‘Geoffrey knew nothing of this letter until I gave it to him a few moments ago,’ said Maurice firmly. ‘And then I helped him look for Eudo and did not leave his side for a moment. He did not slip away to murder your scribe. I will stake my life on it.’
‘Then I shall believe you,’ said Henry. ‘Geoffrey does have a hot temper, though, and I have warned Sear to be on his guard as they ride west together. I am fond of Sear and do not want to lose him to a spat. But time is passing, and I have much to do.’
He flicked imperious fingers, and his people surged towards him, all eager to please. Sear and Alberic were the first to arrive. Edward followed more slowly, sighing theatrically when he saw that mud had stained the bottom of his fine cloak.
‘We were discussing your journey west,’ said Henry, smiling pleasantly at Sear. ‘I know you and Alberic would rather go alone, but travelling together will be safer for everyone. My roads are freer of outlaws now than they were in my brother’s reign, but you cannot be too careful.’
‘Well, I am more than happy to be in a large party,’ declared Edward. ‘And when we reach Brechene, we shall have my garrison to accompany us, too. I did not bring them all the way here when I was summoned to see you, sire, because it was more economical to leave them in Wales.’
‘Very practical,’ said Henry, smothering a smile. ‘How large a force is it?’
‘Two dozen men, all well trained,’ replied Edward. ‘At least, that is what my captain tells me, and I am sure he is right. They certainly look the part – all oiled leather and gleaming weapons.’
‘Good,’ said Henry. ‘You are all very dear to me, and I shall sleep happier knowing you will be in each other’s company.’
Geoffrey was instantly on his guard, knowing he was not dear to Henry at all. Was Henry’s insistence that the party ride together to protect Sear? Geoffrey did not think so – Sear looked perfectly capable of looking after himself, and so did Alberic. Was it Edward, then, who was unlikely to be much good in a fight? Or Delwyn? Geoffrey doubted the grubby monk would rate highly among Henry’s friends and could only conclude that it was Edward he wanted to safeguard.
‘It might be a good idea, sire,’ began Maurice that evening, ‘to rewrite the letters Geoffrey will carry tomorrow. Then we can be sure of their contents.’
They were in the Abbot’s House. Henry was sprawled in front of the fire in a cushion-filled throne. There were several dogs at his feet, and he was devouring raisins at a rapid rate.
Geoffrey had been summoned to attend Henry at dusk, but had been kept waiting while the King looked over a horse, and then again while he ate his supper. By the time he had been admitted to the royal presence, he was tired, restless and irritable. Maurice had elected to accompany him, lest he say something to land himself in trouble.
Geoffrey’s mind was not on the King’s business, but on Tancred’s letter. He had never broken a vow in his life, and it did not seem a good idea to start by reneging on one made to the Almighty. Yet he longed to resolve the misunderstanding with the man he loved as a brother. It occurred to him to write to Tancred, but how could he be sure that his message would not be intercepted and replaced by one that would make matters worse?
‘But I am sure of their contents,’ Henry was saying, his voice bringing Geoffrey back to the present. ‘Eudo wrote them for me.’
‘Quite,’ said Maurice baldly, and Geoffrey held his breath, wondering whether the Bishop had overstepped the mark in criticizing His Majesty’s favourite clerk. He was grateful to Maurice for trying to keep him safe, but did not want to see him in trouble. ‘He had a tendency to include addendums. And they might be redundant now he is dead.’
‘Explain,’ ordered Henry, narrowing his eyes.
‘Eudo was not honest,’ said Maurice, meeting his gaze evenly. ‘But he was loyal and always scheming to advance your interests. However, now that he is not here to see these plots through, they may miscarry, and-’
‘No,’ interrupted Henry. ‘Kermerdyn is too distant an outpost to warrant Eudo meddling; you are worrying unnecessarily. Besides, there is no need to waste good parchment and wax, and these missives are already signed and sealed. Geoffrey will carry them as planned. Pepin!’
The door was flung open, and the scribe scurried in with the package he had shown Geoffrey earlier. ‘Sire.’
‘Give Sir Geoffrey the letters. Have you explained what I want him to do?’
‘Yes, sire,’ said Pepin. ‘Five letters to be delivered. Four from you, and one from the Archbishop to Abbot Mabon. The ones to Richard fitz Baldwin and Gwgan are secret, and Sear is not to have his until everyone is safely in Kermerdyn. He will not be pleased, though – he will wonder why he was not given it by you, personally.’
‘Because I do not want him to have it yet,’ snapped Henry. He turned to Geoffrey. ‘He doubtless will be vexed, but you must tell him not to question his King’s wishes.’
Geoffrey said nothing but raised his eyebrows, feeling it was hardly his place to make such a remark to a fellow knight.
‘Here are the letters,’ said Pepin, passing them over. ‘The green circle is for Abbot Mabon… but you can read so you do not need my devices. However, for your information, the red dagger is for Sear, because he is warlike, the diamond is for Richard fitz Baldwin, because he is hard, and the fancy cross is for Gwgan, because he is literate, like us.’
‘And Wilfred’s letter is the fat one,’ finished Geoffrey, to show he had been listening earlier.
Pepin nodded. ‘For God’s sake, do not deliver them to the wrong people.’
‘I think we can trust Sir Geoffrey to get it right,’ said Henry dryly. He nodded to indicate Pepin was dismissed. The scribe shot out as quickly as he had entered.
‘Is there no letter for Prince Hywel, sire?’ asked Maurice. ‘I imagine he will expect one, given that you are communicating with the two most powerful churchmen in his domain.’
Henry stretched. ‘I do not pander to the sensitivities of vassals, Maurice. Besides, Hywel is too busy being popular to care what I think of him.’
‘I imagine he will care,’ said Maurice unhappily. ‘And it is not pandering to sensitivities as much as acknowledging his continued loyalty. It is simple diplomacy.’
‘Unnecessary diplomacy,’ countered Henry. ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’
While Henry and Maurice continued to debate, Geoffrey studied the letters carefully to assess whether they were the ones he had been shown earlier – he mistrusted everyone. Then Maurice took them, too, and held them to the light, as if he hoped to read what was written inside. The Bishop shook them, rubbed them against his cheek, and finally blessed them with great solemnity. Henry watched in astonishment.
‘Are you finished?’ he asked.
‘I sense an evil in them,’ explained Maurice. ‘You know I have a knack for telling these things. I wish you would let me rewrite them, sire. I have a fair hand, and it will not take me long.’
‘I cannot be bothered,’ said Henry. ‘It has been a long day; I am tired. And there is nothing important in them. They pertain to Kermerdyn, for God’s sake – a place we could barely plot on a map.’
‘Then why send Geoffrey to deliver them?’ asked Maurice. ‘Why not let Edward or Sear do it?’
Geoffrey winced. Maurice rarely questioned his King.
‘Because it suits me to send him,’ snapped Henry. ‘Remember yourself, My Lord Bishop. Not even you have the right to question me.’
Maurice looked stricken. ‘I meant no disrespect, sire! I was merely-’
‘Merely poking your nose into matters that are none of your concern,’ finished Henry. But he relented when he saw the prelate’s distress. ‘I am sending Geoffrey because one of these letters is for his kinsman – Gwgan. My Normans are not overly enamoured with the Welsh, and I would not like them to “forget” to deliver it, in order to see Gwgan in trouble.’
‘I see,’ said Maurice. He swallowed hard. ‘Will you tell us what these messages contain? The recipients may have questions, and Geoffrey will look foolish if he cannot answer.’