‘I prefer the Holy Land to England,’ he replied evasively. ‘It rains too much here.’
Juhel laughed. ‘So the weather determines your allegiances? Well, why not? It is as good a reason as any.’
The chicken emerged from its cage and fixed Magnus with sharp eyes. He edged away, sitting with his long legs folded in front of him and his bony arms ready to fend off an airborne attack.
‘Keep that thing away from me, Juhel,’ he ordered. ‘I do not like it.’
‘She is not overly enamoured of you, either,’ said Juhel, laughing again. ‘What strange company I find myself in today! Two princelings who intend to start a civil war, and two knights and their squires who prefer the Holy Land to the country where they were born.’
‘Not true,’ said Roger. ‘I do not care where I am, as long as I am well paid. And I am not going to the Holy Land. I shall head north as soon as I see him safely on a ship.’
‘You will serve us, then?’ asked Harold eagerly. ‘A knight would be a good start to our army.’
‘I might,’ replied Roger. ‘But I will wait and see what happens.’
Geoffrey was relieved, thinking that if Roger was their first recruit, then the rest of their force would take a long time to assemble – by which time Roger would have grown bored and deserted.
‘Come, my love,’ said Juhel, pursing his lips and blowing a smacking kiss at his hen. ‘Show these hot rebels and tepid loyalists your beautiful feathers.’
The chicken, having satisfied herself that the cave was safe, began to preen. Unable to resist the sight of a plump hen ready for the taking, Geoffrey’s dog wrenched itself from his grasp and hurtled towards her, leaving the horrified knight holding a few stray hairs. The chicken did not issue the terrified squawks that invariably preceded a kill, but fixed the dog with a pale eye. For a short moment, neither animal moved: they stood facing each other, slathering muzzle within inches of an avian dinner. Then the hen clucked. The dog released an abrupt yelp, turned tail and shot towards the door. When it found it could not squeeze through, it cowered behind Geoffrey. Proudly, Juhel stroked the hen’s soft brown feathers.
‘I do not think much of your hound,’ said Harold in disbelief. ‘Afraid of a chicken! If this is the quality of Norman courage, then our victory is going to come sooner that we anticipated!’
‘Like master, like dog,’ said Magnus contemptuously. ‘Thank God Roger has Saxon courage in his veins, or I might never reach the abbey! Perhaps Vitalis’s accusations were valid after all.’
‘Delilah is remarkable,’ said Juhel, ruffling her feathers with doting affection as Geoffrey stifled an irritable sigh at the reminder of the old man’s claims. ‘No mere dog will get the better of her. They try, of course, but she has no trouble in seeing them off.’
‘Delilah?’ asked Roger warily.
‘After the lady in the Bible who had the upper hand over manly suitors.’
Delilah flapped off his lap and began to strut around, pecking and scratching. When she approached the dog, she clucked challengingly, and it released a low whine. She fluffed herself up and moved away, and, had he believed in such things, Geoffrey would have sworn she was laughing.
Outside, the storm increased in intensity. The walls of the cave were thick and afforded good protection, but even they were beginning to be overwhelmed by the onslaught, and water was running freely down the walls.
‘This is no ordinary tempest,’ whispered Bale. ‘It is another omen. The moment we started talking about Sir Geoffrey travelling to the Holy Land, it became more violent.’
‘The day he told his wife of his plans, blood bubbled from a spring near the castle,’ Ulfrith told the Saxons. ‘And the night before we left, two moons were seen in the sky. Sir Roger said these were messages from God, advising us all to stay in England.’
‘And I am the son of a bishop,’ announced Roger. ‘So there is nothing you can tell me about such matters. And Bale is right: here is another warning. Since I have already decided to obey Him, this particular storm must be aimed at Geoff alone. He is the reason we are stuck here.’
While the others discussed omens, rebellion and the superiority of chickens, Geoffrey stared at the sodden marshes through the crack in the door. He touched the scratch on his cheek, which made his mind turn to Ulfrith. He had been astonished to learn that the lad had attacked Roger – and had lived to tell the tale. Ulfrith was normally gentle and amiable, and Geoffrey did not like the notion that Roger was corroding his decent nature. He supposed encouraging Ulfrith’s dormant temper might serve him well in battle, but, equally, blind rage might drive him into situations where he could be killed – as he might have been earlier that day, had Geoffrey been less tolerant.
And why had they fought? Because Ulfrith did not like the evidence that suggested Philippa had killed her husband. Geoffrey supposed Edith might be the murderer, acting without Philippa’s knowledge, but that did not fit well with Philippa claiming she had been with their husband when he had died and that his lungs had been full of water. Even if Edith had been responsible for the throttling, Philippa’s lie meant she was complicit in the crime. Or had the women found Vitalis already strangled, then fabricated the ‘death scene’ to arouse sympathy, so they could claim protection? But if that were the case, then who had throttled the old man?
Magnus? He was so determined to succeed in his ridiculous rebellion that he had allowed his servant to drown. That was murder in Geoffrey’s book. But had Magnus had the opportunity to dispatch Vitalis? Geoffrey had deduced that the murder had occurred on the beach, and he himself was Magnus’s alibi for that time. Or was his assumption wrong, given that he had based his conclusions on Philippa’s dubious testimony? But why would Magnus kill a half-senile old warrior? Because Vitalis had guessed his plans and threatened to expose him?
Or was Juhel the culprit? He had had plenty of opportunity, having been missing for several hours. Philippa claimed to have seen him murder Paisnel and had told her husband. Had Juhel strangled Vitalis to prevent him from blabbing? Did that mean Philippa was in danger, too? Geoffrey had not noticed any hostility towards the women the previous day, but Juhel was a complex man, and Geoffrey still did not have his measure.
Or had Vitalis been strangled by the pirates? Geoffrey had witnessed Fingar dispatching one of his own men, so they were certainly killers. Had they suspected early on that a passenger had damaged their ship, and taken instant revenge against Vitalis? Perhaps they had wanted to see what Vitalis had managed to bring ashore: he was a man of wealth, after all. A sailor seemed the most likely culprit.
And what about the odd business of Paisnel? If Philippa was a liar, should Geoffrey discount her tale about Juhel throwing him overboard? However, the details suggested there was some truth in her tale; her story explained the disappearance of Paisnel’s bag and accounted for Juhel’s inexplicable dampness afterwards.
Geoffrey found he could answer none of his questions with certainty, but he did not intend to remain with his suspects much longer anyway. He had decided to leave everyone, including Roger and the squires, before reaching the abbey, then travel alone to Dover. He did not want to accept a loan laden with inconvenient conditions, and Bale and Ulfrith were liabilities. He would do better with just his cowardly dog for company.
But he was no longer a bachelor with unlimited freedom. He was a married man with estates, and he was fond of his sister. He did not know his wife well enough for love, but he liked her. So where did his duty lie? Should he return to them and accept the yoke of lord of the manor? Should he leave England, so there could be no question of his having associated with Saxon rebels? Or should he ride to King Henry and warn him that there were men who intended to have his crown? But he looked at Magnus’s thin, eager face and Harold’s fat, smiling one, and he knew he could not sentence these inept dreamers to death. To take his mind off his questions and quandaries, he turned his attention to the discussion among his companions.