The Elephants of Norwich

Chapter Nine

Ralph Delchard was soon regretting his decision to embark on a hunt for Jocelyn the Anchorite. Forced to leave the castle when he was only half awake, he missed the comfort of a soft bed and the presence of his wife beside him. He also began to have doubts about the wisdom of searching for a man who, whatever else he might be, was obviously neither a thief nor a murderer. The confidence of the night before had vanished and he was sceptical about his chances of finding the anchorite at the exact spot suggested by Gervase Bret. Because he had retained a tiny pocket of land, it did not mean that Jocelyn Vavasour still inhabited it. All sorts of motives might have prompted him to hang on to the last vestige of his estates. The instinct that prompted Ralph to go there now seemed like recklessness. The further they went, the less certain he became, chiding himself for setting out on what might well be a long, wasted journey.

The one saving grace was that Eustace Coureton had volunteered to accompany him, intrigued, like Ralph, by the notion of a soldier’s becoming a hermit. Defying his years, Coureton was up early and without complaint. Four of his men rode with two from Ralph’s escort to give the search party some flexibility and to safeguard the two royal commissioners who rode at the head of the little cavalcade. They went north-west from the city, making the most of the early start before the sun was fully up to dazzle their eyes and set the sweat running beneath their hauberks. Flat terrain made for swift progress. They met no obstacles on the way.

Sensing his friend’s mood, Coureton tried to cheer him up. ‘I’m sure that this visit will be profitable,’ he said.

‘Will it?’ moaned Ralph. ‘What if we don’t find the man in the Holt hundred?’

‘Then we look elsewhere.’

‘Why, my lord?’

‘Because it’s important.’

‘What can he tell us?’

‘When and for what reason he gave those gold elephants to the abbey.’

‘It was when he took leave of his senses and became an anchorite.’ Coureton smiled. ‘I can see that such a life has no appeal for you.’

‘What’s the point of needless suffering?’

‘It isn’t needless. You should talk to Brother Daniel.’

‘No, thank you,’ said Ralph, rolling his eyes. ‘I like the man as much as I could bring myself to like any Benedictine but I heard all that Brother Daniel had to say on our ride to the abbey. On the way back, I heard it all for the second time.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘At least, he didn’t try to quote Horace at me.’

‘Is that a complaint?’

‘No, it was a gasp of relief.’

‘I take the hint,’ said Coureton, affably. ‘Even though my beloved poet wrote a line that describes your state of mind perfectly.’

‘Me?’ said Ralph.

‘Yes. Post equitem sedet atra Cura.’

‘Does it come with a translation?’

‘It comes with my translation, though Gervase and Brother Daniel might give you slight variations of their own. My version is this. “At the rider’s back sits dark Anxiety.” Am I right?’

‘Not quite. It’s more a case of sheer irritation.’

‘At whom?’

‘Myself,’ said Ralph, disconsolately. ‘My convictions don’t seem so trustworthy in the light of day. I have a horrible feeling that we’ll never find this elusive anchorite, and that even if we do he’ll be of no practical use to us.’

‘I disagree,’ said Coureton. ‘When I woke up, I felt that fortune would smile on us this morning. We’ll track the fellow down, I’m convinced of it. He is, after all, entitled to know the fate of those gold elephants. They have great significance for him. Don’t forget that we’re talking about someone who went all the way to Rome on foot in order to acquire those treasures. They were blessed by the Pope.’

‘I don’t care if they were made by St Peter and polished by the Archangel Gabriel. Popes are not held in high esteem by me. Nor,’ added Ralph, grimacing, ‘are bishops, monks, nuns and anchorites.’

‘I’ll wager that Jocelyn Vavasour might be the exception.’

‘Will you back that wager with your purse?’ Coureton laughed. ‘I’m not that headstrong. I’m just more optimistic than you. What I can say is that we’ll most definitely find him.’

‘And what do we gain from that?’

‘An interesting story, to start with. Come, Ralph,’ said the other, ‘you’re as eager as I am to know why he traded in his hauberk for the holy cross. He was one of us, born and brought up in Normandy, moulded into a warrior just as we were. Why did we end up as royal commissioners while he prefers the company of birds and a Bible?’

‘I’m very keen to learn that,’ conceded Ralph, ‘but that’s a personal matter. I’m just having second thoughts about his usefulness to our inquiry. How can a hermit possibly help us to solve a murder?’

‘By giving us the history of the treasures whose theft started the whole business off.’

‘And?’

‘By telling us what he knows about some of the characters we’ve so far met.’

‘Such as?’

‘Olova,’ said Coureton. ‘That potent lady whom Gervase and I visited yesterday. I may speak Latin and Greek but I’ve never felt my deficiency in the Saxon tongue more painfully than in her hut. I was longing to speak to Olova.’

‘Why didn’t you try a line or two from Horace on her?’

‘I don’t think she’d have much sympathy for noble Romans, somehow. But she and her husband did have sympathy for the abbey of St Benet, it seems. According to Gervase, they endowed the place generously.’

‘Was that a case of generosity or spite?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ve seen it so often, Eustace,’ said the other. ‘Wealthy Saxons who gave property to a monastic foundation to save it from falling into the hands of people like us.’

‘That wasn’t what happened here, I’m sure. Olova may have been aggressive but I detected a piety about her as well. She and her husband donated that land to the abbey out of Christian impulse. That gives her an immediate connection with Jocelyn Vavasour.’

‘Except that he took his Christian impulse to extremes.’

‘He must have known Olova. Some of his holdings were in the same hundred as hers. He also had land in the Taverham hundred at one time so he must have been acquainted with Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot. And if he knew them, he’d be familiar with their respective stewards. You see?’ Coureton, reached across to pat his companion on the shoulder. ‘He knows almost everyone of importance. This anchorite will tell us things that we could never get from anyone else.’

‘That’s true,’ admitted Ralph, revived by the thought.

‘You can even discuss Abbot Alfwold with him.’

‘And poor Brother Joseph.’

‘I told you that an anchorite would be able to help us.’

‘In more ways than one,’ said Ralph, buoyed up. ‘I’d like to hear what he has to say about the movement of property in this county. A man who’s willingly forfeited his lands has no vested interest. Jocelyn Vavasour will be honest and dispassionate. He’ll know who stole what from whom and be prepared to name them. It may well be,’ he went on, grinning as the idea took a firm hold, ‘that he can provide weaponry for us to use in the shire hall against the likes of the lord Richard and his ilk. Imagine that. It’ll save us endless time.’

‘Doesn’t that make you glad you got up early today?’

‘No,’ replied Ralph, still grinning.

‘It must have some benevolent effect.’

‘It does, Eustace. It makes the pain easier to bear.’

Riding in pairs, the travellers clattered over a rickety bridge and continued on their way. Their eyes were trained on the twisting road ahead. None of them thought to look over their shoulders and therefore remained completely unaware of the fact that they were being trailed by a man at a cautious distance.

The decision to make the visit had been reached after a long debate with his fellow commissioners and Roger Bigot on the previous night. Since it called for tact and diplomacy, Gervase was felt to be the best person to send on the embassy. While Ralph and Coureton were riding in the direction of the Holt hundred, therefore, he was making his way to the estate of Richard de Fontenel, accompanied by Brother Daniel and two of Eustace Coureton’s men-at-arms. The monk was as talkative as ever.

‘The lord Eustace speaks Latin better than I do,’ he confessed.

‘But for a different purpose,’ said Gervase. ‘His interest is in ancient Rome.’

‘Mine is in eternal life.’

‘You have something in common, then. His passion is for the Eternal City.’

‘St Augustine wrote unforgettably about it.’

‘I know, but he didn’t have Rome in mind.’

Gervase was pleased to be riding beside the monk, even though the latter’s shortcomings as a horseman were all too apparent. It gave the young commissioner an opportunity to ask about the discoveries of the previous day. Having already heard Ralph’s version of events, he wanted to see if it tallied with that of Brother Daniel.

‘Did you enjoy the visit to the abbey?’ he asked.

‘Very much.’

‘Why?’

The monk needed no more invitation. He gave a detailed account of the journey, the architecture of the abbey and the people they met within it. Nothing he said contradicted Ralph’s version but it was considerably embellished. The monk may have said little but he had looked and listened with care.

‘What did you make of the sacristan?’ asked Gervase.

‘He was far too trusting. He should never have been taken in by a guest.’

‘We’re not absolutely certain that’s what happened, Brother Daniel.’

‘What other explanation is there?’ said the monk. ‘Someone stole those gold elephants from the abbey. They didn’t stampede out of there of their own accord. They were taken by Starculf and given to the lord Richard.’

‘Even though Starculf swore revenge against his former master?’

‘An intermediary must have been involved. Hermer, perhaps.’

‘Starculf hated the man.’

‘Those elephants came into the lord Richard’s possession somehow.’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘That’s why we’re going to see him. But we must be sure not to accuse him of anything, Brother Daniel. That will get us nowhere. We must try to draw information out of him by more subtle means.’

‘I’ll leave the talking to you.’

‘Watch his reactions.’

‘From what I’ve heard about the lord Richard,’ said Daniel, worriedly, ‘you’d be well advised to watch how close his hand gets to his sword. He’s inclined to violence.’

‘Only if he’s provoked. Ours will be a softer approach.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

Men were working in the fields as they drove past. They looked up briefly at the passing visitors before returning to their work. Sheep were the only animals on view, scuttling out of their way with noisy protests. When the travellers got to the manor house, a servant met them at the door. They were soon conducted into the empty parlour. While Gervase took a swift inventory, Daniel clicked his tongue at the ostentatious display of wealth in the room.

Richard de Fontenel swept into the parlour, more puzzled than irked by their unannounced visit. Gervase performed the introductions but that only deepened the lines in their host’s forehead.

‘Why have a royal commissioner and a monk come to see me?’ he wondered.

‘We come in other guises, my lord,’ explained Gervase. ‘I’m helping the lord sheriff to solve the crimes that have occurred here and Brother Daniel is the person who actually stumbled on the dead body of your steward.’

‘I shudder whenever I recall it,’ said Daniel.

‘What exactly happened?’ pressed de Fontenel, interested to hear. ‘Why did you look into that derelict house in the first place and what state was Hermer in when you saw him?’

Brother Daniel took a deep breath before he told his story once again. Gervase was grateful to him. He could see the effort that it was costing the monk but the grim details were lapped up by their host. When they were offered seats, the visitors began to feel more welcome. Richard de Fontenel wanted to know everything that the monk could tell him, making him repeat some parts of his narrative. Beneath the man’s simmering anger, Gervase could sense a real affection for the dead steward.

‘Thank you,’ said de Fontenel at length. ‘I’m glad to hear it all from your own lips, Brother Daniel. It was good of you to come here.’

‘That wasn’t the only reason for our visit, my lord,’ said Gervase, taking over. ‘I’m here on the lord sheriff’s behalf to talk about the theft that took place.’

‘Well?’

‘I understand that the objects stolen were extremely valuable.’

‘They were solid gold, Master Bret, and fashioned in Italy.’

‘Is that where you bought them?’ asked Gervase, softly.

‘Not exactly.’

‘Then how did they come into your hands?’

‘Does that matter?’

‘I’m afraid it does, my lord.’

‘A merchant sold them to me,’ said de Fontenel briskly. ‘When I was in Normandy, I heard that this man had something very special to sell and it was exactly what I needed at that particular time. So I bought the elephants from him.’

‘In Normandy?’

‘Further south than that, Master Bret.’

‘When was this, my lord?’

‘Quite recently.’

‘Could you be more specific, please?’

‘It must have been — what? — ten or twelve days ago. I only returned to England earlier this week. The two elephants were a gift. Before I could present them to the person for whom they were intended, they were stolen and my steward was murdered.’

‘Let’s just concentrate on the elephants,’ suggested Gervase. ‘Would you describe the merchant from whom you bought them as an honest man?’

‘Of course.’

‘You had no reason to doubt him?’

‘Why should I?’

‘Because what he sold you, my lord, was stolen property.’

‘Never!’

‘It was,’ maintained Gervase, ‘and I think that your memory may be at fault with regard to the precise time of the purchase. Ten or twelve days ago, you said.’

‘That’s when it was, Master Bret.’

‘Somewhere in France.’

‘Do you have any proof to the contrary?’

‘I don’t, my lord, but Brother Daniel has.’

‘Yes,’ said the monk, taking up his cue. ‘I had the pleasure of visiting the abbey of St Benet at Holme yesterday. According to Brother Joseph, the sacristan, those gold elephants belonged to them and were regarded as holy objects. Unfortunately, they were stolen from the abbey church at the very time you claim to have bought them in France.’

Richard de Fontenel’s face was ashen. There was a long pause before he spoke. ‘I think there’s been a mistake,’ he said at last. ‘The elephants that I bought didn’t come from Holme. They may have been similar to the ones stolen from the abbey but they couldn’t possibly have been the same ones.’

‘We believe that they might be, my lord,’ said Gervase.

‘But that’s impossible!’

‘On the face of it, yes. The objects could hardly have been taken from the abbey and sold in France on the same day. As far as I’m aware, elephants don’t fly.’

‘Don’t jest with me, Master Bret.’

‘I’m in earnest, my lord.’

Brother Daniel nodded vigorously. ‘Theft of holy treasures is an abomination.’

‘I didn’t steal them!’ shouted de Fontenel.

‘Nobody is suggesting that you did, my lord,’ said Gervase. ‘Our fear is that you were the victim of an unscrupulous merchant. In which case, the transaction between the two of you must have taken place more recently than you have told us.’

‘Well, yes, that’s true,’ mumbled the other. ‘I can’t be precise about the date.’

‘It would have taken days for them to reach you in France.’

‘I’m aware of that, Master Bret,’ said de Fontenel through gritted teeth. ‘But I’m still not convinced that the gift I bought in good faith came from the abbey of St Benet. Who gave you the idea that it did?’

‘Judicael the Goldsmith.’

‘He’s never seen my elephants.’

‘He hasn’t seen the ones at the abbey either,’ said Gervase, patiently, ‘but he had a very clear description of them from a goldsmith who had. That description matched in every detail the one you gave to the lord sheriff. The objects are quite unique. There’s no room for error here.’

‘There must be!’

‘Two holy treasures are stolen from an abbey and you buy identical objects shortly afterwards? No, my lord. That would be far too great a coincidence. In any case,’ said Gervase, blithely, ‘the matter will soon be resolved.’

‘How?’

‘When the elephants are recovered, the abbot and sacristan will be able to identify them as belonging to the abbey. You’ll be allowed to examine them yourself, of course, but there’ll be an even more important witness.’

‘Witness?’ echoed de Fontenel.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘The man who presented the gift to the abbey — Jocelyn Vavasour.’

‘But he’s disappeared. The lord Jocelyn has become an anchorite.’

‘My colleagues are on their way to find him at this very moment.’

Richard de Fontenel was checked. His jaw tightened and his eyes darted. He was mortified by the notion that, even if they were located, the missing elephants would not be returned to him. His wedding gift would be confiscated and his plans thrown into confusion. He was caught unawares by the next question from Gervase.

‘Does the name Olova mean anything to you, my lord?’

‘Who?’ said the other, blinking in surprise.

‘Olova. She lives in the Henstead hundred. Your steward had dealings with her.’

‘That may well be, Master Bret. I didn’t keep track of every person that Hermer saw in the course of his duties. I’ve never heard of this Olova.’

‘Even though you acquired land that once belonged to her?’

‘It was done legally, I assure you.’

‘Not in her opinion. The lady is ready to challenge you in the shire hall.’

‘Let her.’

‘She didn’t speak too highly of your steward.’

‘You’ve talked to her?’

‘The lord Eustace and I rode out to see Olova yesterday.’

‘Do you give preference to a Saxon?’ said de Fontenel, flaring up. ‘The place to settle a dispute is in the shire hall, not behind my back. I’ll register the strongest complaint about this, Master Bret. Judges should be quite impartial.’

‘Olova made no attempt to influence me, my lord,’ Gervase assured him.

‘Then why visit the woman?’

‘To seek her views on another subject.’

‘You went all that way to listen to an embittered old Saxon crone?’

‘Olova is half Danish, my lord. Her late husband was a thegn with estates large enough to match your own. I found Olova a woman of intelligence and determination.’

‘Neither will do her any good when she takes me on in the shire hall.’

‘Are you trying to influence a commissioner, my lord?’ said Daniel, waspishly.

‘Not at all,’ blustered the other. ‘I didn’t introduce Olova into the conversation.’

‘The only reason that I do so,’ said Gervase, ‘was that she talked about Hermer. She was less than grief-stricken when I told her of his fate.’

‘I’m not interested in her, Master Bret.’

‘Then let’s forget her for the moment, my lord. What I wanted to ask you about was your steward’s hands. Why do you think they were cut off?’

‘Sheer savagery!’

‘I was appalled when I saw the mutilation,’ recalled Daniel.

‘The hands were returned to you,’ resumed Gervase. ‘Why was that, my lord?’

‘I wish I knew.’

‘Was it a symbolic gesture, perhaps?’

‘Symbolic of a brutal mind. It would be typical of the lord Mauger.’

‘The lord sheriff has absolved him of the crime.’

‘I know,’ grunted the other, ‘and I’ve learned for certain that it was not his doing.’

“How?’

‘That doesn’t concern you, Master Bret,’ said the other, eager to move them on their way. ‘You come at an awkward time. I’m a busy man and have much to do. If you’ve told me all you came to say, I’ll bid you farewell.’

The visitors rose to their feet and walked across to the door, where Gervase halted. ‘I believe that you once employed a man called Starculf,’ he said.

‘Not for long. He was dismissed.’

‘What did he look like, my lord?’

‘A tall, handsome, upstanding young fellow. A strong one, too, who used to be a falconer. To look in his face, you’d have thought him the soul of honesty. But he let me down, Master Bret. Nobody does that with impunity.’

‘So I understand.’

There was an exchange of farewells, then Gervase led the way out. It was only when they were riding away from the house at a trot that he spoke to his companion. ‘What did you learn from that, Brother Daniel?’

‘That the lord Richard is a poor liar. He didn’t buy those elephants in France.’

‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘He knew exactly where they came from. He may not have stolen them in person but I’m certain that he instigated the theft. Without knowing it, he may even have told us who the thief was.’

‘It wasn’t Starculf,’ said the monk. ‘The description he gave of the man was nothing like the one we had from the sacristan at the abbey. Brother Joseph told us that the thief was short, stocky and thirty years or more. He was no handsome young man.’

‘The sacristan was not describing Starculf at all, Brother Daniel.’

‘Then who was he talking about?’

‘Hermer.’

Drogo had important news to report. Expecting approval, he strutted into the house with more confidence than he had shown when he left it. Mauger Livarot was in the parlour, fastening the gold brooch that held his mantle on. He swung round on his steward. ‘Well?’

‘I’ve spoken to my man at the castle, my lord.’

‘What did he say?’

‘There’s much activity there. Ralph Delchard and Eustace Coureton rode off at dawn in search of Jocelyn Vavasour.’

‘Why?’

‘He didn’t know, my lord. He simply overheard them talking about going to the Holt hundred. That’s where they believe they’ll find him.’

‘I thought that the lord Jocelyn became an anchorite.’

‘He did. Nobody quite knows where he is.’

‘They must be very anxious to track him down,’ said Livarot, stroking his chin, ‘though what use a holy man is to them, I fail to see.’ He gave a cackle. ‘Unless they want the mad fool to bless their enterprise.’

Drogo preened himself. ‘I’ll know more detail in due course,’ he said. ‘As soon as I heard where they’d gone, I sent a man off in pursuit. He’ll shadow them all the way.’

‘Well done, Drogo.’

‘The lord sheriff is also being followed.’

‘How is Roger Bigot spending the day?’

‘Searching for one of the men they suspect — Starculf.’

‘That’ll keep him busy. Is Olivier Romain with him?’

‘Yes, my lord. They’re making every effort to hunt the man down.’

‘Then we must get to him first,’ said Livarot. ‘I remember Starculf well. He was driven off the lord Richard’s estates. Rough treatment breeds revenge. Find him, Drogo. Organise a search of your own.’

‘I’ve already done so,’ said the other, complacently.

‘Good.’

‘We’ll recover those gold elephants somehow, my lord, I promise you that. We might even catch a murderer into the bargain.’

‘All that I’m interested in is a pair of elephants. As for the man who killed Hermer, I’m more likely to congratulate him than hand him over to face justice. Hermer was as loathsome as his master,’ Livarot sneered. ‘I’ve been saved the trouble of killing him myself.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Two commissioners have ridden off, you say. What of the other?’

‘Gervase Bret is paying a call on the lord Richard.’

‘Oh?’

‘Brother Daniel, their scribe, was in attendance.’

‘You have eyes everywhere, Drogo.’

‘I spend money wisely, my lord. But we’ll soon know what passed between the lord Richard and his visitors. I have eyes and ears inside that manor house. I’ve arranged to meet Clamahoc later,’ the steward said airily. ‘He’ll tell me every word that was spoken.’

‘This is cheering news, Drogo. I sense that we’re moving forward.’

‘We are, my lord.’

‘Is there anything else to report?’

‘Not unless you wish to hear about the commissioners’ wives?’

‘Have they gone in search of Starculf as well?’

‘No, my lord,’ said Drogo, washing his hands in the air. ‘They accepted an invitation to visit the lady Adelaide. I dare say they’re on their way back to the castle by now. Unfortunately, I have no spy in that particular household.’

‘We don’t need one,’ boasted the other. ‘I’m on my way to see the lady Adelaide myself. With careful questioning, I’m sure that I can find out exactly what happened when the two ladies called on her. The lady Adelaide confides in me.’

‘With good reason.’ Drogo followed his master out and waited while Livarot mounted the horse that was saddled in readiness for him. Reins in his hand, the latter looked down at his steward with a puzzled expression.

‘Where does he fit into all this?’ he asked.

‘Who, my lord?’

‘I can understand why men are out in search of Starculf and I can think of many reasons why one of the commissioners should want to question the lord Richard. But it simply doesn’t make sense to go haring off in pursuit of a crazed anchorite.’

‘That surprised me as well,’ admitted the other.

Mauger Livarot shook his head in bafflement. ‘What possible use can Jocelyn Vavasour be to them?’

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he ignored the sharp pinch of the wind as it came in off the sea with mischievous intent. He was too engrossed in his work to feel the periodic hot embrace of the sun as well. Vavasour was using a knife to carve a small piece of driftwood. It was slow, careful, demanding work that allowed for no lapse of concentration. He did not even lift his head when eight riders approached him from behind. It was only when the wading birds suddenly took to the air in fright that he realised he had company. The anchorite turned to look up at his visitors.

Ralph Delchard was the first to dismount and stride across to him. ‘We’re looking for Jocelyn Vavasour,’ he announced.

‘Then your journey has been in vain, my lord,’ said the other, getting up. ‘He doesn’t exist any more.’

‘In that case, I’ll talk to Jocelyn the Anchorite. Do you answer to that name?’

‘Not by choice.’

‘You’re ashamed of your calling?’

‘I’m embarrassed by company, my lord. I chose an hermetic life in order to shun it. I’ve never had to answer to any name since I came to this place. Why have you sought me out?’

Ralph signalled to the escort and the men dismounted, glad to be out of the saddle and able to water their horses. Then he introduced himself and Coureton, explaining that they had suspended their work as royal commissioner while they helped the sheriff with a murder investigation.

‘I know nothing about any murder.’

‘There’s a related crime,’ said Ralph. ‘The theft of two gold elephants.’

‘From the abbey?’ said Vavasour, anxiously.

‘Initially.’

‘Who took them?’

‘We’re not entirely sure. Let me tell you the sequence of events.’

The anchorite grew increasingly tense as he listened to Ralph’s account. An anger he had not felt for years began to surge up inside him. He banked it down as best he could.

‘Those elephants were holy treasures,’ he declared. ‘They belong to the abbey.’

‘When we find them, they’ll be returned there.’

‘But you have no idea where they are.’

‘We will do in time,’ said Coureton.

‘Yes,’ said Ralph, confidently. ‘They obviously came into the lord Richard’s hands by some nefarious means. In one sense, justice has been served. The original thief is now the victim of a theft himself.’

‘I care nothing for that,’ said Vavasour. ‘Those elephants are highly important to me, my lord. They symbolise a solemn vow I made. I went to Rome as a soldier and came back as a new man.’

‘What took you there in the first place?’ asked Coureton.

‘Shame and disgust.’

‘At what?’

‘Myself, my life, my dreadful sins.’

‘You were a soldier like us. You did as you were told.’

‘No, my lord,’ admitted the other, gloomily. ‘I did more than that. Some killed because they had to but I did it to satisfy a lust that raged inside me. Do you recall the penances imposed on us by Bishop Ermenfrid of Sitten?’

‘What do bishops know of warfare?’ said Ralph.

‘They can see the results strewn all over the battlefield. Like you, I suspect, I paid little heed to the penitentiary when it was issued. But its decrees slowly took hold on me. Bishop Ermenfrid was the papal legate. He spoke with the authority of the head of the Roman Catholic Church. Would you defy the Pope himself?’

‘It depends on the circumstances.’

‘Did both of you fight at Hastings?’

‘We did,’ confirmed Coureton.

‘Then you will know what the first decree was,’ said Vavasour. ‘“Any man who knows that he killed a man in the great battle must do penance for one year for each man that he killed.” The next decree was just as unequivocal. “Anyone who wounded a man and does not know whether he killed him or not must do penance for forty days for each man he struck (if he can remember the number), either continuously or at intervals.” That is what was ordered.’

‘We know, my friend. And rightly so.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ said Ralph.

‘You both know mine,’ continued Vavasour, holding his arms out wide so that they could see his ragged attire. ‘I killed or wounded seven men at Hastings. And that was only the start of it. Don’t tell me that I was young and impulsive. I revelled in the slaughter. I fought on the Welsh border, in the north and in several other battles. I helped to smoke out Hereward the Wake from the Fens. A year of penance for every man I killed or mutilated? I’d not live long enough to manage that.’

‘Is that what led your footsteps to Rome?’ asked Coureton.

‘I went in search of forgiveness.’

‘Did you find it?’

‘In some small measure, my lord. Everything I possessed was harvested by the sword. I gave it all away. Since the abbey of St Benet lay close to land I once owned, I wanted to bestow something special on it.’

‘Two gold elephants.’

‘Beasts of burden transformed into holy treasures. They were magnificent,’ said Vavasour, wistfully. He turned to Ralph. ‘We must find them. I won’t rest until they’re back where they belong. I’ll do anything to achieve that.’

‘Good,’ said Ralph. ‘The first thing you can do is to tell us what they looked like. The simple truth is that we’ve never seen a real elephant. To be honest, I thought they were creatures of fable. I had grave doubts that they actually existed.’

‘Oh, they exist, my lord,’ affirmed Vavasour. ‘When I was in Rome, I had the good fortune to see a live elephant with my own eyes. The animal had been brought back from Africa and was kept in a huge cage.’

‘Describe it to us,’ urged Ralph.

‘The sheer size is what first strikes you. The creature was enormous. Stand on its back and you could probably look over the walls of Norwich Castle. Then there was this curious nose,’ said Vavasour. ‘It’s a long trunk that reaches right down to the ground and is used by the elephant to feed itself. I watched it in Rome using its trunk to load hay into its mouth. That’s the other strange thing,’ he added. ‘Though it’s by far the largest of all animals, it doesn’t prey on any of the others. Elephants eat no meat. They feed entirely off leaves, shoots and grass.’

‘They sound like gentle giants,’ observed Coureton.

‘There was a lumbering gentleness about the one I saw,’ recalled Vavasour, ‘but there was also a tremendous strength. To defend itself, it has two vast tusks of ivory that stick out either side of its trunk. Even a lion would think twice about attacking a beast as large and powerful as an elephant.’

‘I still can’t picture it in my mind,’ admitted Ralph. ‘As high as Norwich castle, you say, and with a trunk and ivory tusks.’

‘And two great ears that flap like wings.’

‘I’m more confused than ever now.’

‘Then let me help you, my lord,’ said Vavasour with a smile. ‘If you really want to know what an elephant looks like, I can show you because I’ve been trying to fashion one myself.’

He held up the piece of wood that he had been carving so painstakingly. It was a miniature elephant, reproducing all the features he had just described to them. Ralph and Coureton stared in astonishment at the object.

‘So that’s what all this is about, is it?’ said Ralph. ‘Now, I understand.’

Gervase Bret was pleased with what he had learned from his visit to Richard de Fontenel but disappointed that Ralph Delchard was not at the castle to hear about it. He repaired to his apartment in the keep and was delighted to find both Alys and Golde there, deep in conversation about their own visit that morning. He settled down on a bench.

‘How were you received by the lady Adelaide?’ he asked.

‘Very warmly,’ said Alys. ‘She was glad to see us.’

‘But not for the reason we thought,’ added Golde.

‘Why not?’ he said.

‘I thought that we’d be questioning her, Gervase, but we were the ones providing all the answers. The lady Adelaide showed a very keen interest in your work.’

‘Did she?’

‘Yes. She was very subtle about it, but it was almost as if she were trying to wheedle something out of us for her own advantage.’

‘Will she be appearing before you in any dispute?’ said Alys.

‘No, my love,’ he replied. ‘But two friends of hers will.’

‘Lady Adelaide’s two suitors?’

‘I wonder which one of them put her up to it?’

‘Neither, in my view,’ decided Golde. ‘The lady Adelaide is a person who knows how to look out for herself. And she likes to flaunt her wealth, doesn’t she, Alys?’

‘Oh, yes! Her house was a small palace.’

‘No wonder she has two men after her,’ observed Gervase.

Golde raised an eyebrow. ‘They’re not only interested in her house.’

Helped by Alys, she gave him a detailed account of their visit, admitting that she could not entirely make up her mind about the lady Adelaide. Of the latter’s essential kindness and intelligence there could be no doubt, but Golde suspected that there might be a darker side to the woman.

‘She was using us, Gervase.’

‘To what end?’

‘That’s what I couldn’t quite understand. But we felt manipulated.’

‘I felt overwhelmed,’ said Alys. ‘I’ve never been in a house like that before.’

‘You’re staying in a castle,’ teased Gervase. ‘What could be grander than this?’

‘It wasn’t just a question of size. It was the way that the lady Adelaide lived. Wherever we looked, we saw the woman’s touch. She has that house exactly the way that she wants it, doesn’t she, Golde?’

‘Yes. I can’t see her giving it up to marry either the lord Richard or the lord Mauger. She belongs there. It fits her so snugly.’

‘The lady Adelaide would hardly invite a husband to join her there,’ said Gervase. ‘If any house were surrendered, it would naturally have to be hers.’ He became pensive. ‘Did she say anything about the theft of the elephants?’

‘No more than we’ve already told you.’

‘Yet she was in the lord Richard’s house when they were stolen.’

‘She’s very conscious of that.’

‘What she did say was that she had an obsession about gold,’ recalled Alys. ‘If I had the opportunity, I dare say that I’d be the same.’ She beamed at her husband. ‘Would you buy a pair of gold elephants for me?’

‘Not this particular pair, my love,’ he said. ‘They’re too troublesome.’

‘But if you had the money, you’d spoil me, wouldn’t you?’

‘He already has,’ said Golde, fondly. ‘Gervase married you.’

‘Yes. That’s better than any amount of gold.’

He grinned shyly. ‘I’m very flattered, Alys, but it doesn’t get us anywhere nearer to solving either of these crimes. I’m still thinking about the fact that the lady Adelaide was with the lord Richard at the exact moment they and Hermer disappeared.’

‘So?’

‘Could it be that she was deliberately keeping him occupied?’

‘You mean that she was party to the crime, Gervase? Oh, no!’

‘I’m not so sure,’ said Golde, ruminating. ‘The lady Adelaide would certainly not be involved in murder but I fancy that she’d go to any lengths to acquire something whose sparkle attracted her enough. She’s very single-minded.’

‘She must be,’ said Gervase, ‘to be able to keep men like the lord Richard and the lord Mauger at bay. There’s more than singlemindedness in action there. The lady Adelaide is not easily dismayed, either. Brother Daniel was shocked to the core when he chanced on that dead body but the murder didn’t put the lady Adelaide off her food. She was also the one person who remained calm when Richard de Fontenel burst in.’

Alys shivered. ‘That was terrifying,’ she said. ‘Is it always like this when you visit a city as a royal commissioner, Gervase? Theft, murder, violence and heaven knows what else? Is this what usually happens?’

‘Our work is never entirely without incident, my love.’

‘That’s putting it mildly,’ said Golde. ‘What will you do next?’

‘Nothing at all until I’ve spoken to Ralph. And I’ll want a word with the sheriff to see if he has any news about Starculf’s whereabouts. Beyond that, I’m not sure, to be honest.’ He got to his feet. ‘I know what I’d like to do.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Pay a second visit to Olova.’

‘Is she the lady in the Henstead hundred?’ said Alys.

‘Yes, my love,’ he said, touching her shoulder. ‘It was wrong of me to ride there with the lord Eustace and an armed escort. Olova was a Saxon lady who’s suffered much at the hands of Norman soldiers. I just couldn’t get through to her properly.’

‘Do you think it was important to do so?’

‘Very important, Alys. I’m certain that Olova knew more than she told me.’

Golde smiled. ‘Would you like me to speak to her?’ she offered.

Drogo the Steward was annoyed when he reached the appointed place and saw no sign of either the man or his horse. It was so untypical of Clamahoc. He was always very punctual. Drogo made sure of that. The servant had been corrupted by a judicious mixture of threat and money. He was too involved to turn back, too frightened of the consequences. Drogo resolved to instil his own brand of fear when the man finally arrived. His spy would be roundly chastised for his lateness. Dismounting from his horse, the steward tethered it to one of the bushes. He and Clamahoc always met near that copse, taking advantage of its cover and its convenient position midway between the two estates. In the shade of the trees, much invaluable information had been passed between them.

No more would be forthcoming. Drogo had the odd sensation that he was not alone. When a muted groan came from the heart of the copse, he reached for his dagger. A second groan gave him some idea of where to go and he pushed his way cautiously through the undergrowth. It did not take him long to find him. Clamahoc had been punctual, after all. Lying face down on the ground, he squirmed and twitched in agony, his bare back crisscrossed with lacerations and smeared with dried blood. A savage punishment had taken him close to death.

Drogo let out a cry of alarm then used a tentative foot to turn the man over. ‘Who did this to you?’ he demanded.

But his spy imparted no useful information this time. His tongue had been cut out.