Fortunately, the escort arrived at that point, and the guard ushered Roger’s party inside before an argument could break out. The knights, squires, two Saxons, Lucian and Juhel followed the guide to a hall that was filled with benches and tables. It was a pleasant room, and there were goblets and a jug of cool ale set on one table, along with a basket of honey-smeared bread. Gratefully, the travellers ate, drank and sat to rest sore feet. Geoffrey hoped Galfridus would not be long, eager that messengers be sent to de Laigle as soon as possible. His thoughts were interrupted by a high, girlish voice.
‘Brother Lucian! You are still alive! What a lovely surprise! It is me, Philippa.’
All Geoffrey wanted to do was deliver his news to Galfridus and lie down. He did not want to make polite conversation with Philippa and Edith, both of whom were sweeping through the hall, clearly intent on enjoying a warm welcome. He felt what little energy he had left drain away at the prospect of their silly, prattling company.
‘Lady Philippa!’ cried Ulfrith in delight. ‘How do you come to be here?’
‘More bloody Normans,’ muttered Magnus. ‘And women, no less, so they can breed others, until they swarm over the Earth like ravenous locals… locusts. I am going to sit down. I have no inclination for the empty-headed clatter of benches.’
‘The clatter of benches?’ asked Juhel, bemused.
‘Wenches,’ snapped Magnus. ‘I said the chatter of wenches.’
Philippa ignored the churlish Saxon and fixed her happy grin on the others. Edith was dressed in a splendid cloak made from thick, red wool and adorned with elegant embroidery. By contrast, Philippa wore a simple black gown that looked as if it had been borrowed from a nun. Absently, Geoffrey wondered at the disparity in the standard of clothes they had been lent.
‘I came ashore a long way from anyone else,’ Lucian was explaining. ‘And was obliged to flee inland when the storm struck. I was lucky I chanced to meet these others, or I might still be wandering. It is a very dangerous part of the world, with violent weather, marauding pirates and unfriendly inhabitants. I lost all my gold.’
‘Did you?’ asked Edith sympathetically. ‘Even your cross?’
‘Everything,’ said Lucian, looking away, as though the loss was too much to bear. ‘I may be able to beg funds from La Batailge, but I doubt they will be enough to keep me in the style to which I am accustomed.’
Immediately, Edith removed a ring from her finger and pressed it into his hand. ‘Then you must take this. You can repay me when you are safely home.’
Lucian accepted it, and there were tears in his eyes when he spoke. ‘You are a dear, kind lady. I shall certainly repay you – and I shall say masses for your soul every Sunday for a month.’
‘I doubt that,’ murmured Roger to Geoffrey. ‘He would not know the words.’
‘You were very wrong to leave us with Richer de Laigle,’ said Philippa scoldingly, pouting at Geoffrey. ‘Our virtue was in grave peril, and we were in constant fear of seduction.’
‘It must have been dreadful,’ murmured Juhel. Geoffrey glanced at him and saw humour gleam in his dark eyes for the first time since Werlinges.
Edith regarded him coolly. ‘I hope you are not being satiric with us, Master Juhel. That would be shabby after all we have been through to defend our honour.’
Lucian pressed her hand to his lips. ‘God bless you, dear lady. Juhel meant no offence and, like all of us, has been out of sorts since we happened across that poor village. I was obliged to pray for them, and now there is a splinter in my knee.’
‘You are a monk,’ said Roger, fixing him with an unfriendly eye. ‘You should be used to kneeling and praying. What sort of abbey is Bath that you are not?’
‘A very fine one,’ said Lucian coolly. He turned his back on the knight. ‘But, sweet lady, how do you come to be here, when Sir Geoffrey says he left you at Pevenesel?’
‘De Laigle is a knave, and his wife is almost as bad,’ replied Edith. ‘Still, we managed to learn from a guard that Galfridus de St Carileff is in charge here. He is my cousin, so it was only right that I should appeal to him for sanctuary. He was delighted to receive me.’
‘He was,’ agreed Philippa. She turned to Geoffrey with a smile that made Ulfrith bristle. ‘I told you I would prefer a nobleman’s court to a convent, but I was wrong. De Laigle’s household was populated by idle lechers, all far too drunk to know what they were doing. If I am to be ravished, I would at least like my seducer to remember me in the morning.’
‘Philippa!’ exclaimed Edith. ‘You should not say such things! They may believe you.’
Philippa’s puzzled expression made it abundantly clear that she had been speaking in earnest.
‘I reburied Vitalis in a lovely deep grave,’ blurted Ulfrith, eager to join the discussion and be noticed. ‘I did it for you, although it was a terrible task.’
‘I was going to ask Galfridus to do that, since de Laigle was never sober enough,’ said Edith. ‘Now you have saved me – and him – the trouble. It was very kind of you, Ulfrith.’
Philippa’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Poor Vitalis. I miss him so very much.’
‘Yes,’ said Edith, holding her hand with affectionate sympathy. ‘I know you do.’
Her response suggested she did not, although Geoffrey could not begin to fathom why he felt the remark was important. The blackness was beginning to seep into his vision again, and he desperately wanted to rest. While Ulfrith beamed his delight at their gratitude, Geoffrey took the squire’s flask, hoping water might render him more alert, given that the abbey’s ale was a powerful brew. The contents were warm and brackish, but he felt better once he had swallowed it all.
‘We both loved him,’ said Edith, apparently realizing that she might have said something inappropriate. ‘We both made our vows to him in the sight of God, and we kept them well.’
‘You both married him at the same time?’ asked Juhel, smothering a startled grin.
‘I was a year later,’ said Philippa, sniffing. ‘But in the same church.’
‘This is distressing her,’ said Edith, watching her friend in concern. ‘We must not talk about it any longer. You are as bad as that spy Paisnel with your questions about our home life.’
‘Paisnel was not a spy,’ said Juhel. The amusement was gone. ‘He was a clerk for the Bishop of Ribe.’
‘Actually, I am not so sure about that,’ said Lucian. ‘I have spent a lot of time in that Bishop’s court and I never met or heard of Paisnel there. If he was a clerk, he was a very junior one.’
‘I knew he was exaggerating his importance!’ exclaimed Philippa. ‘Senior clerks’ names appear all over the place in legal writs, but Paisnel’s never did. And we know that because Vitalis’s personal clerk told us so, although the poor man was drowned when Patrick went down…’
‘Paisnel was very familiar with Normandy, though,’ said Magnus, rubbing his head. ‘So I expect he was a spy for the Duke. He will have heard about me and will be eager to capitalize on my imminent victory over his brother the Usurper. But he can hope, because I am not rewarding any Normans – not ever.’
‘Except me,’ said Roger. ‘Bishop of Salisbury, remember?’
‘Only if you lend us some money,’ said Harold pleasantly. ‘But you may be right about Paisnel, Magnus. I heard there might be a spy on the ship you were going to take.’
Geoffrey did not know what to think about Paisnel. Had he been murdered because he was the Duke’s spy? And if Juhel had dispatched him, was it because of Paisnel’s dubious occupation or simply an argument between friends? But it was all too complex for him to untangle, and he was grateful it was none of his affair. His attention returned to the discussion.
‘But how do you come to be here before us, Lady Philippa?’ Ulfrith was asking.
Philippa gave a tight smile, evidently wishing someone more important than a squire would show concern for her welfare. ‘We left to take refuge with Galfridus the very day you abandoned us with de Laigle. We were surprised when we did not meet you on the highway; our guards said you must have taken the slower and more dangerous route across the marshes.’