Free Dead Man's Secret by Simon Beaufort Page A

indicated Eudo’s purse was still firmly closed. The money had not been lost by him, but by his killer.
    â€˜What have you found?’ demanded Henry.
    It was Sear who replied, speaking loudly and importantly. ‘The footprints are large ones. They were not made by an insignificant man, such as Delwyn here, but a bigger fellow, such as myself.’
    â€˜Are you telling us you are the culprit?’ asked Delwyn archly. Several courtiers sniggered, and Sear flushed.
    â€˜Do not be stupid,’ he snarled. He turned to the King. ‘It is just an observation, sire, which may help to solve the crime.’
    â€˜Thank you, Sear,’ said Henry, with what sounded to be genuine sincerity. ‘Your observations are welcome.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ said Sear smugly.
    Henry smiled at him, and Geoffrey saw the knight was right when he claimed to be a royal favourite. Henry turned to Geoffrey.
    â€˜And you?’ he asked. ‘What can you tell me?’
    â€˜There were these,’ said Geoffrey, showing Henry the coins he had found.
    â€˜Pennies from my mint in Pevenesel,’ mused the King, taking them. He did not hand them back, and Geoffrey saw them disappear into the royal purse. ‘Does it mean the killer is local?’
    â€˜I have Pevenesel pennies, too, sire,’ said Geoffrey. ‘And so will most of your courtiers by now. Nothing can be concluded from it, except one thing: the killer is unlikely to have been a servant, because he would not have abandoned such a princely sum.’
    â€˜A monk?’ asked Sear. ‘They are wealthy.’ He included Delwyn in his scathing glance.
    â€˜I doubt a monk killed Eudo,’ said Henry, looking around at the throng in a way that made several glance away uneasily. ‘It must be a courtier. Or a knight.’
    Because he did not like the notion of men standing around idly when they should be labouring on his behalf, Henry ordered everyone back to work, although he indicated that certain people were to stay. These included some of his favourites, the contingent from Wales, Pepin and several clerks, and Geoffrey. Maurice lingered, too, watching with narrowed eyes when the King caught Sear’s arm and whispered something that made him smile.
    â€˜I do not understand what His Majesty sees in him,’ the prelate muttered to Geoffrey. ‘Oh, he is mannerly enough, and a bold warrior. But he is nothing unusual, and I do not see why the King makes a fuss of him.’
    Geoffrey shrugged. ‘Perhaps he just likes him. It does happen that men make friends.’
    â€˜That is not the King’s way,’ insisted Maurice. ‘There is a reason for everything he does, and he does not dispense his goodwill lightly. But Eudo’s death is a nuisance for you. Now you will never know what he was doing with Tancred’s letter.’
    Geoffrey nodded unhappily. ‘Did he have a close friend? One he might have confided in?’
    â€˜No. Eudo was not a man for companions. Still, I am glad I gave you that letter after he was murdered – I dread to think what would have been said had you confronted him and hot words been exchanged.’
    Geoffrey would not have cared, as long as he had been given answers. He was still shocked by Maurice’s discovery, and now he was also frustrated that an explanation for Tancred’s uncharacteristic threats should have been so tantalizingly close, only to be ripped away. He left Maurice and went to speak to Pepin, who was standing in a disconsolate huddle with his fellow clerks. He showed them the burned letter.
    â€˜Have any of you see this before?’ he asked.
    Pepin took it from him, then shook his head. ‘I do not see how it can relate to Eudo’s murder, because it is addressed to you. I thought you told me you could read.’
    â€˜Did you drop it in the fire by mistake?’ asked another clerk. ‘Eudo did that a lot – either he got