The Poisoned Serpent

24

As soon as Lord Richard Basset had arrived in the city, the sheriff had sent official summonses to all those who would be required to appear as witnesses in the trial of Bernard Radvers. These witnesses had been notified weeks earlier to hold themselves in readiness, and so were expected to present themselves upon demand.

Since he was the person who had discovered the earl’s body, Alan was one of those who received a summons. On the day of the trial, after breaking the morning fast, he and Richard walked together through the damp, foggy streets of Lincoln up to the castle. The Bail was busy as usual with those arriving for mass at the Minster and those who had come to shop at the market stalls, but in the Inner bail the knights of the castle guard went about their business in a silence that was almost eerie. Even the horses seemed to munch their hay with unnatural quiet.

Alan and Richard were silent also as they climbed the stairs to the keep and entered the castle. The trial was to be held in the armory hall, whose vast emptiness had been transformed into a hall of justice for the occasion.

Alan looked around with curiosity as he and Richard came in. A long wooden table with three chairs behind it had been placed in the middle of the hall. The two end chairs were already occupied, one by a tonsured clerk, whose duty it was to take notes of the trial’s proceedings, and the other by the sheriff, the king’s chief law officer in Lincoln. Alan looked at Gervase’s face, which was as expressionless as a mask.

He must know that Hugh intends to reveal his dishonesty, Alan thought, and felt a twinge of pity for the hapless sheriff.

The various witnesses had been provided with five rows of benches, which had been set up to face the chief justiciar’s table. Bernard, as the accused, was already in place on the first bench, with Hugh beside him.

The armory walls were punctuated with four small windows, but as the murky day offered little light, the flambeaux affixed to the walls had been lit. There was no source of heat in the hall and nearly everyone present was wearing a warm mantle.

Richard chose a bench in the third row and Alan sat next to him. Cristen was sitting directly in front of them, and Alan was surprised to see that she had Nicholas Rye with her.

Nicholas turned around and gave Alan a quick, shy smile.

Two of the Bail merchants sat at the end of Alan’s row. Alan shot a quick look at Richard’s grim profile, then looked away. The merchants must be there to testify about the amount of rent they paid to the sheriff, he thought.

Once more, Alan looked at Gervase’s masklike face.

A sudden rustle of sound behind him caused Alan to turn his head, and he saw Elizabeth de Beauté, accompanied by Lady Sybil, entering the armory hall.

Elizabeth wore a white wimple over her glorious hair and a green tunic with an embroidered neckline over a pristine white undertunic. Around her graceful shoulders was a gray wool mantle lined with fur. Her lovely face looked infinitely sorrowful.

Gilbert de Beauté’s daughter was making good her promise to witness the downfall of her father’s murderer.

From the martyred expression on Lady Sybil’s face, Alan deduced that Elizabeth’s companion was not pleased with her charge’s decision.

Head held high, looking at no one, Elizabeth walked to the second row of benches and sat down at a little distance from Cristen.

The next person to enter the room came from the far side of the hall. Walking briskly, carrying a rolled document under his arm, was Lord Richard Basset, Chief Justiciar of England. All of the witnesses rose to their feet.

Richard Basset sat in the empty chair, handed his document to the clerk, and folded his hands. The rest of the room remained standing as the clerk unrolled the parchment and read in a loud voice so that all could hear:

“Stephen, King of the English, to the earls, barons, bishop, sheriff, and citizens of Lincoln and to all his faithful people in Lincoln and Lincolnshire, Greetings. Know that I have granted to Richard Basset my justice of Lincoln and Lincolnshire. Wherefore I will firmly command that the same Richard Basset shall hold my justice well and in peace and honorably and fully. Witness, Hugh the Bishop of Durham, Richard de Luci, and William of Ypres at Drax.”

The clerk carefully rerolled the parchment and informed the assembled courtroom, “You may be seated.”

Lord Richard Basset lifted his eyes from his clasped hands. He was tall and rail-thin, with a beak of a nose and eyes so dark, they almost looked black. He was dressed in a long-sleeved brown tunic and a wine-colored cloak lined with ermine. On his dark hair he wore a soft wine-colored cap trimmed with a fur band.

For a long, silent moment, he surveyed the group gathered before him, his eyes lingering for just a second on Elizabeth and Cristen. Everyone sat as still as petrified wood and gazed back. Finally, in a voice that was oddly husky coming from such an emaciated frame, he announced, “I hereby declare open the case concerning the murder of the Earl of Lincoln brought by the Sheriff of Lincoln against Bernard Radvers.”

The intense black eyes focused on Bernard. “How do you plead?”

In a clear, steady voice that betrayed none of the weakness of his illness, Bernard replied, “I am innocent of these charges, my lord.”

“Do you stand ready to prove your innocence?”

“Aye, my lord, I do.”

The chief justiciar’s eyes flicked to Hugh, then back again to Bernard. “And have you an advocate to assist in your defense?”

“Aye, my lord, I do,” Bernard replied. “Lord Hugh de Leon will act as my advocate.”

There was absolutely no expression on the chief justiciar’s face as he nodded his acceptance.

All Alan could see of Hugh was the back of his head.

Next the justiciar turned to the sheriff, who was seated on his right. “Are you ready to prove this charge, Sir Gervase?”

“Aye, my lord,” Gervase replied. He looked as if he had not slept for a week, but his voice was firm. “I am ready to prove this charge.”

“Very well,” the justiciar said. “You may call your first witness.”

Alan’s hands clenched into fists as he heard the sheriff call his name. Richard gave him an encouraging look, and Alan stood up on trembling legs and walked forward to take his place in front of the justiciar.

“My lord,” the sheriff informed Richard Basset, “this is Alan Stanham, the boy who found the body of the earl.”

Alan looked into the penetrating black eyes of the justiciar and tried not to show his nervousness.

“Tell us, please, how this discovery came about,” the justiciar said.

“My lord, I went to the Minster on an errand for Sir Richard Canville, to whom I am squire,” Alan replied in a steady voice. “Sir Richard had left his knife in the vestibule earlier in the day and he asked me to retrieve it for him. I found the knife and then I decided that, since I was right there in the Minster, I would go inside and say a quick prayer. So I opened the door to the church.”

Here Alan stopped, certain he could feel Hugh’s eyes on his back.

After a moment, the justiciar said, “You may continue.”

“Aye, my lord.” Alan swallowed. “Well, as I came into the church, I noticed a light about halfway down the center aisle. I was surprised, as you can imagine, and I looked to see who could be there at such an hour. That is when I saw Bernard Radvers bending over the body of the Earl of Lincoln.” Alan paused with unconscious drama. “In his hand he was holding a knife that was covered in blood.”

There was a little stir among those assembled in the hall.

“What happened then?” the justiciar asked in a level voice.

“Bernard saw me standing there and said that the earl was dead and that I should go for the sheriff.”

“Let me be clear about this. Did you or did you not see Bernard Radvers in the act of stabbing the earl?”

“I did not, my lord.”

The justiciar nodded. “Did you then go for the sheriff?”

“First I ran up the aisle to see for myself what had happened,” Alan said.

“And what did you see?”

Alan swallowed again. “I saw that it was indeed the earl lying there, my lord, and I saw that he had been stabbed in the heart, most probably by the knife that Bernard was holding.”

Lady Elizabeth buried her face in her hands.

The justiciar looked at Bernard. “Is this information accurate?” he asked.

Bernard stood. “Aye, my lord. But it was not as it seemed to Alan.”

“How was it then?” the justiciar asked.

“I found the earl lying there, my lord, and I knelt beside him to ascertain his condition. When I saw that he was dead, I noticed the knife lying by his side. Unthinkingly, I picked it up to look at it. That is the explanation for my position when Alan came in and found me. I did not stab the earl, my lord. I swear it.”

“What were you doing in the Minster at such an hour?”

“I had received a message from the sheriff, my lord. At least, I was told it was from the sheriff. It said I was to meet him in the Minster two hours after evening services.”

“Didn’t you think this message rather odd?”

“I thought it was very odd, my lord, but I obeyed it.”

“Who brought you this message?”

“William Cobbett, one of the castle grooms, my lord.”

The chief justiciar turned to Gervase. “This is the groom who was killed?”

“Aye, my lord,” the sheriff replied grimly. “He was stabbed in the heart.”

One of the assembled witnesses exclaimed out loud, and Lord Richard frowned at him before turning back to Bernard. “So you have no proof that you did indeed receive this message?”

“My only proof would be the word of the groom, my lord, and he is dead.”

Once again the chief justiciar turned to Gervase. “Is it known what brought the earl to the Minster at such an unlikely time?”

“My lord, we presume that Bernard sent him a message by the dead groom that asked him to come to the Minster at that hour. Our contention is that Bernard killed the groom in order to conceal this information.”

“My lord.” The quiet yet perfectly audible voice belonged to Hugh.

The chief justiciar’s face was unreadable as he regarded Bernard’s advocate. “Do you have something to say, Lord Hugh?”

At the sound of Hugh’s voice, Alan turned so that he was half facing the justiciar and half facing the witnesses. For the first time that day, he saw more than the back of Hugh’s head.

Hugh was soberly dressed in a plain blue wool tunic and darker blue hose. In this chill, unheated hall, he wore no cloak. Alan noticed that his uncovered black hair had been newly cut.

Hugh said mildly, “I just wondered, my lord, if Bernard were so desperate a character that he murdered the earl and this groom, why did he not murder the young squire who found him in such a compromising situation? It would not have been difficult for him to overpower a youngster like Alan Stanham. Instead, however, he sent Alan for the sheriff. Surely that is not the behavior of a guilty man.”

“A good point, Lord Hugh,” the chief justiciar conceded. He turned his gaze to Alan. “Did Bernard Radvers make any threatening gestures toward you?”

“Nay, my lord,” Alan replied.

The chief justiciar nodded.

Hugh said, “My lord, I would be interested to know what brought Alan Stanham to the Minster at the exact time that Bernard was discovering the earl’s dead body.”

The chief justiciar looked annoyed. “We have already had that question answered, I believe. The boy was on an errand for Sir Richard Canville.”

“I realize that, my lord,” Hugh replied. “What I do not understand is how such an errand came to be timed so exactly.”

The chief justiciar’s black eyes hooded themselves. “Just what are you implying, Lord Hugh?”

“I am implying nothing, my lord,” Hugh replied. “I am only wondering if the timing of Alan’s errand was merely chance.”

Alan, who understood exactly what Hugh was trying to do, stood taller. “I can answer that question, my lord,” he said in a clear ringing voice. “Sir Richard noticed that he didn’t have his knife when he went to cut a piece of meat that I had served him. The timing was pure chance.”

“It was rather a late hour to be eating supper,” Hugh commented.

“Sir Richard is a large man,” Alan said defiantly. “He gets hungry more often than the rest of us.”

A light breath of laughter ran through the hall.

“Did Richard himself say he was hungry and ask you for food?” Hugh said.

“Sir Richard is the only one capable of knowing whether or not he is hungry, my lord,” Alan retorted.

Once again there came a ripple of laughter.

Careful, lad, Bernard thought worriedly.

Hugh went on, “So Sir Richard asked for food, discovered that his knife was missing, and sent you to the Minster to recover it just in time for you to find Bernard kneeling over the earl’s dead body.”

The chief justiciar said impatiently, “I fail to see the point of these questions, Lord Hugh.”

Hugh’s face was grave as he replied, “My lord, Bernard Radvers has been accused of murder on evidence that depends solely upon interpretation. I merely wish to show that there are other people whose actions could also be interpreted to show their guilt if one were so inclined to see them in that light.”

“Are you suggesting that one could point the finger of guilt at Sir Richard simply because he sent his squire to the Minster at the time that he did?”

“One could certainly question his actions, my lord,” Hugh returned. “It seems to me, however, that the only person whose actions have been questioned is Bernard Radvers.”

The black eyes of the justiciar bored into Hugh’s steady gray gaze. When at last Lord Richard spoke his voice was crisp. “Very well, you have made your point. Are you now finished with this witness?”

“I have just one more question, my lord,” Hugh said.

“Very well.”

Alan set his jaw, determined to say nothing that would be harmful to Richard.

Hugh said, “You told us that when you saw Bernard, knife in hand, bending over the recumbent figure of the earl, you ran down the aisle to see for yourself what had happened. Is that correct, Alan?”

“Aye, my lord. That is correct.”

“You did not think that Bernard was a dangerous man and it would not be safe for you to approach him?”

Alan hesitated for a moment, looking for a trap. Hugh’s gray gaze was cool and impersonal. At last Alan replied, “I never thought of any danger to myself, my lord.”

“In other words, you were so convinced of Bernard’s harmlessness that you approached him with no fear. Is that correct, Alan?”

“Aye,” Alan returned cautiously. “That is correct.”

“Another question, Alan. How closely did you look at the body of the earl?”

“Close enough to see the blood around the stab wound in his chest, my lord,” Alan replied spiritedly.

“Did you touch him?”

“Nay, my lord. I did not touch him.”

“Then you did not notice if he was still warm or if he was already starting to turn cold.”

Alan’s eyes dilated as he saw where Hugh was heading. “I…I could not say, my lord.”

Hugh nodded. “Thank you, Alan.” He turned back to the justiciar. “That is my last question, my lord.”

The justiciar looked thoughtful. “Have you any questions, Sir Gervase?” he asked the sheriff.

“No questions, my lord,” the sheriff replied.

“Then you are dismissed,” the justiciar informed Alan, who returned to his seat, uncomfortably conscious that everyone in the room was watching him.

As the sheriff called his next witness, Alan leaned toward Richard and whispered anxiously, “Did I do all right?”

Richard smiled and nodded. “You did very well, Alan.”

Alan was not completely reassured, however. Richard may have smiled with his mouth, but his eyes had remained cool.

As the next witness gave his testimony, Alan went over in his mind everything that he had said and couldn’t find anything that could possibly harm Richard.

The sheriff’s next few witnesses testified to the fact that Bernard had made threats against the life of the Earl of Lincoln. When the justiciar questioned Bernard about the truth of these statements, he said stoically that he could not remember making them, that he had been drunk.

“Was there any reason for you to wish the Earl of Lincoln dead?” the justiciar asked.

“None, my lord,” Bernard replied.

“If that is so, then why were you making these threats while you were drunk?”

Hugh was on his feet in a flash. “May I say something, my lord?”

The justiciar’s mouth pinched at its corners with suppressed annoyance. “Go ahead, Lord Hugh.”

“In the testimony of the witnesses, I heard no mention that Bernard ever threatened the life of the earl. The witnesses maintain that he said the earl would ‘do us a favor’ by dying. The implication of these words is that it would be good if the earl died of natural causes. That can hardly be construed as a threat.”

The sheriff leaned forward and said, “There was an implied threat, Lord Richard. Bernard knew of the betrothal of the earl’s daughter to Lord Hugh de Leon, and Bernard has long been a friend of Lord Hugh’s. He would have benefited greatly if Lord Hugh had become the next Earl of Lincoln. In order to hasten this desirable end, I believe he killed the earl.”

“If that was indeed my motivation, Sir Gervase, I would certainly not have been stupid enough to kill the earl before Hugh was married to Lady Elizabeth,” Bernard replied. His voice was level but the anger he was suppressing was evident.

“You weren’t thinking. You acted in a moment of passion,” the sheriff said.

The justiciar’s oddly husky voice interrupted. “This is hardly an act of passion, Sir Gervase. This is a premeditated act of murder. The earl was lured to the Minster for one reason only: to kill him.”

“That is so, my lord,” the sheriff returned. “But in this discussion of motive, one fact must not be forgotten. Bernard Radvers was found, bloody knife in hand, bending over the dead body of the earl. If he is not guilty, then who is?”

“My lord,” Hugh said. “I have some further evidence that may shed light on this question.”

“You will have your turn to present evidence, Lord Hugh,” the justiciar said with a frown. “At the moment, we are hearing the sheriff’s side of the case.”

Except for a single nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth, Gervase’s face had maintained its masklike look. “I have presented my evidence, my lord. Bernard Radvers was found bending over the dead body of the earl, a bloody knife in his hand. He had previously been heard by several men threatening the life of the earl. It seems to me that this is sufficient evidence to convict him of the murder of the Earl of Lincoln.”

“Thank you, Sir Gervase,” the justiciar said. He looked at Hugh. “Then you may present your evidence, Lord Hugh.”

Richard didn’t move, but Alan could feel his body stiffen. Alan’s own stomach tightened. Was this when Hugh was going to bring up the sheriff’s tax cheat?

Much to Alan’s relief and astonishment, Hugh said, “I would like to call Brother Martin to testify, my lord.”

A short, portly figure garbed in a brown robe and sandals came from the last bench to approach the witness’s place in front of Lord Richard.

“My lord, Brother Martin is one of the lay brothers at the Minster,” Hugh explained. “He is the one who laid out the earl’s body on the night he was killed.”

A noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob came from Elizabeth. Lady Sybil put her arm around the girl and patted her shoulder.

“What have you to tell us, Brother Martin?” the justiciar asked.

“My lord, I saw the earl’s body but half an hour after he had supposedly been stabbed to death in the Minster. He was cold, my lord. Very cold. Too cold to have been dead for such a short time. He began to stiffen shortly after we moved him to the mortuary chapel. I would say that he had been dead for at least an hour before he was found.”

A muted uproar arose among the watching witnesses.

The black eyes of the justiciar bored into the innocent brown eyes of the lay brother. “Why did you not come forward with this information sooner?” he demanded. “You must have known that Bernard Radvers was being held in custody.”

“My lord, I did not,” Brother Martin replied earnestly. “The day following the death of the earl, I was called to work at the hospital of Saint Mary’s in the north of the shire. I only returned to Lincoln yesterday. When I learned about the trial, I tried to see the sheriff. When he was not available, I went to Lord Hugh.”

“You are quite certain that the earl had been dead for an hour before Bernard Radvers was discovered bending over his body?” the justiciar asked sternly.

“Quite sure, my lord,” the lay brother returned. “I have seen many dead bodies, and the earl was not newly dead when I received him.”

The justiciar turned to the sheriff. “Have you anything to say in regard to this evidence, Sir Gervase?”

“Nay, my lord,” the sheriff replied. His face was bleak, and he looked older than his years.

“Thank you, Brother,” the justiciar said. “You may go back to your seat.”

As Brother Martin left the witness area, the justiciar said, “I think we can dispense with further evidence, Lord Hugh. I believe you have cast sufficient doubt upon the sheriff’s case for me to declare it inadequate.”

Hugh stood. “My lord, I ask your indulgence. I have further evidence that I believe will be helpful in identifying the man who truly did murder the Earl of Lincoln.”

The justiciar tapped his long, thin, immaculate fingers on the table. A deep line ran between his brows.

Hugh said, “This evidence has to do with another man who has been killed recently in Lincoln. John Rye is a knight who was serving his yearly knight’s fee at Lincoln Castle when the earl was murdered. Several days after the murder, Rye asked for early leave so that he could go home to his sick wife. In fact, his wife was not sick at all. He wanted time to pay a visit to his cousin, William of Roumare, Earl of Cambridge.”

There was a rustle throughout the room, as if everyone had just sat up straighter.

Lord Richard Basset froze.

Hugh went relentlessly on. “I know this because I paid a visit to Rye’s home of Linsay in order to talk to him. I sought him out because he was the only one of the castle guard whom I had not been able to question in regard to the murder. He was not at Linsay when I arrived, but he did return several days later. He admitted to me then that he had information that pertained to the murder of the earl and that he had tried to sell this information to William of Roumare.”

A number of exclamations of surprise issued from the audience. The clerk called for silence.

In a dangerous-sounding voice, Lord Richard said, “Why would Rye have gone to Lord William?”

“My lord, I am not the man who has benefited from the earl’s untimely death,” Hugh said. “Lady Elizabeth’s husband will no longer automatically become the next Earl of Lincoln. The earldom is once more the king’s, to give as he will, and I do not think there is much doubt as to who will get it.”

Next to him, Alan could feel some of the tension leave Richard. Apparently, Hugh was not going to reveal the market stall cheat after all.

The justiciar’s face was grim. “If I were you, I would be very careful whom I accused, Lord Hugh,” he warned.

“I have no intention of accusing William of Roumare of having a hand in the Earl of Lincoln’s death, my lord,” Hugh assured the justiciar.

Lord Richard’s face softened a little.

“William of Roumare did not purchase the information that John Rye offered him, my lord. I know this because Rye offered to sell the information to me.”

Once more, Alan felt Richard’s tension.

“I should have bought it,” Hugh said regretfully. “It was a mistake not to. If I had, John Rye might still be alive. I didn’t buy it, however. Instead, I demanded that he tell me what he knew. He refused, and I left Linsay. Soon after, Rye himself came to Lincoln. I believe he planned to use this knowledge of his to extort money from the murderer himself.”

The justiciar’s eyes narrowed to long black slits. “What information could a man like John Rye possibly have had?”

“My lord, I believe he saw the murderer giving the fatal messages to the groom, who is now dead. I call the messages ‘fatal’ because one certainly resulted in the death of de Beauté and the other was intended to convict Bernard Radvers of murdering him.”

There was not a sound in the armory hall. Everyone was so still that the scene might have been a painting.

The justiciar stirred first. “And you say that this John Rye was killed during his visit to Lincoln?”

“Aye, my lord.”

At this, the sheriff interrupted angrily. “My lord, John Rye’s death was an accident. It occurred during the camp-ball game that is played every year at our local Saint Agatha’s fair. One of the players was wearing a knife at his belt and Rye was stabbed by accident. It was unfortunate, but these things happen. You know that they do.”

“Do you have the man whose knife stabbed him?” the justiciar asked.

“We have been unable to discover who was wearing a knife, my lord,” Gervase admitted reluctantly. “No one will admit to seeing anyone with a knife at his belt and, needless to say, no one is stepping forward to confess.”

The justiciar said, “It seems excessively odd that three people should die of knife wounds in Lincoln within the span of two months. Do you have many such incidents here, Sir Gervase?”

“Nay, my lord,” the sheriff admitted.

Hugh made an infinitesimal movement, and in so doing managed to draw the attention of everyone in the room.

How does he do it? Alan wondered with a strange mixture of awe and resentment.

Hugh said, “May I point out to you, my lord, that Bernard Radvers was in custody during the time that John Rye was killed.” He took one step toward the justiciar’s table. “If indeed it is true, and I think it is, that John Rye was killed by the same man who killed the Earl of Lincoln, then that man cannot possibly be Bernard Radvers.”

The audience burst into excited talk while Hugh and the chief justiciar looked at each other.

The clerk called for silence.

The justiciar said, “If the murderer we seek is not Bernard Radvers, Lord Hugh, then who is it?”

“I believe I can answer that question, my lord. I would ask for an opportunity to question several witnesses, and as I do so I believe the truth will be made clear.”

Under his warm cloak, Alan felt icy cold. He is going to accuse Richard. He is going to expose the market stall cheat and accuse Richard.

“Very well,” said Lord Richard Basset. “You may call your witnesses, Lord Hugh.”

The sheriff protested angrily. “My lord, I object to this latitude you have afforded Lord Hugh! We are here to try Bernard Radvers, not conduct a general inquisition.”

“Lord Hugh has raised a number of interesting points that appear to exonerate Bernard Radvers,” the justiciar returned coldly. “It seems to me that in your haste to claim that you had discovered the culprit, you may have been neglectful of inquiring too deeply into this matter, Sir Gervase. I would like to hear what Lord Hugh has to say.”

Gervase’s face was ghost-white as he replied in a monotone, “If that is your wish, my lord.”

“It is my wish,” the justiciar replied. “The king desires justice to be done in this matter, and I am here as his deputy to see that justice is indeed carried out.”

He looked at Hugh.

“Call your witnesses, Lord Hugh,” he said. “Let us see if you can bring a more convincing case than the sheriff has done.”