Roger shot Magnus a withering look, but the latter merely shrugged. ‘We were obliged to go that way to collect the horses. Besides, the pirates might have been watching the other route.’
‘Captain Fingar and his crew?’ asked Edith. ‘We did not see them. But we were escorted by several of de Laigle’s knights, all on horseback, and probably represented too formidable a target.’
‘Were you much battered by the storm?’ asked Ulfrith solicitously. He tried to take Philippa’s hand but was immediately pushed away.
‘Terribly,’ she replied, addressing her comments to Geoffrey. This did not escape Ulfrith’s notice, and some of the joy faded from his face. ‘But we arrived before it became too violent, and we have been here since Wednesday.’
‘Is he?’ Geoffrey asked. He sensed that everyone was regarding him oddly, and he struggled to put his question in a form Philippa might understand, wishing his mind was sharper. ‘Is Galfridus Edith’s cousin?’
‘Yes, of course,’ replied Edith indignantly. ‘And learning of his new post was a great excuse to be away from de Laigle. So now here we all are.’
‘But what have you been doing?’ asked Philippa, reaching out to touch Geoffrey’s scratched face. He was aware of Ulfrith’s dismay at the gesture, but she had removed her hand before he thought to push it away. ‘Did you meet Fingar and his men?’
‘Yes,’ said Lucian. ‘They came at us with whirling swords and cudgels. I am no fighting man, so I dropped to my knees and prayed for deliverance. But even so, we were almost killed.’
Philippa released an appalled shriek, a sound that drew admonishing glares from several elderly monks.
Edith wrinkled her nose at them and turned back to Lucian. ‘We were very worried about you.’
Lucian gave a courtly bow. ‘Would you like to hear about my adventures? Then we shall sit over there, where we will not be the object of disapproval by my prudish brethren.’
‘How fickle she is,’ muttered Roger, as Lucian escorted Edith away. ‘She was grabbing at me like a tavern wench not three days ago and now she shifts her amorous attentions to him.’
‘You were the one doing the groping, not her,’ retorted Geoffrey. ‘Will you save me from Philippa, before Ulfrith attacks me again? I do not feel well, and if he tries it, I might not be able to resist the impulse to skewer him.’
Roger tapped the side of his nose. ‘Leave it to me, lad. I will put her off you once and for all.’
‘Be discreet,’ warned Geoffrey. He was seized with the notion that he should not have asked.
‘Here,’ said Roger loudly, ‘did you know that Geoffrey carries a pox caught from whores? His wife says he should abstain from other women until he is cured.’
For a moment, Geoffrey was not sure he had heard correctly, but then he started to laugh. ‘You are discretion personified,’ he said, though Roger clearly did not see the joke.
‘Well,’ drawled Juhel, wide-eyed, ‘I feel better for knowing that! But Galfridus does not need us all to tell him about Werlinges, so if you will excuse me, I shall go to the guesthouse.’
He bowed and sauntered away.
Philippa’s eyes narrowed as she watched Juhel leave the hall. ‘He is sly and wicked, and do not forget what I told you, Sir Geoffrey – he is a killer. Moreover, Edith asked him to write her father a letter on the ship, but when she asked one of La Batailge’s monks to read it back to her, it was nothing but meaningless symbols. Juhel had deceived her – charged her a penny for a document that was nothing but gibberish.’
‘Why did she hire Juhel to write it?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘Why not Lucian? Or me?’
‘Lucian had no pen and parchment to hand and told Juhel to oblige instead – well, he is a man who makes his living from the stuff, after all.’
‘Do you still have it?’ asked Geoffrey, thinking about Paisnel’s documents. Did this mean he could not read them and had no idea what they contained? Or that he knew they were important, but was unable to decipher them?
‘Edith threw it away, but I retrieved it,’ said Philippa. ‘I am going to show it to her father when he arrives, so he can get the penny back.’
She pulled something from the front of her gown, leaning forward provocatively. By the time his bemused wits had registered that he should look away before Ulfrith noticed, it was too late.
‘I was looking at the letter,’ he said, before reminding himself that he did not need to justify his actions to a servant. He took another deep breath and wondered why his mind and body were so out of step with each other. Was his injury more serious than he thought? He clumsily took the document Philippa proffered, then turned it this way and that as he attempted to stop it swimming before his eyes.
‘Christ’s blood!’ he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes hard.
‘It looks like a neat hand to me,’ said Roger, who would not know a good one from a bad.
‘It is neat,’ agreed Geoffrey. ‘But these are random symbols, not letters.’ He tried to pass it back, but Philippa moved forward at the same time, and his hand brushed the bare skin of her bosom.
‘Stop!’ cried Ulfrith, shocked and angry. ‘She is a lady, and this is a monastery! Besides, you have a pox. You should not touch her.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Geoffrey, quite sincere. He realized he was addressing Ulfrith, when he had meant to speak to Philippa. He rubbed his face again. ‘Lord! What is wrong with me?’
‘Well, the pox, presumably,’ said Harold helpfully. ‘It is said to make men rave.’
‘Keep the letter,’ said Philippa, pressing it into Geoffrey’s hand. ‘Perhaps you can demand an explanation and get our penny back.’
‘Is it true?’ asked Magnus. ‘Is there pox among English whores? I shall put an end to that when I am king.’
‘How?’ asked Roger keenly. ‘By monitoring brothels? I know a lot about such places and will act as official advisor, if you like.’
‘Lord, I am thirsty – it must be all that seawater I swallowed,’ said Magnus, drinking more ale. ‘But I shall appoint you Whoremaster, Sir Roger. It will suit you better than Bishop of Salisbury.’
‘No,’ said Geoffrey, not wanting Roger to accept posts from an enemy of the King when there were witnesses. ‘He will not take it.’
‘I might,’ said Roger. ‘Do not be too eager to refuse tempting offers on my behalf, lad. I may never get another like it.’
‘I am sure you will not,’ said Harold, laughing. ‘I doubt the Usurper has a Whoremaster in his retinue, and I do not think I shall, either.’
Geoffrey’s mind was reeling again. He thought he might feel better if he drank more water. ‘Did I finish yours, Ulfrith? My own has gone.’
‘Your own what?’ cried Ulfrith. ‘Whore? I assure you I do not have any.’ He shot Philippa a sanctimonious smile. ‘I do not use whores.’
‘Water,’ said Geoffrey impatiently, wondering whom the lad thought he was fooling. Ulfrith was as willing as the next man to avail himself of the services of ready women.
‘It is all gone,’ said Ulfrith, upending his flask. ‘You finished it all.’
‘You have a spare,’ said Roger. ‘Give it to him.’
With considerable reluctance, Ulfrith withdrew a skin from his bag. ‘It is all I have left, so you can only have a sip.’
But Geoffrey wanted more than a sip and was startled when Ulfrith tried to wrest it from him before he was ready.
‘There is water aplenty at La Batailge,’ said Philippa angrily. ‘You are a mean boy, to begrudge a thirsty man a drink when you can easily replenish your supplies. I am ashamed of you!’
Ulfrith’s face took on a rigid, sullen look. ‘Then let him have it all,’ he snapped. ‘See if I care.’
But Geoffrey was not interested in a quarrel and pushed the skin back at Ulfrith. It had done nothing to make him better, and he wondered if he was about to be laid low with a fever.
‘Brother Galfridus will see you now,’ said a monk, appearing just in time to prevent Roger from cuffing Ulfrith for his truculence. ‘He will see Harold first, and Lucian after.’