‘Other than the fact that I have no authority to start poking about in such affairs. But this is the second murder to occur among Patrick ’s passengers, if Philippa is to be believed. They are far too dangerous company for me, and all I want is to be away from them all.’ And from Bale and Ulfrith, too, Geoffrey thought acidly.
Four
Roger, Juhel and Magnus had not gone far. They had reached the place where Patrick had foundered the previous day and were watching the sailors gather the remaining flotsam and set it alight. Roger had found a low bush on a rise above the beach and was spying on them. Magnus sat with him, fretting about the passing time, while Juhel lay on his back next to them, fast asleep.
‘Get down!’ hissed Magnus when Geoffrey approached. ‘They will see you.’
‘They must have been here all night,’ said Roger, not taking his eyes off the beach. ‘Burning everything, lest taxors come to investigate.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Geoffrey, resisting Magnus’s attempts to pull him down. ‘But we have no need to hide from them.’
‘I disagree,’ said Roger, reaching out a powerful hand to haul on Geoffrey’s surcoat. Puzzled, Geoffrey crouched next to him. ‘They look dangerous to me – and desperate. They have already killed some of the scavengers, and, much as I like a fight, I do not think we should risk an encounter with thirty smugglers and murderers.’
Geoffrey looked to where he pointed and saw several bodies – villagers, judging by their clothes. Then he glanced at the marshy vegetation behind the beach and saw that although most of the locals had gone, two shadows still loitered. The distinctive green hat identified one; the other was the heavyset man. Eventually, Roger climbed to his feet, taking care to stay out of sight.
‘God’s blood!’ he swore when he noticed Geoffrey’s face. ‘What happened to you?’
‘We found Vitalis,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But he was strangled, not drowned.’
He showed Roger the ribbon. Meanwhile, Juhel’s rest had been disturbed by their voices, and he was waking up. Geoffrey watched his reaction to the news intently, but Juhel revealed nothing other than the astonished dismay that any innocent man would have expressed.
‘It looks like something a woman might own,’ said Roger, handing it back. Then his jaw dropped. ‘Do not tell me that Philippa and Edith did it?’
‘They were very distressed by his death,’ said Ulfrith stiffly. ‘You saw how bitterly they wept.’
Geoffrey thought, but did not say, that if Edith and Philippa had dispatched Vitalis, they would hardly celebrate the deed with smiles and laughter. He held up the ribbon for Magnus and Juhel to see, watching for any flicker of recognition. He was not surprised when there was nothing.
‘It is the kind of cord used for binding documents,’ remarked Magnus. ‘Paisnel owned some, because he dabbled in sinister clerkly activities.’
‘He could write, yes,’ acknowledged Geoffrey. ‘But so can I.’
‘Quite,’ agreed Magnus acidly. ‘And that is why I trust Sir Roger over you. Literate types cannot help but dissemble and lie.’
‘You speak like a peasant,’ said Juhel in distaste, the twinkle fading from his eyes. ‘There was no dishonesty in Paisnel, and there is none in Sir Geoffrey. You should watch your tongue, man, or you will find yourself abandoned – you do not win protectors with insults.’
Magnus glowered. ‘I was speaking my mind, and if honesty offends you, then you have no place in my kingdom. I was pointing out that this kind of ribbon is favoured by men who possess documents: if Vitalis was strangled with some, then it means his killer can write.’
‘No, it means he owned some ribbon,’ corrected Geoffrey. ‘Or that there was some to hand when he – or she – decided that Vitalis should die.’
‘This debate will get us nowhere,’ said Roger impatiently. ‘That sort of cord is common – Geoff owns some, I saw a bit in Juhel’s bag, and Magnus used a piece on the ship to tie his hair.’
Juhel regarded him uneasily. ‘You looked in my bag? Why?’
Roger shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Because you left it unguarded. It was an open invitation to any man with any enquiring mind, such as my own.’
‘Vitalis’s death is very sad,’ said Magnus, cutting across Juhel’s spluttering indignation. ‘But we have been here far too long. Your battered faces show you have already endured one encounter with those damned pirates, and even ruffians like you must want to avoid another.’
‘Is it true?’ asked Roger. ‘You met a stray sailor? They have been wandering everywhere, hunting for wreckage, so it does not surprise me. I take it the scoundrel will be no further trouble?’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey evenly. ‘The scoundrel most certainly will not.’
‘Good,’ said Roger, slinging his blanket of possessions over his shoulder. ‘Then I suggest we leave before we are obliged to dispatch any more. So who killed Vitalis? Tell me as we walk.’
Geoffrey followed him to the path that ran behind the beach, where everyone ducked and weaved in an effort to stay out of sight. He glanced at Juhel, who was walking behind him.
‘I have no idea who would want Vitalis dead,’ he said. ‘Do you?’
‘Me?’ Juhel seemed startled by the question. ‘Why ask me?’
Geoffrey shrugged. ‘You spent more time with him than the rest of us. Why should I not ask your opinion?’
‘I did spend time with him, but I found him very bitter, and he said horrible things about your family. If I had to choose a suspect, I am afraid you would be top of my list.’
‘I have been with Roger, Ulfrith and Bale ever since we abandoned ship – when we all saw Vitalis alive. Besides, I would not be telling people he was murdered if I were the culprit, would I?’
‘True,’ acknowledged Juhel. ‘But I thought we were speaking hypothetically. And you did argue with him.’
‘It was hardly an argument,’ said Geoffrey wryly. ‘It was more a case of him railing at me.’
‘ You have no alibi, though,’ said Ulfrith, looking hard at Juhel. ‘Sir Geoffrey has one, but you were gone a long time before you joined us.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Juhel with a shudder. ‘Because I was in the sea, fighting for my life. I came to you the moment I could stand – but I certainly had no spare strength for murder. You must look for another culprit. Magnus – what do you have to say for yourself?’
‘Vitalis was a Norman,’ said Magnus in disdain. ‘One who fought at the battle that saw my father slain. It is beneath my dignity to soil my hands with his blood.’
‘Down!’ hissed Roger sharply, dropping to his belly on the damp, sandy path. Geoffrey was beside him almost before he had finished speaking; long years of campaigning had taught him that instant obedience could mean the difference between life and death. The squires were not far behind, although Magnus and Juhel stood stupidly before they were dragged from their feet.
‘How dare you!’ snarled Magnus, trying to free himself.
‘Hush!’ snapped Roger. ‘The sailors are coming! Do you want to be killed?’
The crew were indeed making their way to the path, carrying all they deemed portable. It would be only a matter of moments before they stumbled across their hiding passengers.
‘They will see us!’ squeaked Magnus in terror, indignation forgotten. ‘What shall we do?’
‘Perhaps they will leave us alone when they see we will fight,’ said Roger, drawing his sword.
‘We cannot win against so many.’ Geoffrey glanced around urgently. ‘We should hide.’
‘Too late!’ whispered Juhel. ‘They are here!’
Just as the first sailors reached the path, there was a yell from their captain, and they turned and trotted obediently back to him. They gathered in a circle, where Fingar was announcing something in a furious howl. Whatever news he imparted seemed to incense them, too, because there was a good deal of yelling. Although Geoffrey could hear them quite clearly, they spoke a language he did not understand.