The Foxes of Warwick

Chapter Eleven

In a town as small as Coventry they had no difficulty finding a dwarf with a performing bear. One of them on his own would have been conspicuous enough but the two were unmistakable when together. Several people had seen them walking along the road to Coundon, a hamlet which lay to the north-west, so Ralph and Gervase set off in that direction. Gervase recalled that Coundon was a tiny part of the abbey’s substantial holdings in the county. Ursa and his master were still on ecclesiastical ground. They had not gone far. They were resting in a hollow which gave them protection from the wind and a degree of privacy. Hearing the approach of riders, the dwarf scrambled up the slope to see who was coming. The sight of men-at-arms moving at a steady canter was alarming, especially as their leader pointed a finger when the bearward appeared. They were after him. The dagger at his belt would be useless against such odds.

When Ralph brought his party to a halt they circled the hollow and gazed in amusement at the bear and his diminutive master.

Ribald comments were made by the soldiers but they were good-humoured and carried no threat. The dwarf relaxed and Ursa’s defensive stance was changed to a lazy roll on the ground. Ralph dismounted with Gervase. They stepped forward to the edge of the hollow to introduce themselves.

‘We were hoping to find you,’ said Ralph.

The bearward grinned. ‘You want a performance, master?’

‘Not now.’

‘It is no trouble.’

‘Another time.’

‘Ursa and I will be delighted to show you our tricks.’

‘Before so few of us?’

‘Two people are an audience,’ said the dwarf. ‘There are eight of you and that is more than enough to entice us.’

‘We have come in search of your help, my little friend.’

‘Yes,’ explained Gervase. ‘Huna told us about you. The old man with the donkey. All four of you spent the night together.’

‘Will I ever forget it?’ moaned the dwarf. ‘That donkey of his stank worse than Ursa. And such terrible noises from both ends of the beast. But Huna was a pleasant bedfellow. We talked long into the night.’

‘That is what he said.’

‘Then he performed his miracle and they seized him.’

‘We have spoken to the bishop about his case.’

‘Will they try him for sorcery?’

‘His fate may not be as bad as it seems.’

‘No,’ said Ralph. ‘Huna is used to living on his wits and he has talked his way out from beneath fulminating bishops before.

I think he will escape with no more than a warning. What interested us was that he said you spent a night in the Forest of Arden.’

‘It is true, my lord. We slept in a ditch.’

‘Not far from an old disused hut?’

‘We walked past it when we left.’

‘But you had to find your bear first,’ remembered Gervase. ‘We hear that he slipped away in the dark.’

‘Only to give me a fright,’ said the dwarf, rubbing the animal’s head. ‘He would never leave me for good. It was simply mischief.

Ursa could not sleep so he thought he would play another game with me.’

‘Where did you catch up with him?’

‘Close by that hut you mentioned.’

‘And how long had he been away?’

‘Long enough to have me in despair. It was just after dawn when I finally stumbled on him. Hiding in a clump of bushes, the rogue. Huna will have told you. I burst into tears.’

‘Was there anything on the bear?’

‘On him?’

‘Anything stuck to his fur. Leaves, bracken?’

‘Why, yes, but I was covered with them as well. The ditch was filled with them. The leaves were our only blanket. They got in his coat.’

‘Did it have any blood on it as well?’

‘Blood? No, why should it?’

‘He might have been in a struggle with someone.’

‘Not Ursa,’ said the dwarf, coming out of the hollow to confront them. ‘He is a performing bear, trained to obey. He is completely tame. Ursa only does what I tell him.’

‘Did you tell him to crush that barrel of fish yesterday?’

‘Ah. Huna told you about that, did he?’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘It is the reason we are here.’

‘Do not ask for that trick again. It is too expensive for us.’

‘We wonder if it is the first time that Ursa has done it.’

‘Broken open a barrel of salted herrings?’

‘Squeezed something to a pulp out of sheer devilry. Let me explain,’ said Ralph with one eye on the bear. ‘Earlier this week a man was killed in or near the Forest of Arden, possibly on the day when you chanced to pass through there. We saw the injuries.

The man’s ribs were cracked and his back broken as if someone had crushed him to death.’

‘It was not Ursa!’

‘Can you be sure?’

‘I would stake my life on it,’ said the dwarf, running back down the slope to take hold of the bear’s chain. ‘He has to perform in front of women and children whom he could kill with one swing of his paw but he has never so much as breathed angrily upon them. Ursa is tame. I raised him from a cub. He would harm nobody.’

‘Not if they were cheering his tricks,’ said Gervase, ‘but suppose that someone had provoked him? Suppose that someone jabbed at him with a dagger or a sword.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘Because they saw a bear looming out of the darkness at them.

If the lord Ralph and I met the animal like that, we would both reach for our weapons. How could we know the creature was harmless? Our first instinct would be to defend ourselves.’ He went into the hollow to take a closer look at Ursa. ‘That was why I asked about blood. If he had been wounded in some way, he might have struck back.’

‘He is more likely to have turned tail and run.’

‘There are certainly no wounds on him now.’

Gervase peered at the animal then stepped back in disgust.

‘The fish,’ explained the dwarf. ‘That’s what you smelled.’

‘He seems a friendly enough animal, I must say,’ observed Ralph.

‘He is friendly, my lord. Watch.’ He jerked the chain and the bear turned a few somersaults. ‘You see? He is like a big child.’

‘A big child who does not know his own strength.’

‘Ursa would not attack anybody! I swear it!’

‘With you there, I am sure that he would not,’ said Gervase, still catching the whiff of herrings. ‘But you were not there when he sneaked off. He may have got lost and scared. When he was disturbed by a stranger he struck out blindly.’

‘No!’ yelled the dwarf.

‘I am only suggesting what might have happened, not what did.

Why not tell it the way you remember it?’ he invited. ‘Tell us how you came to be in the forest in the first place and why you chose that particular place to spend the night. Describe the search for Ursa. And one more thing,’ he emphasized. ‘Tell us if you saw someone on the edge of the forest that morning.’

The dwarf looked from Gervase to Ralph and back again, trying to decide if it was better to lie to them or to tell the truth. Their manner was friendly but that might be a ruse. As he cogitated he rubbed the bear with absent-minded affection.

‘Well?’ said Ralph.

‘A man’s life hangs in the balance,’ said Gervase. ‘He is wrongly accused of murder. What you tell us may help to save him. We are not saying that your bear is the killer but we need to know as much as we can about the time you both spent in the forest. Is that clear?’

‘Yes,’ said the dwarf. ‘And I can tell you one thing right away.’

‘What is that?’

‘I did see a man there that morning.’

When Henry Beaumont and his men arrived at his manor house, Adam Reynard feigned surprise at the news of the prisoner’s escape. The constable’s posse had searched the forest without finding any trace of their quarry. Henry’s rage was matched by his sense of frustration. He gazed around, from the vantage of his horse, with staring eyes.

‘He must be here somewhere!’ he growled.

‘I have seen no sign of him, my lord,’ said Reynard.

‘Have any of your tenants reported sightings?’

‘No, my lord. Boio is unlikely to come anywhere near my land.

He and I were not friends. There would be no hope of shelter here.’

‘I am glad to hear it, Adam. Helping an escaped felon is a heinous crime. If anyone offers him refuge, torture and execution will follow.’

‘However did he escape?’

‘That does not matter now,’ said Henry rancorously. ‘The fact is that he is loose and we must recapture him as soon as possible.

My men will need to search on your land.’

‘But the man is not here.’

‘We would like to make sure for ourselves.’

He gave orders and his men split up into groups and dispersed.

Adam Reynard was not happy about them tramping over his property but there was nothing he could do about it. He was grateful that Grimketel had forewarned him about the lord Henry’s presence in the area. It had given him time to take precautions against a search. No matter where the men-at-arms looked in the vicinity of the house, he had nothing to fear.

‘What of Grimketel?’ asked Henry. ‘He has seen nothing?’

‘Nothing at all, my lord,’ said Reynard. ‘He was here a while ago and had no idea that Boio had even escaped.’

‘Someone should warn him.’

‘Why?’

‘He is the vital witness against Boio. The blacksmith may wish to get his revenge. Grimketel could be in danger.’

‘Then he must be warned,’ volunteered Philippe Trouville. ‘I will do the office myself. Does the fellow live close?’

‘About a mile away.’

‘Tell me where and we will go there.’

‘Search the area thoroughly.’

‘We will, my lord.’

‘There is no need for you to trouble yourself,’ said Reynard with an oily smile. ‘I will send word to Grimketel. That will alert him.’

‘I insist on going,’ said Trouville.

‘Teach him the way, Adam,’ said Henry.

‘Grimketel is my man. I should be the one to warn him.’

‘Do as I tell you, man!’

Henry’s snarl made Reynard lick his lips and back away. With great reluctance he gave Trouville directions and the latter rode off towards Grimketel’s house with his men. The constable was left alone with Adam Reynard. He heaved himself off his horse.

‘While I wait, I will take refreshment,’ he decided.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘We must pick up his trail sooner or later.’

‘May I ride with you and offer my help?’

‘No!’

‘But I am as eager for him to be captured as you are.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Boio is a murderer. He deserves to be hanged.’

‘Yes,’ said Henry through gritted teeth. ‘As soon as he is taken.’

‘Without a trial?’

The constable’s face darkened and his eyes narrowed.

‘Let us go inside,’ he said.

The guards at the dungeons were extremely wary about allowing their prisoner to have any visitors. They had seen the cruel punishment meted out to the two men who had been on duty throughout the night and who had allowed Boio to escape. Both men had been whipped until their backs were running with blood.

The guards who kept Brother Benedict in custody did not wish to risk offending their master in any way. When she first made her request, therefore, Golde was turned brusquely away but she did not give up. She soon returned to the dungeons with the lady Adela, who insisted that Golde be allowed to visit the monk and who took full responsibility on her own shoulders. In the presence of the lord Henry’s wife the guards became more polite and amenable. They even apologised to Golde for the fact that they would have to lock her inside the cell if she chose to enter it.

Benedict was amazingly serene when she went in. The monk was kneeling in a corner, gazing up at the rectangle of light coming through the window as if it were a sign from God sent for his personal attention. It took him a moment to realise that he was not alone.

‘My lady!’ he said, rising to his feet.

‘I came to see how you were, Brother Benedict.’

‘That touches me more than I can say but you should not be in a place like this. This filth does not befit a fine lady like yourself.’

‘Do not worry about me,’ she said. ‘Think of yourself.’

‘That is the last thing I will do.’

‘You should not be locked away down here.’

‘I know,’ he said calmly, ‘but it is only a matter of time before the lord Henry repents of his folly and lets me out. In the meantime I have been enjoying the pleasures of contemplation.’

‘ Pleasures? In a vile pit like this?’

‘This is my hermitage,’ said Benedict happily. ‘I am completely cut off from the world here. I can commune directly with God. He put me here for a purpose, my lady, that is what we must remember. The life of a holy anchorite is touched with nobility.

Self-denial is goodness in action.’

‘You do not have to take it to these lengths.’

‘Perhaps not. But tell me the news.’

‘What news?’

‘Of the fugitive. Have they caught him yet?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘How many men rode after him?’

‘Virtually the whole garrison.’

‘Poor fellow! Boio has no chance.’ He looked around. ‘I can see why he was so keen to get out of this mean lodging. What suits a monk only unnerves another man. And even I might not find this cell quite so hospitable if I were put in chains as he was. It was an ordeal for him.’

‘He now faces another — fleeing from the lord Henry.’

‘The fear of the animal as the hunters close in on him.’ He gave her arm a light squeeze. ‘But it is so kind of you to think of me.’

‘Archdeacon Theobald tried to visit you as well but they turned him away. He has gone to the chapel to pray for your early release.’

‘What of the others?’

‘Gervase has gone to Coventry with my husband,’ she said.

‘They are hoping to find the man who may provide Boio with an alibi. The lord Philippe, it seems, has joined the search party.’

‘Anxious to be in at the kill,’ said Benedict with a grimace.

‘The whole castle is in turmoil.’

‘Then I am probably in the one quiet place here.’

‘Wrongfully.’

‘I hold no grudge.’

‘You should do, Brother Benedict.’

‘Forget about me, my lady. The only person of importance at the moment is Boio. The lord Ralph has gone to Coventry, you say? Did he tell you where else he and Gervase might go?’

‘No.’

‘Did he not mention Asmoth?’

‘Who?’

‘Asmoth. The blacksmith’s friend.’

‘Was that the woman you met at the forge?’

‘Yes. Did the lord Ralph talk of calling on her?’

‘No,’ said Golde. ‘But then he told me very little before they galloped off to Coventry. Who exactly is the woman, Brother Benedict? Tell me a little more about this Asmoth.’

Asmoth had to tell lies, plead and burst into tears before her neighbour finally relented and agreed to lend her the horse and cart. The loan was accompanied by all sorts of conditions and warnings and apologies for the state that the cart was in but Asmoth listened patiently to them and nodded solemnly.

Everyone knew how sick her father was but his daughter had moved him even closer to death’s door in order to work on her neighbour’s conscience. When he watched her leave he firmly believed that she was going home to collect the old man before driving him to Warwick and seeking the help of a physician. It never occurred to him that she might need the transport for another reason.

Asmoth waved her thanks and flicked the reins to make the old horse trot along the winding path. The rough-hewn cart was spattered with dirt and sheep droppings. It creaked as it moved and shuddered whenever its solid wooden wheels struck a stone or rolled into a dip. When Asmoth reached her home, she drove on past it.

Her passenger was still hiding in the bushes.

They made good speed on the return journey but halted when they came to a fork in the road. Ralph Delchard ordered two men to accompany Gervase Bret while the remainder stayed with him.

Their visit to Coventry had been worthwhile but the evidence which it had yielded in favour of the blacksmith was not entirely conclusive. Expecting only to hear Huna’s testimony, they had stumbled on a bonus in the shape of a dwarf and a performing bear. It was a productive encounter.

‘The man he saw in the forest was Grimketel,’ said Gervase.

‘It certainly sounded like him.’

‘The description fitted Grimketel perfectly.’

‘I’ll tell him that when I see him, Gervase.’ Ralph tossed a glance over his shoulder. ‘I am in two minds about the bear.’

‘His master gave us his word that Ursa would not kill.’

‘He would. If the bear was found guilty, it would have to be destroyed and the dwarf would lose his occupation. What man would not tell lies in his position?’

‘The animal seemed docile. There were no wounds on him.’

‘He could have grabbed Martin Reynard before the man could draw a weapon. The lord Henry claimed that Boio was the only person strong enough to squeeze his victim to death. Ursa could squeeze the life out of the blacksmith himself. He must remain a suspect.’

‘I still think our killer was human,’ said Gervase.

‘I am not so sure.’

‘Ursa was not involved. Remember what you said. The victim was killed the day before. Not during the night when Ursa roamed off. That lifts suspicion from him completely.’

‘I hope I was right.’

‘The bearward told the truth.’

‘How do you know?’

‘If he suspected for one moment that his animal had killed a man, do you think he would stay nearby for a few days? No, Ralph.

He would have fled Warwickshire as fast as he could. Forget the bear. Call on Grimketel. I will try to find Asmoth. One of them, I am certain, holds the evidence that we seek.’

‘If it is Grimketel,’ vowed Ralph, ‘I’ll squeeze it out of him. I’ll turn bear myself and hug that weasel until his bones crack. Meet me back in Warwick. Farewell!’

Ralph swung his horse in a semicircle and cantered off with the four men-at-arms. It was not long before he was on Adam Reynard’s land but he did not head for the manor house this time. A swineherd gave them directions to Grimketel’s abode and they pounded on their way. After hearing the dwarf’s account of what he had seen in the forest, Ralph was convinced that Grimketel had lied to them. Without his master to support his word, the man would be easier to break and Ralph intended to do just that. They emerged from a stand of elms to see the house at the bottom of a slope, smoke curling through the hole in its thatched roof. It was a small cottage with a run of outbuildings behind it.

Ralph led the way down the incline. When he got closer, he was surprised to see that Grimketel had other visitors. Philippe Trouville’s men-at-arms were waiting in a group outside. Ralph rode up to them.

‘Where is the lord Philippe?’ he said.

‘Inside,’ said one, pointing to the cottage.

‘Why?’

He dismounted and ran through the open door of the cottage before coming to a sudden halt. Grimketel would not be able to tell them anything now. He was lying on his back with blood oozing from a gash on his temple and obliterating most of his face. More blood had streamed from a wound at the back of his head and spread out across the earthen floor. Bending solicitously over him was Trouville. He looked up at Ralph.

‘He is beyond help, I fear.’

‘Dead?’

‘Yes,’ said Trouville. ‘Lying here just as I found him.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Minutes before you, my lord.’ He stood up. ‘Do you still say that the blacksmith has no blood on his hands?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Grimketel is his second victim.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Look at the way he died. Someone hit him so hard that he was knocked to the floor and his skull split open. This is Boio’s work, there can be no doubt. The lord Henry feared this would happen.

That is why he sent me here.’

‘Sent you?’

‘To warn Grimketel of the blacksmith’s escape. To tell him to be on his guard in case the fugitive came here in search of revenge.

Grimketel gave evidence that led to Boio’s arrest. It cost the poor fellow his life.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I came too late.’

‘The blood is still fresh,’ noted Ralph.

‘I know, my lord,’ he said, guiding Ralph out. ‘That means the villain may still be nearby. I have sent one of my men to fetch the lord Henry. He is at Adam Reynard’s house. If we hurry we may be able to pick up the blacksmith’s scent.’

‘Why would he take such a risk in coming here?’

‘Risks mean nothing to him. What has he got to lose?’

Ralph was shaken by the turn of events. He looked back into the house and tried to work out exactly what might have happened.

Trouville was already back in the saddle.

‘Mount up, my lord,’ he urged. ‘You come in good time.’

‘For what?’

‘Riding down a murderer.’

Before he could reply, Ralph heard the posse bearing down.

Henry Beaumont and his men came galloping into view. When they reached the cottage Henry ordered the soldiers to begin a search of the immediate area and they set off at once. Trouville and his escort went with them. Ralph remained on his feet when the constable nudged his horse across.

‘What are you doing here, my lord?’ he demanded.

‘Hunting for the truth,’ said Ralph.

‘You should be back at the shire hall.’

‘We could not proceed without the services of our scribe and someone foolishly locked him up in a dungeon.’

‘Take care you do not end up in the same place!’

‘That would be to add suicide to folly,’ warned Ralph. ‘I am a royal commissioner. Lay hands on me and the King himself will ride to Warwick to talk with you on the subject. Do you want that to happen?’

Henry glared at him, then jumped from his saddle and went into the cottage to view the corpse. Ralph followed at his shoulder.

The newcomer’s diagnosis was swift and terse.

‘Boio!’

‘I thought he crushed his victims to death,’ said Ralph cynically.

‘He has been here. Stand aside.’

Henry pushed him back and went out to his horse. Without another word he rode off to join in the search and to exhort his men. Ralph waited until he was out of sight, then he went into the cottage for the third time and examined the scene of the crime more carefully. When he inspected the wounds he came to the same conclusion as Trouville. Grimketel had been felled by a vicious blow to the temple and his head was dashed hard against the floor. As he studied the gash he recalled that Martin Reynard had also been struck on the temple with great force but there had been no blood in his case.

He made a quick search of the cottage but found nothing of interest until he was about to leave. Standing behind the door was the stout length of oak which was used to bar it. He picked it up to feel its weight, then he closed the door and dropped it into position. It was an elementary means of fortification, but effective. Removing the oak, he stood it against the wall again and let himself out, strolling around the outbuildings and peering into them. Chickens were kept in one, another was used to store logs, a third housed a fractious goat. But it was the fourth hut which interested Ralph. It had no window and its door was securely locked. After walking around it a couple of times he used his heel to pound at the door until it gave way.

Looking inside, he gave a gasp of astonishment.

‘What have we found here?’ he murmured.

Shortly after parting with his friend, Gervase Bret left the road and struck off across open country with only a vague idea of where he was going. He and his two companions were soon hopelessly lost and there was nobody in sight from whom they could seek help. They pressed on over fields and through woodland until they finally came to a lone hovel in a clearing. A man was chopping wood outside it. When they told him they were looking for Roundshill, he had a laugh at their expense and told them they had gone completely astray but he gave them clear directions and they set off once more.

They were a mile away from their destination when they saw a man forking hay into a stable. Gervase rode over to him to confirm that they were heading for their destination.

‘Roundshill?’ said the man. ‘Why do you want to go there?’

‘I am looking for a young woman called Asmoth.’

‘Then you should have come earlier, for she was here at my house.’

‘When?’ asked Gervase.

‘Oh, some time ago. They are well on their way by now.’

‘They?’

‘Asmoth and her father,’ explained the man. ‘The poor fellow is fading badly. His only hope is the physician who lives in Warwick but he would not ride all the way to Roundshill. Asmoth has to take her father there. That is why she borrowed my horse and cart.’

‘To go to Warwick?’

‘That is where you will find her.’

Gervase was minded to head straight for Warwick but something told him to stop in Roundshill first. They rode on until they came to a small cluster of dwellings near a frozen stream. The old lady in the first cottage told them where Asmoth and her father lived.

Gervase was soon tapping on their door. There was no sound from within. When a louder rap brought no response he tried the door and it opened to reveal a small room with a few sticks of furniture in it. Lying on the bed in the corner was an old man, eyes watering with fear at the sight of an intruder.

‘I will not harm you, friend,’ said Gervase softly. ‘I was told that Asmoth lived here. Is that true?’

‘Yes,’ croaked the invalid.

‘Then you must be her father. Is she not taking you to Warwick?’

‘No. I would never make the journey alive.’

‘But your daughter borrowed a horse and cart.’

‘I would rather die in my own home.’ He held out a hand. ‘What is this about a horse and cart? Why should I go to Warwick?’

Gervase crossed to the bed, gave him a calming pat on the arm then pulled the blanket gently over his shoulders. Seeing that the fire was dying, he fed it with logs before leaving the old man in peace. When he stepped outside again, he shook his head in bewilderment.

‘Wherever can she be?’ he said to himself.

Staying clear of the main road, the cart trundled over wandering paths and rutted tracks. Asmoth was perched on its seat, her face tense and her teeth clenched, keeping the horse at a steady pace and tugging hard on the reins when it tried to veer off rebelliously. A tall pile of straw, brush and bramble lay in the back of the cart, heaped up and swaying violently every time the vehicle bucked or lurched. The journey was slow and uncomfortable, and the horse had to be stung on the rump with a stick whenever they went up a hill, in order to make it pull its load harder. Asmoth saw nobody and, she prayed, nobody saw her. She was not worried for her own safety and feared no consequences. Her thoughts were fixed on someone else.

When a beaten path finally opened out into something resembling a road, she snapped the reins and gave a yell. The horse and cart picked up speed and moved on. They did not have far to go now.

Adam Reynard paced restlessly up and down, cursing his luck and racking his brains. When someone banged on his door he jumped in alarm. He needed a moment to compose himself before he let Ralph Delchard in. The visitor wasted no time on a hollow greeting.

‘Why did you not come running?’ he said accusingly.

‘Running?’

‘To Grimketel’s house. The man has been murdered. Do you care so little about him that you do not even go to view the body?’

He rode over Reynard’s stuttered excuse. ‘You were here when the lord Philippe’s man brought the news so you must have heard it. Why did you not ride off when the lord Henry did?’

‘I was just about to come, my lord.’

‘Without your cloak and cap on?’

‘Grimketel was my man. I was very fond of him. I was so grief-stricken at his death that I could not move an inch.’

‘Stop lying,’ said Ralph. ‘We both know why you stayed here.’

‘Do we?’

‘It is the same reason you stopped us calling on Grimketel before. You were afraid that someone might look into the outbuildings. If the lord Henry had peeped inside one of those in search of Boio, he would have had an unpleasant shock. Three of his finest deer are hanging in there by their back legs.’

‘Deer!’ exclaimed Reynard, looking shocked. ‘Can this be?’

‘You know very well it can be,’ said Ralph, standing over him. ‘So do not insult my intelligence with evasion and falsehood. Grimketel had rights of warren to kill vermin. He had no hunting privileges in the Forest of Arden. How did that venison get where it is?’

‘I have no idea.’ Ralph’s blow sent him reeling. ‘My lord!’

‘I will use a sword next time. Now — answer my question.’

‘Grimketel must have-’ He broke off and licked his lips.

‘Grimketel must have what?’

‘Been poaching.’

‘On your orders.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘A man like that does not dine off venison,’ sneered Ralph.

‘Only someone as fond of his belly as you would do that. The game was being hidden in that hut for your benefit. Admit it!’

‘He tried to sell it to me and I refused to buy.’

Ralph’s sword came out and Reynard started to blubber, holding up both hands for protection. The swordpoint was rested on his paunch.

‘Which would you prefer?’ said Ralph menacingly. ‘A quick death now or a lingering one at the hands of the lord Henry?’

‘Neither, my lord. I beg you.’

‘The only thing which can save you is the truth. Otherwise, I’ll drag you off by the scruff of the neck and throw you to the tender mercies of the lord Henry. He is very possessive about his deer.

They are reserved for him and his brother. If he learns that you have been stuffing your fat carcass with his venison, he will carve you up into strips. Right,’ said Ralph, using the swordpoint to guide Reynard to a chair and push him down into it, ‘now that we understand each other, let me hear what you have to say.

And I will brook no more lies.’

Reynard nodded, his mind racing madly and his eyes darting around the room as if hoping to see a means of escape. The swordpoint pricked his paunch and he let out a cry of pain.

‘I am still waiting.’

‘It is true that Grimketel poached on my behalf,’ said Reynard,

‘but only once, I swear it. He slew three deer. Two were kept at his house where you found them. Until today the third was here, hanging in the kitchen, waiting to be eaten.’

‘How did it get from here to Grimketel’s? Can a dead animal trot the best part of a mile?’

‘No, my lord. Grimketel warned me that the lord Henry was coming this way, leading a search party for Boio. I was terrified that he would come into my house and see one of his own fallow deer hanging here.’

‘So you made Grimketel take it away?’

‘Yes, my lord. I loaned him a horse.’

‘That much I believe,’ said Ralph, ‘but I will never accept that a man like Grimketel could catch three deer on his own. I have met the fellow, remember. Catching vermin with snares or nets is all that he is fit for. He is no hunter. He had a confederate.

Who was it?’ Reynard shook his head but his expression gave him away. ‘Who was it? One of the foresters, I’ll wager. What is his name? Give it to me!’

‘There was nobody else,’ said Reynard, squirming in his chair.

‘Would you rather tell the name to the lord Henry?’

‘No, no!’

‘Then whisper it to me now. Who helped Grimketel? Which one of the foresters conspired with him to poach deer for you?’

Reynard capitulated. ‘His name is Warin.’

‘Warin the Forester, eh? I will look forward to making the fellow’s acquaintance. But let us put the poaching aside and turn to something far more important — the murder of Martin Reynard.’

‘I did not touch him,’ bleated the other.

‘You would not have enough guts. The only thing you would dare to attack is a dead animal on a platter. But you might still have found someone to act in your stead — the way you hired your poacher.’

Reynard’s throat was parched, his face took on a deathly pallor and he felt a pounding in his temples. His life might depend on what he said and how much he admitted. Ralph would not easily be deceived.

The commissioner jabbed Reynard even harder with the sword and made him yelp.

‘Did you hire someone?’

‘I did not, my lord. On my oath. But …’

‘But?’

An agonised pause. ‘But I may have … said something which Grimketel decided to act upon.’

‘Something about your kinsman?’

‘Yes, my lord. I told him how much I hated Martin and I remember saying …’ He clutched at his throat to help the words out. ‘I remember saying that it would be of great advantage to me if Thorkell were to lose his reeve before he battled with me in front of the tribunal. Martin was too tricky a foe. He had the gift of advocacy and I did not. I wanted him out of the way so that Thorkell’s case was weakened.’

‘In other words, you ordered his death.’

‘No!’

‘But you put the idea into Grimketel’s mind?’

‘Only in a moment of anger,’ gabbled Reynard. ‘The truth is that I do not know if he hired an assassin on my behalf or not. I did not want to know. Ignorance can sometimes be a protection.

All that concerned me was that Martin was dead and …’ The words tumbled out. ‘Yes, I was glad. I rejoiced in his death, I will confess it. But I have no idea who killed him.’

‘Yet you were quick enough to accuse Boio.’

‘We needed a scapegoat. He was the obvious choice.’

‘So Grimketel did not see him in the forest that morning?’

‘He may have done.’

‘It was not some tale that you and he concocted?’

‘No, my lord,’ said the other. ‘I give you my word. I am no angel but I am not guilty here. Have it in plain language. Martin Reynard is dead. I was pleased. If one of my men contrived the murder, I prefer not to know. A suspect was arrested. I called for his conviction.’

‘You would have let an innocent man be hanged?’

‘Who knows if Boio is innocent? Let me be frank, my lord.

Grimketel was as cunning as a fox. I would not put it past him to have paid the blacksmith to commit the crime then betrayed him to the lord Henry. Boio could well be the killer,’ he argued.

‘Grimketel knew that Boio would be too stupid to defend himself properly and that nobody would believe a word that he said.’

‘Boio was not too stupid to escape from the castle.’

‘Nor to find his way back here.’

‘Here?’

‘To kill Grimketel,’ said the other. ‘I did not think he would take such a risk but he obviously did. If Grimketel hired the blacksmith to commit murder then betrayed him, Boio would have been seething with rage. He would be a powerful man when roused. Grimketel was shaking with fear when he heard of the escape. That is why I told him to lock himself in his house when he had concealed the deer carcass. He was no match for Boio, as we have seen.’

Ralph watched him with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

‘Repeat that again,’ he said.

‘My lord?’

‘What was that advice about locking himself in?’

Seated in his chamber at the abbey, Robert de Limesey handled the charter as reverentially as if he held Holy Writ between his fingers. His eyes ran slowly over the neat Latin script so that he could savour each separate clause afresh. His joy seemed to increase with each reading. Brother Reginald stood behind him and peered over his shoulder to take his own pleasure from the document. In the course of one day it had assumed infinitely more promise. Robert felt entitled to be complacent.

‘I believe that I struck a hard bargain, Reginald.’

‘Yes, my lord bishop.’

‘I was fair.’

‘But admirably firm.’

‘I was tenacious.’

‘Inspired.’

‘Haggling is permissible if it serves the needs of the Church,’

said the bishop, absolving himself of any blame. ‘That is why I lowered myself to do it. Gervase Bret was a clever young man but less schooled in political arts than I am. All that he and the lord Ralph gained was a meeting in a draughty gaol with a disreputable old man whereas I — that is to say, we, by which I mean the Church — have secured some of the most valuable holdings in Warwickshire.’

‘They were yours by right, my lord bishop.’

‘Eminently true.’

‘That charter before you proves it.’

‘It would not have guaranteed success.’

‘Your status carries weight in itself.’

‘Even with right on our side,’ said the bishop, ‘we may have lost. Royal commissioners are a strange breed, as we found when the first team visited the county. They do not always appreciate the moral claims of the Church. That is why I took the trouble to have word sent to me from Winchester about the men who would judge our case this time. In matters of litigation one cannot be too well prepared.’

‘Your attention to detail is remarkable.’

‘Archdeacon Theobald is a sound man. I know him by repute.

He could be expected to favour us but I did not like the sound of Ralph Delchard, still less of Philippe Trouville, both soldiers and like to prove stern judges. But,’ he said, flinging his hands in the air as if throwing a ball up to heaven, ‘when we most needed help, God provided it. He brought two of the commissioners to our very door and allowed me the opportunity to …’

‘Outwit them?’

‘Too vulgar a description.’

‘Persuade them.’

‘That has a far better ring to it, Reginald.’

‘On behalf of the Church, you persuaded them.’

‘And the property is as good as ours!’

On impulse he lifted the charter to his face, thought about kissing it but checked himself in the belief that a display of such excitement would not be seemly in front of Reginald. Instead he glowed with an inner ecstasy which would be given free rein when he was alone.

A polite tap on the door interrupted his self-congratulation.

‘Yes?’ he called.

A monk entered and gave him a deferential nod.

‘A man is at the gate, my lord,’ said the newcomer. ‘He is in the utmost distress. He comes with a request. The abbot wishes to confer with you about the case as a matter of urgency.’

‘Why?’ said Robert. ‘Who is this man?’

‘A fugitive from the law.’

‘What does he want?’

‘He claims right of sanctuary.’