A Flight of Arrows A.J. MacKenzie (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

‘Because I advised the queen against it,’ Tiphaine said.

Merrivale considered this. ‘You have seen her? Where?’

Tiphaine nodded. ‘I went to her after I left Lisieux. I told her what I knew, that she too would be betrayed if she rebelled. The other conspirators wish to push Philippe off his throne, but they have no desire to see Normandy go free.’

‘I take it these “other conspirators” are the third plot you mentioned. Who leads it?’

‘Charles d’Alençon, the king’s brother,’ she said. ‘Montmorency the marshal, I think. I don’t know who else.’

‘I can add a few more names,’ Merrivale said. ‘Cardinal Aubert, of course, and the two Italian mercenary commanders, Doria and Grimaldi.’

Tiphaine nodded. ‘I saw Genoese crossbowmen in the camp at Rouen. One of Alençon’s chief lieutenants is a Norman baron, Rollond de Brus, the man I went to see. Jean de Fierville was his cousin.’

She told them what she had learned in Rouen. ‘This man, Sir John de Tracey, bought English slaves from Fierville. But there was another, who worked for a moneylender. I do not know his name.’

‘I do,’ Merrivale said. ‘He is called Nicodemus.’

Mauro looked dubious. ‘Begging your pardon, señorita, but Sir John de Tracey died seven years ago.’

‘What about his son?’ asked Gráinne.

‘Sir Edward has always been at pains to distance himself from his father,’ Merrivale said. ‘He became angry to the point of hostility when I last questioned him. Given what you have told us, demoiselle, I understand why.’

He pondered for a moment. ‘Very well. Nicodemus is said to have deserted, but I am convinced he is not far away. Perhaps he and Slade, the other deserter, are working together. We need to find them, and soon.’

Aubergenville, 11th of August, 1346

Evening

As the army made camp that evening on high ground overlooking the Seine, Merrivale called on his ever-reliable informant the cowherd. ‘You do not look happy, Mistress Driver.’

‘No, sir. My poor cows are getting so gaunt and weary with all this marching, and the milk they are giving is so thin, there’s hardly any cream at all. Marigold is in real distress, sir. Are we going to be able to escape across the river?’

‘I hope so,’ Merrivale said. ‘I came to ask if you had seen anything of Nicodemus. Has he approached the kitchen in the last few days?’

‘No, sir. Folk are saying he deserted. He won’t be the last one, either, the way things are going.’

‘No.’ After the failure at Mantes, the mood of the army was more depressed than ever. The heady aftermath of victory at Caen seemed a long time ago. ‘The man who watches the cooking pots, Curry. Has he had any callers, or does he go anywhere?’

‘No callers that I have seen, sir, and he never leaves camp, just sleeps on the ground next to the cooking fires. He’s fallen out with Master Clerebaud too, I think.’

‘Oh?’

‘He keeps staring at the poor man. Poor Master Clerebaud has gone all quiet and never talks to anyone now, not even me.’

Something tingled along the herald’s spine. ‘Does he ever leave the kitchen?’

‘Yes, sir, most evenings once dinner is finished. He’s either looking for plunder or playing dice with some of the archers. I reckon he goes to get away from Curry.’

Clerebaud had once won money from Nicodemus. Was the defrocked priest still attending these games of dice? the herald wondered. Perhaps in disguise?

‘Thank you, Mistress Driver,’ he said, handing over a piece of cheese. ‘Once again, you have been a wellspring of information.’

Inquisition into the death of Edmund Bray, knight, near the village of Quettehou in Normandy on the XIIth day of July, in the nineteenth year of the reign of King Edward III. This report was composed on the XIth day of August, at the village of Aubergenville.

Item, it seems likely that an archer calling himself Nicodemus, formerly of Sir Edward de Tracey’s retinue, was also a conspirator along with Jean de Fierville. Nicodemus deserted the army two days ago, but I believe he is still in the vicinity, possibly along with another deserter, Jack Slade. I have ordered a search for both men.

Item, I have received information that the French intend to strike a blow at our army when and if it reaches Poissy. The nature of the coup they are planning is not known, but I believe this information to be true and correct.

Simon Merrivale, heraldus

Michael Northburgh read the brief report and laid it to one side. ‘Tracey? Could he himself be involved?’

‘Anything is possible, of course. But he says he had nothing to do with his father’s activities, and I have no reason to disbelieve him. And there is another thing.’

‘What is it?’

Merrivale outlined the wide-ranging conspiracy aimed at both King Edward and Philippe de Valois. ‘Could Edward de Tracey, greedy and rich though he is, organise a coup like this alone? Frankly, I doubt it.’

‘Then who could?’

‘Of the others I have suspected? None. Mortimer is too young and inexperienced. Holland has the right connections, but the king has already bought his loyalty. Despenser has motive, perhaps, but he lacks the resources, especially money. The same is true of Gurney.’

Northburgh nodded. ‘So, to sum up, you have strong evidence of a conspiracy within our army, but have no idea who is behind it.’

‘Yes. Which means I am no further ahead than I was before,’ the herald said bitterly. ‘I know why Bray was killed, but I cannot prove who did it. That is why I must find these two renegade archers. At the moment, they are my only hope.’

Northburgh frowned. ‘I will pass on your report to his Grace, of course, but he may not have time to read it. He is too busy worrying about bridges.’

‘Is there any hope at Meulan?’

‘Warwick and Northampton have gone forward with an advance party to see if a surprise attack can be mounted. If that fails, then it will be one last throw of the dice at Poissy.’ Northburgh glanced at the report again. ‘Where