Geoffrey stared at him. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You know perfectly welclass="underline" Edith enjoyed Roger’s company — until Lucian reappeared. If you want suspects for her murder, ask Roger what he was doing the night she died. He was certainly out and about, because I saw him.’
Of course, Roger had not harmed Edith, because he had been with Philippa. However, the big knight did solve problems with violence, and not everyone would believe his innocence. Moreover, Geoffrey did not trust Philippa to confirm his alibi. She was a woman out for her own ends and might well lie if she thought there was a chance she might benefit from it.
Juhel smirked victoriously when Geoffrey had no reply, ‘But I do not believe Roger is the culprit. I suspect Lucian, whom I also saw abroad that night. When I asked him the following day what he had been doing, he claimed he had been at a vigil all night. Do you believe such a tale from a man who did not utter a single prayer while we were on Patrick?’
Geoffrey admitted it sounded unlikely. ‘Read that to me,’ he said, indicating Edith’s letter. ‘What does it say?’
‘It relates a woeful tale to her father, all about high seas and unruly sailors. I will translate it if you like, but you will find it dull listening.’
‘But as it is written in runes, her father will not be able to decipher it.’
‘No,’ said Juhel with malicious satisfaction. ‘And it will serve her right. She said I would be paid to write it, but once it was done — and it took several hours, because I am not quick with my pen — Vitalis refused to pay. They cheated me, and I am glad I cheated them back.’
Geoffrey left the hut, not sure what to think. He still believed Danish was written in the same alphabet as other Western languages, but he had never seen it and could not be sure. Perhaps Juhel was telling the truth. But had Juhel killed Vitalis? Geoffrey realized that even if he had, it was not his concern. It was probably incautious queries that had seen him poisoned, and it was time to leave the matter to the appropriate authorities.
However, he had one last question. He retraced his steps, and his second unanticipated invasion showed him a heavy medallion under the blanket with the documents. Philippa had mentioned a necklace in Paisnel’s pack, and there was another memory of it, too. Geoffrey frowned, trying to pin down the elusive sense that he had seen it before. Then it came to him in a flash — Donan had found one in the hospital. Like Juhel’s, it was engraved with Celtic knots on one side and a lily on the other. Was it the same one? But if Donan had taken it, what was it doing with Juhel?
‘How did you come by that?’ he asked, forgetting his decision not to meddle.
Juhel shrugged. ‘It was Paisnel’s. I removed it from his pack when I took the documents. It is valuable, so I shall return it to his father.’
‘Have you ever been inside the hospital?’
‘Not after Roger accused me of poisoning you. That is why I came here, if you recall. I kept well away from you — but obviously not far enough, because you are still hurling accusations.’
‘I saw that pendant,’ mused Geoffrey, ‘in Donan’s hands.’
‘La Batailge may admit a lot of Saxon peasants to do homage at the battle shrine, but they will draw the line at pirates. I heard you claimed Fingar came when you were ill, but he would have been noticed — and ejected — I assure you.’
‘Has that locket been with you the whole time?’
‘No, I have not been as careful with it as I should have been. It was stolen, but then returned. I can only surmise that the culprit had second thoughts about stealing on hallowed ground.’
Roger would have had no such scruples — if he had taken the thing, he would still have it — although Bale and Ulfrith might have put it back when conscience began to prick.
‘I would be grateful if you would not mention it to anyone,’ Juhel continued. ‘I do not want other thieves setting greedy eyes on it.’
Geoffrey nodded agreement, although he was not sure whether he believed Juhel’s fear of thieves. He recalled that Roger had mentioned a pendant in Magnus’s possession, but Magnus had denied owning any such thing. In all, anything to do with medallions was murky, as far as he was concerned, and he knew he would be wise to put the matter from his mind.
‘Why did you come back?’ asked Juhel, breaking into his thoughts. ‘What do you want now?’
‘I wondered whether you had seen my dog. He is missing.’
To Geoffrey’s profound embarrassment, Juhel started to cry. ‘So is Delilah. I have not seen her for several days and I think she is still grieving for Paisnel. Animals feel a death very keenly, you know. When did you last see. . what is his name?’
‘He does not have one,’ said Geoffrey, who had once christened the beast Angel, then abandoned the appellation when he became acquainted with its true character.
Juhel was surprised. ‘Then how do you call him?’
‘By shouting “dog”.’
Juhel regarded him askance. ‘Does that not bring other mongrels?’
Geoffrey was beginning to feel foolish. He started to leave. ‘I am sorry to have bothered you.’
Juhel sniffed, and more tears rolled. ‘Call your dog, Sir Geoffrey. It is a terrible thing when a man loses a beloved companion. Call him, and see if it will bring him back.’
‘Dog!’ yelled Geoffrey, sorry for the man’s distress and willing to shout if it made him feel better. He knew the animal would have made itself known to him if it was close — to be fed — so he was startled to hear an answering bark.
‘Did you hear that?’ cried Juhel, happy for him.
‘He is in that building with the thick door,’ said Geoffrey, pointing to a hut with a stone roof and no windows. ‘He must have been locked in by accident.’
‘That is the charnel house,’ said Juhel. ‘Edith and the man who tried to stab you are inside.’
Geoffrey regarded him uneasily. ‘Lord! Are they?’
He did not like to think what he might find, given that the dog had been missing for some time and was not a beast to ignore the demands of its stomach. Meat was meat, after all. He broke into a run, although he knew haste would make no difference now. He reached the door and hesitated, not sure he wanted to see what he might find. Then he recalled that the monks were going to bury the dead man that morning and would discover it anyway. It would be better if they learned it from him. Aware of Juhel behind him, he pushed open the door — a heavy one with a latch.
He expected the dog to explode out, but it simply barked again. Then there was an answering cluck from above his head: Delilah was roosting above the lintel. The dog padded forward to greet Geoffrey, feathery tail wagging, but then there was a flurry of brown feathers and Delilah was flapping around its head. The dog yelped in terror and retreated to the shadows.
‘It is her!’ shrieked Juhel in delight, plucking the bird from Geoffrey’s shoulder. ‘Delilah! I did not think of looking for her here, Sir Geoffrey. I thought she had more taste than to frequent this sort of place.’
Delilah cackled her pleasure at seeing Juhel, and Geoffrey turned his attention to his dog. Its coat was matted and it seemed thinner, although the hen looked in fine fettle. Geoffrey was massively relieved. The dog had clearly not eaten in days, perhaps kept from the unthinkable by the presence of the chicken.
‘He must have followed her in here, and the door closed on them,’ Juhel said. ‘They could not escape, because the latch is on the outside.’
‘They could not have escaped if the latch was on the inside, either,’ Geoffrey pointed out.
Juhel regarded him in surprise. ‘Have you not taught your dog to open doors? Delilah can do it.’ He kissed her head and she clucked appreciatively. ‘She must have opened the door, but the wind blew it shut, trapping them both. Your dog cannot have had an easy time of it.’