The Foxes of Warwick

Chapter Ten

The ride north to Coventry gave Ralph and Gervase an opportunity to assess the situation more thoroughly and to make contingency plans. It also took them through countryside which, even when dressed in the starkness of winter, had an undeniable beauty.

As woodland gave way to undulating fields which seemed to roll on for ever, they came to understand why so many holdings in the county were the subject of dispute. Nobody would yield an acre of such prime land unless they were forced to do so. While surveying the scene all around them, Ralph and Gervase rode ahead of their escort and raised their voices above the clatter of the hoofbeats.

‘What if the old man is not in Coventry?’ said Ralph.

‘He will be.’

‘How can you be so certain?’

‘I sense it, Ralph.’

‘He may have moved on by now.’

‘There is no other town in the north of Warwickshire,’ argued Gervase. ‘The weather alone will encourage him to stay in Coventry. If he travels by donkey he does not move fast so he will think twice about braving a long journey to the next town of any size. And the one thing we do know about him is that he is old. He will pace himself.’

‘I wish that I could,’ said Ralph. ‘I grow weary.’

‘That is nonsense!’

‘No, it is not.’

‘Be honest. You are glad to be back in the saddle again.’

‘Am I?’

‘Would you rather be ensconced at the shire hall?’

‘Listening to that dreary debate? Never, Gervase. There was a point yesterday afternoon when I thought that I would die of boredom.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘You are right. I prefer action. We just have to hope that our journey will not be in vain.’

‘It will not.’

‘It will be if the blacksmith is taken.’

‘My guess is that he will elude them somehow,’ said Gervase.

‘If he has the guile to escape from the castle he will know how to hide from the posse at his heels.’

‘The lord Henry is determined. He will search every blade of grass in the county until he finds him.’

‘By that time, we may have proved Boio’s innocence.’

‘We will need more than the old man’s testimony.’

‘We will find it, Ralph. On our return journey, we will take the road to Roundshill and call on Asmoth. There is much she has held back. I am sure that she has valuable information about Boio if only we can coax it out of her. She may even know where he is hiding.’

‘Would she trust us enough to tell us?’

‘I do not know.’

‘She is more likely to confide in you than me, Gervase. My presence may be a handicap, as it was with Thorkell. Here’s my device,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘We must split up.

You go to Roundshill to find Asmoth and take the old man with you.’

‘What about you?’

‘I will pay another visit to Grimketel,’ said Ralph, ‘but I will not make the mistake of calling on Adam Reynard first. That fat fox was too eager to stop us from going to Grimketel’s house ourselves. He sent that servant to fetch him and forewarn him at the same time. Why? What was he trying to hide when he kept us away from Grimketel’s house?’

‘There is only one way to find out.’

‘The old man. Asmoth. Grimketel. Who else must we look at?’

‘Henry Beaumont himself.’

Ralph was amazed. ‘Our host?’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘I have been wondering why he was so anxious to speed up Boio’s trial when he could wait until the sheriff returns and hand over the whole matter to him. The lord Henry has some personal reason to send the blacksmith to the grave, to bury him swiftly alongside Martin Reynard. Look at the way he reacted to the escape.’

‘He was understandably annoyed.’

‘He was frantic, Ralph. If the castle were being attacked he would not have called his men to arms with more vigour. The whole garrison is out on Boio’s trail. Does that not tell you how desperate the lord Henry is to find him?’

‘His prisoner escaped. The lord Henry’s pride was hurt.’

‘More than his pride may be involved here.’

‘What else?’

‘His own sense of guilt.’

‘You are surely not saying that he was responsible for Martin Reynard’s death?’

‘He is implicated somehow.’

‘But the reeve was once a member of his own household.’

‘That is what confirms my suspicion.’

‘The lord Henry?’ mused Ralph. ‘It seems unlikely but it is not beyond the bounds of possibility, I suppose. We would have a better chance of judging if we knew the real reason that Reynard left his employ. I have asked Golde to see what she can learn on that score. Well,’ he said cheerfully, ‘at least we have some suspects now. Grimketel, that devious Adam Reynard and the lord Henry. None of them did the deed himself but he might hire someone for the purpose.’

‘So might our other suspect.’

‘There is another?’

‘There may be,’ said Gervase. ‘The lord Henry made a jest of it but the man might still warrant investigation. He is as resolute as Adam Reynard in pursuit of those disputed holdings. The loss of his reeve at such a critical moment will disadvantage Thorkell when he pleads his case in the shire hall, but it will greatly help his rivals.’

Ralph blinked. ‘Do I hear you aright, Gervase?’

‘We must examine every option here.’

‘Would such a man instigate a murder?’

‘If he stood to gain enough by it, Ralph. And if he was sufficiently ruthless. I do not know him and hesitate to malign him but there are rumours about the way that he acquired land to the north of Coventry. It is said that forgery was involved.’ He turned to his companion. ‘If a man will condone forgery, is it such a big step to approve of homicide?’

‘No, it is not.’

‘Let us make full use of our time in Coventry.’

‘Call on him to make his acquaintance?’

‘Yes, Ralph,’ said Gervase seriously. ‘It may pay us to take a shrewd look at the Bishop Robert of Lichfield.’

Robert de Limesey was at his most incisive when he assumed a judicial role. Brother Reginald, acting as scribe to the proceedings, was only a mute witness but he was nervous in the presence of the saintly bishop. What irritated the monk was that the old man before them showed no sign of apprehension. Arrested in the street and hauled roughly to the abbey, the man did not seem at all upset by the experience or troubled by the severity of the charge which he faced. He stood there calmly, flanked by the two armed men who had seized him, and answered every question with amiable willingness. No interpreter was needed. The prisoner had sufficient command of French to be able to understand, a fact which in itself was highly disturbing to Reginald, who believed that the Devil’s voice was talking to them through the agency of an ignorant old man. The chapter house was being used for the examination and the bishop’s voice explored every crevice of it as it rang out. Seated in the abbot’s chair and wearing full vestments, he pointed a bony finger down at the accused man.

‘You have been brought here on a charge of sorcery,’ he said.

‘Have I, my lord bishop?’

‘Do you know what the penalty is?’

‘It does not matter, for it does not apply to me.’

‘That is for me to decide.’

‘I am no sorcerer,’ said the old man.

‘Then what are you?’

‘A humble traveller who helps the sick with his gifts.’

‘What is your name?’

‘Huna.’

‘Where do you come from?’

‘I have no home but the place where I am at any moment.’

‘Where were you born?’

‘In London.’

‘Who were your parents?’

‘They were good Christians, my lord bishop.’

‘What was your father’s occupation?’

‘He was a carpenter.’

Bishop Robert gurgled and Reginald’s stylus slipped on the parchment.

‘That is to say, he helped to build houses,’ continued Huna.

‘My father was a strong man, used to hewing beams from the trunks of trees. I was far too puny for such work and spent more time with my mother.’

‘Your mother?’ echoed the bishop.

‘She was a herb-gatherer.’

‘Now we are getting somewhere.’

‘She took me out into the country and taught me which herbs would cure what diseases. That was how I discovered my gifts.’

‘Gifts?’

‘For making herbal compounds of my own. For devising stronger remedies than any which my mother knew. People came to us.

When she was not able to help them, I often could. They trusted me. That is one of my other gifts. To inspire trust.’ He gave a smile. ‘Though the skill seems to have deserted me in here.’

Robert’s frown deepened. ‘Do not be humorous with me.’

‘I was never more solemn, my lord bishop.’

‘You were watched.’

‘Watched?’

‘Evidence had been laid against you by a reliable witness. What he saw in the marketplace today was a display of witchcraft.’

‘I cured a sick boy, that is all.’

‘You cured someone beyond the reach of any physician.’

‘But not beyond the reach of God.’

‘God!’ repeated the other with proprietary anger. ‘Do you dare to link your devilish practices with the name of the Almighty?’

‘What else am I to do?’

‘Admit the truth. Your master dwells in hell itself.’

‘Then he has chosen the wrong servant in me,’ replied Huna.

‘For I will never do his bidding. I cure and save. That is God’s work. If I was in the Devil’s employ, I would be urged to maim and kill. There are herbs which are capable of doing both but I would not use them. Ask of the boy who was cured today. He and his father went straight off to church to give thanks. They do not believe I practised evil. I drove the demons out of the boy’s body and allowed the wonder of God to come in.’

‘This is blasphemy!’

‘It is my mission,’ said Huna simply.

‘A mission to corrupt by the use of black arts.’

‘I use my gifts on those in need.’

‘Only because nobody has tried to stop you before.’

‘Oh, they have, my lord bishop. They have, they have.’

‘Where?’

‘In a number of towns. Some have driven me out, others sought to put me on trial as you are doing right now. But God always spared me to continue His work.’

‘Stop hiding behind the name of God!’

‘I am not hiding. I am proud to be His servant.’

‘And is that the height of your pretence?’

‘My pretence?’

‘Yes,’ said the bishop sourly. ‘When you spoke in the marketplace yesterday you claimed to be more than a servant.

You compared yourself with the Lord Jesus. Do you deny it?’

‘No, my lord bishop.’

‘That was both a sin and a crime.’

‘Then every Christian is both sinful and criminal,’ replied Huna with a bland smile. ‘On whom else should we pattern our lives but on Jesus Christ? He was the Son of God who was sent down from heaven to earth to act as our guide. We all strive to follow His example. When I compared myself to Christ, it was only to show that I was trying to follow where He led, to help those most in need with whatever gifts we have. Mine are poor indeed beside those of which we hear in the scriptures but that does not stop me comparing myself with Jesus. I aspire to walk in His footsteps, that is all. Does not any God-fearing man? If that is blasphemy, then we are all guilty of it, even you and Brother Reginald.’

The speed and coherence of the old man’s words made Robert de Limesey gape in astonishment. Recovering his poise, he brought the accusatory finger back into action. His voice reached a whole new octave of controlled indignation.

‘Be silent!’ he ordered. ‘Do you have the effrontery to preach a sermon to me? Do you know who I am? And what I am?’

‘Yes, my lord bishop.’

‘I could have you whipped for insolence.’

‘I know.’

‘Or thrown into the town gaol.’

‘That would be no worse a place than most I inhabit,’ said Huna wryly. ‘When you spent last night — as I did — sleeping in a stable with a donkey and a performing bear, you do not fear the town gaol.’

‘You will fear what follows it, Huna.’

‘What is that, my lord bishop?’

‘Trial and conviction for sorcery.’

‘On what evidence?’

‘We will produce witnesses,’ said the bishop. ‘They will include the boy you claim to have cured and his father. They are being questioned by the abbot even as we speak.’

‘They will not say anything against me.’

‘We shall see.’

‘I promised I could cure the boy and I did.’

‘By means of witchcraft!’

‘By using healing gifts which come from God.’

‘I have heard enough,’ said the bishop with a flick of his hand.

‘Have him locked up until he can answer my questions more honestly. Mark this, old man,’ he warned. ‘Your age will not save you. The Devil comes in many forms to beguile us. If it is proved that you are his creature, you will be burned at the stake as a warning to others. And I will light the faggots myself.’

Hunting was one of the ruling passions in the life of Philippe Trouville and he was never happier than when pursuing deer or wild boar. The excitement was even greater, he now discovered, when the quarry was human and marked for slaughter. Trouville soon joined up with the search party led by Henry Beaumont, and the thrill of the chase helped him to forget all about his marital disquiet and his tiresome duties as a commissioner.

Riding through the Forest of Arden, he was able to enjoy good sport and ingratiate himself with his host at the same time. The lord Henry was a valuable friend with a seat on the King’s council.

If Trouville was to become sherrif of the neighbouring county, he would need to be on good terms with the constable of Warwick Castle.

‘Are you sure that he came in this direction, my lord?’ he said.

‘No,’ replied Henry, ‘but it is the most likely route to take.’

‘Would he not strike south to get out of the county itself?’

‘He will get short shrift from Robert d’Oilly if he does. The Sheriff of Oxfordshire will hunt him with as much zeal as ourselves. But I do not want the prize to fall to him. Boio is mine!’

‘I hear that he presents a large target.’

‘Very large.’

‘Slower than deer and bigger than wild boar. We should not have much difficulty in finding prey of this nature. He has no hope at all of outrunning us.’

They emerged from the trees into one of the many clearings which speckled the forest. Henry raised an arm to call a halt.

While he talked to his companion, Trouville’s concentration did not slacken. His keen eye roved in every direction. Vigilance was eventually rewarded. Seeing a movement among the bushes on the other side of the clearing, he did not pause for a second.

‘There he is!’ he yelled and spurred his horse.

The rest of the posse gave chase but Trouville was twenty yards ahead of them, his sword drawn and his voice raised in a battle cry. He caught sight of the fleeing man and kicked more speed from his horse. Overhauling his quarry with ease, he used the flat of his sword to knock the man to the ground, then reined in his destrier, dismounted in one fluent move and ran back to place a foot on the captive’s chest. He looked up at Henry with a grin of triumph but his host was crestfallen when he saw the dishevelled little man squirming on the ground.

‘That is not Boio,’ he said.

‘Is it not?’

‘It is some miserable poacher half his size.’ He turned to one of his men. ‘Arrest him and hand him over to a forester. I’ll have the wretch’s eyes for poaching and his balls for giving us false hope. Away with him!’

Coventry was much smaller than Warwick, with nothing like its scope or presence, but it was a pleasant place which had made a steady journey from village to town since the endowment of its Benedictine Abbey. Situated on the River Sherbourne, its mills were able to make full use of the rushing waters. Abbey and churches dominated but there was no castle and no perimeter wall. A motte-and-bailey fortress had been raised in Brinklow to the north-east, close enough to Coventry for the Count of Meulan, who resided in the castle, to visit the town with ease but far enough away to keep him unimpeded by its civic activity. Ralph was agreeably surprised by the size and appearance of the town.

The returns from the earlier commissioners gave the impression that Coventry was no more than a large agricultural estate, but Gervase had been able to read between the lines of the abbreviated Latin in the Great Survey and thus saw exactly what he expected.

The newcomers rode along the busy main street of the town.

‘A lively place,’ said Ralph. ‘I looked for something sleepier.’

‘The Bishop of Lichfield would not move to a village,’ argued Gervase. ‘Coventry is well placed. Come back in ten years and we may find it twice the size that it is.’

‘One visit is enough for me. That was only by force.’

‘We are on an errand of mercy, Ralph.’

‘Is that what it is?’ He stared around him. ‘I can see no old man with a donkey.’

‘Let someone else find him for us.’

‘Who?’

‘The monks at the abbey. Nothing will escape their notice.’

They steered their horses towards the huge stone edifice which they had seen from miles away. When they’d announced themselves to the porter they waited while word was sent directly to the abbot. Visitors as important as royal commissioners did not call every day and the two friends were not kept waiting for long. Instead of being taken to the abbot, however, they were instead shepherded along by Brother Reginald to meet the bishop.

Robert de Limesey rose graciously from his chair and gave an ethereal smile as the introductions were performed.

‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance,’ he said, waving them to seats and indicating that Reginald should lurk in the background.

‘I take it that this visit concerns my claim to certain holdings in the county and I appreciate your kindness in coming here instead of forcing me to make the journey to Warwick. Litigation can be so wearing. Is there no way that this dispute can be settled without recourse to endless haggling in the shire hall?’

‘I fear not, my lord bishop,’ said Ralph. ‘We are not here to discuss your claim with you. Our business in Coventry does not concern our judicial duties at all.’

‘It may do so indirectly,’ corrected Gervase.

‘That is true.’

‘And it is the reason our work was suspended.’

‘Perhaps you would care to explain.’

‘I wish that somebody would,’ said the bishop. ‘I am confused.’

‘Thus it stands, my lord bishop,’ began Gervase.

His recital of events was clear and succinct. Robert was deeply disappointed that they had not come to show favour towards his property claim and he was shaken by the news of the murder and the escape of the man charged with it but the biggest jolt came when the old man with the donkey was mentioned.

‘Can you describe this fellow, Master Bret?’

‘All that we know is that he is old, poor and was heading this way. He sells potions to cure the sick and claims to be a miracle worker.’

‘And this,’ said the bishop, clicking his tongue, ‘is the witness on whom you rely to clear the blacksmith’s name?’

‘Hopefully.’

‘Then your hopes are doomed.’

‘Why?’ asked Ralph. ‘Is the man not here?’

‘Oh, he is here right enough. Safe behind bars where he should be. The fellow is in league with the Devil. I have examined him myself and feel there is a strong case to put him on trial for witchcraft.’

‘But we need the man.’

‘His testimony would be unsound.’

‘Nevertheless we must hear it.’

‘Do not waste your time, my lord.’

‘We have not come all this way to leave empty-handed.’

‘Would you presume to take him from us by force?’

‘If necessary, yes!’

‘No, my lord bishop,’ said Gervase, raising a conciliatory palm.

‘We would do nothing without your permission. The lord Ralph spoke in jest. We are pleased to hear that the man is actually here though we could wish him at liberty. Does he have a name?’

‘Huna,’ said the bishop.

‘Where does the man hail from?’

‘The depths of hell — though he claims to have descended from the kingdom of heaven. A devil will always quote scripture.’

‘Was he aggressive under questioning?’

‘No,’ admitted the other. ‘Calm. Unnaturally calm.’

‘And he gave you ready answers?’

‘We could not stop him. The man has more ready answers than anyone I have ever encountered. He had the gall to preach at me.’

‘Let us speak with Huna,’ said Gervase.

‘That will not be possible.’

‘It must be!’ insisted Ralph.

‘With your consent, of course,’ said Gervase, nodding in deference to the bishop before shooting Ralph a warning glance.

‘It may be to your advantage, my lord bishop.’

‘Advantage?’ His interest was roused. ‘How?’

‘We will not only talk to him about his visit to the forge. We will also test his character. When he came before you, he was an accused man facing a judge. He had plausible answers for questions which he already predicted. It is not so with us,’ said Gervase. ‘He will be off his guard. Though we will discuss his meeting with the blacksmith, we will also sound him on your behalf. If witchcraft is involved, we will soon coax it out of him.

Trust us, my lord bishop. We are cunning interrogators. We will learn exactly what you wish to know.’

Robert de Limesey scrutinised him through narrowed lids then crooked a finger to beckon Reginald across. The monk was at his side in a flash and the two of them had a long mumbled conversation. Ralph tapped an impatient foot but Gervase kept his composure. At length the bishop flicked Reginald away again then rose from his seat.

‘What you are offering me is a form of bargain. Correct?’

‘Yes, my lord bishop,’ said Gervase.

‘Both of us stand to gain.’

‘That is so.’

‘I see,’ said Robert, eyes sparkling. ‘It is refreshing to find you so amenable. The notion of a bargain is appealing.’ He put his hands together in prayer. ‘Let us talk about the dispute in which I am engaged over property which I dearly covet.’

Adam Reynard was in the middle of his meal when the visitor called. The servant opened the front door to admit Grimketel, who was twitching with fright. Reynard was not pleased to have his favourite occupation interrupted. He chewed the last of the chicken, then sluiced it down his throat with a cup of wine. His wife and servant withdrew so that he could accost Grimketel alone.

‘Why do you disturb me at a time like this?’ he demanded.

‘I had no choice.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Boio has escaped.’

Reynard was stunned. ‘Escaped? From the castle? How?’

‘I do not know the details,’ said Grimketel. ‘I had it from one of the foresters. The lord Henry and his men are searching everywhere for the fugitive. Boio is on the run.’

‘A lumbering ox like that? They will soon catch him.’

‘They have had no luck so far. I am terrified.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you think?’

‘He would not come in search of you, Grimketel.’

‘He might.’

‘No, never.’

‘You do not know the man as I do,’ said the other, shivering visibly. ‘He may seem quiet and peaceful but he nurses grudges.

And he has enough of those against me.’

‘One in particular.’

‘It is my testimony which got him arrested in the first place. I am afraid that he will come after me for revenge. That is why I ran to you for protection. Let me stay here.’

‘You are in no danger.’

‘I am,’ bleated Grimketel. ‘Until he is caught.’

‘Boio will be far too busy trying to dodge the posse to worry about you. What puzzles me is how he managed to get away in the first place. He has barely enough brains to get up in the morning yet he contrives to escape from the castle dungeon.

How?’

‘He must have had help.’

‘That is what I am thinking.’

‘Someone who got him out may also hide him.’

‘Only a fool would dare to do that,’ said Reynard. ‘The lord Henry is bound to find him soon and may already have done so.

Anyone else involved in the escape will swing on the gallows beside the blacksmith.’

‘I will not feel safe until he is taken.’

‘Then go to the village. Stay with friends.’

‘Can I not take refuge here?’

‘No, Grimketel.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because there is no need. Besides, I do not want you cringing in my house when you have one of your own less than a mile away. Go back and bar your doors if you are so fearful. I will send word when Boio is tracked down.’

Grimketel was wounded. ‘Is that all the thanks I get?’

‘For what?’

‘The many favours I have done for you.’

‘Duties are not favours,’ snapped the other. ‘And you are well paid for any services you do for me. They do not entitle you to come here when my wife and I are eating our food and demand to be taken in.’

‘I am not demanding — I am pleading with you.’

‘Be brave, man.’

‘Boio means to kill me, I know it.’

‘Nothing will be further from that muddled mind of his. In any case,’ added Reynard, ‘you are not the only witness who spoke up against him. There were those who overheard him arguing with Martin, my late kinsman. Will Boio pick you all off one by one?’

Grimketel shuddered. ‘I hope not!’

‘It will not even occur to him. What would be his motive?’

‘Blind hatred.’

‘You alarm yourself unnecessarily. Go home, Grimketel. Lock yourself in your house if need be, and have a weapon by your side.

It will not be needed, I promise you. Boio is probably miles away.’

‘At the moment. He may be laying low until nightfall.’ He took a step closer. ‘Let me stay here — please!’

‘No!’ said Reynard, pushing him away. ‘Stop trembling like that.

You have shown courage enough in the past — show some more now.’

Grimketel nodded and made an effort to control his fear.

‘You are right,’ he said with false bravado. ‘Why should I be afraid of him? Even if he did come, I would be a match for him if I was armed. Killing me would serve no purpose. I am not at risk.’

‘Neither of us is,’ said Reynard complacently.

‘You may be.’

‘Why?’

‘Not from Boio. Your unwelcome visitors are like to be the lord Henry and his men. They are working their way through the forest and will certainly come this way in time.’

‘So?’

‘Look to your own safety.’

‘Boio is not here. I will send the posse on its way.’

‘It may not be as simple as that,’ said Grimketel with a sly grin. ‘The forester told me that the lord Henry was in a foul mood.

The fruitless search is telling on his temper. When they caught a poacher the lord Henry ordered him to be mutilated. What if he refuses to be sent on his way and insists on searching here?’

Adam Reynard ran his tongue nervously over his lips while he pondered. Something of Grimketel’s anxiety finally gripped him.

‘Stay here,’ he decided. ‘I will need you to help me.’

Ralph Delchard waited until they left the abbey before he burst into irreverent laughter. He jabbed Gervase Bret teasingly in the ribs.

‘How on earth did you keep such a straight face?’ he said. ‘It was all I could do to stop myself from grinning.’

‘At what?’

‘Your litany of deceit. And on consecrated ground, too! I am surprised that your tongue did not turn black and fall out.’

‘There was no deceit, Ralph. I merely bent the truth slightly.’

‘Bent it? You broke it asunder.’

‘No, I did not.’

‘Oh, I am not complaining,’ said Ralph. ‘You deserve congratulation. The bishop was set to refuse us access to Huna until you spoke. He could not resist you, Gervase. You charmed him until he was ready to grant us any request we wished to make — with his episcopal blessing thrown in for good measure.

And the beauty of it was,’ he added with a slap between his friend’s shoulder blades, ‘Robert de Limesey thought that he had the better bargain.’

‘I had to offer him something,’ said Gervase modestly. ‘The trick was to do it with hints and nudges rather than with firm undertakings. He will have a rude shock when he does appear before our tribunal.’

‘No favour will be shown to him or to any of them.’

‘Yet he thinks his success is already assured.’

‘Thanks to you,’ said Ralph. ‘You duped him like a master. It serves him right for even suggesting such a corrupt bargain!’

‘I did warn you that the bishop might be slippery.’

‘He is a more crafty fox than Adam Reynard.’

‘We had to find some way to talk to Huna,’ said Gervase as they reached the stout wooden building which served as the town gaol. ‘Let us hope he can tell us what we need to hear.’

The letter which they bore from the bishop gained them admission to a narrow cell with a ceiling so low that they had to duck to avoid banging their heads on it. Mouldy straw was scattered on the bare earth. Huna was sitting contentedly in a corner. He looked up with interest.

‘Am I to be called for examination again?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Gervase.

‘A pity. I enjoyed tying the bishop in knots. Who are you?’

Gervase introduced the two of them, speaking in English for ease of communication and immediately winning the man’s confidence. Huna listened to his tale, then pulled himself up from the floor.

‘The good blacksmith arrested for murder?’ he cried.

‘We think him innocent,’ said Gervase.

‘Why, so do I. He was kind to me and fed my donkey hay.’

‘What time did you call at the forge?’

‘Not long after dawn.’

‘And where had you spent the night?’

‘On the edge of the Forest of Arden. There was an abandoned hut — no more than a few pieces of timber held together but it was better than staying out in the cold.’

‘Did you go straight to the forge?’

‘Yes,’ said Huna. ‘It was pure chance that I found him. We made our way to the main road and there was the forge, waiting for us with a warm fire and a greeting. The blacksmith seemed pleased to see us.’

‘A tradesman always likes custom,’ noted Ralph.

‘Not when there is no chance of payment. Look at me, sirs,’ he said, indicating his threadbare attire. ‘Boio could see what you do. I have no money. I rely on the kindness of men like the blacksmith.’

‘So why was he so pleased to see you?’ asked Gervase.

‘I do not know.’

‘Was anyone else at the forge?’

‘No, Master Bret.’

‘There was no woman there?’

‘No woman, man or child,’ said the other. ‘Boio had the bleak look of a man who lives alone. Not that he was unhappy with his lot. Far from it. He kept telling me that he liked his work so much he hardly ever stirred outside his forge. But he did not look cared for or watched over.’ He gave a grin. ‘Like me. We are two of a kind.’

‘Go back to the forest,’ said Ralph. ‘When you left that hut, did you see anyone else near the forest?’

‘I may have done.’

‘Where?’

‘Among the trees. I thought I caught a glimpse of a man but I may have been mistaken in the poor light. Either that or he hid from me.’

‘And it was a man?’ added Gervase. ‘Not a woman?’

Huna was certain. ‘A man. No woman could run that fast.’

‘The man was running?’

‘If he was really there.’

‘Would he have seen you, if he was?’

‘He must have done.’

‘Why?’

‘The path we followed was across open land,’ said Huna. ‘It skirts the forest. Anyone hiding in the trees would have seen me.’

Gervase turned to his colleague. ‘Grimketel?’

‘It could be.’

The two of them conferred before taking Huna through his story once more. Fresh details came to light which helped him to be more specific about the time when he was at the forge but they were not sure whether the old man was recalling them for the first time or inventing them in order to assist Boio. For all that, he was a valuable witness whose evidence supported everything which the blacksmith had confided to Brother Benedict when they’d met in the dungeon. Huna was amused to hear that the monk himself was now incarcerated.

‘Why do they always do it?’ he said.

‘Do what?’ asked Ralph.

‘Lock up the wrong people. First Boio. Then this hapless monk.

And now me. Three innocent and harmless men, branded as criminals. Yet all we have sought to do is to help others.’

‘We will soon have Benedict free. And if Gervase can weave his spell in front of Bishop Robert again, we may even be able to get you out of this gaol, Huna. We brought a horse to take you back to Warwick.’

‘My old donkey will suit me,’ said the other. ‘But do not worry on my account. I have been in this position before and God always delivers me one way or another. He needs me to do His work.’

‘The bishop told us of the miracle you performed.’

‘I will convince him that it was no sorcery in the end. But thank you for coming to see me. You made me feel important to you for a while and that cheered me up.’

‘You are important to us,’ said Gervase. ‘What you have told us confirms Boio’s alibi. It was vital to talk to someone who went to the forge that morning. Since you spent the night near the forest, your testimony is additionally helpful. I believe that you did see a man running through the trees. He deliberately hid from you.’

‘Why? I could do him no harm.’

‘Yes, you could.’

‘How?’

‘By recognising him again. If it is the man we think it may have been, he would have good cause to stay out of sight.’

Huna scratched under his arm as he tried to recall the incident.

There was a long pause before his face brightened with a revelation.

‘I did see something,’ he asserted. ‘I am sure I did.’

‘Go on,’ urged Ralph.

‘But it may not have been a man.’

‘Who else could it have been?’

‘Ursa.’

‘Who is Ursa?’

‘Yes,’ said Huna as the idea took hold of him. ‘He said that they spent the night in the Forest of Arden. The dwarf even mentioned seeing that derelict hut so they must have been somewhere close by. It could have been him flitting through the trees. It might have been Ursa.’

‘Who, in God’s name, is this Ursa?’

‘A performing bear.’

Asmoth was filled with remorse when she got back home. She had not intended to spend the whole night at the forge and was mortified that she had fallen asleep in the chair. The first thing which met her on her return to the mean hovel which she shared with her ailing father was his reproachful glance from the bed.

Pale, gaunt and wasted, he lay under a tattered blanket with only a faint hold on life. Her father was too weak to upbraid her and too weary to demand why she had deserted him for a whole night. But the accusation in his eyes was punishment enough for her. Overcome with contrition, Asmoth burst into tears and rushed to hug him warmly. The reunion only sent him off into a fit of coughing.

When she had fed him with some water and a crust of bread she turned her attention to the fire. It was the sick man’s one source of comfort throughout a cold night and her absence meant that it had gone out. Only tiny charred pieces of wood remained.

Asmoth told her father where she was going, then she went off to collect some twigs to start a fire and some logs to keep it in.

There was a copse nearby and she was used to foraging there for kindling. She moved about swiftly, gathering up twigs and dead leaves and anything else which might help to start a fire.

She came to a large bush and bent to pick up the branch which had snapped off from the tree which overhung it. The branch was enmeshed in the bush itself and she had to tug it hard to pull it free. A voice then seemed to emerge from the heart of the bush.

‘Asmoth?’

She let go of the branch at once and stepped back in surprise.

‘Boio?’ she said. ‘Is that you?’