A Head for Poisoning Read Online Free PDF Page A

chain-mail showed that Aumary was long past any earthly help. Geoffrey swore again. Caerdig’s failed ambush was one thing, but the killing of one of the King’s messengers put a totally different complexion on matters.
    â€œIt was not us!” protested Caerdig, his face bloodless. “Look at that arrow. It is not ours!”
    Geoffrey recalled the arrow hissing past his face at the beginning of the attack, and the one that his shield had deflected moments later.
    â€œSo someone else shot Aumary, just as you happened to be attacking us?” he said, raising his eyebrows at the Welshman. “I doubt the King will fall for that one.”
    â€œThe King?” asked Caerdig fearfully. He swallowed hard. “What has the King to do with this?”
    â€œAumary was the King’s agent, delivering dispatches from Normandy,” said Geoffrey. “He met us on the ship sailing from Harfleur to Portsmouth, and informed me that he would be travelling with us because the Court is currently in Chepstow—no great distance from Goodrich, as you know.”
    Caerdig gazed down at the dead man in horror. “This has not gone quite the way I intended,” he breathed. “I saw a band of heavily armed men riding uninvited on my lands, put it with the rumour that you were soon expected to return from the Crusade, and thought no more than that—that a Mappestone was brazenly trespassing on Welsh soil, bringing other Holy Land louts with him. Now it seems that the King’s messenger lies slain on my manor.”
    â€œSeems?” queried Geoffrey, putting a foot on Aumary’s back and hauling out the arrow with both hands. “It is more than just seems. What will you do?”
    â€œWhat will
you
do?” countered Caerdig, watching Geoffrey inspect the bloody quarrel.
    Geoffrey shrugged, rolling it between his fingers. “There is only one thing I can do, and that is to deliver Aumary and his dispatches to the King at Chepstow Castle. Sweet Jesus, man! How could you be so foolish! The death of a knight is unlikely to go unpunished, here or anywhere else. Even if it had been only me you had killed, do you think nothing would ever have been said, no reprisals?”
    Caerdig shook his head slowly. “You are right: I was stupid. I did not stop to think of the consequences as I should have done. But looking at the situation with the benefit of hindsight does not help me now. I am about to be accused and punished for a murder in which I had no part.”
    Geoffrey declined to answer.
    â€œBut it is the truth!” insisted Caerdig. “Look at the arrow! If you can find another like it anywhere on my land, I will give you everything I own! And you know the forest laws—villagers around here are forbidden to own bows, in case they are tempted to shoot the King’s deer.”
    â€œBut you told me earlier that you had archers hidden in the trees,” said Geoffrey. “What are they using, if not bows?”
    Caerdig looked sheepish. “I was bluffing. What did you expect? You had a sword at my throat—I would have told you I had the Archangel Gabriel ready to shoot, if I had thought it would have intimidated you into not killing me. But, I repeat, none of my men own arrows like that one, or the good quality bows that would be needed to fire them.”
    Not wanting to debate matters further, Geoffrey shoved the arrow in his belt and began to heave Aumary’s body upright to sling it across the horse. Caerdig helped, and together, after much struggling, they succeeded in securing the corpse to the saddle. Geoffrey removed the pouch of dispatches from where it dangled at the dead knight’s neck, and tucked it down the front of his own surcoat.
    â€œI am coming with you,” said Caerdig abruptly, as Geoffrey led the horse back towards the path. “I will go to the King and put our case to him myself. He will listen to me, and I will persuade him