The Lions of the North

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ralph Delchard moved swiftly to join his friend beside the body.

They examined it with care and soon found the cause of death.

Tanchelm of Ghent had sat in judgement bareheaded. An ugly red weal encircled his unprotected neck. Someone had choked the life out of him with brute force.

“He was attacked from behind,” decided Ralph. “He must have been sitting at the table when the assailant struck.”

“It was the work of a powerful man,” noted Gervase. “My lord Tanchelm was fit and strong. He would have fought an attacker. Even with surprise on his side, the man would have needed strength to subdue him.”

“Strength and skill, Gervase. He was proficient at his trade. Tanchelm was killed by a practised assassin.”

“But how did he get into the room?”

“And how leave it unseen?”

They stood up and looked around. At the rear of the room, some yards behind the table, was a small window high up in the wall. Its shutters were closed but not bolted. When Ralph went to stare up at it, his foot kicked something on the floor. He picked up some fragments of plaster and held them in his palm. When he reached up with his other hand, he could just touch the sill of the window.

“He came and went this way, Gervase,” he said.

“Then he must have been very agile.”

“One leap would have brought him within striking distance of the table. Tanchelm had no chance.” He grabbed the chair and set it against the wall. “Let’s see what is beyond.”

Standing on the chair, he was able to peer out at the narrow alley that ran at the rear of the shire hall to connect two larger thorough-fares. A few people were hurrying along it with baskets over their arms. Ralph jumped down and bellowed for his men. Hearing the urgency in his voice, all ten of them came running at once with their hands on their swords. They fanned out in the middle of the room.

“Foul murder,” said Ralph, pointing to the corpse. “My lord Tanchelm has been killed. The assassin, we believe, came and went by that window.”

The men were shocked. Only five minutes earlier, they had seen Tanchelm alive and well. It seemed impossible that he could have been murdered while they stood outside in the street. Ralph whipped them into action with his commands. Two of them were sent to guard the door and to admit nobody without his express permission. Two more were dispatched in the direction of York Minster to alert Canon Hubert and Brother Simon. Four men were ordered to hasten around to the alley at the rear of the building to search for clues before looking for possible witnesses to the entry or departure of the assassin. One man rode off to raise the alarm at the castle and to return with the members of Tanchelm’s escort who had been on duty outside the shire hall throughout the day.

Only the captain of Ralph’s guard remained behind.

“The North has not been friendly to us, Fulco.”

“No, my lord.”

“We are robbed on the way here, and now one of our number has been slain. What horror can we next expect?”

“I do not know, my lord.”

“When exactly did you last see my lord Tanchelm?”

“When he came out of here to dismiss his men.”

“And when was that?”

“Shortly before you and Master Bret emerged.”

“How close were you standing to him?”

“I was no more than five yards away, my lord. I had been talking to one of his men-at-arms. When my lord Tanchelm appeared, I saw and heard him very clearly.”

“What did he say?”

“He sent four of his men to escort Canon Hubert and Brother Simon to the minster.”

“And the remainder?”

“They were told to return to the castle.”

“Why?”

“My lord Tanchelm had no further need of them. Somebody was meeting him at the shire hall, he said, and he would make his own way back in due course.”

“Did he name the person he was meeting?”

“No, my lord.”

“What happened next?”

“His men withdrew and he came back in here.”

“And nobody came in after him?”

“No, my lord.”

“Are you quite certain, Fulco? Could not someone have slipped in when you were chatting among yourselves?”

Fulco was adamant. “Nobody entered through that door save my lord Tanchelm himself. We know better than to let our attention wander.

We could see this building at all times. A mouse could not have got in without being observed.”

“It is not mice that we are after,” said Ralph darkly, “but rats. Of the two-legged variety. This county seems to have a superfluity of them.

We will do some assiduous rat-catching before we quit this place.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Stay at the door with your men. If a meeting was arranged here, someone will turn up to see my lord Tanchelm. Do not tell him what has happened, Fulco. Conduct him in.”

“I will, my lord.”

The soldier nodded and went off to take up his post. Gervase, meanwhile, had been conducting a more thorough search of the body and of the area surrounding it. He stood up.

“We are not looking for a thief,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“His purse is full but untouched. Whoever killed him did not do so for money.”

“Then what was his motive, Gervase?”

“Fear.”

“But he was the mildest and most pleasant of men. How could anyone be afraid of Tanchelm of Ghent?”

“Look at his papers, Ralph. There is our clue.”

Scattered across the table were the various charters that had been in Tanchelm’s satchel. Some were torn, some were deliberately mutilated, all had been tampered with in some way.

“I’ll wager some were taken,” said Gervase. “That is why they were afraid of him. My lord Tanchelm found out something that they did not wish him to know.”

The commotion outside the shire hall drew a small crowd. Soldiers came from the castle, monks hurried from the minster and the sheriff’s deputy hastened to the scene. Passers-by were being questioned by Ralph’s men-at-arms and the purpose soon became clear. Someone lay murdered within the building. Excited by rumour, those who swelled the knot of on-lookers speculated on who had died and by what means.

No details were released, no guesswork confirmed.

It was an hour before the body was brought out. Laid on a bier and covered by a large blanket, it was carried by six of Tanchelm’s men and lifted into the back of a cart. As it trundled off in the direction of the castle, some followed but most lingered to discuss and surmise. The presence of so many soldiers attested the importance of the murder victim. Several hopeful suggestions were made about his identity.

In the fever of speculation, only one man remained silent. He kept to the back of the crowd and made sure that a swift departure was always possible. With his cap pulled down to conceal part of his face, he wore nondescript apparel and carried a staff. When soldiers started to disperse the crowd, he was the first to leave. Unlike the others, he did not need to ask who the murdered man was.

Olaf Evil Child stole quietly into the shadows.

Canon Hubert had many faults, and Ralph Delchard never tired of enumerating them, but even he was impressed by the way that his colleague reacted to the crisis. Snatched from Vespers and brought back to the shire hall, Brother Simon all but collapsed at the sight of the dead body. Hubert was quick to console him. With a blend of quiet dignity and maternal concern, he took Simon in his arms and rocked him gently to and fro, singing to him in Latin and soothing his troubled spirit. By the time the deputy sheriff arrived, the canon and the scribe were kneeling side by side on the hard floor, chanting the Lord’s Prayer in unison.

Ralph was grateful. The last thing he needed on his hands while he was trying to set an official investigation in motion was an hysterical monk, weeping and wailing. With Brother Simon quiescent, Ralph was able to give his statement to the deputy sheriff and pass on what evidence he felt that they had detected. Gervase Bret, too, gave a statement relating to the discovery of the corpse. The murder of a royal official was no small matter and all the resources at the sheriff’s command would be brought to bear on the pursuit of the killer. The sheriff himself, absent from York on business, would be sent for so that he could lead the investigation.

The removal of Tanchelm of Ghent served to restore Brother Simon’s stability. He was still shocked and consumed with grief but he no longer burst into floods of tears. Left alone with Ralph, Gervase and Hubert, he was relatively calm. The canon himself maintained a rock-like equanimity throughout.

Ralph, too, showed that he had a compassionate side.

“Why not sit on the bench, Brother Simon?” he said.

“Thank you, my lord.”

“I can see that this tragedy has hit you hard.”

“It has destroyed me. He was such a good man.”

Hubert helped him up and the two of them sat on the bench. Gervase settled on a stool but Ralph stayed on his feet so that he could pace up and down during the conversation. The candles had now been lighted again and bright pools of yellow dappled the floor. Ralph bent solici-tously over the monk.

“How do you feel now, Brother Simon?” asked Ralph.

“A little better, my lord.”

“Able to answer some questions?”

“I believe so.”

“Good. I will come to you in a moment.” He turned to Canon Hubert.

“At what time did you leave the shire hall?”

“As the bell for Vespers was ringing,” said Hubert.

“And was my lord Tanchelm alone in the room?”

“Completely.”

“What of the men-at-arms on duty here?”

“They acted as our escort.”

“Did he say anything as you parted from him?”

“Nothing beyond a farewell.”

“No mention of a meeting?”

“None.”

“No name of a friend?”

Hubert shook his head. “But that does not mean some meeting had not been arranged. My lord Tanchelm was a strange compound. Open in many ways, he was very private in others. Last evening, for instance, he paid a visit to the Abbey of St. Mary without even raising the matter with us. We would never have known about it had Brother Francis not let slip the details after Compline.”

“And there were other meetings about which we were not informed,”

said Simon. “My lord Tanchelm was ubiquitous.”

“I put it down to his fascination with this city,” continued Hubert.

“When he ceased to be a commissioner, he became a curious traveller intent on seeing all the sights of York.”

“How did you find him when he sat beside you?” said Ralph.

“Extremely able.”

“Brother Simon?”

“Astute and fair-minded,” said Simon.

“Did he upset any of the witnesses?”

“All the time,” said Hubert, “but that is what we are here for, my lord.

You will not get the truth out of people unless you press down on them and that is bound to lead to antagonism. My lord Tanchelm aroused his share of that.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Not that I recall.”

“One man threw foul abuse at Canon Hubert,” said Simon, “but I do not remember harsh words against my lord Tanchelm. Scowls and muttering, yes. But no threats of any kind.”

“Why do you ask?” said Hubert.

“Gervase believes that the murder may be linked to one of the disputes that came or will come before you.”

“It is only a theory,” explained Gervase. “I have this feeling that the killer is either a vengeful litigant who took offence when judgement was given against him, or a ruthless landowner who is trying to disable the commission because he fears that we may dispossess him.”

“The first possibility can straightway be ruled out,” said Hubert fussily.

“I was senior to my lord Tanchelm and it was from my lips that the judicial pronouncements were made. If anyone had resented a verdict sufficiently to contemplate murder, then I would certainly have been the victim.”

“Do not say that, Canon Hubert!” cried Simon.

“It is the plain truth.”

“I could not bear the thought of losing you.”

“Nor will you, Brother Simon.”

“If you are at risk, none of our lives is safe!”

“Calm down, calm down,” said Ralph. “You are not in the slightest danger. Armed guards will attend you at all times.”

Simon jumped up. “My lord Tanchelm had ten armed guards and yet he was killed under their very noses.”

“Sit down,” said Hubert, reinforcing his advice with a sharp tug on Simon’s cowl. “This is needless panic.”

Simon was contrite and nodded apologetically. Gervase had been re-examining his hypothesis in the light of Hubert’s comments. The canon’s argument was compelling.

“You are right,” he said to Hubert. “This is no litigant with whom you have already dealt. It is most likely a witness yet to enter the fray.

Someone who has been summoned by you to the shire hall and not requested to present himself before us next door. He knew which of the two tribunals to attack.”

“Ours!” whispered Simon, eyes shut in terror.

“Do you agree, Canon Hubert?” asked Gervase.

“It lies within the bounds of possibility.”

“I think it is highly probable,” said Ralph. “And it is the only real signpost we have. My men found no trail by which to follow the killer.

People were stopped in the street by the score but no one could-or would-give any information of value.”

“My lord Tanchelm’s papers were searched,” added Gervase. “Some may have been stolen. That points to one of your claimants. What was the biggest case due to come before you in here tomorrow, Canon Hubert?”

“It relates to land in the wapentake of Burghshire.”

“Can you recall the name of the disputants?”

“I fear not. A hundred names have come in and out of my head since we have been in the city. Do not ask me to pluck some more out of the air.”

“I remember a name,” piped Brother Simon.

“What is it?” asked Gervase.

“It stuck in my mind because it conjured up a clear picture of what the fellow must have looked like. He had holdings of some consequence in Burghshire when he died.”

“Who did?” said Ralph. “Give us his name.”

“Sweinn Redbeard.”

“And he used to own this land, you say?”

“Yes, my lord. It should have devolved to his son.”

“And who might that be?”

“Someone that nobody could forget.”

“Go on.”

Brother Simon savoured a rare moment when he felt he had an advantage over his superiors. It earned him a respect from all three of them that he never normally enjoyed. His time perusing the documents relating to the claims had not been wasted. It elevated his importance for once.

“Well?” prompted Gervase.

“Who is the son of this Sweinn Redbeard?” said Ralph.

“Tell us, man!” urged Canon Hubert.

“Very well,” said Simon. “It is Olaf Evil Child.”

Aubrey Maminot was dumbfounded when he first heard the news about the murder. He had spent the day visiting one of his berewics to the west of York and only returned to the city in the evening. No sooner had he ridden into his castle with his men than the captain of the guard ran up to him to pass on the tidings. Aubrey was stunned but he recovered with speed as fury built inside him. Tanchelm of Ghent was a guest at his home. Any misfortune that befell the Fleming was a reflection on his host. Aubrey was beside himself.

“I should have been here to guard him!” he yelled.

“His own men were given that duty, my lord.”

“A guest of mine murdered! I will not believe it.”

“Unhappily, it is true.”

“Has my lord sheriff been informed?”

“His deputy has taken charge while he is away. The sheriff himself has been recalled with urgency.”

“I should hope so! What steps have been taken?”

“I do not know, my lord.”

“Is the killer’s identity known?”

“Not yet.”

“God’s blood!” snarled Aubrey. “Then why have the gates been left open for him to escape? Every exit should have been sealed so that the villain was penned up inside York. Then we could have searched every inch of it until we rooted him out. The deputy sheriff is an imbecile.”

“You will have to take that up with him in person.”

“I shall, I shall!”

Aubrey let his horse feel his spurs and cantered out of the castle.

Five minutes later, he was in earnest discussion with the deputy sheriff, hearing what little progress had been made and offering an unlimited number of his own men to assist in the hunt for the killer. When he returned to his castle once more, he was still so incensed at what had happened that he left the feeding of his lions to Ludovico. His guests were his prior concern.

“I blame myself, Ralph. It was unforgivable.”

“You were not responsible for his safety,” said Ralph.

“I feel that I was. I let him down cruelly.”

“No, Aubrey.”

“He was the victim of a cunning villain,” said Gervase. “What safer place could there have been than the shire hall when armed men were within call? An attack would never be expected there. That is why he was taken unawares.”

Aubrey sighed. “Shameful, shameful!”

It was late evening and the three of them were seated alone in the hall. Two flagons of wine had already been emptied. Even Gervase, habitually quite abstemious, felt the need of several drinks. The wine began to make him feel sleepy but Ralph and Aubrey slid into a maudlin mood.

“The irony of it!” said Ralph. “Just as I was beginning to like the man, he gets himself killed.” He raised his cup. “I drink to the memory of Tanchelm of Ghent!”

“Tanchelm!” echoed Aubrey.

“May he rest in peace!” said Gervase.

They sipped their drinks and Aubrey became wistful.

“Poor fellow!” he said. “He and I sat in this very hall last night and caroused for hours. Tanchelm was a fine man. I tell you now, I do not like many Flemings and that may be accounted a prejudice in me, but he was different. He was an old soldier and that goes deep with me.

But Tanchelm was something more. He was an educated man, a well-travelled man and yet withal a humble man.” He gave a chuckle. “Nobody could say that of Aubrey Maminot. Humility is a vice to me. But I did not see it as a flaw in Tanchelm’s character.”

“I just wish that I had known him better,” said Ralph.

“So do I.”

“He was a deep man,” observed Gervase. “I think that we knew him as well as he would let us.”

“What will happen to him now?” asked Aubrey.

“The body has been examined by all who need to see it,” said Ralph.

“It has now been released by the deputy sheriff. At first light, I am having it sent back to Lincolnshire. His wife will be distraught at the news of his death. We do not want to add to her misery by keeping the body here.”

“That is very considerate, Ralph.”

“We may need to borrow one of your carts, Aubrey.”

“Feel free to take anything you wish.”

“Thank you.”

“How will his wife be informed?”

“Riders have already been sent out. This is grim intelligence but she has a right to hear it as soon as possible. On our return journey, I plan to visit his home and explain in more detail the circumstances of his death.”

“By that time, we’ll have hanged his killer.”

“I hope so, Aubrey.”

Gervase was becoming drowsy. He excused himself from the table and tottered off to bed, pausing first at the chapel to offer up a prayer for the soul of Tanchelm of Ghent.

Ralph and Aubrey continued to drink and reminisce.

“This has dealt a bitter blow to your work,” said the castellan. “That must have been the intention.”

“It has stopped us in our tracks,” said Ralph. “We will suspend our tribunal until this murder is solved.”

“Very wise.”

“It is the least we can do for Tanchelm. Finding his killer is far more important than settling property disputes. They can wait. Our colleague’s death must be answered.”

“And when the villain is caught and punished?”

“We will begin again,” sighed Ralph. “With only one tribunal, alas. I cannot ask Canon Hubert to operate on his own, however much he might yearn for such autocracy. He and Brother Simon will renew their partnership with Gervase and myself. Our progress will be slower but we will get through our assignment in time.”

“The longer you stay, the more delighted I shall be.”

“Your hospitality is like the rays of the sun, Aubrey.”

“I feel that it is somewhat in eclipse.”

“Gervase and I could not have a finer lodging. And Golde told me only this morning how she has started to settle into the castle. You have three very contented guests.”

“Yes,” said Aubrey gloomily. “But you are forgetting something, old friend. I had four.”

Philip the Chaplain had looked on death many times in his career.

There had been a period when the castle had a garrison of over four hundred, and Aubrey Maminot’s famed generosity meant that there were usually plenty of guests staying there as well. In an establishment of that size, there was a steady flow of fatalities. Soldiers might be killed in skirmishes, fever might carry off the weaker vessels and old age would reap its own ineluctable harvest. Childbirth was another ready source of death.

The chaplain was accustomed to the sight of terrible wounds on the bodies of soldiers, and it had taken Romulus and Remus to autograph a corpse in a way that actually made him feel squeamish. Tanchelm of Ghent posed no such threat. As he lay on the slab in the mortuary, his eyes now closed by Philip’s delicate fingers, the Fleming looked so calm and healthy that he might have been sleeping. Only his grue-some necklace hinted at a violent demise.

It would not be an onerous duty. The chaplain chose to do it himself rather than delegate it to an assistant. All he had to do was to strip, wash and prepare the body for the journey to its last resting place. He stood the two lighted candles in the most advantageous position and set to work, according the body all the respect due to the departed. As he rolled Tanchelm onto his side to remove his tunic, his hand encountered something that made him stop. A pocket seemed to have been sewn on the inside of the garment. Philip the Chaplain was intrigued.

Golde clung to him more tightly than ever in the darkness.

“It might have been you, Ralph!”

“No, my love.”

“If someone can kill my lord Tanchelm, he could just as easily have attacked you.”

“That is not true, Golde.”

“You are bound to have enemies in York.”

“We have hardly any friends here,” he admitted. “We are royal commissioners with duties relating to the gathering of taxes. Unpopularity is assured. Especially in a city that already has good reason to hate Norman overlordship.”

“What if you are the next target?”

“I will not be.”

“How do you know?”

“Instinct.”

“Promise me that you will take care.”

“Do not fret.”

“Promise me, Ralph.”

He kissed her on the lips and stroked her hair.

“I will,” he said. “But it is an unnecessary promise. I always take great care, Golde. When you have borne arms as long as I have, it becomes second nature.”

“My lord Tanchelm was a soldier also.”

“But caught off guard. That would never happen to me.”

She nestled into him for comfort and he ran a hand gently up and down her naked back. Anxiety made her tense and unresponsive. He tried to put her mind at rest.

“I am here, my love. I am safe. I am yours.”

“When you next venture out, you will be in danger.”

“No, Golde.”

“Take me with you. Let me be another pair of eyes.”

“That is the last thing I will do. I warned you before we set out that my work is paramount. It is something in which you can never be involved. You would make a charming sentry, my love, but you would also be a severe distraction to me. Besides, I do not need more eyes to watch over me.”

“I think you do.”

He chuckled quietly. “You are worse than Aubrey. He offered to put fifty men at my disposal. I told him that there was only one kind of escort I would even consider.”

“And what was that?”

“Romulus and Remus.”

“The lions?”

“Yes, Golde. Imagine me walking through York with those two, like dogs on a leash. Nobody would dare to come near me.” He nibbled at her ear lobe. “Not even you.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Do lions not frighten you?”

“I live with one.”

He kissed her with sudden passion and hugged her close. They lay entwined for several minutes in contented silence. When he spoke, it was in an affectionate whisper.

“Are you glad that you came here with me?”

“Very glad.”

“In spite of what has happened?”

“Yes, Ralph.”

“I must warn you that we may have to stay in York rather longer than we had planned.”

“I will be patient.”

“You were so uncomfortable in the castle at first.”

“I am more reconciled now.”

“Why is that?”

“Herleve has spoken with me. We have become friends.”

“I knew that you would melt that reserve of hers in time.”

“You helped, Ralph.”

“Me? How?”

“It does not matter,” she said with a yawn.

“But I want to know.”

“We are both tired. Let us get some sleep.”

“Not until you tell me about Herleve.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Why are you being so evasive?”

“Ralph …”

“Tell me what she said.”

“I do not want to make you angry.”

“Angry? Why should I be angry?”

“You will see.” Golde took a deep breath before she plunged on.

“Herleve saw us together in the chapel. That was what changed her mind about me, Ralph. And about us. She came to apologise for treating me with such indifference. When she saw me arrive at the castle in your train, she thought that I was nothing more than your paramour.”

“She called you that? ” he growled.

“I knew that you would be angry.”

“It is an insult to both of us.”

“Hear me out and you will soon forgive her.”

“I’ll not let anyone say that of you, Golde.”

“She misunderstood. Herleve saw two people sharing a bed without the blessing of the Church. She is a deeply religious woman. It was an affront to her.”

“But she changed her mind, you say?”

“Yes, Ralph. She saw how much we loved each other. And when she found us kneeling together in the chapel …”

“Well?”

“Herleve said that we looked like man and wife.”

There was a long pause. His anger had evanesced into a reflective sadness. She ran a palm across his chest.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I had a wife once. Elinor was my whole world.”

“Herleve spoke fondly of her.”

“We were kindred spirits in every way. I never thought to find such love again. No man deserves that amount of good fortune. Least of all me.”

“And have you found that love again?” she murmured.

“I think so.”

“That gladdens me.”

“Golde …”

“No,” she said, stopping his lips with a kiss. “Say no more. It is enough. The rest can wait.”

Gervase Bret was unable to sleep. Though his body was tired and his energy sapped by the wine, his mind remained active. The corpse that lay on the floor of the shire hall was such a vivid memory that it would not let him rest. Four commissioners had been sent to Yorkshire to deal with the large number of irregularities that had surfaced in the returns for the county. Why had Tanchelm of Ghent been singled out from the others? What special knowledge did he have that made him a threat while he lived? How had the killer known exactly when and where to find him alone? Whom had Tanchelm arranged to meet?

These and other questions tormented him. Persuaded that Tanchelm’s papers might yield the answers, he studied them by the light of his candle, putting them back in sequence and trying to establish why some documents had been rent apart while others had been merely sullied. He was just beginning to impose some order on the confusion before him when he heard a footstep outside his door. He reached for his dagger.

“Who’s there?” he called.

“It is me,” said Philip the Chaplain.

“So late?”

“I saw the light under your door.”

“What did you want?”

“I have something for you.”

Gervase put his dagger aside and unbolted the door. When his visitor had been admitted, he closed it again. Philip looked slightly apprehensive.

“I was hoping you would still be awake.”

“Why?”

“This could not wait until morning,” said Philip. “I thought to go to my lord Ralph’s apartment but I decided that you might be a more appropriate person.”

“Appropriate?”

“I was laying out the body of Tanchelm of Ghent. It occasioned me some sadness. I had spoken with him a few times since he had been staying here and found him to be a devout and serious man.” A smile crinkled his cheek. “That is unusual among the soldiers I normally meet. The chapel is not a part of the castle that has regular visitors.”

“Go on.”

“I was in the mortuary, removing his apparel so that I could wash and prepare the body for tomorrow.”

“And?”

“I found something concealed in his tunic.”

“What was it?”

“You must see for yourself, Master Bret.”

The chaplain handed over the letter clasped in his hand. He seemed relieved to get rid of it and shifted his feet uneasily. Gervase looked down at the missive.

“Did you read it?”

“I gave it the merest glance,” said Philip defensively. “That was enough to tell me that it belonged more properly in your keeping. My lord Tanchelm was a colleague of yours. His personal effects will travel back with him to Lincolnshire but this letter, I think, must remain here with you.”

“Why?”

“Read it and you will understand.”

“Very well,” agreed Gervase. “You said a moment ago that I was a more appropriate person.”

“Yes, Master Bret.”

“In what way?”

“I can trust you.”

“My lord Ralph is also trustworthy, I can assure you.”

“That may be,” said the chaplain, “but he would never grant me the favour that I must ask of you.”

“Favour?”

“Say nothing of my part in this. You have the letter. Nobody needs to know how it came into your possession. I would not be involved in this in any way.”

“I respect that wish.”

“Thank you, Master Bret. I knew that you would. My lord Ralph might not. The pull of loyalty might prove too strong for him. He is a friend of my lord Aubrey and might feel obliged to confide in him. That would embarrass me.”

“Your name will be kept out of this.”

The chaplain gave a nervous smile of gratitude and left the room.

Gervase found his behavior quite baffling and sought an explanation in the letter. Crouching beside the candle, he unfolded it to read it through. When he saw the seal properly for the first time, his mind raced. The words on the obverse side were extremely familiar to him.

HOC NORMANNORUM WILLELMUM NOSCE PATRONEM SI

It was a personal letter from King William himself.

Romulus and Remus were in a mutinous state the next morning. Having been liberated from their cage for the night, they showed little enthusiasm for returning to it and not even Ludovico’s harsh commands could quell them at first. They roared their defiance, then paced around the perimeter of the ditch with calm unconcern. When Ludovico came right down to them, they even dared to run away from him. He was livid.

Aubrey Maminot watched with exasperation. He was anxious to see his pets incarcerated again so that the body of Tanchelm of Ghent could be carried down the steps from the keep. As long as the animals were loose, nobody could leave the building. With a combination of threat and blandishment, the keeper of the beasts eventually managed to coax Remus back into the cage but his brother remained at large. It was only when Ludovico approached him with his whip that Romulus finally succumbed. He bounded up the incline to join Remus and to snarl for food.

Ludovico waved to his master. Aubrey went off to apologise to his guests. Minutes later, Tanchelm was brought out in a wooden casket and carried down to the courtyard before being placed in a cart. Philip the Chaplain led the little procession in its wake. Ralph Delchard, Golde, Gervase Bret, Aubrey and Herleve had risen early to see the body leave. Canon Hubert and Brother Simon had come from the minster to add their blessing. Brother Francis also wanted to share a valedic-tory moment with Tanchelm.

When the casket was tied in position and covered with a thick cloth, the chaplain led the tiny congregation in a small prayer. The cart then rolled on out of the castle to begin its sad journey to Lincolnshire. Tanchelm’s horse was towed along behind it. Still numbed by the murder, his men-at-arms fell in behind the body of their erst-while master. It was clear from their stricken faces that they had held him in the highest regard.

Shedding remorse, Aubrey thought only of retribution.

“Now we can begin the hunt for the killer!” he said.

“It will not be easy,” sighed Ralph.

“He is out there somewhere. We will find him.”

Aubrey went off to marshal his men. The chaplain took the two women back into the keep and Canon Hubert led his companions quickly out of the castle. Gervase was left alone with Ralph. It was the first chance they had had to speak alone that morning and Gervase seized it at once.

“We have been looking in the wrong direction,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“My lord Tanchelm’s death had nothing to do with his office as a commissioner. That was a false trail.”

“How do you know?”

“Intelligence has come into my hands that points us along another path altogether. A letter was found upon the body. It was sent by King William himself.”

“To Tanchelm?”

“Yes, Ralph,” he said. “He was formally instructed to sit in commission with us and to discharge that duty with zeal. But it was only a cloak for his real purpose in coming to York.”

Ralph frowned. “Real purpose?”

“My lord Tanchelm was a spy.”