The King's Spies

by Simon Beaufort

  ‘Something for the family.’ Philip jutted out his chin defiantly. Tears glittered in his eyes, and Geoffrey felt sorry for him. He had lived so long in Henry’s court that the family no longer trusted him, and his own bumbling inefficiency made matters worse. Poor Philip belonged nowhere, but was desperate to be accepted.

  ‘What?’ pressed Geoffrey. ‘Delivering messages? Keeping watch? Fetching and carrying?’

  ‘Carrying,’ said Philip in a whisper. ‘No one else was brave enough to do it, but I was.’

  ‘Carrying what?’ asked Geoffrey, trying to understand what the lad was saying. ‘Were you spiriting Greek Fire away from the tavern after Hugh was killed?’ He thought about what he had seen with his own eyes. ‘No, not Greek Fire. I do not think Emma owns much of that, and she would probably prefer to carry it herself. You took care of something many believe to be truly dangerous.’

  Some of Philip’s confidence returned, and he held his head a little higher. ‘Something dangerous and irreplaceable. Emma trusted me.’

  ‘Your grandmother’s bones,’ said Geoffrey in satisfaction. ‘I saw two people moving them on several occasions, but I certainly recall them on the night of Hugh’s death. I saw you.’ And Mabel had been the other, he thought. Philip had probably been helping Josbert the time Geoffrey had seen them near St Paul’s Cathedral, and perhaps at All Hallows Barking, too.

  ‘I will not tell you the identity of my companion,’ said Philip, in the kind of voice that indicated he might, if sufficiently bullied. ‘Leave me alone. I do not want to die next to you at the end of a rope.’

  ‘Did you deliver messages to the King for your aunts?’ asked Geoffrey.

  ‘I offered, since I was in a position to get near His Majesty, but they said it was too dangerous. They trusted Hugh more.’

  ‘Why was that?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘I have been told he was short of wits.’

  ‘That was why everyone liked him,’ said Philip, a little bitterly. ‘When you are obviously stupid, people give you more freedom. It is only us intelligent men who find our movements restricted.’

  ‘I see,’ said Geoffrey. He wondered whether the lad might be jesting, but his expression was quite serious, and he supposed Philip really did see himself as some kind of intellectual. However, Geoffrey was sure he did not have the wits to kill Hugh and get away with it, so he joined Ralph and Sybilla on Geoffrey’s list of eliminated suspects. He released the agitated young man and looked for someone else to question. He saw Beaumais, and sauntered towards him.

  Geoffrey felt he still did not have Beaumais’s measure, no matter how much time he spent with him. The siege seemed to suit Beaumais, because he was lively and invigorated. He watched people disintegrate in the claustrophobic situation with apparent relish, and seemed to gather strength from their decline. He was always well groomed, with his hair slicked into its immaculate bob, although Geoffrey noticed that others had already become careless over appearances, something he considered as an early sign of a deteriorating morale. He studied Beaumais’s locks, intrigued by their shininess.

  ‘Olive oil,’ explained Beaumais, primping with some pride. ‘It is a marvellous substance, and makes the hair glisten in a manner that ladies find very attractive.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Geoffrey uncertainly. ‘Do you not find it makes you smell of cooking?’

  ‘I have become used to its odour, and Emma tells me it is seductive.’

  ‘Does she know you have been raiding her supplies?’ asked Geoffrey. She would not be pleased when she learned that one of her ingredients for Greek Fire was being squandered in such a fashion.

  ‘I do not use hers,’ said Beaumais haughtily. ‘I have my own.’

  Geoffrey stared at him, remembering the meeting of Emma and someone in a cloak in All Hallows Church, when olive oil had been supplied. So, he thought, her companion must have been Beaumais after all. Beaumais provided Emma with oil, but kept a little back for his personal use. He happened to glance at the man’s hands while his attention was caught by a sudden fight between two chickens. They were marked with black streaks, and burned. Beaumais had, without question, tampered with Greek Fire.

  On the sixth and last full day, while leaning over the gatehouse’s battlements, Geoffrey saw two figures in the distance whom he recognized as Roger and Helbye. They cheered him enormously, although he still had not managed to send them his signal. He knew what he needed to say: the best place for a frontal assault was the gatehouse, because its ramparts were less steep than those leading to the other entrances, while the little postern door – the third along – was the least well defended. All he needed to do was to flash his lamp once, then three times, and he would have had the satisfaction of knowing he had passed damaging information about Bellême to the King. However, waving a lantern from the battlements was not easy, because all the towers were heavily guarded. Geoffrey had made several attempts and had been thwarted each time.

  As he stared towards the besiegers’ camp, he could hear carpenters sawing and hammering on the war machines that would eventually be used against Arundel. The noise went on day and night, and even in the darkness blacksmiths’ furnaces glowed, indicating the King meant business. The racket alone was having an impact on the defenders. Bellême skulked with a face like thunder, and killed a servant for running up some stairs when he happened to be coming down them. Then he ordered the body flung at the besiegers, although Geoffrey was not sure what he hoped to achieve, other than making the tactical error of informing Henry that there were serious problems brewing within.

  The same day Emma stood on the gatehouse roof with her hands over her ears and screamed, which resulted in a lot of jeering from the besiegers. They were gratified to know that even a few days of noise could unnerve the castle’s occupants, and Josbert was not pleased that she proved their strategy was working in so spectacular a fashion. He dashed to the tower to drag her away himself. Meanwhile, Sybilla was distraught with grief for Cecily, and Matilda was irritable and uncommunicative. Amise tried three more times to catch Geoffrey unawares with her dagger, and he was obliged to threaten to scar her other cheek if she did not desist. Roger and Arnulf demonstrated that they could be just as brutal as their older brother in their treatment of the servants, and Geoffrey was not surprised the family had so few real friends and supporters.

  Later, Geoffrey was lying in his spot behind the stables, trying to make sense of the mass of facts and details he had accumulated over the last six days, when he heard yelling. He joined the people running to the hall to see what had happened. Beaumais jogged next to him, having emerged from a barn. Moments later Matilda followed. The straw clinging to their clothes and hair, especially to Beaumais’s sticky locks, suggested they had been engaging in more than a casual conversation.

  Geoffrey stood on a plinth at the base of a pillar, so he could see over the heads of the people in front. A body lay on the floor, and there was a knife sticking out of it. Geoffrey saw it was Haweis, Sybilla’s prettiest daughter. Sybilla knelt over her child, wailing, while Matilda, Mabel and Amise gazed at the body with eyes that bespoke abject shock. After Cecily’s death, all three daughters had reverted to wearing their armour, although it had not saved Haweis: Geoffrey saw her attacker had slipped his blade into the vulnerable point underneath her arm. He waited to see what would happen, and was alarmed, but not particularly surprised, when he heard his name spoken.

  ‘Geoffrey did it,’ declared Amise. ‘He has hated us since we defeated him in that London church.’

  ‘No,’ said Mabel quietly. ‘He would not have killed her unless she attacked him first.’

  ‘Perhaps she did,’ suggested Amise spitefully. ‘None of us want him here – the killer of Hugh and the creature of King Henry.’

  ‘He is not Henry’s creature,’ said Matilda bitterly. She gazed at him challengingly, virtually telling anyone watching that he might have done more for her if he was better able to secure the King’s ear.

  Bellême strode for
ward and bellowed Geoffrey’s name in a voice that stilled every mutter and shuffle. He was angry, and no one wanted to catch his attention when his temper was up. Some folk, wiser than others, slipped out while they could, preferring to learn what had happened later than to be near the unpredictable Earl. With a sigh, Geoffrey jumped from his plinth and walked to the front of the hall. Bellême had his dagger drawn, and he pointed it at Haweis when he addressed the knight.

  ‘Did you do this?’

  ‘No,’ said Geoffrey, thinking there was little else he could say. He did not think that telling the Earl he had been thinking behind the stables all afternoon would do him much good.

  ‘Liar!’ shrieked Amise. ‘We left her alone for a moment, and it was the opportunity you have been waiting for. It is your dagger sticking out of her.’

  ‘Mine is here,’ said Geoffrey, pulling it from his belt.

  ‘You stole one, then,’ snarled Amise. ‘Who is without his dagger?’ She gazed around the gathered throng, although only a fool would have admitted that the murder weapon was his, stolen or not.

  ‘I will kill you myself,’ said Sybilla, snatching the knife from Bellême, wielding it in a way that suggested she had probably secured some knightly training herself. ‘First you maim Amise, then you burn Cecily and now you stab Haweis.’

  ‘He killed no one,’ said Abbot Ralph, bravely interposing himself between the furious woman and Geoffrey. ‘He has been with me all day, so he cannot be your culprit.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Bellême in the kind of voice that indicated he was not.

  Ralph nodded. ‘He has been helping me with letters explaining why I have not returned to Shrewsbury. You must look elsewhere for your villain.’

  Bellême took the weapon from Sybilla. ‘I said your daughters were not to wear mail in my castle. You know I do not like it. It is perverted.’

  ‘They need to defend themselves,’ flashed Sybilla, angry with her brother for the first time since Geoffrey had known her. ‘There are hostile troops all around us, and I do not want them exposed to stray arrows – or stray Greek Fire.’ She glowered at Geoffrey again.

  ‘Her armour did not save her from a dagger,’ Bellême pointed out unpleasantly. ‘What was she doing here anyway? The hall is used as a dormitory for the night watch at this time of day, and she should not have been here.’

  ‘She was assisting me,’ said Emma, softly. She stood in the shadows to one side and emerged to stand beside Sybilla.

  ‘Really?’ snarled Bellême. ‘Doing what? Sending messages to the King, to tell him how to destroy my defences and take my castle?’

  ‘Of course not!’ cried Sybilla, appalled. ‘You should know us better than that. My daughters have been gathering herbs for Emma to help defend us against Henry.’

  ‘Witchcraft!’ sneered Bellême in disgust. ‘But never mind that. Who killed Haweis? Abbot Ralph says it was not Geoffrey, so you must invent another suspect.’

  ‘I do not know,’ said Amise in a low voice. ‘But when I find out, I shall kill him myself.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Bellême dismissively. ‘You women are very interested in killing, but it has brought you nothing but pain. You should leave the slaughter to us men and concentrate on feminine virtues.’

  ‘Such as what?’ demanded Sybilla, unusually sharp with her favourite brother. ‘Making marriages with men who desert us? Haweis was to have wed your faithful servant Pantulf, and now look at her.’

  At the sight of her dead daughter, she started to weep again. Mabel went to stand next to her, offering comfort in the form of a reassuring presence, while Matilda tried to quell the shuddering sobs with a hug. Emma stood with her hands in her sleeves, aloof from the squabble.

  ‘I mean virtues like counting the family gold and ridding our homes of rodents,’ said Bellême, who seemed to have as odd an idea of feminine virtues as his sister.

  ‘I do not know who killed her,’ said Mabel, regarding the body of her sister with quiet affection. ‘The hall was deserted when we left her, because the night watch had not arrived. Anyone who saw us enter might be responsible.’

  ‘We went upstairs to deliver the herbs to Emma,’ said Amise, glowering at Geoffrey in a way that suggested she still regarded him as guilty, whether he had a priestly alibi or not. ‘She was not there, so we left them and came back to the hall immediately. Haweis was only alone for a moment.’

  ‘I was on the roof,’ said Emma, looking hard and long at Beaumais and Matilda, so that Geoffrey suspected her attention had been glued to the barn when the murder had occurred. She had watched her sister enjoying the company of the man who professed to be her own lover. Geoffrey rubbed his eyes, and wondered why people insisted on creating such complex problems for themselves with their infidelities and betrayals. It was so much simpler to be loyal.

  ‘Why did you leave Haweis here at all?’ asked Bellême. ‘Why not take her upstairs with you?’

  ‘She twisted her ankle,’ said Amise, casting a venomous glower at Bellême. ‘We have been obliged to wear “maidenly” shoes that do not fit, and she fell over. She waited here because stairs hurt her.’

  ‘It is true,’ said Mabel. ‘The shoes that went with the dresses were impractical for a castle under siege, so I continued to wear my mail boots. Haweis did not and took a tumble.’

  ‘Josbert!’ roared Bellême, suddenly bored with the whole affair. ‘Bury her in a place where she will not leak and poison our water, and let us be done with the matter.’

  ‘I will do it,’ said Emma with dignity. ‘She was a good girl, and deserves more than to be tossed into a shallow hole. I shall ensure she has a decent burial.’

  ‘As you please,’ said Bellême, indicating he thought it of small importance. He turned to Josbert. ‘But woman or not, she was a Bellême, and I want to know who killed her. Find out, then hang him.’

  Josbert started to object that he was too busy, but Bellême was already striding out of the hall, scattering people before him like leaves in the wind. He either did not hear or did not care what Josbert thought of the commission, and the castellan gazed down at the dead Haweis with a face as black as thunder, as though it was her fault that he had been given such an unreasonable task. Then his eyes lit on Sybilla, and his expression softened.

  ‘You should lie down,’ he said, gruffly kind. ‘I will bring you some wine.’

  ‘She does not need wine,’ snapped Amise. ‘She needs justice – to see a murderer hang.’

  ‘Tell me who is the culprit, then,’ suggested Josbert. ‘You must have some idea. And do not tell me it was Geoffrey when the priest has exonerated him.’

  ‘We do not know,’ sobbed Sybilla. ‘This is what happens when you trust people outside the family. It was Beaumais’s idea to break the siege by witchcraft and now look what has happened!’

  ‘I did not kill Haweis,’ said Beaumais, startled. ‘I have been with Matilda … discussing goats …’

  Matilda nodded agreement, not looking at Emma, while Geoffrey tried to hide his amusement at the bizarre choice of subjects. Beaumais had said the first thing that came into his mind. Emma glared angrily at her sister, but still managed to smile at Beaumais. Geoffrey wondered whether she was prepared to blame Matilda. He knew people could be blind where love was concerned.

  ‘Beaumais is right to place his faith in witchcraft,’ said Emma softly. ‘There are only two things that can save us now: Greek Fire and our mother coming to the battle lines. But neither will happen if we stand around chattering. Come, my sisters, and let us continue this vital work.’

  ‘God help us!’ muttered Matilda to Geoffrey as she prepared to follow Emma to the upper chamber they used for sleeping and plotting. ‘Arundel is dangerous even for Bellêmes now. It is not just you who needs to watch out for daggers in his back.’

  ‘Emma knows exactly what Beaumais was just doing,’ warned Geoffrey, glancing to where Emma paused at the bottom of the spiral staircase to wait for her sister. ‘You should be careful.
’

  ‘I am always careful,’ said Matilda with her enigmatic smile.

  ‘Do you know why Haweis was killed?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Was it because she was helping Emma, and someone disapproves so strongly of witchcraft that he will do anything to thwart her?’

  ‘Or perhaps Haweis was trying to smuggle messages to Henry without the rest of us knowing.’

  ‘You tried as much using Hugh.’

  ‘But I was trying to save all us women, not just myself.’ Matilda’s expression was unreadable. ‘However, I have sent no messages since we arrived here.’

  Emma gave an impatient sigh, so Matilda abandoned Geoffrey to follow her sister upstairs.

  ‘You saved my life,’ said Geoffrey to Ralph when the others had gone. ‘Sybilla would have attacked me if you had not stepped forward. And you took a risk, because I have not seen you at all today.’

  ‘But I saw you,’ said Ralph. ‘I know you are innocent, and God will overlook my lie under the circumstances. But stay away from this business, my friend. The family is beginning to fall apart in great jagged pieces, and they will slash anyone who comes too close.’

  As the sun set at the end of Geoffrey’s last evening, Amise came to gloat. He was on the roof of the gatehouse, watching the sun sink in a blaze of orange and red, and wracking his brains for a solution to Hugh’s murder. There were plenty of guards nearby, but a stiff breeze blew and they were trying to keep to the leeward side for warmth. For a short while, Geoffrey was alone, but he knew it would not last and that by the time he had grabbed a torch to send his message the opportunity would have passed. It was still too light to signal, anyway, and there was no point in forfeiting his final few hours to contact Roger at a time when the big knight was unlikely to be looking. Even as the thought went through his mind, more guards came on duty and his solitude was over.

  It had been a pretty day, with only the merest wisps of cloud visible. The sun caught in the nearby River Arun, turning it into a scarlet snake that wound through the fields surrounding the castle and away to the woods in the distance. It lit the King’s banners, and for a while the incessant hammering stopped as workmen went to eat their evening meal. It would start again as soon as they finished, but for the moment it was peaceful. Geoffrey breathed deeply, savouring the scent of new-sown crops and wood smoke from the camp fires, and wondered why he never appreciated beauty until he thought he was about to see it for the last time.