A Head for Poisoning by Simon Beaufort Page A

Caerdig?”
    â€œThey were lovers,” said Ingram with relish, ignoring Helbye’s warning glower.
    â€œIngram! You have no proof to claim such a thing,” said Helbye angrily. “So shut up before you say something for which you will later be sorry.”
    â€œI have proof,” said Ingram, smugly confident. “We heard all about it from a soldier at Chepstow who had spent time at Goodrich last summer.”
    â€œThat was nothing but gossip,” snapped Helbye. “How could you trust someone like that?”
    â€œWhat did you hear?” asked Geoffrey, confused by the exchange.
    â€œCaerdig wanted to marry Enide,” said Ingram quickly, before Helbye could stop him. “But her father and Ynys of Lann Martin prevented the match—”
    â€œThat is enough, Ingram!” said Helbye sharply. “This is all speculation. You have no evidence to be saying any of this.”
    â€œEnide did have a lover,” mused Geoffrey, more to himself than to the others. “She wrote to me about him often, although she never mentioned his name. Was that who it was? Caerdig?”
    â€œNo,” said Helbye firmly. “Caerdig did ask for her hand in marriage, apparently, but there is nothing to say that they were lovers—whatever nasty rumours were spread around about her. Caerdig was probably trying to put an end to the feud between the two manors—a marriage of convenience.”
    â€œI knew nothing of this,” said Geoffrey. “Although I suppose there is no reason why I should.”
    â€œThere is nothing to know,” said Helbye. “Except vicious rumours and nasty lies.” He glared at Ingram and then at Barlow.
    â€œBut you might have said something, Will,” Geoffrey said reproachfully to his sergeant. “You know Enide was the only one for whom I really cared. If you knew something about her, you should have told me.”
    â€œI saw no point in talking about her when you would get the entire terrible story on your arrival home,” said Helbye primly.
    â€œAn affair between Enide and Caerdig is not so terrible,” said Geoffrey, amused.
    â€œThe affair was not the end of the matter, though, was it?” said Ingram spitefully. “What Helbye has been keeping from you is the fact that Caerdig met Enide secretly for mass one day—”
    â€œIngram!” barked Helbye. He dismounted, and tried to grab the young soldier, who dodged behind Barlow. “Stop this immediately!”
    â€œYnys and Godric had agreed not to allow the marriage between Caerdig and Enide—” said Ingram, wickedly allowing the older man to grab the merest pinch of his tunic before slithering away.
    â€œIngram!” yelled Helbye, making another ineffectual lunge at the grinning soldier. “Desist, or I will—”
    â€œOr you will what, Helbye?” Ingram sneered. “We are a mile from home, and you no longer have an excuse to bully me. I will say what I like to whom I like, and you can do nothing to stop me!”
    Helbye stopped dead in his tracks, and Geoffrey wondered how long Ingram had been harbouring such bitter resentment against the old sergeant. He had always been under the impression that Helbye was popular with the young men under his command. It was at Helbye’s request that Geoffrey had brought Ingram home with him, although he had been under no obligation to do so. Geoffrey had done what the sergeant had asked because he liked Helbye—because he certainly did not like the malcontented, bitterly morose Ingram.
    Ingram turned on Geoffrey, his eyes blazing. “The story is that Caerdig decided that if he could not have Enide as his wife, then no man should have her, and so while she was at church—”
    â€œIngram!” pleaded Barlow, glancing nervously at Geoffrey. “Sir Geoffrey has been good to us, and there is no need to anger him. Say no more.”
    Ingram ignored him, still