Delwyn wasted no time with pleasantries, either. He ordered the servant driving the cart to follow him to the abbey, and also departed with no word of farewell or thanks.
‘I shall see you home, Leah,’ said Edward solicitously. ‘The journey has been arduous, and we should both rest. But I must bathe first. Just look at the state of me! God grant me a speedy return to the peace of Kadweli, where I can rule with pen and parchment; I was not built for charging around the country and engaging in battles.’
‘Thank you,’ said Leah to Geoffrey. ‘You have been kind and patient, and you kept my husband from killing anyone, for which I am grateful. He would have been sorry afterwards, and I am glad you spared him that.’
Geoffrey was not quite sure how to reply and left Hilde to murmur some suitably tactful remarks.
‘If you want any butter, you know where to come,’ said Cornald, smiling politely, although it was clear his mind was already on his home and business. ‘Travelling with you has been a pleasure, and I am grateful to you for keeping us all alive.’
‘It has been a pleasure,’ agreed Pulchria, smirking meaningfully at Bale before following her husband. Pointedly, she ignored Geoffrey.
Soon, only Gwgan was left. He sat on his horse, breathing in deeply of the familiar scents of home. Geoffrey knew how he felt, and wished he was back in Goodrich.
‘Where now?’ asked Roger, forcing a smile. ‘Shall I come with you to deliver the letters?’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey. He nodded to an inn called the Trout. It appeared respectable enough, with a smart thatch and clean white walls. ‘We shall rest there for a while first.’
Roger did not object when Geoffrey hired a room and ordered him to lie down. Geoffrey helped him drink some broth, then assisted Hilde as she bathed and dressed the wound properly. Gwgan stayed downstairs talking to the innkeeper and using his influence to ensure Roger was provided with the best possible care.
‘Stay with him, Bale,’ ordered Geoffrey. ‘No leaving to frolic with Pulchria.’
‘I will frolic with her here, then,’ said Bale practically. ‘Sir Roger will not mind.’
‘Actually, I will mind,’ countered Roger. ‘Sit by the window and sharpen your knives – quietly, if possible. And you go about your business, Geoff lad. I cannot sleep with you looming over me like an anxious vulture. It is making me nervous.’
‘He is right,’ whispered Hilde, tugging on Geoffrey’s sleeve to pull him out of the room. ‘Leave him in peace. I suspect he will be safer once you have discharged your duties, anyway. Where will you start?’
‘Not with the abbey,’ said Geoffrey. ‘I should give them time to deal with Mabon. The same goes for Sear with Alberic. That leaves Bishop Wilfred.’
‘You cannot meet a prelate looking as though you have just fought a battle,’ said Hilde. ‘You are splattered with blood and filth. You should wash and don suitable attire first. No, do not disturb Roger by invading his chamber again! Let the man rest. We shall find somewhere else to make you respectable.’
Geoffrey groaned, thinking it was a waste of time. ‘Then perhaps I should start asking questions about William instead. Perhaps the townsfolk have ideas about who killed him and what his secret might have been.’
‘Again, you are unlikely to secure their cooperation if you descend on them looking like a killer. You will frighten them and learn nothing.’
‘Then I shall start my hunt for William’s secret without their help,’ said Geoffrey, exasperated. ‘He lived in Rhydygors, so that seems a good place to begin. And if I have no luck there, I will search the abbey and the church, because William was said to be devout, and those are places he may have trusted.’
‘Rhydygors, then,’ said Hilde. ‘My sister spends a lot of time there, and she is sure to have hot water to hand. We shall just have to hope we do not meet Prince Hywel before I have been at you with a brush.’
Geoffrey was not sure he liked the sound of that, but acknowledged that the skirmish had left him somewhat soiled. He followed her down the stairs, carrying the saddlebag she handed him, in which were some of his clothes, laundered and neatly folded. They met Gwgan at the door, and he smiled when Hilde informed him that she wanted to see her sister.
‘Good. Isabella will skin me alive if she learns you are in Kermerdyn and that I failed to take you straight to her. She will be at Rhydygors; she always stays there when I am away. There is no man I trust more than Prince Hywel to look after my wife.’
They climbed on their horses, and Gwgan led the way back over the bridge and along a track across the marshes. The castle loomed in front of them.
‘Hywel will want to meet a friend of the King,’ said Gwgan as they went. ‘And I am sure His Majesty has messages for him, just as he sent one to me.’
‘Just verbal greetings,’ said Geoffrey, hoping Henry’s carelessness was not going to land him in trouble. ‘Besides, you said the letter he wrote to you would really have been for the Prince.’
‘Yes, it was, but that was all rather cold and businesslike,’ said Gwgan. ‘Pertaining to taxes and who owns the advowsons of various churches. There was nothing personal in it for Hywel.’
‘What about in Richard’s?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘He told me he was going to ask you to read it to him.’
‘His message was even briefer than mine.’ Gwgan’s rueful smile indicated that the sullen knight had not been best pleased when he had heard it. ‘It just ordered him to patrol the river, because Irish pirates have been at large.’
‘River patrols sound tedious,’ said Hilde. ‘Was he disappointed that the King did not ask him to do something more significant?’
Gwgan laughed. ‘He was livid! I suspect the instruction was Eudo’s, not Henry’s. But there is not much for Richard to do in this area. Hywel is more than capable of keeping the peace and does not need Norman help. Personally, I was hoping the letter would be an order to deploy elsewhere. So was he – he is wasted here.’
‘No wonder he has been surly all the way from Goodrich,’ said Hilde. Then she shrugged. ‘Of course, he was surly before he had his letter.’
‘Let us not spoil our day with talk of that black-faced villain,’ said Gwgan, spurring his pony into a trot. ‘We are almost home, and Isabella will be delighted to see you.’
Twelve
Rhydygors was a typical Norman castle, with a wooden tower atop a large mound. It afforded excellent views of the river, and although Geoffrey would have located it nearer the town, the site chosen by William fitz Baldwin had its advantages. Its garrison would be able to react sooner to an invasion by water, and the marshes that surrounded it conferred their own line of defence.
Besides the motte and bailey, there was also the usual jumble of outbuildings – halls for sleeping and eating, stables, kitchens and huts for storage. Hywel was in the process of rebuilding some of them in stone, and Geoffrey imagined that, in ten years or so, it would be as stalwart a bastion as any he had seen. He wondered how he was going to search it for William’s secret without anyone guessing what he was doing.
Isabella’s face split into a delighted grin when she saw Hilde, and Geoffrey saw immediately the resemblance between them – both had honey-brown eyes and thick hair – although Isabella had been rather more fortunate with her looks. She was exceptionally beautiful, and Geoffrey found himself uncharacteristically tongue-tied when Gwgan introduced her.
‘You have made my sister very happy,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘We had all despaired of her finding a man she considered worthy.’
‘She was given no choice in the matter, I am afraid,’ said Geoffrey, acutely aware of his filthy surcoat, battle-stained armour and grimy hands. He wished he had followed Hilde’s suggestion and washed in the river along the way. It had been wilful obstinacy that had led him to decline – a stubborn refusal to acknowledge that she was right.