The Poisoned Serpent

25

Bernard leaned over and whispered urgently, “Don’t go any farther, Hugh. You have already done enough to establish my innocence. Don’t attack Richard in public. You haven’t sufficient evidence.”

Hugh just shook his head and continued to regard the justiciar. “My lord, I should like to call Sir Richard Canville as a witness.”

Bernard clenched his fists in anguished frustration.

The armory hall buzzed with excitement as Richard walked past the benches and took up his place between the chief justiciar and Hugh. Bernard knew that nearly every person present, with the exception of the justiciar, was aware of the long history of Hugh’s dislike of Richard. Hugh would find it almost impossible to convince this audience that his evidence was objective.

Richard looked magnificent as he stood there, his wide shoulders caped with a green, fur-trimmed mantle, his dark gold hair gleaming in the flickering light of a flambeau.

Hugh walked forward until he was standing only a few feet from his witness, making even more obvious the height difference between them.

That isn’t smart, Bernard thought despairingly. Hugh’s slender, cloakless figure looked almost boyish in comparison to Richard’s superior height and breadth.

“Sir Richard,” Hugh said in a level, impersonal voice. “I have only a few questions to trouble you with.”

Richard looked down at his adversary’s composed, unreadable face. “Ask them,” he said crisply.

Hugh clasped his hands loosely behind his back. “Were you at home all evening on the night that the Earl of Lincoln was murdered?”

“Certainly,” Richard replied. “You have heard the testimony of my squire that I was at home.”

“I heard your squire tell us that you were home for a late supper. He said nothing about your whereabouts earlier in the evening.”

Richard frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”

“Let me make myself clear, then. We have heard testimony that the earl was probably killed at least an hour before Bernard Radvers found his body. Where were you at that time? Were you at home?”

Richard said, as if addressing a small child who has been rude, “I find your questions impertinent.”

“Humor me,” Hugh said.

Richard’s voice was even as he replied, but the set of his mouth betrayed anger. “I accompanied Lady Elizabeth and Lady Sybil to evening services at the Minster and they invited me to partake of supper with them. I returned home after that.”

“I see.” Hugh regarded him thoughtfully. “You had supper with Lady Elizabeth, and when you returned home you asked for something more to eat.”

“I require somewhat more food than ladies do,” Richard retorted.

Laughter came from the benches behind Bernard.

Careful, lad, Bernard thought worriedly. Don’t let him make you look a fool.

“Did the earl join you and Lady Elizabeth?” Hugh asked.

“He did not,” Richard said.

“Did you see the earl at all that night?”

“I did not,” Richard said.

“Let us move on to another subject,” Hugh said smoothly, not seeming at all discomposed by his witness’s able defense. “John Rye was killed when a group of camp-ball players piled up in an effort to retrieve the ball. Were you in that pileup, Sir Richard?”

At this, Richard turned to the chief justiciar. “My lord, there is no reasonable basis for these questions. Lord Hugh is trying to harass me, and I object.”

Lord Richard Basset looked at Hugh. “What is the reason for these questions, Lord Hugh? For I must tell you, it seems to me as if Sir Richard is right.”

Hugh’s clear, flexible voice reached every corner of the vast hall. “My lord,” he said, “I believe that Sir Richard Canville is guilty of the murders of the Earl of Lincoln, the groom William Cobbett, and John Rye. If you will allow me to continue my questions, I will prove that this is true.”

A loud babble of voices came from the benches.

The sheriff stared at Hugh as if he were a madman.

Jesu! Bernard thought in despair. Now he’s done it.

Grim-faced, the chief justiciar glared at Hugh. He said, each word pronounced with great precision, “This is the trial of Bernard Radvers, Lord Hugh, not of Richard Canville.”

Hugh stood before the justiciar, straight and slim, his gray gaze level with the justiciar’s, his hands resting, open-palmed, at his sides.

Richard stepped forward. “My lord, this is nothing more than the continuation of a grudge that Hugh has held against me since our childhood.” He looked at Hugh, and when he spoke it was pity and not anger that resonated in the deep tones of his voice. “I have always wanted to be your friend, Hugh. There is no need for you to feel you must put me down in order to boost your own importance.”

Hugh ignored him and said to the justiciar, “My lord, the king has charged you with finding and punishing the man who murdered the Earl of Lincoln. I can give you that man if you will allow me to proceed.”

The chief justiciar’s narrowed black eyes were trained on Hugh. Bernard turned around to look at the witnesses assembled on the benches behind him, and found that they too were totally focused on Hugh.

It was a thing that Bernard had seen before, but still it amazed him, this ability of Hugh’s to dominate a room. It was not his words, it was something in him, some quality in his very existence, intangible yet absolutely commanding.

The chief justiciar said, “Give me a reason why Sir Richard Canville should desire the demise of the Earl of Lincoln.” And Bernard knew that he was going to let Hugh continue.

Hugh said, “My lord, I have witnesses present who will testify to the fact that the amount of money the sheriff was charging for the market stalls in the Bail was more than the amount of money he declared to the Exchequer. I believe that the Earl of Lincoln discovered this cheat and was killed in order to keep him from exposing it.”

Pandemonium erupted behind Bernard. The chief justiciar shouted angrily for silence, and slowly the noise died away.

The justiciar turned to look at the sheriff, who was sitting beside him. “How do you answer this charge, Sir Gervase?”

The sheriff’s face was as bloodless as a corpse. When he spoke, his voice was not quite steady. “Lord Hugh’s information is correct, my lord, but my son knew nothing about the cheat. I am the responsible party.”

The room was deadly silent.

Hugh said, “Are you speaking the truth, Sir Gervase, or are you lying to protect your son?”

“It is the truth,” the sheriff said. “I will swear to it on a relic of the Holy Cross if you wish. Richard only discovered what I was doing two days ago. He was…very upset about it.”

“Did the Earl of Lincoln discover this cheat?” the chief justiciar asked.

“Nay, my lord, he did not.” The sheriff’s voice was emphatic. “Lord Gilbert never once asked to look at the tax rolls. His interest was in my military preparations. He knew nothing at all about the tax cheat.”

“Can you prove this?” the justiciar asked.

“I believe I can, my lord. The only way the earl could have found out about the cheat was if he asked the Bail merchants what they were paying and then checked that sum against the tax rolls. I believe if you question the merchants you will discover that the earl made no such inquiries.”

Lord Richard Basset nodded. Then he turned to Hugh. “The Crown thanks you for calling its attention to this matter, Lord Hugh, but I agree with Sir Gervase that it is highly unlikely that the Earl of Lincoln would have discovered it. Which means that neither Sir Gervase nor Sir Richard had any reason to wish the Earl of Lincoln dead.”

Bernard felt sick to his stomach. The whole of Hugh’s case hinged on Richard’s motive of wishing to hide the tax cheat. If it was true that the earl had not known of it, then Richard had no reason at all to kill him.

Hugh said, “If you will allow me to continue to present my evidence, my lord, I promise you that I will establish Sir Richard’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.” The soft intensity of his voice echoed through the silent room.

Give it up, lad, Bernard urged Hugh in his mind. Don’t make yourself look any more petty than you already have.

Leaning back a little in his chair, the chief justiciar yielded before the will of the younger man. “Very well, Lord Hugh. You may proceed.”

Hugh turned to Richard and said, “Were you one of the men in the pileup where John Rye was killed?”

“I was, along with thirty other men.” Anger and contempt rang clearly in Richard’s deep voice.

“But you were there.”

“So I have said,” Richard returned evenly.

“Did John Rye communicate with you in any way during his last visit to Lincoln?”

“He did not,” Richard said. “I scarcely knew John Rye. There would be no possible reason for him to seek me out.”

“You are certain of that?”

“Of course I am certain.”

Hugh turned to the justiciar. “I would like to ask Alan Stanham a few more questions, my lord.”

After a moment of silence, the justiciar said, “Very well.”

“My lord,” Richard said commandingly. “I object to Lord Hugh’s attempting to intimidate my squire.”

“He has not yet questioned the boy, Sir Richard,” the justiciar returned, “so it is rather beforehand to accuse him of attempted intimidation. If you would like to remain here in the witness area while your squire is questioned, you may do so.”

Richard looked grim. “I will remain,” he said.

Please God, please God, please God, repeated itself monotonously in Bernard’s brain. This calling of Alan was a calculated risk on Hugh’s part. He had no idea how the boy was going to answer.

You’re a fool to call him, Bernard had said when Hugh had told him what he planned to do. The boy idolizes Richard. He will never say anything that might hurt him.

Hugh had disagreed. Alan’s adoration has been shaken a bit these last few days, he had told Bernard. I do not think he will lie to protect Richard. I think he will tell the truth.

The voice of the chief justiciar calling Alan Stanham as a witness broke into Bernard’s thoughts.

Richard’s eyes were intensely blue as they followed the progress of his squire from his bench to the witness place in front of the justiciar.

Alan looked very young as he stood there, his fair hair shining like silver in the light of the flambeau. He looked at Hugh as if he were a wild boar about to attack.

Hugh said pleasantly, “Alan, I believe you accompanied Sir Richard around the fair on the day before the camp-ball game. Is that so?”

“Aye, my lord.” In contrast to his clarity when he earlier gave evidence, Alan’s voice was so faint, it could scarcely be heard beyond the first bench.

The chief justiciar frowned. “Speak up,” he commanded.

“Aye,” Alan said more loudly. “I was with Sir Richard for most of that day.”

“Do you know John Rye?” Hugh asked him.

“Aye, my lord.”

“You would recognize him without fail if you should meet him?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“During the time you spent with Sir Richard that day, did you ever see him in conversation with John Rye?”

Hugh’s voice never varied in its pleasantness. He might have been asking if Sir Richard had drunk any water, so matter-of-factly did he pose the question.

Bernard clenched his fists, waiting for Richard’s squire to reply.

Alan was so pale, the few light freckles that dusted his nose were clearly visible. He looked at Richard, standing like a splendid statue but a few feet away from him. Richard’s blue gaze returned his squire’s look steadily.

Alan said shakily, “It was a very busy day and I expect Sir Richard has forgotten, but John Rye did have speech with him that day.”

Thank you, God. Bernard’s eyes closed in a momentary prayer of gratitude.

Richard said, “You are mistaken, Alan. I never spoke to John Rye.”

“Don’t you remember, my lord? We were in the silversmith’s shop and he asked to speak to you…”

Richard’s eyes were blue ice. “You are mistaken,” he said again.

Hugh said, “Alan, did anyone else witness this encounter between Sir Richard and John Rye?”

Alan’s hazel eyes were huge. He looked utterly miserable. Bernard felt a pang of pity for the boy.

“I believe the silversmith saw them, my lord,” Alan said in a voice that was close to a whisper. “I was looking at some knives and he was with me while Sir Richard and John Rye spoke.”

“Thank you, Alan,” Hugh said gently. “You may return to your seat.”

Alan did not look at Richard as he took his place in the middle of the benches.

“My lord, next I would like to ask Nicholas Rye to come forward as a witness,” Hugh said.

Nicholas looked very small as he came forward to stand in front of the chief justiciar. His brown hair was neatly combed and he wore a serviceable blue cloak around his shoulders. He appeared to be more composed than Alan had been.

“My lord,” Hugh said, “this is John Rye’s son, Nicholas. He has some information that I believe is important.”

In a voice that he unsuccessfully tried to make sound kindly, the justiciar said, “What have you to tell us, Nicholas?”

Nicholas’s little-boy voice was clear. “My lord, I overheard a conversation between my father and my mother before my father left to go into Lincoln for the last time. They were talking together in front of the fire in the great hall, and I was sitting nearby pulling burrs out of my dog’s coat. They knew I was there. I did not mean to eavesdrop on them…”

For the first time, Nicholas looked a little worried.

“I understand,” the chief justiciar said crisply. “You may continue.”

“Aye, my lord. Well, Papa was talking to Mama about something he wanted to sell. I remember that he said, ‘I should have gone to him right away instead of trying my luck with Roumare.’”

Richard made a small movement, which he instantly controlled.

“I remember that, my lord, because my father had just come back from a visit to Lord William of Roumare and we had needed him at home,” Nicholas said.

The justiciar shot a piercing look at Hugh.

Nicholas continued, “Well, Mama said that such information could be dangerous and Papa should be cautious. Papa laughed and said he knew how to take care of himself. He said he was not going to be greedy. He would only ask for enough to buy our own manor and not be dependent upon the bishop’s knight’s fee any longer.”

The room was thick with attentive silence.

The justiciar said, his voice sharp, “Did you hear your father mention the name of the man whom he was going to see?”

“My lord, at first I only heard him say ‘the sheriff…’”

A gust of wind blew through the room, as if dozens of held breaths had been let out simultaneously.

Nicholas went on, “But then he said the name ‘Richard.’ He said it several times, my lord. I thought the sheriff’s name must be Richard, but now I know that Richard is the name of the sheriff’s son. Papa must have said ‘sheriff’s son’ and I did not hear the second word.”

The benches erupted.

Holy Mother of God, Bernard thought. Holy Mother of God.

The justiciar called for quiet. When silence had finally been achieved, he turned to Richard.

“Sir Richard,” he said. “What have you to say to these charges?”

Anger filled Richard’s intensely blue eyes. “What do you expect me to say, my lord?” he replied. “This evidence has been produced by children whom Lord Hugh has insidiously influenced. They would say anything he asked them to say.”

“Alan Stanham is your squire,” the justiciar pointed out.

“He is my squire, but Hugh chose him to be one of the mainstays of his side in the camp-ball game. Then he deliberately humiliated me in front of Alan during an arrow-shooting contest. Poor Alan.” Richard’s voice took on a note of reluctant compassion. “He has been suborned away from his true lord by a clever manipulator.”

“And what about the testimony of Nicholas Rye?”

“Perhaps you do not know this, my lord, but after the death of both their parents, Hugh took Nicholas and his sister to live with him. Poor little orphans. I imagine Nicholas is so grateful to Hugh that he would say anything Hugh asked him to.”

“That’s not true!” Nicholas said indignantly.

Richard regarded him with pity.

“I spoke the truth, my lord!” Nicholas said to the justiciar.

“My lord,” Richard said reasonably. “Hugh has long held a grudge against me. I do not know what I ever did to him to provoke it, but you may ask anyone who knows us both and you will hear that Hugh has always hated me.” He shook his head in sorrow. “But I never thought that he would carry that dislike so far as this.”

“So you deny the testimony of Alan Stanham and Nicholas Rye,” said the justiciar.

“I do, most emphatically, deny it.”

“My lord!” The voice came from behind Bernard, and he turned to see Alan standing in front of his bench.

“My lord, I believe that if you question the silversmith, he will uphold my testimony,” Alan said steadily.

Richard regarded his squire with compassion.

“These witnesses have certainly brought forward information that must be further investigated, Lord Hugh,” the justiciar said. “But the evidence is strongly suborned by the fact that I can see no reason for Sir Richard to desire the Earl of Lincoln to die.”

Hugh began to say, “I think we must-” when he was interrupted by a feminine voice from the benches.

“My Lord Chief Justiciar, I believe I might have something to add to this testimony.”

It was Elizabeth de Beauté.

The attention of the entire room riveted on the girl.

Richard stood motionless.

“Would you care to come forward, my lady?” the justiciar said.

Slowly Elizabeth came into Bernard’s view. She passed so close to him that he could have reached out and touched her mantle. Then she halted in the open space between the benches and the table where sat the chief justiciar and the sheriff. She kept a distance between herself and Richard.

“My lord,” she said in a low voice, “on the night that my father was killed, I went to my bedchamber immediately after Sir Richard Canville had left us. The single window in this room looks directly out on the front courtyard of the bishop’s guest house. The shutters were still open and I went to the window to close them. Before I did so, however, I looked out.”

She paused, and Bernard could feel the hardening of attention in the room.

“My lord, I saw my father meet Sir Richard in the courtyard and then the two of them walked around the side of the bishop’s house and out of my sight.”

Bernard began to breathe again.

“Why did you never mention this, my lady?” the justiciar asked sternly.

Elizabeth raised a hand to touch her wimple. “I did not think it had any bearing on my father’s murder, my lord. You must realize that this meeting occurred almost a full hour before my father’s body was found.”

Hugh said matter-of-factly, “And now you know that your father was probably killed very shortly after the time you saw him with Sir Richard.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were intensely green. She had not once looked at Richard, and she did not do so now. “Aye.”

“Did you ever mention to Sir Richard that you had witnessed this meeting?” the justiciar asked.

“I did, my lord.”

Bernard found himself physically straining forward, and forced himself to relax. Elizabeth continued, “Sir Richard told me that my father had said he was going to the Minster to pray. Of course, I thought that he had gone to the Minster in response to the false summons of Bernard Radvers.”

“You never suspected Sir Richard of complicity in this matter?”

Color flushed into Elizabeth’s face and suddenly she seemed very young. “I did not, my lord.”

The justiciar’s voice softened. “Is there any particular reason for you to have shown so much faith in Sir Richard?”

“I was going to marry him,” Elizabeth replied.

A moan came from Lady Sybil. The sheriff, who had been staring at his hands folded on top of the table, jerked his head up and looked at his son.

Richard stood like a statue.

“I thought, my lady,” Hugh said delicately, “that you were going to marry me.”

Elizabeth, still carefully refraining from looking at Richard, spoke to Hugh. “That is what my father wanted me to do, but I was going to refuse the match. I had promised to marry Richard.”

“May I ask when this attachment between you and Sir Richard developed, my lady?” Hugh asked.

His voice was quiet, almost intimate, the sort of tone he would have used in the coziness of a family solar. Elizabeth visibly relaxed in reponse and began to talk more easily.

“Richard used to come to Beauté to visit one of our knights who was a friend of his. That is how I got to know him. We were on the brink of asking my father if he would allow us to marry when he made that agreement with Lord Guy for me to marry you.”

“You must have found such news disconcerting,” Hugh said sympathetically.

“I did,” she replied. “I told my father about my love for Richard and asked if we might marry. He was very angry. He said I would marry the man he chose for me and that man was not Richard Canville, it was Hugh de Leon.”

“Did you tell this to Richard?”

“Of course. But I promised him that I would not wed you, that even if my father forced me to the altar, I would not make the vows.”

Her chin lifted as she said these words and her voice rang with pride. For a moment, she looked like a woman, not a girl.

“Did Richard believe you?”

“I thought he did. Now I am not so certain. Listening to this evidence today, I feared…” Her voice ran out.

“What do you fear, Lady Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth whispered. “I am afraid that Richard killed my father because he stood in the way of our marriage.”

Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom.

“That is not true,” Richard said, his deep voice clearly audible over the tumult.

At last Elizabeth looked at him. “I don’t think you ever loved me. All you wanted was to be the next Earl of Lincoln!”

“Elizabeth,” Richard said, his voice like a caress. “That is not so. You know that I love you.”

“I don’t think I know anything about you at all, Richard,” Elizabeth replied bitterly.

A small silence fell while the two erstwhile lovers stared at each other.

The chief justiciar spoke. “We have heard compelling evidence against you today, Sir Richard,” he said sternly. “More than I believe can be attributed to Lord Hugh’s acting against you out of malice.”

“Let us put it to the proof, then,” Richard said. Color burned high in his face, and he laughed. “Are you willing to do that, Hugh? Are you willing to face me in a trial by combat?”

Behind him, Bernard heard Cristen give a little cry and then quickly stifle it.

“It would be my pleasure,” Hugh replied.

Richard looked at the chief justiciar. “I am weary of listening to these malicious charges against me, my lord.” His voice, clear as a bell, resounded throughout the cavernous room. “I demand a Judgment of God.”