‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I accept that if Bale can deceive me with tricks, then anyone can, but I doubt two men had the idea of poisoning me simultaneously. And, besides, why me? You are the one with the gold.’
‘But you have wits, and those are dangerous to men like Juhel and Lucian. I bragged about the cases you have solved – obviously, they became worried.’
‘What, both of them?’
‘They are in it together,’ persisted Roger. ‘They are involved in something sinister that saw Vitalis, Edith and that shepherd murdered by Lucian, and Paisnel killed by Juhel. Just because you do not know what it is, does not mean it has not happened.’
‘I suppose it is possible,’ said Geoffrey, although he could not see the two as partners. He looked at Bale, who was regarding him in much the same way as his dog did on occasion: with a certain desperate affection that he was not sure would be reciprocated.
‘You have done well, Bale,’ he sad, watching the man’s face split into a grin of pleasure. ‘You uncovered evidence that put Gyrth at Werlinges during the massacre, and you were probably right to take the ring and the purse – although you should not make a habit of it.’
‘No, sir,’ said Bale. ‘I will not steal from corpses without good cause in future. But how do the cross and habit prove Gyrth responsible for the massacre? I thought they only showed he visited the village.’
‘Because of the way the blood is sprayed across the material. In battles, I have seen many such stains when throats have been slashed. There are also marks in the region of the thigh, where he wiped his blade. Gyrth killed someone at Werlinges without question. Then he donned civilian clothes and came here.’
‘Where he wanted to kill someone,’ mused Roger. ‘But why you, Geoff?’
‘I doubt Gyrth was after him,’ said Harold, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Geoffrey wondered how long he had been listening. ‘It was more likely a monk who had offended him.’
‘That is unlikely,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It seems he was only here for a few hours before Galfridus dispatched him to some distant village, to test his sincerity.’
‘Then perhaps that is why he went to the hospital,’ suggested Harold. ‘He thought it was the monks’ dormitory, because he had not been here long enough to know better.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. ‘There was not enough time for a monk to have annoyed Gyrth to that extent. I suspect his arrival here had something to do with your rebellion – and so did the massacre. Gyrth was not the only one to have been involved in that. Your brother Ulf was there, and dry blood, combined with wet, indicates he had been fighting before Bale got him. These stains indicate he did not kill the villagers himself, but he may well have ordered Gyrth to do it.’
Harold shook his head, horrified by the suggestion. ‘Impossible! We need people alive, not dead. Whatever happened at Werlinges had nothing to do with us.’
‘Of course it did. And the fact that Gyrth was involved proves it.’
‘Gyrth did support our cause,’ acknowledged Harold unhappily. ‘But I do not see how he thought to further it by slaughtering villagers and stabbing men in abbeys.’
Geoffrey was sorry for him. Poor Harold was an innocent who attracted supporters by his smiling manners. But, as soon as he was no longer needed, harder, more ruthless men would step in, and Harold would find his throat cut.
And then something else became clear. Bale had mentioned blood smeared on doors in Werlinges, as though in warning. Geoffrey suspected that was exactly what it was: Werlinges had escaped being laid to waste by King William, and Ulf and Gyrth wanted everyone to know what happened to those who collaborated with the enemy. The hapless priest had tried to make amends by providing horses for Magnus and Harold, but the Saxon rebels had not been appeased.
‘So if Gyrth was not after you, and not after a monk, who was he trying to kill?’ asked Roger.
‘You,’ replied Geoffrey. ‘Rebellions are always hungry for money, and it is common knowledge that you stole a great deal of gold from the pirates.’
‘They wanted to use my money to topple Henry?’ asked Roger indignantly.
Geoffrey nodded.
Roger rubbed his chin. ‘Then it is just as well it is in a safe place.’
‘Where?’ asked Geoffrey.
Roger grinned and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Now, that would be telling.’
The Duke did not come that day, and towards the end of the afternoon the atmosphere of excited anticipation faded to anticlimax. Galfridus retired to the church, although no one was sure whether he was praying for the Duke to arrive or to send word that he was not coming.
‘It will be a delight to host him,’ he said morosely, as he and Geoffrey met near the kitchens – the knight to beg a bone for his dog, the monk to snatch a mouthful of carp. ‘But I shall remove the Lamb of God, of course. I do not want him making jokes about the Pig of God, which is how the novices now refer to it, thanks to you. But you know the Duke, do you not? Sir Roger said you were in his service.’
‘Many years ago, and as a very lowly squire. He will not remember me. But do not be too anxious – he is easily distracted and might not arrive for days if something amuses him on the way.’
‘That would be foolish. The last time the Duke visited England, it was as an invader, and if he dallies before making his obeisance to King Henry, he may find himself attacked.’ Galfridus’s expression turned to alarm. ‘And then perhaps Belleme will come to the Duke’s aid, God help us!’
‘If you dislike fighting, why do you allow Magnus and Harold to stay here? Surely you can see Magnus is plotting?’
‘He is a dreamer. His schemes will come to nothing.’
‘I am not so sure. Look at how many Saxons have gathered in your precinct – they cannot all be pilgrims. Moreover, I saw Harold address a gathering of about fifty men last night.’
Galfridus swallowed hard. ‘But Magnus has no funds for a rebellion,’ he said weakly.
‘I am not so sure. Bale found a considerable quantity of gold on a shepherd, which I am certain was intended to fuel the revolt. I suspect he was not a shepherd at all and was taking the purse to some central fund, but was killed in the storm before he could deliver it.’
‘No,’ objected Galfridus miserably. ‘Surely not!’
‘I believe Gyrth intended to steal Roger’s gold, too – he mistook us in the dark. And Fingar told me the roads near here are full of carts and horses after dark. It all adds up to a gathering of troops and resources, and suggests a hostile action against the King. You will be deemed their supporter if you do not make a stand.’
Galfridus rubbed a hand across his face. ‘I have an awful feeling you are right. But what can I do to stop them? I have sent messages to de Laigle, but I am not sure he reads them, let alone passes them to the King. And I can order these assembled Saxons to disperse until I am blue in the face, but they will not obey me, a man of mixed parentage.’
‘Your monks-’
‘Half my monks and all my lay-brothers are Saxon. The only thing I can pray for now is that Magnus makes his stand elsewhere. But do not let me keep you, Sir Geoffrey.’
He shot into the kitchen and made for the roast carp in an effort to calm himself. Through the open door, Geoffrey watched him snatch some and eat it fast, pausing only to complain to the cook that there was glass in it.
‘Glass?’ demanded the cook. ‘There is not!’ He appealed to Harold, who was sitting on a table swinging his short legs as he ate a piece of cheese. ‘You see? Normans complain endlessly.’
Later that evening, when the light was fading, Geoffrey sat with Bale behind the chapter house, looking over the battlefield. ‘What do you make of the business at Werlinges?’ he asked.
Bale considered the question seriously. He was not often asked for his opinion, and when he was, he tended to take his time to formulate a response.