The Elephants of Norwich

Chapter Six

Alone in his chamber at the castle, Gervase Bret went patiently through the documents he had brought with him from Winchester. It was a task he thoroughly enjoyed. Ralph Delchard was at his most effective when confronting awkward witnesses in the shire hall. Legal niceties only exasperated him. They were meat and drink to Gervase who read the abbreviated Latin on the pages in front of him with continuous pleasure, knowing that his retention of detail would be vital when the commissioners sat in judgement on the various disputes. The name he was after was proving elusive. He knew that it was somewhere in his sheaf of papers but he could not recall the exact spot. Richard de Fontenel had separate holdings in the hundreds of Forehoe, Taverham, Blofield and Humbleyard and Gervase picked his way carefully through them all. It was amid land in the Depwade hundred that he eventually located the person he was seeking. ‘In Boielvnd. 1 car tre. Qua tenuit Olova.t.r.e.’

‘In Boyland, 1 carucate of land which Olova held in King Edward’s time.’

His satchel contained only a fraction of the returns that were brought back to the Exchequer by the first team of commissioners to be checked and collated. All that concerned Gervase and his colleagues were patent irregularities and unresolved disputes. Olova’s claim was among them. She had definite cause for complaint. Not only had she lost a carucate of land in Boyland to Richard de Fontenel, he had also taken two carucates from her in Tharston. It was not clear by what means he had acquired the property but, since it amounted in total to over three hundred and fifty acres, Gervase could understand why Olova was eager to contest ownership of it. Others had also been dispossessed by de Fontenel but she had been deprived of most land. Her losses did not end there. Gervase noted that Olova had also been relieved of two smaller holdings in the West Flegg hundred by Mauger Livarot. It was a familiar tale. She was one of many people in Norfolk who had been ground down remorselessly between the mill wheels of de Fontenel and Livarot.

Gervase was putting the documents away again when his wife opened the door.

‘Am I disturbing you?’ she said, pausing in the doorway.

‘No, no. Come on in, Alys.’

‘I promised that I wouldn’t get in your way while I was here.’

‘I know,’ he said, giving her a welcoming kiss and closing the door. ‘But I’ve just finished what I was doing. You could not have come at a more apposite time.

‘Good.’

‘Did you enjoy your visit to the market?’

‘Oh, yes!’

Alys laughed with girlish delight and recounted the details of her visit to the town. Her voice saddened when she talked about the hostility that she and Golde had met. It had been the one small blemish on an otherwise pleasant morning. Gervase was glad that his wife had found so much to divert her and was interested to hear about the invitation that had arrived at the castle from the lady Adelaide.

‘You’ve no objection, have you?’ she said, eager for his approval.

‘None at all, Alys.’

‘Thank you. I’m so keen to go and so is Golde.’

‘Ralph will certainly not hold her back,’ he observed.

‘That’s what Golde said.’

‘He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that she calls on the lady Adelaide. It could help us. The more we can glean about her, the better. Look and listen, Alys.’

‘I will.’

‘She occupies a unique place in our inquiries. You might say that she holds the balance between the lord Richard and the lord Mauger.’

‘It must be exciting to have two men vying for your hand.’

‘Not if they happen to be those reprobates. Besides,’ he said, slightly nettled, ‘one honest suitor is enough for any woman, surely? Wasn’t I sufficient for you, Alys? Or did you want a whole pack of wooers banging on your door?’

‘I was grateful to have one.’

‘You had several admirers.’

‘None that I cared to notice,’ she said, sweetly. ‘Apart from you, that is. If there’d been a hundred suitors hammering on my door, it would only have been opened to Gervase Bret.’

He smiled with relief. ‘Thank you, Alys.’

‘Could you ever doubt me?’

‘No, my love.’

‘As for the lord Richard, I wouldn’t look twice at such a man. I pity the lady Adelaide if she is forced to marry him. I’d be terrified of a husband who could work himself up into such a violent rage.’

‘You’re not terrified of me, are you?’

‘Only now and then,’ she teased.

He took her by the shoulders to kiss her again, then stood back to appraise her.

‘You look much better now, Alys.’

‘I’ve got my strength back after the journey.’

‘So have I,’ he said, ‘and it’s just as well because I’m going to need it. We came here to act as judges but we’re deputies of the sheriff instead. That will take all the energy we can muster.’

‘Have you any idea who the murderer might be?’

‘Not at this point. We have a short list of names but we’ve yet to put faces to them. And the lord Richard is only muddying the waters by his wild behaviour. It could be some time before we manage to solve the crimes.’

‘Is there anything that I can do to assist you?’

‘You’re doing it by visiting the lady Adelaide.’

‘What would you like me to ask her?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, quickly. ‘Leave any questions to Golde. She’s played this game before. You haven’t. Just behave as you would on any other visit to a friend. Be polite to your hostess — and take note of every word she says.’

‘I’ll try, Gervase. What will you be doing, meanwhile?’

‘Paying a call on another Norfolk lady.’

‘And who’s that?’

‘Olova.’

Roger Bigot was astounded by the news. He pressed Ralph Delchard for more detail. ‘The elephants were stolen?’

‘So it appears, my lord sheriff.’

‘From whom?’

‘The abbot of Holme.’

‘Who told you this?’

‘Judicael the Goldsmith,’ said Ralph. ‘Except that he didn’t exactly volunteer the information. I had to prise it out of him like a pearl from an oyster.’

‘If this intelligence proves to be correct,’ said Eustace Coureton, ‘it will be a pearl indeed. Who is this man, Ralph?’

‘Not one that I could ever bring myself to like.’

‘Can his word be trusted?’

‘In this instance, I believe that it can.’

The three men were in the hall at the castle. Bigot and Coureton were intrigued to hear what Ralph had learned from his visit to the goldsmith. It cast a whole new light on the disappearance of the two gold elephants.

‘No wonder that the lord Richard is so desperate to reclaim them,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s not simply a question of using them to dazzle the eyes of the lady Adelaide. He wants them back in his possession before anyone starts asking where they came from in the first place.’

Coureton chuckled. ‘And now we know. He stole them.’

‘A thief is now the victim of theft,’ said Bigot.

‘We can’t be certain of that,’ suggested Ralph, ‘and it would be very foolish of us to show our hands before the facts have been verified. It may be that the lord Richard bought them in good faith, ignorant of their origin.’

‘Where did he say that they came from?’ asked Coureton.

‘Somewhere abroad,’ said Bigot. ‘The lord Richard went to Normandy recently to visit his estates. When he came back, he had those miniature elephants with him.’

‘That doesn’t mean that they actually came from Normandy.’

‘I agree,’ said Ralph. ‘Why should anyone bother to steal them from the abbey of Holme, take them across the Channel then sell them to someone who was returning to this country? That would be perverse.’

‘Had the goldsmith actually seen those elephants?’ said Bigot.

‘No, my lord sheriff. But they’d been seen and admired by someone who had dealings with Judicael. A man who’d visited the abbey. The pieces were so unusual that he described them in detail to the goldsmith. That description tallied with the one given to you by the lord Richard.’

‘Then they have to be the same miniatures.’

‘And I’ll wager that the lord Richard stole them,’ asserted Coureton.

‘That’s only a guess,’ Ralph reminded him. ‘We’ll need proof and the best way we can get that is by moving stealthily. Whatever we do, we mustn’t alert the lord Richard to the fact that we’ve uncovered an earlier crime relating to those elephants. We can rest assured that they were taken illegally from the abbey of St Benet at Holme. No abbey would part willingly with anything so valuable.’

‘Don’t forget the spiritual aspect, my lord,’ said Bigot. ‘Each animal had a crucifix on its head. The monks of St Benet will regard them as holy treasures.’

‘What will they think when they hear that their holy treasures have been waved in front of a beautiful woman to inveigle her into a marital bed?’

‘The abbot will be mortified.’

‘He must be aware of the crime. Why hasn’t he howled at the outrage?’

‘Perhaps he’s yet to discover it,’ said Bigot. ‘If they keep their valuables locked away in a chest, the abbot may not have realised that those elephants have vanished. On the other hand, he may know the truth yet not wish to report the crime for some reason. Abbot Alfwold is a venerable man. He’s far more likely to pray for the return of his treasures than to come running to me.’

‘That fact probably weighed with the lord Richard,’ said Coureton. ‘When he stole those gold elephants, he counted on the fact that you would not even get to hear of the theft. And if the lord Ralph hadn’t been so astute,’ he added, winking at his colleague, ‘you might never have known of the crime.’

‘I’m very grateful to him.’

‘And we’re grateful to you, my lord sheriff,’ resumed Ralph. ‘You sought our help and we’re pleased to give it. This inquiry has already thrown up some fascinating detail about one of the men we came to Norwich to investigate and I’m sure that it will yield far more. None of it, I suspect, remotely flattering to the lord Richard.’

‘He’s not a man to court popularity.’

‘Especially not in monastic quarters!’ said Coureton.

Ralph grinned. ‘It’s just as well that Canon Hubert is not with us. He’d want to excommunicate the lord Richard on the spot.’

‘If he’s found guilty of theft,’ said Bigot, ‘there’ll be other punishment as well.’

‘All in good time, my lord sheriff.’

‘What should our next step be?’ Bigot asked.

‘To confirm that Judicael the Goldsmith was telling the truth,’ Ralph replied.

‘Shall I send a messenger to the abbey?’

‘He stands before you. This is an errand that I claim for myself. After all,’ said Ralph, cheerfully, ‘I won’t just be riding to Holme to see the abbot. I might well find the man who took those elephants there.’

Coureton was doubtful. ‘Surely a monk wouldn’t steal?’

‘Some do little else,’ said the other, irreverently. ‘I’ve met too many grasping abbots and lying monks to put much faith in a Benedictine habit. In any event, it would not really be a case of theft. The abbey would simply be reclaiming something that was theirs in the first place.’

‘What about the murder?’ asked Bigot.

‘What about it, my lord sheriff?’

‘Do you expect to unearth a suspect in Holme for that as well?’

‘Of course,’ said Ralph. ‘It’s the main reason why I wish to go there.’

Expecting a visit from him, the lady Adelaide took pains with her appearance. Over a pure white chemise, she wore a light blue gown. Her hair was coiled neatly at the back and only the curls at the front peeped out of the white wimple. Around her waist was a gold belt that hung down between her thighs. She looked immaculate and dignified. When her visitor was admitted to the house, the lady Adelaide was posed on a bench that was carefully placed beneath a window so that it acted as a frame to her head. She rose to welcome Mauger Livarot.

‘Good day, my lord,’ she said.

‘You look more charming than ever, Adelaide,’ he remarked, crossing to place a kiss on her outstretched hand. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again.’

She resumed her seat. ‘Have you been out hunting again today?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve been helping the lord sheriff in his pursuit of the murderer.’ He smirked down at her. ‘The first thing I had to do, of course, was to assure him that I was not responsible for Hermer’s death. For some reason, he seemed to think that I might be.’

‘The lord Richard is certain of it.’

‘Yes, I heard about his performance at the castle last night.’

‘It caused quite a commotion.’

‘I hope that it also showed you the kind of man that he really is.’

Her tone was artless. ‘Forceful and strong-willed?’

‘Arrogant, bullying and headstrong,’ he said, curling his lip. ‘Those aren’t qualities that a lady should look for in a husband.’

‘I like a man who speaks his mind and the lord Richard certainly does that.’

‘Are you drawn to someone with a vile temper?’

‘No,’ she conceded. ‘That has little appeal.’

‘Then my rival must stand aside, for he has the vilest temper in the county.’

‘I think he could be taught in time to curb it.’

‘Would you take on such a monstrous task?’

‘If there were sufficient inducements.’

‘I, too, can offer inducements, my lady.’

Mauger Livarot was wearing a green tunic with a floral pattern. His mantle was of a dark crimson hue that matched the belt at his waist, and his brimless cap was peaked in the centre. Hands on his hips, he gazed at her with an almost proprietary air. He lowered his voice to a caressing whisper.

‘Come, Adelaide,’ he coaxed. ‘Why choose a wild animal for a husband when you might have one who is already tame?’

‘Nobody would describe you as tame,’ she said with polite scorn. ‘Least of all, your tenants. You have a reputation for harsh treatment.’

‘Firmness is a virtue.’

‘Until it’s taken too far.’

‘Oh, I always know the exact point at which to stop,’ he boasted, leering at her. ‘Tenants are like children. To school them properly, you have to be firm or they’ll take advantage of your weakness.’

‘Isn’t that what you’re doing now?’

‘Perhaps, my lady.’

‘The lord Richard has been weakened by events. A serious theft from his house has been followed by a gruesome murder. He’s very preoccupied at the moment. You came here to take advantage of his weakness.’

‘Do you blame me?’ he said with another smirk.

‘Not at all,’ she replied, easily. ‘I knew that you’d visit me again sooner or later.’

‘I always choose the best time to strike.’

‘True.’

‘Isn’t that a recommendation?’

‘Yes, my lord, but I need rather more than that.’

‘You shall have it,’ he asserted, becoming more earnest. ‘Richard de Fontenel is mired in trouble. Spurn him, my lady, or you’ll share the same fate. Accept me instead.’

‘You mentioned inducements.’

‘You shall have whatever you want.’

‘Unfortunately, that’s not possible.’

‘Anything is possible when you say that you’ll be mine. Put me to the test.’

‘There’s no point.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’d ask for the one thing you could never give me, my lord.’

‘Then it doesn’t exist,’ he declared.

‘Oh, it does,’ she said with a nostalgic smile. ‘To be more exact, they exist. I’ve seen them and marvelled at them. I all but fell in love with them. That’s what I want more than anything else — those exquisite gold elephants that the lord Richard bought for me.’

‘Do they really mean that much to you, Adelaide?’

‘They do.’

‘Nothing similar would entice you?’

‘Perfection cannot be imitated. I want those particular elephants.’

He was decisive. ‘Then you’ll have them, my lady.’

‘How?’

‘That’s for me to worry about.’

‘But they’re stolen property. They could be hundreds of miles away by now.’

‘Then they’ll have to be found and brought back, won’t they?’ he said, confidently. ‘I stand a far better chance of retrieving them than the sheriff, believe me. I have intelligencers all over the county. Before I set the search in motion, of course, I need to extract a promise.’

‘Of what?’

‘Discretion, my lady.’

‘It’s second nature to me.’

‘When I capture those elephants, you’ll be my accomplice.’

‘Nobody else will know that I have them, I promise you,’ she said with quiet sincerity. ‘I’ll keep them entirely to myself. I’ll feast my eyes on them in private. All that concerns me is the joy of possession.’

‘Then we share the same impulse, Adelaide,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘I, too, want to revel in the joy of possession. And it will be all the more sweet because of the means by which I accomplish it.’

‘In what sense?’

‘I’ll turn thief to give you another man’s wedding gift.’

‘The lord Richard would kill you if he ever found out.’

‘That’s a risk I’d willingly take for you.’

‘I’m impressed.’

‘Just think, my lady,’ he said, emitting a cackle of delight. ‘While the lord Richard is scouring the kingdom for his missing elephants, they’ll be right here all the time. They’ll be ours.’

‘No, Mauger,’ she said, softly. ‘They’ll be mine.’

Ralph Delchard was not a man for delay. Once a decision had been made, he liked to implement it at once. Shortly after his conversation with the sheriff, he was ready to go.

‘Three choices confront you, my lord,’ he said, putting a foot in his stirrup.

‘What are they?’ asked Eustace Coureton.

‘You can visit an abbey with me, call on a lady with Gervase or simply stay here and take your ease. You’re under no compulsion.’

‘I certainly can’t be idle. As for the abbey, I think that Brother Daniel would be a more useful companion for you. I’ll ride with Gervase,’ he said, turning to his young colleague. ‘If you have no objection, that is?’

‘None whatsoever, my lord,’ replied Gervase. ‘You’ll be most welcome.’

‘Then it’s settled.’

‘Where does this lady live?’ said Ralph, hauling himself up into the saddle. ‘It may be that we can all ride part of the way together.’

Gervase shook his head. ‘No, Ralph. You ride north-eastwards while we strike due south into the Henstead hundred. That’s where we’ll find her.’

‘Remind me of her name.’

‘Olova.’

‘And you really think that she’s worth questioning?’

‘We won’t know until we get there.’

‘What do you know about this Olova?’

‘Very little beyond the fact that her land was annexed by the lord Richard. She spoke up well in the shire hall in front of our predecessors but the dispute could not be brought to a resolution.’ Gervase mounted his own horse. ‘Olova is clearly a lady who’s prepared to fight for her rights.’

‘To the extent of theft and murder?’ said Coureton.

‘I don’t know. It’s highly unlikely.’

‘Nothing is unlikely in Norfolk,’ complained Ralph. ‘Gold elephants that disappear, a steward who gets himself hacked to death, an uninvited guest who ruins a banquet at the castle, human hands that arrive in a wooden box. These seem to be normal events here. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Abbot Alfwold stole those two elephants in person, killed Hermer in the process, then threw Olova over his shoulder and carried her off to Holme to celebrate.’

‘That’s a blasphemous suggestion,’ said Daniel, suppressing a smile.

Attended by their escort, the four men were in the bailey, making preparations for their departure. Gervase had been told about the discovery made by Ralph when he called on the goldsmith and he, in turn, had confided his suspicions about Olova. Two new lines of inquiry had suddenly opened up and both had to be explored.

‘Don’t forget Starculf,’ Coureton reminded them. ‘His name has rather slipped out of our minds, but when all’s said and done, he’s the man who swore to get revenge.’

Ralph was sceptical. ‘I doubt if he’s still in the county.’

‘Yet he has to be our chief suspect.’

‘If the lord sheriff and his men can’t locate Starculf, how can we hope to do so?’

‘The same way that you and Gervase have discovered other things that have eluded the lord sheriff’s officers,’ said Coureton. ‘By instinct and vigilance.’

‘Ask after Starculf at the abbey,’ said Gervase.

‘Yes,’ agreed Brother Daniel. ‘It’s surprising how many missing persons are tracked down that way. An abbey is not just a place of worship and self-denial.’

‘Self-indulgence, more like!’ said Ralph. ‘I’ve seen the belly on Canon Hubert.’

‘It’s a refuge for travellers,’ continued Daniel, ignoring the goodhumoured interruption, ‘and, as such, a gathering-place for news. It’s amazing how much you get to hear if you stay in one place. That’s the case in Winchester and, I dare say, in Holme. We’ll make a point of mentioning Starculf’s name to Abbot Alfwold.’

‘We’ll do the same when we meet Olova,’ said Gervase. ‘Meanwhile, the lord sheriff can devote his time to keeping Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot apart.’

Coureton raised a finger. ‘Another name we mustn’t forget. The lord Mauger.’

‘He’s not the killer,’ said Ralph, seriously. ‘Gervase and I were agreed on that.’

‘He could be involved in some other way.’

‘I know and we’re bearing that in mind, my lord. We rule nothing out.’

‘This case gets more complicated by the minute.’

‘That’s what makes it so interesting,’ said Gervase. ‘But I’m sorry that you have to endure such a distraction from our work, my lord. You were appointed as our fellow-commissioner. It’s unfair to entangle you in a murder inquiry.’

‘Not at all!’ said Coureton robustly. ‘I relish the challenge.’

‘Then let’s take it up!’ announced Ralph.

He and Brother Daniel set off with half a dozen armed men as their escort. Accompanied by their own six soldiers, Gervase and Coureton followed them out through the castle gates. The two parties soon split to go their separate ways, Gervase pleased to be riding alongside the new commissioner. Eustace Coureton was turning out to be a more than adequate replacement for Canon Hubert. He brought an experience and sagacity that only old age could bestow yet it was allied to a youthful zest.

‘I never anticipated this much excitement,’ said Coureton, happily.

‘The real excitement will come if we manage to unmask the killer.’

‘We’ve already unmasked a thief, Gervase. The lord Richard himself.’

‘I can’t say that I’m surprised,’ observed the other. ‘Having read between the lines of the returns for this county, I suspect that Richard de Fontenel acquired very little by legal means. Why buy something when he could get away with theft? How he got the gold elephants from the abbey I don’t know, but I’m certain that he was behind the crime somehow. Ralph will tease out the truth, have no fear.’

‘I’ve every confidence in the lord Ralph but I have to admit that I prefer to be riding with you at the moment, Gervase.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You’re more receptive to the wisdom of ancient Rome.’

Gervase grinned. ‘Do you hear another whisper from Quintus Horatius Flaccus?’

‘I do, and it concerns the lord Richard.’

‘Well?’

‘ Vis consili expers mole ruit sua.’

‘“Force, if unassisted by judgement, collapses under its own weight.”’

‘A good translation, Gervase.’

‘And an accurate comment on Richard de Fontenel.’

The burial service was so short that it was almost perfunctory. Like everyone else in the tiny church, the old priest was unnerved by the presence of Richard de Fontenel and gabbled the Latin at speed in a high, quavering voice. A mere handful of mourners had turned up, men from the household who came out of duty rather than out of any respect or affection for the dead man. Hermer had made few friends on the estate and none of them were there to see his remains laid in the bare earth. Conscious of the violent manner in which he died, the small congregation watched it all with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation. They shed no tears for the murdered steward. What worried them were the repercussions that might follow. In a space as confined as that of the church, they could feel the growing discontent of their master as if it were a fire slowly building up.

Richard de Fontenel saw little and heard nothing of the service. What occupied his thoughts was the sight of the corpse inside the coffin, trussed up in a shroud with a severed hand resting each side of him. Uncertainty chafed him. He could not decide if Hermer was a loyal steward who died in his lord’s service or a traitor in the pay of a loathed rival. Whichever he was, the man had paid a fearsome price. When the coffin was taken out into the churchyard, the congregation formed a ragged circle around the grave. Mass was sung by the priest, then the mutilated body of Hermer the Steward was lowered into its final resting place. A fresh spasm of doubt seized de Fontenel. While he watched the earth drumming down on to the coffin, he wondered yet again if he was looking at a hapless victim or a man who had foolishly betrayed him.

As his anger swelled, he decided that there was only one way to find out the truth and that was to confront the man he believed to be responsible for the crimes. Revenge was a matter of honour. The theft of the gold elephants and the loss of his steward were bitter blows to sustain. He simply had to strike back. No help could be expected from Roger Bigot or from the royal commissioners who were assisting him. They had all been taken in by Mauger Livarot. Unaware of his true character, they had accepted his lies as a convincing alibi. That, at least, was what de Fontenel thought. He knew the passion that his rival had conceived for the lady Adelaide, a feeling surpassed in intensity only by his own. Such passion drove a man to any limits. It was, he sensed, the impulse behind Livarot’s actions. It was time to respond. Brutality had to be met with brutality. A funeral that left everyone else numbed into immobility only served to provoke him into life.

His departure was abrupt. Richard de Fontenel did not even linger to spare a word of gratitude to the priest. Stalking out of the churchyard, he mounted the waiting horse and cantered off with the two men-atarms who had come with him. It was not a long ride. As soon as he reached his house, he dropped to the ground and summoned one of his companions into the parlour.

‘Huegon?’

‘Yes, my lord?’

‘How long would it take you to round up my knights?’

‘That depends how many you want, my lord?’

‘All of them!’

Huegon was astonished. ‘That may take a while, my lord.’

‘Then make a start now.’

‘What do I tell them?’ asked the other.

‘That I need them immediately.’

‘They are bound to ask why, my lord.’

‘Say that we’re going to teach someone a lesson he’ll never forget.’

‘Who might that be?’

‘The lord Mauger.’

‘You want all your men summoned to pay a visit to the lord Mauger?’

‘We’ll be doing much more than simply paying a visit,’ said de Fontenel. ‘We’re going to exact revenge. Now hurry, man! There’s no time to lose.’

In spite of his age, Eustace Coureton was an accomplished horseman. Long years spent moving from one battlefield to the next had given him a natural affinity with his destrier. No matter how hard they rode, he never seemed to tire even though he was wearing a hauberk beneath his tunic. It was Gervase Bret, in much lighter apparel, who showed the first signs of strain. Sweat glistened on his brow and his breathing was laboured.

‘How do you manage to do it, my lord?’ he asked, gulping in air.

‘Do what?’

‘Ride so fast yet remain so calm.’

Coureton chuckled. ‘You’re looking at a centaur, Gervase. I was half man and half horse for over thirty years. War leaves its mark.’

‘That’s what Ralph always says.’

‘The lord Ralph is a soldier still at heart. So am I.’

‘Yet you’ve renounced that world,’ noted Gervase. ‘You turned to scholarship.’

‘Yes,’ said the other with a philosophical smile. ‘I wanted something to occupy my mind while I was riding a horse.’

They had slowed to a steady trot to rest the animals and to make conversation a little easier. Their journey had taken them due south of Norwich over flat countryside with an abundance of sheep grazing on it. Woodland slowed them down and put them on the alert against a possible ambush but they emerged unscathed into the sunlight again.

Gervase had got his breath back. He studied the horizon ahead. ‘It shouldn’t be too far now,’ he said.

‘And what do you expect to find when we get there?’

‘A lady with good reason to hate Richard de Fontenel.’

‘Hatred doesn’t always drive someone to murder,’ said Coureton, ‘or there’d be homicides by the hundred every day of the week. I can think of a few victims that I might have added to the list.’

‘You don’t strike me as a man capable of deep hatred, my lord.’

‘I’m only human, Gervase. When I’ve been hurt, I want to return that pain. In my position, you’d feel the same, I dare say.’

‘Would I?’

‘You’ve a beautiful young wife who dotes on you. But supposing that some injury was inflicted upon her. An assault that left her badly wounded, for instance. Or a rape.’ He saw Gervase tense. ‘Yes, my friend. You, too, would feel hatred burning inside you then, but I doubt very much if it would drive you to kill. You’re a lawyer. You’d use the might of the law to bring the miscreant to heel.’

‘Prevention would be my first duty,’ said Gervase, ruffled at the thought of any harm befalling his wife. ‘I’d make sure that Alys was never in a position to suffer harm.’

‘That’s why you’re such a good husband.’

‘I try my best.’

Another mile brought them within sight of their destination. The woman they sought lived in a modest house on the remains of an estate that had dwindled almost to nothing over the previous twenty years. Of the seven timber huts that stood in a rough circle, only three were still occupied by the people who built them. The others were either derelict or inhabited by chickens or pigs. Brushwood fences surrounded the little encampment, which was situated beside a stream and in the shadow of a wooded hill. When the visitors rode into the middle of the dwellings, there was no sign of anyone at first. A sturdy young peasant then emerged from one of the huts and looked resentfully up at the Norman soldiers. Gervase nudged his horse forward so that he could speak to the man in his native language.

‘Good day, my friend. We’re looking for someone by the name of Olova.’

‘Why?’ grunted the other.

‘That’s our business.’

‘Have you come to take even more land from her?’

‘No,’ said Gervase, taking no offence at the man’s gruff hostility. ‘My name is Gervase Bret and my colleague here is the lord Eustace of Marden. We’re royal commissioners who’ve come to settle property disputes in this county and we are more likely to restore land to Olova than to take it away. Not that I can promise that,’ he stressed, quickly, ‘because I would never prejudge a case. But nothing here is under threat. That I can assure you.’

The other remained tense. ‘Is that your business with Olova?’

‘No, my friend. We come on a more urgent matter.’

‘Nothing is more urgent than getting our land back,’ the youth declared.

‘ Our land?’ repeated Gervase. ‘You’re related to Olova, then?’

‘Yes,’ said a loud voice behind him. ‘Skalp is my grandson.’

Gervase turned to take his first look at Olova. Standing in the doorway of the largest hut, she surveyed the newcomers with a blend of dislike and disdain. Olova was a proud woman, declined in years but lacking none of the spirit she had possessed when she was the wife of a Saxon thegn of considerable standing in the county. The estates that she inherited on his death had been steadily whittled away by her Norman overlords and it had transformed a handsome face into a mask of bitterness. Gervase dismounted and walked across to her. Eustace Coureton followed his example. The old woman was surprised by the courtesy they were showing.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, eyeing them both.

‘To ask you a few questions,’ said Gervase. ‘We’ve ridden from Norwich to speak to you. You know a man called Hermer, I believe.’

‘More’s the pity!’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘He’s the man who helped to rob me of my estates,’ she said. ‘Hermer is steward to the lord Richard. Two such black-hearted men never existed before.’

‘When did you last see Hermer?’

‘Not for several months.’

‘Is that the truth?’ he pressed.

‘Why should I lie?’

‘Have you been into Taverham hundred recently?’

‘I’ve no cause to do so. What land I once owned there was taken from me.’

‘What about your grandson? Has he been there?’

‘Skalp looks after me. He rarely stirs from here.’

‘Do other members of the family live with you?’

Olova was irascible. ‘Why are you pestering me?’ she said, flaring up. ‘Isn’t it enough that you strip me of land that’s rightfully mine? Have you come to gloat?’

‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘We mean you no harm.’

‘Then ride on your way. I haven’t seen Hermer the Steward for months and neither has anyone here. We keep well away from that evil rogue.’

Gervase exchanged a look with Coureton. Even though he could not understand all she said, the latter got a clear impression of the woman’s honesty. Olova clearly had no idea that the man she hated had been killed. Convinced that she was not involved in the crime, Gervase turned back to her. ‘You’ll have no more trouble from the lord Richard’s steward,’ he said.

‘If only that were true!’

‘It is true,’ he announced. ‘Hermer was murdered two days ago.’

Olova was stunned. The change in her manner was dramatic. All the anger seemed to drain out of her face and the cold eyes lit up with sudden hope. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she clutched her hands to her breast.

‘Thank God!’ she exclaimed, looking upward. ‘Our prayers have been answered.’