This drew a reluctant smile. ‘You could say that. It was a night when the seas were too rough for the deck, so everyone was sleeping in the hold. I finished my business and was making my way down the ladder again when I heard voices. I thought it was sailors at first, but then I realized they were speaking Norman-French.’
‘And it was Juhel and Paisnel?’ asked Ulfrith politely.
Philippa nodded. ‘Juhel was doing all the talking, of course. They were huddled at the back of the ship, where they thought they would not be seen or overheard. I was bored, so I made my way towards them – for company.’ Her eyes filled with tears, and Geoffrey could not decide whether it was genuine distress, a ploy for sympathy or the effects of the cold wind.
Ulfrith was less cynical. ‘Poor lady,’ he said kindly.
‘There was blood,’ Philippa whispered brokenly. ‘A lot of it. Paisnel had been stabbed in the chest, or perhaps the neck. Juhel was sobbing when he tossed him overboard. I ran away at that point, but when Juhel returned to the hold, he was wet: he had washed off the blood.’
Geoffrey regarded her sharply as something jarred in his mind. He had also noticed that the parchmenter’s tunic had been wet the morning after Paisnel’s disappearance. Philippa continued when she saw she had his attention at last.
‘But the truly vile thing is that Paisnel was not dead. I saw him raise one arm as the ship sailed on and left him to his horrible fate.’
‘They were friends,’ said Geoffrey, not sure what to believe. ‘They had travelled together from Dublin, and Juhel was going to stay with Paisnel’s family in Ribe. Why would he kill a friend?’
Philippa shrugged. ‘Not every man can be as gentle as poor, dear Vitalis. There are some dreadful brutes around, and Juhel is one of them.’
‘Vitalis was not always gentle – he accused Sir Geoffrey of some awful things,’ said Ulfrith, clearly unsure where his loyalties should lie. ‘Truly wicked things.’
‘He did not,’ objected Geoffrey. ‘He said-’
‘Everything he said was true,’ interrupted Philippa. ‘He whispered them again as he lay dying on the beach, his lungs all gurgling and full of water. You will have to do penance for them, Sir Geoffrey, perhaps in the nunnery where you plan to leave me.’
‘I cannot believe Juhel killed Paisnel,’ said Geoffrey, preferring to discuss her story than the old man’s accusations. ‘They never even had a cross word…’
But that was not true, he recalled. He had caught them quarrelling the day before Paisnel went missing. They had kept their voices low, so he had not heard the nature of the disagreement, but there was no mistaking the angry gestures. But did it mean anything? Geoffrey frequently argued with Roger, and their friendship was as robust as any. Companions often fought, and surely there was nothing significant in Paisnel squabbling with Juhel?
‘He threw Paisnel’s bag overboard, too,’ said Philippa, seeing the doubt in his face and pressing her point. ‘I saw the poor man flap towards it, probably hoping it would keep him afloat. But Vitalis told me not to tell anyone, because he was too seasick to protect me from Juhel’s inevitable anger. You are not seasick, though, and-’
‘But why would Juhel do such a thing?’ interrupted Ulfrith, bewildered. ‘Paisnel was so nice and polite. He even tried to make friends with that rude Saxon. Of course, even Juhel’s chicken detested him – she scratched him cruelly, if you recall. Animals are seldom wrong when they take against people. But why did Juhel throw Paisnel’s pack overboard?’
Philippa shook her head. ‘I do not know! It made no sense, because, as his friend, Juhel would have been entitled to keep it. But he threw it in the sea with great haste. Perhaps it contained something he did not want to see again.’
‘Such as what?’ pressed Ulfrith.
Philippa was becoming exasperated with him. ‘I do not know! Perhaps those documents that were tied up with red ribbon. That braid would have looked rather well with my best kirtle; I asked Paisnel if he would exchange it for a green one, but he refused.’
‘Sir Geoffrey uses red ribbon when he writes to his wife and sister,’ said Ulfrith. ‘I am sure I can persuade him to give you a little.’
‘I shall persuade him myself, thank you,’ said Philippa with a sultry smile.
‘Paisnel had a medallion,’ said Ulfrith thoughtfully. He was thinking about Philippa’s story and did not notice the smouldering look she shot Geoffrey. ‘It was a large gold one. Perhaps Juhel wanted to get rid of that, although I cannot imagine why. You would think he would keep it, especially if it was valuable.’
‘What kind of medallion?’ asked Geoffrey.
Ulfrith shrugged. ‘A big gold one, with writing on it. You know: a medallion.’
Geoffrey’s thoughts were in turmoil. He had noticed Paisnel’s bag was missing the day after the man had disappeared; he had thought it odd at the time that Juhel had failed to mention it. And then there were the ribbon-bound documents. Geoffrey had seen Paisnel reading them once and had passed close enough to see they were official deeds of some kind. And the day after it had been decided that Paisnel must have fallen overboard, Geoffrey had seen Juhel with them. Had Juhel thrown away the pack so no one would notice the documents were no longer in it? But that made no sense, because, as Philippa pointed out, Juhel was Paisnel’s companion and would have come into possession of them anyway. Or was he afraid Fingar might have his own views on the distribution of a dead man’s property?
Geoffrey shook himself impatiently. It was not his concern. Nevertheless, he decided he could not be rid of his travelling companions quickly enough and began to look forward keenly to the time when he would be alone.
They had not gone far before Edith, unbalanced by the weight of Roger’s arm about her shoulders, took a tumble and twisted her knee. She wept piteously but declined to allow Geoffrey to inspect it, claiming it would be improper for a married man to see her bare flesh. Roger offered his services instead, pointing out that he had no wife, but Edith was angry with him for making her stumble in the first place, and his offer was repelled with equal iciness. Philippa obliged in the end, and the men were ordered to move a respectable distance away.
‘She is irked with me,’ said Roger, dismayed. ‘I was only trying to help.’
‘I would be careful, if I were you,’ advised Geoffrey. ‘Their relationship with Vitalis was odd, and Philippa has been making accusations of murder against Juhel.’
‘Be careful of what?’ demanded Ulfrith, leaping to defend the woman who had captured his heart. ‘They are decent ladies who will not even reveal a knee to a man.’
Usually, Geoffrey would have boxed the lad’s ears for his impudence, but the previous month Ulfrith had saved Geoffrey’s sister by killing a wild boar that was about to attack her. Ulfrith could do no wrong in Joan’s eyes, and she had extracted a promise from Geoffrey to be gentle with the lad. Jerosolimitani took vows seriously, and Ulfrith had been permitted to overstep the mark on several occasions.
‘They are lucky they have you to watch over them,’ was all Geoffrey said.
Ulfrith nodded stiffly. ‘I will protect them.’
‘So will I,’ said Roger with a leer. ‘I will protect Philippa next, as Edith seems out of sorts.’
‘No!’ cried Ulfrith, who was not so naive that he did not know where that would lead. ‘She should walk with me.’
Roger gazed at him in astonishment, amazed that a squire should presume to argue with him. Then he saw the fiercely ardent expression, and his face creased into a grin of understanding.
‘Very well – you go for her, lad, and good luck to you! It is about time you cut your teeth on a decent wench. I shall persist with Edith. We were getting along famously until she took her tumble.’
‘Vitalis was lucky to have two such women,’ said Bale sadly. ‘I would like a wife, but ladies do not seem to find me very attractive. Perhaps they will like me more when I have some money.’