‘It is often the case,’ agreed Magnus, as Geoffrey rolled his eyes. ‘No good ever comes from learning. Paisnel was a clerk, and look what happened to him.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Juhel, his voice tight.
‘I mean he was always poring over documents and they sent him insane,’ explained Magnus. ‘Then he fell over the side of the ship.’
‘I suspect he was a spy,’ said Philippa in a transparent effort to provoke Juhel into saying something incriminating. ‘It would explain why he took his bag when he jumped overboard.’
If she was expecting Juhel to confess to his friend’s murder, she was disappointed. Juhel only looked away, as if he found Paisnel’s death too painful to discuss. Philippa, seeing she was not to be satisfied, turned to the guard.
‘The locals were not very hospitable when our ship floundered in the storm,’ she said.
‘Well, you are Normans,’ said the guard. ‘And they recall what happened when the Conqueror arrived – how he destroyed all manner of villages before having himself crowned. People around here have long memories. You may think your welcome was unfriendly here at Pevenesel, but at least no one will cut your throat while you sleep.’
With that, he opened the door to the shabby building, handed her a candle and left. A number of men were already snoring inside, so Geoffrey took two blankets from a pile near the door, passed them to Philippa and Edith and suggested they sleep in the loft. Roger and Ulfrith volunteered to accompany them there, but, wisely, Edith declined their offer.
Philippa shot Geoffrey a smile full of invitation as she left, which had Ulfrith gaping in dismay. To allay his distress, Geoffrey suggested that he sleep at the foot of the ladder, to prevent anyone from following them. Pleased to serve Philippa, Ulfrith promptly curled around the bottom rung.
‘The rest of you will sleep in a circle around me,’ said Magnus. ‘It is your duty to protect me.’
‘I do not think so,’ said Roger, selecting a place as far away as possible. Magnus’s confident authority faltered when Geoffrey followed, leaving him with Juhel.
‘Have no fear,’ said Juhel, laughing when he saw Magnus’s distrust. ‘My chicken and I will look after you.’
‘I am uneasy here,’ Roger said to Geoffrey in a low voice, throwing his friend a blanket. ‘I distrust de Laigle and his whore wife.’
Geoffrey grimaced in distaste when he found his blanket was damp and stank of urine. He flung it away, and his dog scratched it into a suitable shape before sinking down in abject pleasure. It rested its head on its paws, but its eyes were open and its ears flicked back and forth. Geoffrey went to fetch a cleaner one, but there were only two left: one so thick with lice that they were visible even in the faint light of the candle, the other with brown stains that looked like blood. He chose the bloody one and went to lie next to Roger and Bale. ‘It is freezing, too,’ the big knight grumbled. ‘And it is only September. Another omen against your plans, Geoff. A sensible man always pays heed to the real meanings behind unseasonable weather.’
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a distant howl sounded on the wind. The dog whimpered and Juhel’s chicken clucked and flapped in agitation.
‘That was a wolf!’ exclaimed Bale in astonishment. ‘I never expected to hear one again. They are all but gone near Goodrich.’
‘That was no wolf,’ said Roger with considerable conviction. ‘That was a fay.’
‘A fay?’ asked Geoffrey, peering at him in the darkness. ‘What is a fay?’
‘A fairy,’ replied Roger in a hoarse, meaningful whisper. ‘You know – a mysterious being. It is odd, is it not, that the moment I mention these omens, a fay should utter her eerie call?’
The animal howled a second time, and Roger and Bale both sat up.
‘She did it again,’ whispered Bale. ‘She is warning him to heed these omens.’
When the creature howled a third time, and Bale began to cross himself, Geoffrey lost patience.
‘That is a wolf, not a spirit. And omens can be interpreted in any number of ways. How do you know the signs were not telling me I should return to the Holy Land?’
‘Because God would not have wrecked your ship if they were,’ said Roger with finality. ‘He would have seen you safely across the water. I know what I am talking about: my father is a bishop, and your head is stuffed too full of silliness from books and scrolls.’
They were silent for a while, Geoffrey listening to the sounds of other men sleeping. Juhel lay flat on his back, seemingly asleep, but Geoffrey saw his hand edge towards his dagger when someone went to drink from a communal bucket. Juhel’s reactions were almost as finely honed as his own, and the knight wondered how a parchmenter came to be so well trained.
‘I do not want to travel any farther with our companions,’ he whispered to Roger. ‘Philippa says Juhel drowned Paisnel, and it would be rash to become involved with would-be Saxon kings.’
‘I agree,’ murmured Roger. ‘If we start early, we can be gone before they are awake.’
‘My father described this part of the coast to me – it was where he landed with the Conqueror. It is no great journey to Dover, which has ships leaving every day. I will make my way there.’
‘And do what?’ asked Roger. ‘God’s blood, it is cold in here! Move closer to me: there is a savage draught coming under that door and you will block it if you ease over a touch.’
‘And see what kind of berth I can buy. I did not want to travel through Normandy while Belleme is there, but I will do if there is no choice.’
Roger gave Geoffrey a hefty shove, to place him in the path of the gale that swept under the door. ‘And how do you propose to fund this journey? By selling your dog? He is the only thing you have left, other than your armour, and you will need that.’
‘You will lend me some,’ said Geoffrey, moving back to his previous position.
Roger sat up. ‘Normally you would be right: I would give you my last penny, as long as you promised to pay it back. But not this time. The omens-’
‘Omens!’ spat Geoffrey. ‘There are no omens. And I will not rest easy until I learn why Tancred dismissed me after so many years of faithful service. We were friends, and I do not understand why he-’
‘Because you used him badly,’ interrupted Roger. ‘You ignored his order to return to the Holy Land immediately and served another master instead. What do you expect? Would you accept Bale back after two years, during which he had repeatedly ignored your demands?’
‘That is not the same.’
‘Yes, it is,’ insisted Roger. ‘At the end of the day, you are Tancred’s servant, no matter how many times you fought at his side – or saved his life. It is time you forgot him and accepted what God has given you: fertile lands, a good wife and a sister who does all the work.’
‘I am still going,’ said Geoffrey stubbornly.
Roger sighed and lay back down again, turning on his side and pushing Geoffrey with his back until he had them both in a position where he was comfortable. ‘Then you go alone, Geoff, because I will not ignore Heaven’s wishes. Ulfrith and I will ride to Durham once we see you to Dover.’
Geoffrey’s early escape was thwarted by Roger’s fay. Shortly before dawn, it resumed howling, although much closer than before. It woke everyone, and Roger’s declaration that it was an evil spirit looking for blood was sufficiently convincing that a consensus was reached that the gate should not be opened. By the time he announced that all fays must have returned to their dark holes, the sun was shining brightly. A bank of clouds in the distance and a nip in the air indicated it would not stay fine for long, however, and even as Geoffrey watched, the waves seemed to swell in size, as if in anticipation of another tempest.
They were served a meagre breakfast of ale, gritty bread and some kind of fish that stank enough to make Geoffrey’s eyes water. His dog declined the one he tossed it, so he decided to abstain, too.