‘Then what explanation did he give? He must have had some notion as to why someone meant him harm.’
‘He thought it might be something to do with our feud with the castle,’ replied Aidan. ‘Meanwhile, we heard and saw nothing of his killer. We all retired to bed, and everything was quiet and peaceful until we rose to pray before dawn. Finding him with a dagger in his back was a terrible shock.’
There was a chorus of agreement, but Geoffrey could not tell how much of it was sincere. Would one stab a comrade, just because it would be assumed that Walter had done it, and thus topple the constable from his seat?
‘Did you keep the dagger?’ asked Geoffrey, wondering whether it might be identified and its owner traced. It would not be the first time an inexperienced murderer had made a careless mistake.
‘I threw it in the river,’ said Marcus. He shot Geoffrey a defiant look, as if daring him to criticize. ‘It was a hateful thing and had no place in our holy precinct.’
‘It did not occur to any of us that it might be needed,’ added Aidan.
‘Is it retrievable?’ asked Geoffrey.
‘No,’ said Marcus immediately. ‘The Wye is fast and muddy, and it will be long gone by now. That is why I deposited it there — I did not want anyone else to touch the filthy thing. It is tainted and evil, like the hand that wielded it.’
‘What did it look like?’
Marcus shrugged and would not meet the knight’s eyes. ‘Just some cheap, nasty thing that can be bought in the market.’
‘I think Walter, Revelle or Pigot is responsible for Leger’s murder,’ said Aidan quietly. ‘Because he was Ivar’s friend, and we all know they would do anything to hurt Ivar.’
‘But we have no evidence to make such a claim,’ said Marcus bitterly. ‘Like my belief that Nest and Cadowan are the guilty party. Both theories are just suspicions — ones that may well prove true, but not ones we can prove.’
‘I am surprised you do not leap at the chance to accuse Walter,’ said Aidan, turning to the younger monk and raising his eyebrows. ‘After all the grim nights you have spent incarcerated in his dungeons.’
‘I hate him,’ acknowledged Marcus. ‘But there is no evidence that he or his henchmen killed Leger.’
Odo sighed as he turned to Geoffrey. ‘This case will not be easy to solve.’
Geoffrey had a bad feeling he might be right.
While the Benedictines began to talk among themselves, Geoffrey went to sit next to Ivar, who had not taken part in the discussion. He was reading a book, but when Geoffrey looked at it he saw it was held upside down. His first thought was that the monk’s eyes were failing, but Ivar regarded Geoffrey sharply enough, and the knight supposed he was just one of many monastics who was illiterate, but who did not like to admit it.
‘Walter de Clare likes to tell tales about me,’ the monk said softly. ‘He thinks I commune with the devil. But if I did, why would I have come to live in a priory? It would be difficult to speak to my familiar in a community of Benedictines.’
‘Perhaps he means to malign all the priory’s residents,’ suggested Geoffrey. ‘And chose you as a scapegoat, because…’ He faltered.
‘Because of Eleanor,’ said Ivar bitterly, and Geoffrey saw tears sparkling in his eyes. ‘If I could have saved that little angel, I would have. But it was beyond me. Walter thinks I failed deliberately, but he is wrong. He says the town’s problems started that day — and he is right. I decided to join the priory, and castle and Church have been at loggerheads ever since.’
He had a curious accent — one that Geoffrey had heard before, when he had joined men from many nations to march towards Jerusalem. ‘You sound as though you hail from the kingdom of the Danes.’
Ivar smiled. ‘I have been told that before, although I have never been there. Many years ago, I lived in a village in a country far to the north. I was called Ivar Jorundsson then.’
‘Greenland? My father had some gaming pieces made from Greenlandic ivory.’
Ivar inclined his head, still smiling. ‘It is rare to meet someone who has heard of my homeland. Most cannot believe such a place exists — a land of ice and snow and mountains.’
‘So how do you come to be here?’
‘When I was a young man, it was arranged that I would take the cowl in Iceland, but there was a terrible storm during which many sailors were lost, including the navigators. We drifted aimlessly for weeks, never in sight of land. Then pirates took us prisoner, but another storm wrecked their ship, and I was washed up on the shore of Hibernia.’
‘I see.’ Geoffrey wondered if Walter might have a point when he claimed Ivar had brought bad luck. One storm was bad enough, but two and pirates was remarkably unfortunate.
‘There were few survivors,’ Ivar continued. ‘But we were brought to the west of this land by the noble Prince Rhys of Deheubarth. When he was killed in battle and his territories taken by the Normans, I continued east with another survivor of the shipwreck, and when we found this perfect country of woods and rivers we took it as a sign from God that we should settle here.’
‘How long ago was that?’
Ivar shrugged. ‘Ten years or so; I cannot recall exactly. Later I followed the crusading call of Peter the Hermit, and accompanied his glorious force to Constantinople and beyond. There I witnessed the great battle where so many of his followers fell.’
‘Near Civetot?’ asked Geoffrey. He had heard stories of that particular massacre, which many felt had been avenged several years later when the forces of which he himself had been a part had besieged, taken and pillaged the Holy City of Jerusalem.
Ivar nodded. ‘It was pure slaughter, and shocked me into returning here. I found the cave I had sheltered in previously, and decided to remain. After seeing all of those terrible things, I liked living away from the world of men, and wish I was there now.’
‘Then why did you leave it?’
‘Because of Eleanor.’ Ivar looked away. ‘Some people turned against me then, and Prior Odo suggested I would be safer here. He was right: Walter might have killed me, otherwise.’
‘You took holy orders?’
‘Yes — as I should have done years ago. It was always my intention, but I was happy in the cave. The forest provided fruit, berries and nuts, and the river is full of fish. And when times were bleak, I healed people in exchange for food.’
‘Healed them of what?’
Ivar shrugged. ‘Small things — warts, aching joints. I helped just enough folk to keep me from starving. I pretended to heal them with my remedies, but it was really the sky-stone.’
‘Odo mentioned that you had hidden it,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Is that wise?’
‘Are you suggesting that I should tell someone else in case I drop dead? Or because Walter’s hatred means that I have not much time left?’ Ivar shrugged again. ‘Then it will be God’s will.’
There was no point in arguing once God was mentioned, and Geoffrey did not try. ‘How did you come by it?’ he asked instead.
‘My brother found it when we were children. I was taking it to the Church in Iceland when I was shipwrecked, but God obviously did not want it to go there. Anyway, the sky-stone cured me of a crooked leg, then healed two men of terrible wounds from a white bear.’
‘Then it does have remarkable power,’ said Geoffrey. ‘So why do you keep it hidden? Why not use it to help people?’
‘Because it does not always work, as was shown with Eleanor. And because it might wear out if it is overused. Besides, God did not tell me to tout it about, and I am loath to offend Him — I do not want to suffer more storms, shipwrecks and pirates.’
‘But it saved the lives of three people,’ argued Geoffrey. ‘Surely, that must mean it-’
‘Two were killed the following day, because they tried to take it for their own ends.’
Geoffrey was bemused. ‘You killed them?’
Ivar was appalled. ‘No, of course not! I was seven years old — too small to hold a sword, let alone use one. It was my father’s doing. He was a gentle man mostly, but he knew how to fight.’