The Anarchy, page 18
‘Ida, I’m sorry.’
She held up a hand, heaved a deep sigh, and took a long draught of the wine. Haith also drank and placed his beaker back on the table with deliberation, looking his question again earnestly with his expression.
‘I don’t understand why you must know these things, Haith, but I trust you and, so, I will answer you. Gisulf had scribed the letter from de Bellême in prison telling Count Amaury that he had been betrayed by his correspondence that I had stolen, while Amaury and I were … together.’ Ida shifted with embarrassment on the bench and poured more wine into her beaker. She drank it off before continuing. Nest briefly gripped her hand and released it to reach for her own beaker. ‘I was tasked to spy on Amaury and his sister Bertrade by Countess Adela, King Henry’s sister. I did not want to stoop to dishonesty, but these are powerful pressures, Haith.’
‘I do understand that, Ida. Truly I do. I am moving among these pressures and dilemmas myself all the time. As is Lady Nest.’ Nest nodded her agreement. Had he lost her good regard entirely with this assault on Ida’s modesty? He looked at Nest earnestly, but she would not look at him, although he knew she must be feeling his eyes on her face.
‘Do not think that I lay with Amaury for that reason!’ Ida cried, pulling his gaze back to her. ‘That is not so! I liked him, Haith. And I believe he liked me, though doubtless I was merely one of very many – not nuns, I mean, but women at any rate!’ They laughed together at her amendment and, since it was a relief, their laughter went on a little longer than the remark itself had merited. The sound of Nest’s laughter conjured more memories that Haith worked to suppress. Nest’s dimples disappeared and her mouth calmed back to a smile.
‘Gisulf tried to blackmail me with his knowledge of my liaison with Amaury,’ Ida said.
Haith took a deep breath. ‘I had wondered if something of that sort had occurred.’
‘I’m sorry you know any of it. But since you do, you should know the rest. When I encountered Amaury at Reims, I told him of Gisulf’s importuning.’
‘Did you seek Count Amaury out?’
‘No! He found me and so I blurted out the information because it was concerning me greatly at the time. It was simply on the top of my mind when I spoke with Amaury. In the event, Gisulf drowned on The White Ship and so…’ Ida stopped and gaped at Haith, appalled. ‘No. You are wrong. Amaury did not commission violence against Gisulf on my account. Do not think it.’
‘I think you are right, Ida, but I had a suspicion and I needed to shake it until I found the truth.’
‘Why?’ Nest challenged him abruptly. ‘Why are you shaking this particular tree so hard? Finding out will not bring any of those drowned unfortunates back.’
‘No, but whoever is guilty deserves to be exposed.’
‘The sea is guilty,’ Nest said.
‘Not only the sea,’ Haith countered, but wished he could leave it, could escape the disapproval he was earning from Nest and the distress he was causing his sister.
Ida poured more wine for them. ‘Haith?’
‘I know there was foul play on that ship, Ida. I do not know that the sinking was intentional, but there was certainly foul play, and I am seeking to get to the bottom of it. You say Amaury did not commission violence against Gisulf. Why do you say that?’
‘He,’ she began, but then stopped, thinking, remembering. She resumed, her voice sunk low to a whisper, ‘He did tell me I need not worry further about Gisulf. He would see to it. I don’t believe it of him. I can’t.’
Haith held up a hand. ‘Don’t speculate further, Ida. I know myself that only sleepless nights and no answers lie in that direction. Only Amaury can tell us the truth of it. Or some other first-hand witness.’
Ida’s hand had been clasped in horror to her mouth and she removed it to speak again. ‘It is easy for you to say don’t speculate. Now, I must, Haith, along with you. Now, I must seek to know if Amaury was involved, is implicated in this awful thing. If I am.’
‘You are not,’ Haith asserted. ‘If Amaury took action against Gisulf, you did not know of it or condone it.’ He looked at the floor. He had relieved himself of his own anxiety about Ida’s guilt, only at the cost of causing her great anxiety.
‘We have another concern, Sheriff, beyond your talk of The White Ship,’ Nest continued, and it did not escape his attention that she had ceased to call him by his name. ‘We will need your assistance in relation to a bard named Breri.’
Haith swallowed on the bitterness of having offended her. ‘How may I help, my lady?’
‘Ida is known to him. Known to him as a nun and a spy from Fontevraud. He is here, in Wales, in Pembroke.’
‘In Pembroke!’
‘He is well travelled as many bards are and has taken residence with the de Clares at the castle. It is too close for comfort. He could reveal Ida’s former identity.’
‘I must go to my duties in Pembroke, so I will keep an eye on him and keep a watch on his intentions and movements.’
Nest smiled briefly. It was not her full smile. ‘That would be a relief to us.’ She rose at the entrance of her steward and, giving her apologies, left the room. Haith watched her go with a cold sense of loss. He had alienated her.
He turned back to Ida. ‘I am sorry to have pressed you so hard, Ida. There are several mysteries around The White Ship, and threads I have been following.’
‘Including Amaury.’
‘Yes, de Montfort is one thread, but there are others, perhaps more credible. Stephen de Blois disembarked from the ship before she sailed and stands to gain from the death of the king’s heir, but I have found no evidence against him. The king’s dapifer, William de Pirou, was certainly aboard the ship and survived the wreck in mysterious circumstances. He was the prime mover in Gisulf’s murder. At one time, I thought Ranulf de Gernon might have commissioned the murder, since he is close with de Pirou, but then I received testimony from a prisoner in Rouen that implicated Waleran’s steward. It is still a maze of possibilities.’
‘But why must you know, Haith? As Nest says, a discovery will not return Prince William to life, to the king’s side.’
‘No, but if there was a deliberate conspiracy, it threatens the king still and is a very great crime that should be exposed.’
‘Yes.’ Ida’s tone was doubtful. ‘Perhaps you feel guilt that you survived the wreck, Haith, that you disembarked.’
‘No. That would be ridiculous,’ he denied.
Ida sank her voice to a whisper and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Perhaps you need this diversion from other grief?’ She looked meaningfully in the direction of the doorway where Nest had disappeared. ‘Perhaps this is your unhealthy obsession, Haith.’
Haith did not reply, but studied the patterns of shadows on the floor.
‘There is no benefit in your pursuit of this mystery,’ Ida asserted. ‘You need to get on with your life, with your duties as sheriff at Pembroke, and perhaps, in time, the situation here at Llansteffan might change, too.’
Haith nodded without looking at her. He knew it was good advice, but he knew he would not take it.
19
Threshold
Haith stepped to greet Lady Nest as she rode into the courtyard at Pembroke, accompanied by two men at arms and another lady. He hoped he might gain a second chance to recoup the damage he had done to Nest’s opinion of him during his questioning of Ida at Llansteffan. He lifted Nest from her horse, and she stepped away from his touch briskly. ‘Sheriff.’ She acknowledged his greeting but moved past him toward the hall. She was still angry with him then. The second lady dismounting was swathed in veils and a heavy, hooded cloak, but Haith knew it was his sister. He gave her his hand to steady her as her foot touched the cobbles. The bard Breri was in residence and could identify her. Why was she here?
‘Can you take me somewhere out of sight quickly, Haith, while Nest greets the de Clares?’
He nodded and took Ida’s elbow, steering her toward his own quarters. ‘Why are you running such risk of being here?’ Haith asked as soon as the door was closed behind them.
‘I have been pondering our last conversation concerning Gisulf and had an idea. I troubled Lady Nest with it so much and so often that she resolved we must come and speak with you. Do you have these letters of Gisulf’s, where you found the evidence?’
‘Yes.’ Haith gestured at the small chest in the corner of the room.
‘Are there other letters or just the ones from Bellême and from Waleran?’
‘There are many. This is the whole collection from his house in London. They all look to be letters for blackmail of some sort.’
‘May I look through them?’
‘Why?’
‘I was the librarian at Fontevraud Abbey, if you recall. Sifting through scrolls is my specialism.’ She rolled up her sleeves and pushed the dangling ends of her headscarf behind her shoulders. ‘Perhaps I will find something else to illuminate this mystery that is now vexing us both.’
Haith nodded slowly. ‘I’m sorry for the vexing, Ida. You will find de Bellême’s letter distressing,’ he warned as she lifted the lid of the chest and reached inside to the scrolls and parchments.
‘Will you bring me a jug of wine for my labour, Haith?’
‘Yes, but please stay inside. Breri is about the place somewhere. I am always coming upon him in unexpected places.’
‘He is a skilled spy.’ He had to decipher her words as she mumbled with her head down, already engrossed in her task.
Haith returned with a jug of wine and watched Ida work. In this light, she reminded him of his mother. He smiled at the memory.
‘I’m going to be a while yet, Haith. You’re putting me off, staring at me. Go and find Nest. You know you want to.’
‘Don’t jest with me on that topic, please, Ida.’
She glanced up for the first time from her perusals. ‘No. I’m sorry. No jest. I know how it is for you. And for her,’ she said meaningfully.
He was torn between wanting to know more of what she could tell him of Nest’s feelings and a sense that this would be unfair to both Nest and Ida. He rose abruptly. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it for a while.’
In the hall, Nest was in conversation with Lady Isabel and her daughter. They were speaking of the shocking news that Prince Cadwallon of Gwynedd had murdered three of his uncles, his mother’s brothers, as he worked to remove all opposition to his rule. ‘These Welsh barbarians are ruthless!’ exclaimed Lady Isabel. Haith saw Nest flinch at her words, but Isabel was oblivious to the fact that she was conversing with a ‘Welsh barbarian’. The three ladies were intent on their conversation, and Haith was loath to interrupt them. Nest glanced up in his direction just as he made the decision to back out again. He bumped into a man standing close behind him, stumbling heavily onto his foot. ‘Oh, so sorry.’ He turned. It was Breri who had been pressing close behind him and who now was wincing in pain. ‘I changed my mind,’ Haith apologised for his sudden movement. ‘I did not want to interrupt the ladies.’
‘Who ever wishes to interrupt ladies.’ Breri accepted Haith’s apology gracefully and leant back against the doorjamb to observe the ladies’ conversation as Haith turned back toward his quarters.
He secured the door-latch of the chamber behind him. ‘Breri is on the prowl,’ he told Ida urgently. ‘We have to find a way to get you out of here without him seeing you. We will have to wait for nightfall.’
‘Darkness will have little effect for him. He is used to poking around in the dark.’
‘Doubtless. Did you find anything?’ He gestured at the great pile of papers she had been working her way through.
‘Yes, look at this.’ She cleared one pile of papers from the bench beside her so that he could sit close. On the table in front of her, she had singled out three letters. He recognised the two that he had found himself: Waleran’s letter concerning William Clito, with Countess Adela de Blois’ covering note, and de Bellême’s letter concerning Amaury and Ida. He reached for the third, which had been torn. ‘What is this one?’
Ida did not reply but let him read it.
To William de Roumare, my dear brother, Ranulf de Gernon, heir to Chester, Carlisle and Cumberland, sends greetings and love. I urge you to have urgent speech with SB at the first opportunity on our dissatisfaction at the king’s disposition of our mother’s lands. SB is most likely to succeed this ageing and tyrannical king and we might make better headway on the matter with him. If he might promise us reparation of our lands, and to you gift Lincoln and its earldom, then we might offer him good service in return. You may give reply with the Welsh bard I send with this. He is discreet and can be trusted. I have instructed William de Pirou to carry the sum of
The letter was torn there. ‘He names himself heir to lands that do not belong to his father,’ Haith said, puzzling at the meaning of the letter. ‘SB must be Stephen de Blois. He and Roumare disembarked from The White Ship in company together. Good service – it could mean anything!’ Haith blew out his lips, exasperated. ‘More obfuscation!’
‘Whoever it refers to or what the service was,’ Ida said, ‘the king would have been most displeased to have read those words from de Gernon’s hand.’
‘Yes. And the Welsh bard mentioned here? It must be Breri, working for de Gernon, as well as the de Clares. He seems to be everywhere.’
Ida nodded. ‘That seems more than possible. Breri was in the pay of Countess Adela de Blois. The countess’ network of spies was extensive and more than effective. That network fed information on events in Normandy to Countess Adela and she conveyed it to King Henry. Now, Breri appears to be replicating his work, spying in Wales and feeding information to whoever will pay him well. I’ve been trying to think through the provenance of these three letters. Waleran’s with Adela’s note,’ she put her palm flat against that parchment, ‘was doubtless carried to Gisulf by Breri. Gisulf should have given it to the king but kept it back.’ She moved her hand to de Belleme’s letter. ‘Gisulf will have received this letter from de Belleme on behalf of the king and may have kept this back too. And this one,’ her hand moved to de Gernon’s letter, ‘was clearly carried by Breri and implicates him in whatever was afoot.’
Haith nodded at her analysis. ‘Where does that leave us?’
‘I am wondering if Gisulf and Breri were in this blackmailing business together, or alternatively, if Gisulf was blackmailing Breri.’
‘No more potential murderers, please!’ Haith pleaded. ‘I already have too many suspects.’
‘Can’t we figure this out, Haith? Morin du Pin’s involvement in Gisulf’s murder was asserted to you by Luc de La Barre and that implicated Waleran, or was to protect him at any rate.’
‘Yes.’
‘William de Pirou’s involvement was told to you by Berold, which implicated Ranulf de Gernon, because you know they are compatriots. It seems they tried to involve Stephen de Blois in their conspiracy against the king, but we have no way of knowing whether he accepted their bribes. Perhaps Waleran and Ranulf were in it together, a conspiracy to rid themselves of their blackmailer?’
‘They are an unlikely collaboration,’ Haith said. ‘I know of no connection between them. By the same token, Amaury could have been involved in such a conspiracy on your behalf. He is close to Waleran. Very close.’
‘I don’t believe that. He is not a man to murder another in the dark. He would have cut Gisulf down face to face, by his own hand, if he decided to. There is no evidence of Amaury’s involvement, but you have heard evidence against these other two.’
Haith hesitated. This was simply what she wanted to believe.
‘In any case, Haith, whatever the truth of the matter, there is no further threat to Henry. Waleran is incarcerated. Amaury is distant and reconciled with Henry. But if Ranulf is guilty, he is surely a threat to you if you continue to pursue this? He must already know that you are on his trail from your questioning of de Pirou.’
Haith bit back the urge to tell her of the disappearance and probable murder of de Pirou. It would only worry her. ‘Well, you have uncovered another piece of the puzzle, Ida. Come, we must find a way to smuggle you out without encountering Breri.’
‘Will you let this matter go now, Haith? I tell you, it has become a fruitless and a risky obsession for you.’
He swallowed. ‘I fear I cannot, just yet.’
She sighed and began to wind the swathes of veil around her head and face again. There was a knock on the door and Haith opened it a crack to a boy with mussed hair. ‘Princess says see you in the stables,’ he announced in Welsh, clearly relieved to be free of the memory of so many words. Behind Haith, Ida laughed softly as he closed the door on the young messenger. ‘Stop that!’ Haith told her, smiling. ‘She is waiting for you, not for me, as you well know. I will escort you to your horse and take my farewells of you both.’
In the stables, Nest allowed him to assist her into the saddle, but her demeanour did not encourage anything further than that. ‘Was your visit satisfactory?’ she asked Ida.
‘In some ways, yes, and in other ways, no,’ Ida said, looking ruefully in Haith’s direction.
20
The Heir
‘The young men are gathering around me like vultures readying for a feast,’ Henry complained, ‘each wondering who will step into my shoes.’
Haith sat with the king in his private chamber in Westminster Palace, sharing a companionable last beakerful of wine as was their frequent habit before Haith retired and Henry made his way to Queen Adelisa’s still barren bed. Haith grimaced, knowing that Henry’s words were true. ‘The queen will bear a son,’ he asserted in as confident a tone as he could muster.
‘Will you stay for the Christmas festivities at Windsor?’ Henry asked. ‘It would be a kindness to me.’
‘Of course, Henry.’ Haith had submitted his accounts at the Michaelmas Exchequer court some weeks ago and was impatient to return to Wales, but the king’s request would only delay him a little longer. Henry’s business had kept Haith away from Llansteffan for the best part of a year, and he had had no opportunity to try to repair the damage to Nest’s opinion of him. The court would move soon from Westminster to Windsor for the Christmas feast, and Windsor was partway to Wales at least.
