‘The map detailing the location of your mother’s head,’ said Geoffrey.
Emma’s eyes widened in astonishment. ‘How do you know about that? It is a secret that has never gone beyond the family, despite the fact that we have been hunting for the last twenty-five years.’
‘Matilda told you!’ declared Sybilla angrily. She turned to Emma. ‘You see? She cannot be trusted with her penchant for pretty men and chatter over a pillow. She had no right to tell him this.’
‘She told me nothing,’ said Geoffrey. ‘If she had, I would have known about it when we met in All Hallows Church, and I would not have asked some of the questions I did.’
‘Then who?’ demanded the fiery Haweis, drawing a dagger. ‘I will slit his gossiping throat.’
‘I reasoned it out for myself,’ replied Geoffrey tartly. ‘The evidence is there; it just needed to be reviewed logically. Did someone murder Hugh so he would never deliver this map to you?’
‘You mean the King?’ asked Emma bluntly. ‘He is the one with the most to lose if I bring my mother into the Bellême battle lines.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Geoffrey. ‘He probably knows about your quest – which suggests to me that your family’s business is not as private as you think.’
‘No,’ said Bellême, coming to join them. ‘The King did not kill Hugh. I told you before: Hugh was murdered by someone here, in this castle.’
‘Nonsense, brother,’ said Emma sharply. ‘You have become obsessed with the notion of a traitor, and it is irrational. We are all on the same side.’
‘We are not,’ said Bellême, equally sharply. ‘There are as many sides as there are Bellêmes. Any one of us would betray another in an instant if he thought it would improve his lot. If you believe otherwise, you are deluding yourself.’
‘I would not,’ cried Sybilla in dismay. ‘I am loyal to you, Robert, and so are my daughters.’
‘I know,’ said Bellême, although he did not sound pleased and gazed disparagingly at the foursome. Mabel seemed especially uncomfortable in her feminine finery, and Geoffrey noticed that she had declined to don the soft leather shoes that went with the embroidered kirtle, and still wore chain mail boots. It made for an odd combination.
‘There is a difference between murder and a disloyal plan to save our own estates,’ snapped Emma. Geoffrey saw her bite her lip, and supposed she had not intended to let that particular piece of information slip.
‘What plan?’ asked Bellême silkily.
‘Matilda tried to negotiate us a separate agreement with the King,’ elaborated Sybilla, smiling fawningly at her brother, and seeming oblivious that by betraying Matilda she had just proved his point that the siblings would sell each other for personal advantage. ‘I did not think it was a good idea, but she insisted, and Emma agreed.’
Geoffrey saw Emma wince, and supposed the cat was well and truly out of the bag now. Bellême, however, did not seem surprised by the news. It was even possible he had intercepted the message, and had sent the reply purporting to be from Henry himself. Did that mean he had also killed Hugh? Geoffrey hoped not, aware that that particular solution would not reprieve him from hanging.
‘It is not what you think,’ hedged Emma. ‘Matilda and I reasoned that if the King allowed us to keep our estates, then we could use them to help you when you next invade England. We have not plotted against you.’
Bellême regarded her dispassionately. ‘Betrayal of me is a far more grave offence than the murder of a nephew. And I am vexed about the latter, so you can imagine how I would feel about the former.’
‘You should not tar us all with the same brush, Robert,’ said Sybilla desperately. ‘Some of us would sooner die than betray you.’ She glared at Emma. ‘It was their idea, not mine.’
While Bellême and his sisters bickered, Geoffrey watched Cecily. Her attention was a long way away, and her eyes were fixed on a point just above Geoffrey’s left shoulder. He glanced behind him, and saw she was paying close attention to the comings and goings at the hall. Suddenly, her expression changed from hopeful eagerness to blushing confusion. Geoffrey looked behind him a second time, and was somewhat bemused to see Beaumais. The sardonic courtier saw the assembly and gave a jaunty wave in their general direction, oiled hair glinting in the sun. Cecily gave a delighted grin; she was not the only one, and Emma also inclined her head with a meaningful smile.
How many Bellême women did Beaumais have under his spell? Geoffrey mused. Emma he could understand, because they were of an age and Beaumais had already spoken of her with some affection. But Cecily seemed an odd choice, although she was comely enough if a man had a penchant for fighting women. Geoffrey allowed himself the satisfaction of a smile. If Beaumais intended to keep two Bellême women happy simultaneously, then he would have his work cut out for him. Neither were the kind to share, and he thought Beaumais was playing with fire, taking on a self-confessed witch and a female knight at the same time.
Meanwhile, Bellême was addressing Geoffrey, forcing him to pull his attention away from the gaudy courtier’s dangerous liaisons. ‘It seems you have made some headway with your enquiry. Perhaps you will evade my noose after all.’
‘But then, perhaps not,’ hissed Amise, so Geoffrey knew she would do all she could to see him fail.
When so many people were crammed into a small space, it was difficult to find a safe and quiet spot, but Geoffrey succeeded eventually. The stables had been raised next to the hall-house, but not right against it, so there was a narrow strip of space between the two buildings that was concealed from the casual passer-by. The far end was blocked by rubble, so the tunnel could only be accessed from one direction. Geoffrey stole straw from the stable and made himself a bed there, preferring the chill of the open air to the sticky humidity of indoors.
The next morning, his third day at Arundel, he resumed his investigation, knowing he would need every available hour either to question witnesses or to analyse the information he had gathered – although he suspected he would not be overwhelmed with that, given the family’s taciturn and unfriendly nature. The first person he met was Arnulf, who was humming to himself. It seemed a good omen, so Geoffrey approached him with a friendly smile.
‘My brother’s inquisitor,’ said Arnulf, his expression instantly wary. ‘I appreciate you are in a difficult position, Geoffrey, but I do not want to be interrogated by you.’
‘Just one question. How soon after Hugh’s death did you arrive at the Crusader’s Head?’
‘That is easy.’ Arnulf sounded relieved, as though he had anticipated that Geoffrey would ask something more difficult. ‘I was there when it happened.’
‘You were?’ asked Geoffrey in surprise. ‘I did not see you.’
‘But I saw you. I decided it would be better to maintain a low profile, so Josbert and I hovered near the back of the crowd.’
‘Then I did see you. I spotted several figures with expensive cloaks towards the rear of the onlookers, but could not see their faces. Was it you who ran forward – twice – to get a better view?’
‘That was Josbert. The first time he was acting on my orders, because I wanted to be sure it was Hugh who had been killed. The second was of his own volition. We all like to see a corpse, and I suppose he could not restrain himself.’
Geoffrey suffered from no such compulsion, and he supposed it was just another incidence of the Bellême family’s macabre penchant for death and suffering. He imagined such nobles would attract like-minded men, and Josbert was certainly the type who might prefer the sight of a body to an attractive woman or a pleasing building.
‘It was not you who made off with the box containing your mother’s bones, was it?’ he asked, recalling the curious comings and goings at the back of the crowd while Hugh was being cut down.
‘It was not!’ replied Arnulf in some distaste. He moved closer to Geoffrey, so he would not be overheard. ‘Sybilla, Emmy and Robert are hopeful that our cause will gain power if we bring our mother back to life
, but I do not believe in such things, and neither does Roger. We are soldiers, and we know that once you are dead, you stay dead. Our Abbess of Alménches may be the most powerful witch in the civilized world, but she will not succeed in this.’
‘Is she?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘The most powerful witch in the civilized world?’
‘She thinks so, but I have never seen her do anything that cannot be explained rationally. She has an extensive knowledge of herbs and potions, and this allows her to pretend she has supernatural skills, but I think it is all trickery. She should have left our mother in peace, where she was buried. If Old Mabel’s bones really do cry out at night, it is because they do not want to be ferried around in boxes when they should lie in the cool earth.’
He gave Geoffrey a quick smile, then headed for the hall, where breakfast was being served. Geoffrey was not hungry, and did not want to join the jostling, grabbing crowd for scraps, so instead intercepted Roger, who was striding away from the hall.
‘No,’ said Roger, lips tightening into their habitual mean line as he moved away. ‘I do not want to talk to you.’
‘So, you are the one with something to hide,’ Geoffrey called after him. ‘You are the only one who has declined to talk.’
Roger stopped dead in his tracks and came back, as Geoffrey knew he would. He also anticipated that it would be with a dagger in his hand, and raised his own to indicate that Roger was not the only one ready to use steel. Roger sighed furiously, and thrust his knife back into his belt. He folded his arms and stared straight ahead, and Geoffrey supposed he was waiting for the interrogation to begin.
‘Were you present in the Crusader’s Head when Hugh was killed?’
Roger shook his head.
‘Arnulf was,’ said Geoffrey, hoping to loosen the man’s tongue.
‘Well, I was not,’ snapped Roger. ‘Next question.’
‘Where were you, then?’
‘That is none of your affair.’
‘Then I shall assume you were in the Crusader’s Head.’
Roger was outraged. ‘You cannot! I have not admitted it.’
‘Few murderers confess to their crimes, but that does not make them innocent.’
Roger swallowed. ‘You cannot think I am the killer,’ he said, glancing around him uneasily. ‘How could I be? I was busy trying to bribe those guards on the London Bridge to let me and the others cross later that night, but they would not hear me out. I was there for the best part of an hour, until it was almost dark.’
Geoffrey recalled how the guards had refused him, too, because the King had had one of them maimed for breaking his rules. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If Roger had arrived back at the Crusader’s Head after dusk, then he probably had not murdered Hugh, because Hugh was already dead by the time darkness fell. Geoffrey also recalled the guard saying that ‘better men’ than him had demanded to cross that night and had been refused. He supposed the better man may well have been Roger in his finery. So, he was reasonably certain Roger was telling the truth about trying to bribe his way across the bridge, but the question still remained as to whether he was telling the truth about the timing. He could have killed Hugh, then gone to argue at the bridge.
‘Why were you so keen to cross the river that night?’ he asked. ‘Why not wait until morning?’
‘Why do you think?’ snapped Roger. ‘I wanted to spend the night in good lodgings, not in the filth of Southwark.’
‘Then why not meet in London in the first place? Why travel to Southwark at all? And why not meet openly? Family gatherings are not illegal.’
‘Ours would have been construed as such,’ said Roger resentfully. ‘If Henry had learned we planned to discuss our strategy over the impending Easter Court, he would have seen it as treason – and he would have been right, technically speaking. Southwark is a safer place for that kind of thing. Besides, not all the family intended to return to their city lodgings that night; some had other plans.’
‘What plans?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Who did not want to return?’
‘You will have to ask them,’ said Roger stiffly. ‘I do not betray my kin. However, I can tell you that Arnulf has a liking for Southwark’s Winchester Geese, and Matilda was going to decide what she did after she had received some message or other from Hugh. Of course, his death changed all that.’
‘But you wanted to return to the city?’ asked Geoffrey, trying not to smile at Roger’s idea of not yielding his family’s secrets.
‘I did, and was prepared to pay a princely sum for the privilege. But, as it transpired, we were busy all night at the Crusader’s Head, discussing Hugh. My gold would have been wasted, because none of us travelled to London until the next day.’
‘Perhaps you were not at the tavern when Hugh was murdered,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But you were there later, because I saw you myself.’ He gestured to Roger’s distinctive hair, cut short on top so it stood up, like a brush. Geoffrey had seen the hair and he had observed the glitter of silver thread in a handsome cloak. He did not know what to think about Roger’s story, but knew he had not told the complete truth. Roger scowled at him and stormed away, furious that his word was questioned by a mere knight, no matter how justified.
The new information took Geoffrey no nearer the truth. It told him that virtually the entire Bellême clan was in the area when Hugh had died, although Roger claimed to be off bribing guards and Sybilla said she had not attended the meeting at all. It also told him that the family had lingered after the death and that any of them could have murdered the landlord, Oswin. He saw Beaumais, and wondered what he had to say for himself.
‘Do you have any theories about who killed Hugh?’ he asked, thinking that the man had ideas about everything else, so would surely have an opinion to offer about something as significant as a murder.
‘It was not Emma,’ he said quickly. ‘Folk often blame her for mishaps, because she dabbles in witchcraft. But she did not kill him.’
‘She was not one of my main suspects,’ lied Geoffrey. ‘What about Cecily?’
Beaumais seemed surprised by his choice of suspects, but considered the question carefully. ‘I would imagine Cecily is more of a dagger woman. I do not know how she would fare with hangings.’
‘She seems fond of you.’
Beaumais looked at him warily. ‘Is she?’
‘You must have noticed the way she looks at you.’
‘I have not, actually. I have enough to manage with Emma, thank you very much. One Bellême is plenty for anyone, as you have doubtless discovered with Matilda.’
‘I have not—’ began Geoffrey, startled.
Beaumais cut across his reply. ‘Now, she would be worth the risk. But Cecily? No! She is a child, and I prefer women. However, a dalliance with Cecily would not be wise for you, either.’
‘Why not?’
‘There is no point in attracting a young woman when your untimely death will break her heart. If you must have a younger woman to balance what Matilda offers you, then try Mabel. She is more practical about these things.’
‘I shall bear it in mind,’ said Geoffrey, thinking he would have to be desperate to take on Mabel. He changed the subject. ‘Were you at the Crusader’s Head the night Hugh was murdered?’
‘I was in the tavern’s stables for a while,’ replied Beaumais vaguely. ‘Discussing something with Emma.’
‘In the stables?’ asked Geoffrey curiously, thinking it would be an uncomfortable place for a frolic. The inn itself had been sordid, and he imagined the stables would have been worse.
‘It was Emma’s idea, if you must know. She likes dark places. But you must not misunderstand her. Her heart is in the right place, even if her head occasionally leads her astray.’
‘Her mother seems to have a similar problem,’ remarked Geoffrey. ‘Head and body wandering the Earth in different directions.’
‘Hush!’ exclaimed Beaumais in alarm. ‘It is not wise to make comments about Old Mabel. She may hear and exact revenge. I am l
ucky to have Emma to protect me, or I might be in serious danger.’
‘Why? What have you done to offend the long-dead Mabel?’
Beaumais glanced around him surreptitiously. ‘I failed to secure that map – the document that says where her head might be found. I understood that Petronus was bringing it, but by the time I saw him, it had been stolen.’
‘By whom?’ Geoffrey was under the impression that Emma and Matilda had expected Hugh to deliver that particular item to them the night he was murdered. Was there more than one of them?
‘By the men who murdered Petronus, I imagine – Henry’s agents.’
‘I see,’ said Geoffrey, wishing Beaumais had told him this when they had discussed the matter earlier. He did not understand the slippery courtier at all, keeping secrets one day and revealing them without a second thought the next. ‘How did Petronus come to have this map?’
‘From Abbot Ralph,’ said Beaumais. ‘Ralph is bound to Bellême because Shrewsbury Abbey is on Bellême land. Ralph discovered the map and sent it with Petronus to be delivered to me. But I failed to secure it, and Emma says her mother was very angry.’
‘Lord!’ muttered Geoffrey.
‘Bellême thinks he was Mabel’s favourite, but it is Emma. Poor Emma, besieged on every side.’
‘So are we all,’ Geoffrey pointed out, indicating the King’s troops outside. ‘But why “poor Emma” especially?’
‘Sybilla is supposed to be her best ally, but she makes it clear her first duty is to Bellême. However, I think Sybilla is only loyal to him because she believes he will win this war with Henry and she wants him to reward her later. Of course, Bellême is not the kind of man to give rewards.’
‘No,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘However, while he may forget to repay loyalty, he will not forget treachery. Emma should be careful. If Henry wins this siege, and the family is exiled, they will all have to live together in Normandy. Sybilla’s loyalty to Bellême is probably prudent.’
‘I can see that,’ said Beaumais worriedly, as if it had not occurred to him before. ‘I should tell Emma, before it is too late. You are right. We do not want an enemy like him snapping at our heels.’
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