The Anarchy, page 13
‘All these deaths, Haith!’ Henry said. ‘One after the other. First my daughter, Queen Sybil; then the archbishop; then Ranulf, my chancellor; Bishop Richard de Belmeis has been paralysed after a seizure and is like to die; and Robert Bloet died in my arms. Too many deaths of old friends, Haith. And children should not die before their fathers.’
‘It is hard, sire.’ Haith knit his brow. It was unlike Henry to be expressing such feelings, although Haith had no doubt he felt these harsh losses. Haith had so far kept his counsel on his discoveries concerning The White Ship. All he knew for sure was that the spectacular tragedy was a consequence of the sordid murder of the clerk Gisulf by de Pirou and Berold. Perhaps Stephen de Blois, Ranulf de Gernon or Waleran de Meulan were involved and perhaps not. Such a tale would not bring Henry consolation or conviction, and Haith needed to know more.
Haith saw de Pirou move toward the door and excused himself to the king, stepping fast to keep up with his quarry. At the far end of the corridor, he caught sight of the man disappearing around a corner. Haith knew this corridor led toward the postern gate of the castle, and he could not allow de Pirou to evade questioning. He ran at full tilt. De Pirou heard him coming, looked over his shoulder and sped up. Haith’s legs were the longer and he caught his quarry by the collar of his cloak and held him fast against the wall. ‘De Pirou! I would have speech with you.’
‘Sir, what do you mean by chasing and pinioning me? Let go of me!’
Haith came straight to the point. ‘I know that you and Berold murdered the royal clerk Gisulf and the pilot on The White Ship and that this led to the sinking of the ship and all those deaths. Do you deny it?’
The late afternoon light was failing, but Haith still saw de Pirou’s face pale in the gloom. ‘That bastard butcher! I thought that tub of lard would sink straight to the sea’s floor, but I suppose instead he floated to the shore like some bladder-borne Odysseus.’ Suddenly, de Pirou kicked at the wall behind him, and Haith found himself holding an empty cloak. There was a door concealed flat against the wood panelling and de Pirou must have known it. There was no time to gape. Haith flung the cloak from him and followed de Pirou through the door that let into a long, dark tunnel. It must go out under the moat. De Pirou was running fast and Haith set off in pursuit again. The other man had the start on him, but Haith still had the longer legs. He reached for and managed to grip de Pirou first just with his fingertips and then tugged the fabric of his shirt to gain a fistful. Haith spun de Pirou hard against the wall, knocking the wind from him, gripping his shirt hard and awry. Both men panted for a moment, regaining their breath.
Deep into the tunnel, it was damp and dark. Haith could only just discern the shadowy outline of his captive and hear his panting breaths. ‘I know that Gisulf was a blackmailer,’ Haith gasped. ‘Was he blackmailing Ranulf de Gernon? Were you acting on behalf of Ranulf?’
‘No, do not accuse him.’ De Pirou’s voice was close and leaching anxiety.
‘Who, then, ordered the murder of Gisulf, and why? I will have it from you, de Pirou,’ Haith slammed the man’s shoulder against the wall for emphasis, ‘or I will haul you in front of King Henry. How do you think he might take the news that you had a hand in the death of his son? I know Gisulf was blackmailing Waleran de Meulan.’
Haith could not see the calculations pursuing each other across de Pirou’s face, but he could almost hear the whirring of de Pirou’s brain as he strained for lies.
‘What Lord Ranulf does do is pay me to listen and find out information for him. I’ll tell you about a conversation I overheard in Chartres when the earl and I were visiting there, some months before The White Ship went down,’ de Pirou whispered. ‘The Countess Adela had a speculative discussion about the succession with her sons Thibaud and Stephen.’
Haith frowned. ‘Go on.’
‘She argued that if Henry were to lose his son, it should be Stephen and not Thibaud who ought to take the English throne.’
Haith said nothing, dissatisfied with this tale. The man was a murderer, an accomplished liar.
‘Well, don’t you think that set Stephen de Blois off thinking? And didn’t he disembark from the ship?’ de Pirou asked plaintively.
‘What are you saying? That Stephen ordered you to murder Gisulf? You are just giving me misdirection here, de Pirou. I need to know who gave you the commission. You admit you are in the pay of de Gernon.’
‘The earl is expecting me. I should go to him, but I can meet you later today, and give you the information you seek, and proof of it too.’
De Pirou was playing for time. He would go asking advice from whoever it was that had commissioned him: Waleran, Ranulf, Stephen? They were all young hotheads who could have unwittingly committed the crime, but it was true Stephen had the most to gain from the sinking. Yet Haith knew a crafted lie when he heard one. De Pirou twisted suddenly from Haith’s grasp and set off back up the tunnel toward the palace, with Haith in fast pursuit once more. De Pirou burst through the door just ahead of Haith.
Back in the palace corridor, de Pirou ran to the left and Haith skidded around a corner after him. De Pirou ducked through another door with Haith close on his heels. They were in the busy, steamy kitchen and de Pirou was knocking pans and platters from tables into Haith’s path as he bent around astonished cooks and cooks’ boys, brandishing ladles and skinned rabbits. ‘De Pirou, hold!’ Haith shouted, but de Pirou sped past the kitchen hearth and its enormous cauldron. He drew his sword and leant to rock the cauldron with it as he passed, sending a cascade of boiling broth to the floor that Haith slipped around, barely managing to keep upright. Haith followed de Pirou out through the far door, leaving the shouts and cries of the kitchen staff behind them. They were in another of the palace’s main corridors and at last Haith got a grip on de Pirou’s short tunic and pinned him to the wall once again, one arm tight across his throat. ‘I want an answer now!’ The two men stared at one another, breathing hard. Sweat ran down the crevices of de Pirou’s face.
Voices approached and the king and Ranulf de Gernon rounded the bend and looked in astonishment at Haith and his captive. Haith let go of de Pirou’s throat and stepped away from him. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded de Gernon. ‘Your man assaults your dapifer, sire. I insist that he is severely punished! He cannot be allowed to get away with this.’ Haith read anxiety on de Gernon’s face, despite his bluster.
‘It’s nothing, my lord, sire!’ de Pirou called out rapidly. ‘A friendly dispute over a card debt is all.’ De Gernon studied de Pirou, and Haith saw a look of complicit knowledge pass between them. De Gernon knew very well why Haith had cornered de Pirou. De Gernon gripped de Pirou’s arm, glared at Haith, and they moved away. Haith could do nothing but look on helplessly as his quarry disappeared from sight.
‘Gambling, Haith?’ the king chortled. ‘Not setting a very good example, are you?’
Haith bowed to the king as he moved past him. He leant back against the wall, dispirited not to have gained the answers he sought. Recovering his calm, he wiped at his sweating face with a sleeve before making his way to his quarters. Opening the door, he was confronted by the back of a tall woman standing at the window. Perhaps he was in the wrong room. She turned and Haith stared, astonished, at Ida. It was extraordinary to see her out of a nun’s wimple, with her pale blonde hair visible beneath the veil of a secular woman, to see her in a court gown rather than a nun’s habit.
She smiled broadly, and he took her hands in his, exclaiming at the ink that splattered the fingers of her right hand.
‘I’m making a book for the queen,’ she laughed. ‘Sorry that I’m a mess, but I heard you had arrived and was impatient to see you, ink or no.’
‘What’s the book?’
‘It will be a gift from Queen Adelisa to the king, so don’t tell him about it and ruin the surprise. I am writing an account of the king’s deeds indeed!’ she declared with a mock-pompous expression.
‘I look forward to seeing and reading this masterpiece.’
‘So you should. It is costing the queen a pretty penny with the animal skins I have had prepared, and the inks. I just received the first pages today and have been making tests for the illuminations.’ She held her inky hand out again. ‘I haven’t even started thinking about the vast outlay I will recommend for the covers yet!’
They had much catching up to do. Ida gave him news of Nest and his little son, Robert. ‘It was wonderful for me to spend time with them, Haith. I hope soon that I will return to Nest. I am anxious for her. She will birth her child soon and I wanted to be there for her.’
Haith frowned his own anxiety at the news. ‘She has Amelina. Do you have cause for concern? Has she been ill?’
‘No, no. Nothing of that sort. We grew close, and she is like a sister to me. But yes, be reassured, she does have Amelina as you say, and there is no reason to fear for Nest.’
‘But you fear you are at serious risk of exposure from this bard?’ Haith asked.
‘Yes. He knew me at Fontevraud.’
‘You were both working for Countess Adela de Blois there?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, who do you think he is working for now? It’s not the king, or I would know of it.’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps he is simply pursuing his poetic art.’
Haith shook his head. ‘Once a spy, always a spy. Well, except in your case, of course,’ he apologised, holding out a conciliatory hand to her. It seemed like as good a moment as any to raise the question of Amaury de Montfort. ‘I have a gift for you that I carry from a friend of yours.’ He produced the book, which he had wrapped up again.
Ida looked with innocent curiosity. ‘From the abbess?’ she asked. He handed it to her and waited as she unwrapped it, turned it over in her hands, opened it to the dedication. A deep blush crept over her face and neck, leaving them blotched as though wine had been spilt over her skin and then scrubbed to a pale taint. ‘Thank you for carrying this to me, brother.’ Her voice was low and cautious.
‘What is he to you, Ida? Amaury de Montfort?’
‘He was a friend to me.’
‘Is he the reason that you left the cloister?’
She did not reply.
‘He is a traitor to the king and is in rebellion against him now.’
Still, she said nothing and would not meet his gaze.
‘Did he speak to you of The White Ship? Of Gisulf?’
Now Ida was bewildered, and she looked at him, frowning. ‘The ship? The drowned clerk? Why should he?’
But as the words left her mouth, Haith saw the doubt spread across Ida’s face. He was relieved to discern that she had known nothing of Amaury’s possible involvement in Gisulf’s murder beforehand, but he could see by the rapid expressions crossing her white face that she knew more.
Haith hesitated, searching for the words to question her further to see if she could tell him anything that might either exonerate or implicate de Montfort. He was both frustrated and relieved to have their conversation interrupted with a summons to wait upon the king. The king’s business kept Haith occupied day and night over the coming weeks so that there were no further opportunities to speak with Ida in confidence before they left Winchester.
* * *
In June, Haith and the king were waiting in Portsmouth for a fair wind to Normandy. Henry was busy with a mountain of matters in preparation for leaving England in the charge of his viceregent, Bishop Roger of Salisbury, before they sailed to deal with the rebellion. Haith sat in The Topsail inn in Portsmouth waiting for de Pirou, who had sent Haith a short note assuring him he would meet and talk with him before they sailed. Haith had been intrigued to read de Pirou’s words that heavy matters weighed on him, and he would be relieved to speak of them. Would this be yet another attempt at decoy, at distracting Haith from the truth? Yet they were all due to board the same ship to Normandy: King Henry, Haith, Ranulf de Gernon and de Pirou. Ida would travel with Queen Adelisa in a week’s time and would be quartered in Rouen. De Pirou knew he could not evade Haith’s determined hunt for the truth forever. After Haith had downed a third beaker of wine, it was evident de Pirou was not going to show. Haith knit his brow. Damn the man. De Pirou had been giving him the runaround both literally and metaphorically for months. He rode directly to Ranulf’s house and asked to speak with de Pirou, guessing that would be his billet here in Portsmouth.
‘He hasn’t arrived yet, sir,’ a worried-looking servant told him.
‘Shouldn’t he have been here days ago? We may sail at any time today or tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir. He should have been here, and Lord Ranulf is concerned on the matter.’
‘Let me have speech with Ranulf’s steward.’
The steward soon appeared in the hallway. ‘What can I do for you, Sheriff Haith?’
‘I had an appointment this morning to meet with de Pirou, but I gather he has not arrived yet?
‘That’s correct. We sent a man out to search for news of him. De Pirou should have been here days ago.’
‘And do you have any news of him?’
‘He left London to make his way here. We have ascertained that much from his servants, and we found he stopped in an inn in Farnham. But after that, there is no sign of him. We fear he may have been set upon by robbers. My lord has sent two more men to enquire and enlist the assistance of the sheriff of Hampshire in finding out what has happened. Can you enlighten us further?’
‘I’m afraid not. I hope he is found safe and well.’
Haith turned away, thwarted yet again.
The royal galley was scheduled to sail for Ouistreham the following morning. Haith and the king arrived at the harbour with the king’s escort and had to fight their way through a noisy crowd gathered on the pier. ‘What is it?’ Haith asked one of the sailors crowding there. ‘What’s going on?’ The sailor grimaced and pointed down at the water. The king and Haith stared down onto the back and billowing white shirt of a dead man in the water.
‘What the devil?’ Ranulf de Gernon pushed his way through to join them.
‘Well, get him out of the water,’ the king commanded.
Two fishermen hooked the body, pulling it toward the pilings where a number of others were able to manhandle it out of the swell and up onto the planking. The body flopped onto its back. It was bloated and had been feasted on by sea creatures, but Haith knew who it was. ‘De Pirou,’ he said quietly.
The king turned to him. ‘Are you sure? It’s hard to see who it is.’
Haith nodded. Ranulf bent and inspected a ring on the hand of the dead man. ‘He’s right, sire. It is de Pirou. Poor soul. I gave him this ring. He must have slipped on the planking in the dark, drunk perhaps, and lost his footing.’
Haith guessed that de Pirou had gone to the commissioner of his crime with news of Haith’s discoveries. Was de Gernon that commissioner? Had he drowned the man who had caused so many other deaths by drowning? Was he ultimately responsible for the sinking of The White Ship and had he murdered de Pirou to ensure that no one could testify to that fact?
During the hours on the boat, crossing the British Sea, Haith studied Ranulf, but no amount of looking at the surface of the man was going to give him evidence one way or another. The insouciant young lord conversing so easily with the king did not give the appearance of having murdered three hundred people, including the heir to the throne and two of Henry’s other children besides. There was no doubt de Pirou and Ranulf had been thick as thieves, but had Ranulf commissioned the murder of Gisulf, or was there someone else behind that commission? Haith sighed, thinking that all his investigation had achieved so far was to complicate matters. He had more suspects now than he began with. Stephen de Blois had seemed the obvious first suspect, but now he had added Waleran, Ranulf and Amaury to the list. Haith’s questioning of de Pirou must have led to his death, suggesting that Haith was himself at risk now from whoever the guilty party was. And war was an excellent cover for murder.
12
The Charter
I stood at the tower window, looking south over the spectacular view of the estuaries of the three rivers and the widening bay beyond. Llansteffan stood high on the headland above the confluence of the rivers. I heard a shout from the fields behind me and moved to see the view from the other window that faced out eastward toward the village. It was the time for haymaking and the fields were busy with workers armed with scythes. Soon they would celebrate Gŵyl Ifan Ganol Haf, Saint John’s of Midsummer Eve, with dancing and a bonfire at the foot of the hill beneath the castle.
‘He who sees fennel and gathers it not is not a man but a devil,’ Amelina declared behind me.
I turned to her. ‘Do we have devils in the house, Amelina?’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘No! But those lazy gardeners are letting the fennel bolt,’ she grumbled. ‘Your sons have arrived below, Lady Nest. And the sheriff.’
I raised my eyebrows in query. I had written to the steward at Carmarthen Castle asking that they send a royal official to me to witness a charter. Miles of Gloucester, the king’s official in Carmarthen, was with the king’s court and I had thought that it might be Haith who would come.
‘It’s not Haith that’s come,’ Amelina immediately disappointed my thought. ‘It’s Maurice de Londres.’
I knew that de Londres was castellan at Ogmore, but we had never met and I could not guess at what his stance might be in the coming scene. ‘Is my husband here?’
‘Not yet.’
In the hall, I greeted my sons, Henry, William, and Maurice, and I welcomed de Londres. William looked askance at me when I spoke Welsh to one of the servants, and I suppressed my irritation with him.
‘I am happy to be of service, lady,’ de Londres began, but had no opportunity to complete his greeting as de Marais entered at that moment. I had not seen my husband for several months. Surrounded by my sons, who were all tall, de Marais’ shortness was emphasised. He was momentarily taken aback at the unexpected sight of the other men in the hall. I saw that he would have liked to burst out with an enquiry as to their purpose here, but politeness held him back. It was best that I get matters started swiftly.
