‘It looks as though they have lost something,’ said Juhel. ‘My God!’
This last exclamation was in response to an action of Fingar’s. One of his crew had been edging towards the path again. The captain’s weapon flashed and the man fell.
‘That is a bad sign,’ muttered Bale. ‘We would do better to avoid them.’
‘He is right,’ said Magnus, addressing Roger. ‘We should slip away now, while they are busy with each other. Hurry! You must not dally when your king has commanded you.’
‘If I am to be in your service, I should be paid,’ said Roger, following him along the path at a rapid lick. The others were not far behind. ‘Did you save any gold or jewellery from the ship?’
‘I might have a little gold,’ hedged Magnus evasively.
‘How little?’ demanded Roger. He was not easily deceived where money was concerned. ‘ Jerosolimitani do not come cheap.’
‘Well, I do not have a lot with me,’ admitted Magnus. ‘But it will not be long before I can give you whatever you like – treasure, land, even a see.’
‘A see?’ asked Roger, intrigued. ‘You mean to make me a bishop? Like my father?’
‘Yes. Then you will have tithes to enjoy, and manors and woodlands in which to hunt – although you will have to give sermons on Sundays. All you have to do is see me safely on my throne. And help me depose Henry the Usurper.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey sharply. ‘He is not going to become involved in treason.’
‘It is treason to back the Usurper against England’s rightful king,’ flashed Magnus.
‘I might help you,’ said Roger slyly. ‘But only if you can pay me appropriately. Ulfrith, too. He is a good Saxon lad.’
‘And me,’ said Bale. ‘But I do not want gold. I want a wife – one who likes me.’
‘I will see what I can do,’ said Magnus, looking as though he thought finding a loving wife for Bale might be considerably more difficult than providing a bishopric for Roger.
Geoffrey did not waste his breath pointing out that assisting rebels against a powerful king like Henry was suicide – especially a rebel like Magnus, who was either an impostor or a madman with illusions of grandeur. He only walked faster, wanting as much distance between him and the sailors as possible. They had not gone far before they reached a junction.
‘Here is the path to the abbey,’ said Magnus, pointing to the track that wound inland. ‘It becomes a causeway that runs across the marshes, before rising to higher ground. We can be there by this afternoon.’
‘Then we should hurry,’ said Juhel. He nodded to where the thunderheads were now a good deal closer. ‘I am not keen on meeting Fingar’s crew; nor do I want to sit out here while the heavens open.’
Geoffrey would have preferred to continue along the coast, but suspected that was the route the sailors would take – no mariner liked to be too far from the sea, and they would be looking for another ship. Reluctantly, he conceded that wasting a day or two at the abbey was preferable to taking the coastal path with Fingar on his heels. Without a word, he took the abbey track, ignoring Roger’s victorious smirk as he assumed Geoffrey had yielded to the conditions of his loan.
‘The sailors are coming this way, too,’ blurted Ulfrith after a while. ‘They are following us!’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Perhaps they just want to be a little distance inland when the storm breaks.’
‘Damn this path,’ muttered Roger, glancing around uneasily. ‘We can be seen for miles! There are few trees and the bushes are low. And the mud! You can tell it is dangerous – if we leave the path, we will be sucked under.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Magnus. ‘But I know these marshes like the back of my hand. If the sailors gain on us, we shall hide in a channel. Of course, that might be a mistake if the tide comes in…’
‘Then we should stay well ahead,’ said Geoffrey, breaking into the steady trot that he could maintain for hours, even in full armour. ‘Although they have no reason to attack us.’
The others seemed to think differently, but they were struggling to keep up and made no reply. Roger was breathing hard under the weight of his possessions, while Juhel’s chicken cackled her displeasure at the way she was being jostled. Bale began to lag behind, and Ulfrith was obliged to mutter encouragement to keep him going. Magnus was the only one who seemed happy running, and Geoffrey wondered how much of it the Saxon pretender had done in his life.
‘So,’ said Magnus, using the opportunity to talk, ‘you do not believe I have a right to my throne?’
‘I do not believe you can take it from Henry,’ corrected Geoffrey. ‘Belleme tried it last summer and failed – and he had troops and castles.’
‘I do not intend to fight him in open warfare,’ said Magnus contemptuously. ‘There are other ways to topple a tyrant. I shall-’
‘No,’ interrupted Geoffrey. ‘I do not want to know. And you can leave Roger out of it, too. I will not allow him to become embroiled in something so dangerous. We will travel with you to the abbey, but after that you are on your own.’
Magnus smiled under his silver moustache. ‘We shall see. But let us talk of other matters, since we are the only ones with the breath to do so. You have not said who you think killed Vitalis.’
‘That is because I do not know.’
‘Well, he was an aggressive Norman fool, and you should not waste your time. He had the temerity to say that I look nothing like my father.’
‘Did he?’ asked Geoffrey, uninterested.
‘He said he fought at Hastinges. So did I – well, perhaps I did not fight exactly, but I was there, at my mother’s side. However, I know what my father looked like, and I am his very image.’
‘ My father said he was sturdy and strong,’ said Geoffrey pointedly.
‘Quite,’ said Magnus, preening. ‘And he had thick yellow hair, just like me.’
‘Yours is grey.’
Magnus sighed impatiently. ‘Yes, but it was yellow once. It is the sign of a true Saxon.’
He glanced behind and increased his pace when he saw one of the sailors had gained ground. Then he ducked down a smaller path, muttering something about a shortcut. Bale blundered after him, too winded to care what he was doing, and Ulfrith followed Bale. Juhel slogged along behind them, short legs pumping furiously. Geoffrey waited for Roger.
‘Magnus seems very eager to avoid meeting Fingar,’ he said. ‘Should we be suspicious?’
Roger shrugged, one hand to his side to ease a stitch. ‘God knows. But I do not want to be out here when the storm comes. He seems to know this area, so I am willing to stay with him for now.’
‘I am not sure it is wise to keep company with a man who claims to be England’s rightful heir. Henry has spies everywhere, and it will not be long before Magnus’s presence is discovered. Anyone who has consorted with him may be considered a traitor.’
‘Even Henry cannot blame us for taking the same road away from a shipwreck,’ said Roger. He shot a furtive glance behind. ‘I do not like those pirates being behind us. They may blame us for their ship sinking, and I am not in the mood for a brawl.’
‘Why would they think that? And why are you not in the mood for a brawl? Are you ill?’
‘I do not want my good looks marred by cuts and bruises,’ retorted Roger curtly. ‘It does not go down well with the ladies.’
‘What ladies? We left Philippa and Edith behind.’
‘Philippa,’ growled Roger in distaste, changing the subject. ‘Is she the reason Ulfrith hit you? Because you accused her of murder?’
‘You know?’ Geoffrey was astonished. Roger was not normally astute.
‘I can tell by his sheepish manner. He has gone for me in the past, too, although I did not come off as badly as you seem to have done.’
‘And I thought I was the one with the dangerous squire!’
Roger grinned. ‘I do not mind him displaying the odd flare of temper. Indeed, I encourage it, because otherwise he is too gentle for his own good. But he should not have tried it on you.’
‘No, and he only got away with it because of my promise to Joan.’