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distant kin, so I can regale him with details about my cathedral in London. You will like him. He is very odd.’
    Geoffrey regarded him askance. ‘What do you mean?’
    â€˜He has a gift for seeing into the future. I have it, too, although to a lesser extent. It must run in the family.’
    â€˜And what do you see in mine?’ asked Geoffrey gloomily. ‘Death and danger?’
    â€˜Of course, but you are a warrior, so that is hardly surprising.’
    â€˜I will be a farmer when I have finished this errand. At Goodrich.’
    Maurice reached up to pat his shoulder. ‘Good. I shall visit you there, and you can arrange for me to spend another enchanted evening with Angel Locks. But back to the business in hand. I shall write to Bishop Wilfred, too – I will send him a copy of a rather beautiful prayer that Giffard wrote.’
    It sounded contrived to Geoffrey. ‘Can you not think of something else?’
    â€˜Nothing comes to mind,’ said Maurice after a few moments of serious thought. ‘I do not like Wilfred very much. But I met a Kermerdyn butter-maker called Cornald in Westminster last year; he seemed a nice fellow. I shall write to him, too, and send him a recipe for a lovely cheese I sampled in Winchester.’
    Geoffrey groaned. No one was going to believe such matters required the services of a knight. It would be worse than folk thinking he carried missives from the King.
    â€˜These will be sealed, Geoffrey,’ said Maurice, seeing what he was thinking. ‘No one will know their contents are trivial until they are opened. And by that time, you will be in Kermerdyn. This ruse will serve to keep you safe.’
    â€˜Very well,’ said Geoffrey. ‘Although it still does not explain why the King ordered me to join Sear, Edward and Delwyn. If I am your messenger, my plans are none of his concern.’
    Maurice chewed the end of his pen. ‘Then we shall turn it about and say His Majesty is eager to ensure his constables arrive in one piece – that you are elected to protect Edward and Sear.’
    Geoffrey regarded him in horror. ‘I doubt Sear will appreciate that!’
    Maurice waved a dismissive hand. ‘Leave him to me. I think I shall pen a line to Isabella, your sister-in-law, too.’
    Geoffrey’s jaw dropped. ‘You have not seduced . . .’
    â€˜No!’ said Maurice hastily. Then he looked wistful. ‘Although I would not have minded her help with my health. However, I tend to stay away from ladies with jealous husbands, and my message will give her the name of a London merchant who sells excellent raisins. I may even include a sample. You will not eat them, will you?’
    â€˜I will not,’ said Geoffrey firmly.
    Maurice set the pen on the table and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘There is something else I should probably tell you, although I am not sure what it means. Before I do, will you promise not to leap to unfounded conclusions?’
    â€˜What?’ Geoffrey had the distinct impression he was about to hear something he would not like. He saw the Bishop’s pursed lips. ‘Yes, I promise.’
    Wordlessly, Maurice stood and unlocked a stout chest that stood near the window. He rummaged for a moment, then passed Geoffrey a piece of parchment. It was partially burned, but Geoffrey would have recognized the distinctive scrawl of Tancred’s scribe anywhere. It was in Italian, his liege lord’s mother tongue.
    To my dear brother, Geoffrey, greetings, on Easter Sunday, the third since you left us. I trust your health is returned, and the brain-fever that led you to write such
    Geoffrey stared at it. It had been penned just five months earlier, and was dated after the one he had received threatening him with death if he ever returned. What did it mean?

Three
    â€˜I found it during the summer,’ explained Maurice, as Geoffrey stared at the parchment in his hand. ‘I was