Read Online 01 - Murder in the Holy City by Simon Beaufort - Free Book Online
Authors: Simon Beaufort
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after all. You speak Arabic and Greek, and you understand these infidels better than we do. The Advocate would like you to look into the matter.”
“What?” exclaimed Geoffrey, aghast. “I cannot undertake an investigation for the Advocate! I am in Tancred’s service!”
Hugh began to laugh softly, shaking his head and jabbing at a rough spot on the table with his dagger. Roger looked puzzled.
“I know that,” said Courrances soothingly. “But this would be an unofficial matter.”
“Are you saying the Advocate wishes me to spy for him without Tancred’s knowledge?” asked Geoffrey coldly.
“Yes,” replied Courrances, his honesty taking the wind from Geoffrey’s indignation. “Because it is in Tancred’s interest to have this matter investigated too. I cannot see that he would object.”
Geoffrey was thoughtful. There were a number of possible solutions to the case of the murdered men, and investigating them was going to prove difficult, whatever the outcome. If he had the Advocate’s blessing, as well as Tancred’s, the task would be made immeasurably easier. He could report his findings to Tancred first, and discuss with him what the Advocate needed to be told.
He rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. Courrances gave a quick, almost startled, smile. Geoffrey glanced up to the dais and saw that the Advocate was watching him. For an instant, the eyes of the two men met before the Advocate turned away.
“Are you insane?” exclaimed Hugh. He gaped at Geoffrey as Courrances left to rejoin the august company on the high table. “How can you ally yourself with the Advocate? You are Tancred’s man! What will he say when he hears of this?”
“He will know I am acting in the best way to serve him,” said Geoffrey calmly.
Roger eyed him with amusement. “So that was where you went last night, lad! Off to see Tancred when all good men slept the sleep of the just.”
“Not you, apparently, if you saw me leave,” retorted Geoffrey.
“Is it true?” demanded Hugh. “Has Tancred asked you to act as his agent to discover the truth behind these murders?”
Geoffrey nodded. “But you are not the first to guess, evidently. Whoever left the dagger and the pig’s heart in my chamber also knew what I have been charged to do.”
CHAPTER THREE
B ack in his chamber, Geoffrey pondered the information contained on the scroll Tancred had given him. He sprawled in the window seat, feet propped up against the wall opposite, tapping the parchment thoughtfully with his forefinger. Roger lounged across the bed, paring his nails with his dagger, while Hugh sat on the bench plucking tunelessly at a lute Geoffrey had chosen from the sack of Antioch. The door was firmly closed, and Helbye had been given instructions to allow no one near it. Geoffrey’s dog flopped on the stone floor in a vain attempt to cool itself down, and the sounds of its agitated panting filled the room.
“Tell us again,” said Roger. “This heat is dulling my brain.”
“It was dull long before the heat got to it,” muttered Hugh. Roger flung a mailed glove at him, which was retrieved by the dog and returned in the hope of an edible reward.
“The two knights—Guido and John—were in Bohemond’s service,” Geoffrey began. “The dead monks were Jocelyn, a Benedictine from Conques in France; Pius, a Cluniac from Ripoll in Spain; and Loukas, a Greek. The monks have no connections with each other as far as is known, and they were found in random locations around the city. The only common factor between all five is that they were killed with carved Arab daggers.”
“I cannot see another connection between them,” said Hugh. “Although I suppose there must be one.” He sighed. “Lord, Geoffrey, what have you let yourself in for this time? This is nothing like the matter of those thefts you solved, you know. Then, the culprit was no one of consequence and he was conveniently dispatched and forgotten. God only knows who might be
“What?” exclaimed Geoffrey, aghast. “I cannot undertake an investigation for the Advocate! I am in Tancred’s service!”
Hugh began to laugh softly, shaking his head and jabbing at a rough spot on the table with his dagger. Roger looked puzzled.
“I know that,” said Courrances soothingly. “But this would be an unofficial matter.”
“Are you saying the Advocate wishes me to spy for him without Tancred’s knowledge?” asked Geoffrey coldly.
“Yes,” replied Courrances, his honesty taking the wind from Geoffrey’s indignation. “Because it is in Tancred’s interest to have this matter investigated too. I cannot see that he would object.”
Geoffrey was thoughtful. There were a number of possible solutions to the case of the murdered men, and investigating them was going to prove difficult, whatever the outcome. If he had the Advocate’s blessing, as well as Tancred’s, the task would be made immeasurably easier. He could report his findings to Tancred first, and discuss with him what the Advocate needed to be told.
He rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. Courrances gave a quick, almost startled, smile. Geoffrey glanced up to the dais and saw that the Advocate was watching him. For an instant, the eyes of the two men met before the Advocate turned away.
“Are you insane?” exclaimed Hugh. He gaped at Geoffrey as Courrances left to rejoin the august company on the high table. “How can you ally yourself with the Advocate? You are Tancred’s man! What will he say when he hears of this?”
“He will know I am acting in the best way to serve him,” said Geoffrey calmly.
Roger eyed him with amusement. “So that was where you went last night, lad! Off to see Tancred when all good men slept the sleep of the just.”
“Not you, apparently, if you saw me leave,” retorted Geoffrey.
“Is it true?” demanded Hugh. “Has Tancred asked you to act as his agent to discover the truth behind these murders?”
Geoffrey nodded. “But you are not the first to guess, evidently. Whoever left the dagger and the pig’s heart in my chamber also knew what I have been charged to do.”
CHAPTER THREE
B ack in his chamber, Geoffrey pondered the information contained on the scroll Tancred had given him. He sprawled in the window seat, feet propped up against the wall opposite, tapping the parchment thoughtfully with his forefinger. Roger lounged across the bed, paring his nails with his dagger, while Hugh sat on the bench plucking tunelessly at a lute Geoffrey had chosen from the sack of Antioch. The door was firmly closed, and Helbye had been given instructions to allow no one near it. Geoffrey’s dog flopped on the stone floor in a vain attempt to cool itself down, and the sounds of its agitated panting filled the room.
“Tell us again,” said Roger. “This heat is dulling my brain.”
“It was dull long before the heat got to it,” muttered Hugh. Roger flung a mailed glove at him, which was retrieved by the dog and returned in the hope of an edible reward.
“The two knights—Guido and John—were in Bohemond’s service,” Geoffrey began. “The dead monks were Jocelyn, a Benedictine from Conques in France; Pius, a Cluniac from Ripoll in Spain; and Loukas, a Greek. The monks have no connections with each other as far as is known, and they were found in random locations around the city. The only common factor between all five is that they were killed with carved Arab daggers.”
“I cannot see another connection between them,” said Hugh. “Although I suppose there must be one.” He sighed. “Lord, Geoffrey, what have you let yourself in for this time? This is nothing like the matter of those thefts you solved, you know. Then, the culprit was no one of consequence and he was conveniently dispatched and forgotten. God only knows who might be
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