, Josbert was also in London that night. And another suspect might be William Pantulf, who was our ally until yesterday and is now in the pay of the King. Have I helped you at all?’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey gloomily.

  Matilda walked away leaving Geoffrey to wonder how he was ever supposed to solve the murder so far from where it had happened, with so many possible culprits, and when it was in no one’s interests to see him uncover the truth. Matilda was more helpful than most, and did not give the impression she wanted to run him through every time they met, but even she had lied to him. The story she had told him the night she had entered his bedchamber differed in several ways to the one she told now.

  First, she had given the impression that Hugh had been in her pay; now she confessed that she had not trusted him. Second, she had pretended to be more interested in the information pertaining to her mother’s “property” than the message purporting to be from Henry; now he knew it was actually the other way around. And third, she had originally been convinced that Hugh’s death was connected to her errand; now she disclaimed responsibility. Geoffrey filed the information away to consider later. He did not think she had killed Hugh, or she would not have tried to hunt down the message later, but there were many questions he wanted answered about her curious relationship with her nephew.

  He walked through the inner bailey, looking for someone else to interrogate. He saw Emma and Sybilla together, so decided to tackle them next. Bellême was not far away, and Geoffrey thought the fierce sisters might be more prepared to speak to him when their brother was within hearing distance. As he walked in their direction, four women intercepted him. They were Sybilla’s daughters, but in place of their mail, they wore dresses that accentuated the tall, graceful lines of their figures – except Mabel, who looked better in armour.

  ‘I did not kill Hugh,’ he said, pushing past them to reach Emma and Sybilla. Amise looked as though she wanted to renew the argument about who was responsible for scarring her face, but Geoffrey did not have the time or the inclination for that. ‘So, who else might have done it?’

  ‘You are becoming desperate,’ jeered Haweis, the prettiest daughter, eyeing him with dislike. ‘And your week is not even up yet.’ She exchanged a triumphant glance with her sisters. Amise seemed delighted at the prospect of Geoffrey’s failure, although Cecily and Mabel did not join in their gloating. Cecily seemed distracted, and kept glancing over Ge
offrey’s shoulder as though looking for someone; Mabel remained grim-faced, and Geoffrey thought she was more like her dour uncle Roger than her flamboyant mother.

  ‘Well?’ he asked, turning his back on them and speaking loudly to Emma and Sybilla, so Bellême would hear what he was doing. ‘What do you know about Hugh’s death?’

  ‘I saw his body,’ said Emma spitefully. ‘Did you know that the eyes of a murdered man hold a picture of his killer? I saw your face in his eyes.’

  ‘When did you see his body?’ asked Geoffrey, supposing he should not be surprised that she, of all the Bellêmes, should be party to such grisly information. ‘The night he died?’

  ‘I was not there,’ replied Sybilla. ‘I was across the river in London, with some of my daughters.’

  ‘I did not mean you,’ said Geoffrey brusquely. ‘I was talking to Emma.’

  ‘I saw him within an hour of his death,’ said Emma, glancing at her brother out of the corner of her eye and noting he was listening. ‘It was not a pretty sight, although Arnulf had been kind enough to cover him with a cloak and remove the rope from his poor dead neck.’

  ‘I will do the same for you, Geoffrey,’ offered Haweis with an unpleasant smile.

  ‘And I will prove you are the guilty man,’ added Amise. In the light of day her wound looked worse than ever. It was swollen and raw, and had been badly sewn, so that when the infection drained Geoffrey thought it would heal badly and give her a lopsided look. ‘You will not escape justice.’

  ‘I am not talking to you,’ said Geoffrey irritably. ‘Did your mother never tell you it is rude to break into the conversations of your elders with childish remarks? Now, go away.’ He saw Bellême grinning, while even Emma’s thin lips softened into a semblance of a smile. It seemed few people told the female warriors what to do. He turned back to the older women. ‘Did Hugh ever bring messages for you? Or deliver them?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ admitted Sybilla, aware that her brother was watching and anxious to be helpful. ‘We were expecting one from him the night he died.’