“They told you what you wanted to hear,” said Geoffrey wearily. “I might confess to murder if there was someone like you threatening to tear me from limb to limb.”
“But they had her veil!” insisted Henry.
“And how did they tell you they came by it?” asked Geoffrey. “Did they claim it had been given to them by a beautiful woman, who had told them she no longer had need of it because she was going to become a nun.”
“How did you know that?” asked Henry, astonished.
“Because Enide is nothing if not thorough,” said Geoffrey with a sigh. “With the death of two men found in possession of her veil, the business of her alleged murder was at an end. No one would think any more about it-which was what Father Adrian said she had intended. She wanted to disappear as completely as possible, and she did not want discussions of her unsolved murder to keep her memory fresh in people’s minds.”
“Are you accusing me of slaying innocent men?” demanded Henry.
“Since you saw Enide alive yourself a few moments ago, what do you think?” said Geoffrey, eyeing his brother askance. Henry had always been slow, but increasing age had made him much worse. “They made a false confession to you because you terrified them into it.”
“Oh!” said Henry. “What have I done?”
“What indeed?” asked Geoffrey. “Next time you kill someone, you might want to pay a little more attention to detail. Such as whether you have the right victim. And now, since you killed their menfolk, you are responsible to ensure that their families do not starve-assuming that they have not done so already. You should bring them to Goodrich, and find some employment for them.”
“I will do that,” said Henry fervently. “I will. Lord save us. What a mess! That Enide! What has she done to us?” He rose to his feet again. “I will kill her for this!”
“You told me the King’s chief hunter has already had that honour,” said Geoffrey.
“Would that he had not!” shouted Henry. “I would sooner slay her myself. The treacherous, murdering, lying, evil-”
“Initially, the conspirators were Enide, Godric, Norbert, the physician, Malger, Drogo, and your wife,” said Geoffrey to Stephen, ignoring Henry’s futile rage. “Pernel was killed because she was too gleeful about the plot, and Enide was afraid she might betray them all with her indiscretion.”
“I always suspected Enide had something to do with poor Pernel’s death,” said Stephen weakly. “And I threatened to kill her for it. But someone got there before me-or at least I thought they had.”
Geoffrey nodded. That made sense. Enide had decided to disappear after she had become ill from the paints in Godric’s room and had erroneously deduced that someone was trying to kill her. Since Stephen had threatened to do exactly that, to avenge his wife’s death, Enide had probably assumed he was already trying, and so she had inveigled Adrian into faking her death so that she would be free to act without Stephen dogging her every step.
“That business with Pernel is long since done and forgotten,” said Henry soothingly. “Do not dwell on the matter now.”
“She is not forgotten by me,” said Stephen, so softly he was difficult to hear. “She was my wife.”
“But she cuckolded you,” said Henry harshly. “She slept with any knight who visited the castle, and she was greedy, cruel, and selfish.”
“She must have fitted in well at Goodrich, then,” murmured Geoffrey, although not loud enough for Stephen to hear.
Stephen’s eyes welled tears. “Perhaps she was not all a wife should have been,” he said in a whisper. “But I still loved her. She was so beautiful!”
Geoffrey rubbed his chin and looked down at his brother. Stephen’s short hair was wet from sweat, and his eyes were black and sunken. Geoffrey took a deep breath, and pressed on. There was not much time left.
“Last spring, when father first believed he was being poisoned, he hired a food taster called Torva to find out who was the culprit. Torva began to investigate, and uncovered not the plan to kill Father but the one to kill Rufus. Pernel was apparently fanatical about it, and was so pleased to be part of the plot that she probably told Torva.”
“Rufus was a hateful man,” whispered Stephen. “He was unnatural and deserved to die. Pernel was a good woman and his behaviour offended her Christian virtues.”
Geoffrey had heard that argument before, and was not convinced that offending Christian virtues was an entirely acceptable motive for murder. After the Crusade, he was no longer certain what Christian virtues entailed-other than an excuse to loot, murder, burn, rape, and pillage in other people’s countries.
“So Torva learned about Pernel’s desire to kill Rufus, and what happened next, Stephen? Did he try to blackmail you after she had died?”
“Worse,” breathed Stephen. “He tried to blackmail Enide. Foolish man! I saw Enide leave the castle shortly after Torva went to indulge in his nightly binge at the tavern. Torva never came back alive, and the following morning, Enide was back in her chamber as though nothing had happened.”
“Stop this, Geoffrey,” protested Henry. “Now is no time for such revelations-Stephen needs a priest, not a meaningless conversation about things that happened a long time ago.”
“Then fetch Father Adrian,” said Geoffrey. “You can be to Goodrich and back in an hour.”
“It might be too late by then,” said Henry. “And anyway, this is Caerdig’s land. I am not riding alone through it with him skulking in the woods.”
“Take Helbye,” said Geoffrey. “He will protect you.”
Henry glowered at him and declined his offer, so Geoffrey sent Barlow for Father Adrian.
“I will not live to see a priest,” said Stephen weakly. “I will make my confession to you, my brothers. Then you can avenge my death, and make an end of her.”
“There has been enough avenging already,” said Geoffrey. And he had no wish to know Stephen’s sins. “This family makes the Earl of Shrewsbury seem like a saint.”
“It is not us, it is her,” said Stephen. “She was always causing us to fight. When we were at peace with each other, she would needle us into arguments, pretending to find some document that proved someone’s illegitimacy, or saying that she had overheard one of us making secret pacts with Godric.”
“That is true,” agreed Henry. “My wife, Hedwise, was always saying we would fight less if Enide were not here.”
“She was not here when I returned a few days ago, but you were still fighting,” Geoffrey remarked.
“That was different,” said Henry. “By then, she had sowed so many seeds of discontent, that we would have had enough to quarrel about had Godric lived to be a hundred.”
“Listen, Stephen,” Geoffrey said. “Shrewsbury told King Henry about the plot to kill him, because he did not think it would succeed and he wanted to be on the winning side. By then, Godric was dying and Pernel had been killed by Malger. Now Norbert is dead, also killed by Malger; Malger is dead, killed by Enide; Drogo has not the sense to keep himself alive without Malger; Enide is said to have been shot by the chief huntsman; and the physician was killed by Ingram.”
“The physician?” asked Henry. “Francis? Killed by Ingram?”
“I expect one of the King’s agents paid Ingram to do it,” said Geoffrey. “The boy is stupid and greedy enough to accept such a commission for pay. And finally, you, Stephen, very conveniently happened to ride in front of the King’s bow.”
“The King would never shoot a man deliberately,” proclaimed Henry hotly. “He is honest and just. I have already told you-when you are on a hunt and you see something move, you just fire at it while you have the chance. The beaters are always getting shot by mistake.”
“No wonder the King pays them good money,” said Geoffrey. “But whether it was an accident or not, every one of the King’s would-be killers is now dead. Were you one of those, Stephen?”