The Owls of Gloucester

Chapter Eight

Caradoc made them think again. Having heard so much about Brother Nicholas from a variety of sources, Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret had formed a very clear idea of his character. The deceased monk was a loner, deliberately kept away from an abbey where he never earned general acceptance, who had a suspect interest in attractive boys. The cache found by the Precentor confirmed that there was a darker side to the murder victim, one which he had cunningly hidden from his Benedictine brothers and which might in time provide the motive for his death. Caradoc talked about another Brother Nicholas, however, but he did so at such breathtaking speed that Ralph was only able to catch one word in three and sensibly left the questioning to Gervase.

‘How long have you known him?’

‘Some years now,’ said Caradoc.

‘And you say that you liked him?’

‘Very much. Brother Nicholas was such a jolly fellow.’

Gervase looked at Ralph. ‘ Jolly? ’ he repeated.

‘For a monk. They are often such solemn individuals.’

‘Jollity does not sit easily inside a monastery,’ said Gervase. ‘I was reared in one so I know it to be a fact. Yet a certain amount of merriment did break out even there from time to time.

However, I would not have thought that your rent collector would ever be party to harmless fun.’

‘He made me laugh, Master Bret.’

‘That is extraordinary.’

‘And my wife. Ask her.’

‘Do you have a family, Caradoc?’

‘Four boys. If you ride across my land, you are sure to see them.’

‘How did they get on with Brother Nicholas?’

‘Very well. They poked fun at him, but you expect that from lads of that age. Underneath, they thought him a likeable fellow.’

‘This description does not match other reports of him.’

‘I care nothing about that,’ said Caradoc cheerily. ‘All that I can talk about is our own experience. Brother Nicholas could not have been more pleasant while doing an unpleasant task. Nobody likes to part with money but it was far less painful to part with rent when he called.’

‘Would you call him trustworthy?’

‘I’d stake my life on it.’

Gervase translated the last remark so that Ralph understood its full force. Caradoc was a friendly man. Born of a Welsh mother and a Saxon father, he spoke the guttural language of the latter with the melodious voice of the former. Dark, bearded and swarthy, he had a face of appealing ugliness with twinkling eyes set too far apart and a nose which inclined first one way and then the other with almost grotesque uncertainty. His affable manner more than compensated for his facial deficiencies. On guard when he first saw them approach with an armed escort, Caradoc relaxed when he realised that they merely wished to talk about the rent collector.

‘When did you last see him?’ asked Gervase.

‘Three or four weeks ago.’

‘And was he in a jolly mood then?’

‘He always was, Master Bret.’

‘Where did he go when he left here?’

‘Towards the river. It’s only a couple of miles away.’

‘Why there?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Caradoc, his face crumpling. ‘And it is too late to ask him now. I cannot believe that he has been murdered in the way that you tell me. My wife will be very upset.’

‘What about your sons?’

‘They will shed a tear or two.’

Gervase was puzzled. Caradoc’s remarks were at variance with everything he had ever heard about the monk. He probed deeper.

‘Did they find nothing odd about Brother Nicholas?’ he said.

‘Odd?’

‘Strange. Unusual. Unsettling in some way.’

‘No, Master Bret. We farm abbey lands. That means we are bound to pay rent to the monk assigned to the task. It’s in our interests to befriend the man so that he’ll give a good report of us to the abbot. We would certainly give him a good report of Brother Nicholas.’

Gervase translated again and Ralph nodded his head pensively.

‘Ask him about the others, Gervase.’

‘I was about to,’ said his friend, turning back to Caradoc. ‘This is one of the abbey’s outliers. You are not far from Westbury Hundred.’

‘Not if you have a swift horse.’

‘Who holds that land?’

‘Everyone knows that. The lord Hamelin.’

‘Hamelin of Lisieux?’

‘Yes,’ said Caradoc, choosing his words with more care. ‘He is a mighty man in these parts and much respected by all of us.

Respected and envied, I may say, for he has the most beautiful wife. Or so it is rumoured, for I have not had the pleasure of seeing her.’

‘We have,’ said Ralph, understanding him this time.

‘And is she the angel of report, my lord?’

‘I think so. Gervase?’

‘The lady Emma is indeed well favoured,’ he agreed, ‘but that is not the point at issue. You say that her husband holds the land, Caradoc. Has it always been so?’

‘Oh, no. Strang the Dane used to hold sway over it.’

‘Did you ever meet him?’

‘Several times.’

‘What opinion did you form?’

‘Not a very high one, Master Bret. He was too bellicose.’

‘That’s what we found.’

‘Nobody dared to trespass on his land when Strang was there.

He guarded it jealously and employed a creeping reeve called Balki. I only came across the fellow once but that was enough.

He treated us like dirt and I’ll not let any man do that to me.’

‘How did he come to lose the land?’

‘You will have to ask the lord Hamelin,’ he said evasively.

‘Was it taken away from him?’

‘It is not for me to say.’

‘But you must have heard rumours.’

‘My whole life consists of hearing rumours,’ said Caradoc with a grin. ‘Rumours and snores, to be exact. For my wife works as hard as we do and she is so tired that she snores her way to heaven every night.’

‘Tell me about these rumours.’

‘I pay no heed to them.’

‘Do they paint the lord Hamelin in a favourable light?’

‘No, Master Bret.’

‘How does he deal with trespassers?’

‘Harshly, I think.’

‘Have you ever heard of one Querengar the Breton?’

‘Yes,’ replied the other. ‘A decent man, by all accounts. He holds land near a kinsman of mine in one of the commotes. Unlike most of the others, he has tried to adapt to Welsh customs.’

‘Did you know that he has an interest in the Westbury Hundred?’

‘No, Master Bret.’

‘So he has never held land there?’

‘Not to my knowledge, but that is very limited. Querengar may have held it in the past but I doubt that he does so now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of the lord Hamelin. He rules the roost.’

‘By force of arms?’

‘There have been stories. How true they are, I have no notion.

For my own part, I will not say a word against the lord Hamelin.’

Another grin. ‘And certainly not against this fabled wife of his. She came from France, they tell me. Her beauty holds everyone in thrall.’

‘I see that you do pay heed to rumours, after all.’

‘Only pleasant ones.’

‘Are all the others unpleasant, Caradoc?’

‘We must move on,’ said Ralph with a nudge. ‘Hurry, Gervase.’

‘A last question, then. Tell me, my friend, is the name of Abraham the Priest known to you?’

‘Why, yes. Known and respected. A wonderful man.’

‘Yet you are not part of his diocese here.’

‘That does not stop him visiting this area. Abraham is a kind man. I have met him a number of times and always enjoyed his company.’

‘What brings him this far afield?’

‘The spirit of friendship.’

‘There must be something else.’

‘Not to my mind.’

‘Does he ever talk about the others I’ve mentioned? Hamelin of Lisieux? Querengar the Breton?’

‘Neither, but Strang’s name sometimes passes his lips.’

‘With some distaste, I fancy.’

‘Yes, Master Bret, though I cannot say why.’

‘Gervase,’ called Ralph. ‘We must away.’

‘One second, please.’

‘You’ve asked a dozen last questions already.’

‘It must take the archdeacon a long time to get here,’ said Gervase, ignoring Ralph’s impatience. ‘He would have to ride in a loop around lord Hamelin’s holdings. Unless, of course, he rides across them.’

‘He would be a brave man if he did that.’

‘Too hazardous?’

‘According to the rumours,’ said Caradoc. ‘I am also sure that neither Strang nor Querengar would dare to venture on to that land. In fact, there is only one man I know who rode into Westbury Hundred without the slightest sign of fear.’

‘Who was that?’ asked Gervase.

‘The man you’ve been asking me about.’

‘Your rent collector?’

‘Yes. Brother Nicholas.’

It was impossible not to notice the commotion. From the window of their chamber, Golde could see the activity down in the bailey.

Soldiers were being mustered, orders given, visible attempts at smartening up made. Provisions began arriving in large quantities; butchers, bakers and other tradesmen delivered their wares to waiting servants who hurried away to the kitchens. Inside the keep itself, the sound of bustle and urgency drifted up to Golde.

She guessed its meaning at once. A pattern of behaviour which she had seen so many times at Hereford Castle was repeating itself here. Important visitors were coming. The mild panic down below gave her an idea of the scale of their importance.

When Golde went down to join her hostess, Maud was not in her customary position with her embroidery. Instead, she was issuing shrill orders to a bevy of female servants before shooing them out with fluttering hands. She gave Golde a strained smile of welcome.

‘We are having more guests,’ she explained.

‘I gathered that.’

‘Durand has only just told me. That’s so typical of him. We have no time to prepare, no time to make the castle look its best. Why on earth didn’t you warn me, Golde?’ she scolded, waving a finger. ‘You must have known that this was in the wind.’

‘Must I?’

‘Of course. Durand told your husband when the message first came. And since the lord Ralph hides nothing from you, he must have confided the tidings.’

‘What tidings, my lady?’

‘The possibility of a royal visit.’

Golde was surprised. ‘The King is coming here?’

‘He should arrive by nightfall.’

‘I see.’

‘Bishop Wulfstan has already ridden into Gloucester and there may be other counsellors due before long. They will find us in disarray.’

‘Not at all, my lady,’ said Golde, trying to adjust her mind to the news. ‘It’s a great honour to be given a royal visit. I am sure that King William will find nothing about which he can complain.’

‘Durand has already found a hundred things. He left my ears buzzing. That is why I am rushing around in such a frenzy.’

‘Then I will not get under your feet, my lady.’

Seeing the chance to withdraw, Golde took it gratefully and moved towards the door. Maud hurried across to intercept her.

‘Answer my question first,’ she demanded.

‘What question?’

‘Are we not friends, Golde?’

‘Of course, my lady.’

‘Then why did you not have the kindness to warn your friend?

It is embarrassing to be the last person to know. How can I play the hostess if I am not told that guests are descending on me?’

‘It was unfair of your husband to keep it from you.’

‘Forget my husband. Talk about yours.’

‘Ralph?’

‘Yes,’ said Maud tartly. ‘When did he tell you?’

‘Well …’

‘Come on. You pretended to be surprised at tidings you already know. How long have you been keeping this secret from me?’

‘I have kept nothing from you, my lady.’

‘Then why remain silent?’ She saw the dismay in Golde’s face and her anger mellowed into sarcasm. ‘So? The lord Ralph is not the paragon you imagined. He is not the soul of honesty, after all. You have been deceived as cruelly as I have, Golde. The wonderful husband who tells you everything has this time held his tongue.’

‘With good reason, I am sure,’ said Golde loyally.

‘An excellent reason. It is the one used by Durand. I am a wife. A mere woman. I have to wait my turn in the queue before I learn what is going on.’ She gave a cold smile. ‘It’s comforting to know that there is at least one person standing behind me in the queue.’

Golde reddened. ‘You have much to do, my lady. Excuse me.’

‘The lord Ralph did not tell you because he did not think it fit.’

‘That is a matter between the two of us.’

‘I wish that I could be there when you raise it.’

Golde dropped a curtsey then went quickly out through the door. Bitter recrimination took her all the way back up the stairs.

Her hostess had crowed over her. It was galling to be put in such a position and the fault lay squarely with Ralph. She vowed to tax him on the subject at the earliest opportunity. Sweeping into the room, she gave vent to her humiliation by slamming the door behind her and emitting a yell of rage.

They had ridden only a short distance across the Westbury Hundred before they were challenged. A horseman approached, waved them to a halt then demanded to know their names and their business. Ralph Delchard gave him a dusty answer and sent him on his way, peeved that anyone should dare to obstruct his way. He rode on with Gervase and his escort, stopping only when they met some of the sub-tenants who worked the land nominally held by Hamelin of Lisieux. It was an area of rich pastures and gurgling streams, undulating gently and dotted with woodland. They could see why it was sought after so eagerly by all four claimants.

The sub-tenants refused to a man to discuss the competing claims. As far as they were concerned, Hamelin of Lisieux was their overlord and they accepted him without protest. The commissioners realised why.

‘Fear!’ said Ralph as they cantered on. ‘That’s why they’re all so tight-lipped, Gervase. Naked fear. The stink of it is unmistakable.’

‘The lord Hamelin knows how to instil loyalty.’

‘With a sharp sword. Not one of them has the courage to speak up for Strang or Querengar yet they clearly know both men. What’s happened to Saxon bravery? Is it extinct in these parts?’

‘Apparently.’

‘There must be someone who will tell the truth.’

‘Under oath, perhaps. And guaranteed indemnity.’

‘Then that is how it must be,’ decided Ralph. ‘I’ll summon every man in the Westbury Hundred before us if I have to. Get them in the shire hall and I’ll make the rogues talk.’

‘Do not blame them, Ralph. They are frightened.’

‘Then I will frighten them even more!’

‘Turn your terror on the lord Hamelin.’

‘If we find he is at fault, I certainly will.’

‘Why not mention it to him?’

‘What’s that?’

‘You have a chance to do it right now,’ said Gervase, gazing off to the left. ‘If I am not mistaken, he is coming to meet us in person.’

‘God’s tits!’

Ralph’s bellow was prompted by the sight of Hamelin of Lisieux riding towards them on a destrier with a dozen armed men at his back. Coming around a stand of trees in an orderly column, they galloped towards the visitors and came to a noisy halt in front of them, fanning out so that a wall of armour blocked their path.

Hamelin gave them a quizzical smile of welcome.

‘What are you doing on my land?’ he asked politely.

‘Finding out if it is really yours,’ said Ralph.

‘Can there be any doubt about that? Speak to the sub-tenants.’

‘We have,’ said Ralph. ‘They are too scared to talk.’

‘Too scared?’ mocked the other. ‘Scared of what? Of whom?’

‘Overlords who ride around with their men-at-arms.’

‘But that is exactly what you are doing.’

‘I am fulfilling the King’s command,’ said Ralph sternly, ‘and that means that nobody, however many swords at his beck and call, can stand in my way.’

‘We are not standing in your way, my lord. Ride where you will, ask what you wish. We merely came out to see what brought you here.’

‘We might ask you the same thing, my lord,’ said Gervase. ‘Your manor house is several miles from here, as are the bulk of your holdings. Why come to the Westbury Hundred?’

‘To check that all was well, Master Bret.’

‘Could not your reeve have done that?’

‘Of course,’ said the other airily, ‘but I wanted to remind myself what beautiful land this is. Well worth fighting for in the shire hall.’

‘Is that the only place fighting has taken place?’ asked Ralph.

‘You tell me, my lord.’

‘Your armed escort speaks for itself.’

‘The roads are dangerous. I need protection.’

‘So do your sub-tenants.’

‘That is perilously close to an insult.’

‘No offence was intended, my lord,’ said Gervase, anxious to keep the exchange on a moderate note. ‘Our real purpose is to determine exactly which land you actually hold. Your charter would seem to suggest that Strang’s eight hides are contiguous with, but separate from, the twenty hides granted to you.

Querengar’s ten hides overlap with both of you but also seem to contain land which is distinct from yours and Strang’s. The only way for us to resolve the confusion was to rely on the evidence of our own eyes and ears.’

‘I admire your conscientiousness, Master Bret.’

‘Thoroughness is the only path to justice.’

‘Quite so.’

‘Then perhaps you will stand aside while we ride on,’ said Ralph.

‘With pleasure, my lord,’ said Hamelin obligingly. ‘I must get back to Gloucester. I want to be in the city well before the King arrives.’

Ralph was stung. ‘You know about his visit?’

‘Of course.’

‘How?’

‘I told you. I am well informed.’

‘Nigel the Reeve again?’

‘Excuse us. We must bid you farewell.’

‘Before you go, my lord,’ said Gervase, recalling what Caradoc had told them. ‘I believe that you know a Brother Nicholas?’

‘I know of him. The abbey’s rent collector.’

‘Is he a friend of yours?’

‘My taste does not turn to Benedictine monks, Master Bret.’

‘Then why is he granted privileges?’

‘Privileges?’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘Safe conduct across your land. Nobody can trespass here without impunity, that is clear. Yet Brother Nicholas, we hear, was able to traverse your holdings at will.

Why was that?’

‘He represented the abbey. I respected him.’

‘Even though you would spurn him as a friend?’

‘I do not persecute monks,’ said Hamelin suavely. ‘Why should I? They are not trying to seize lawful property from me. A black cowl will always guarantee a man safe passage across my land.’

‘Abraham the Priest wears a black cowl.’

Hamelin of Lisieux tried to force a smile but it refused to come.

He was an accomplished horseman. Being an archdeacon was no sedentary occupation; Abraham conducted services before many altars throughout Gwent and the peripatetic nature of his work obliged him to spend a fair amount of time in the saddle.

He made virtue of a necessity and learned to ride well. The copse was a few miles away but he covered the distance at a steady canter. There was no sign of habitation among the trees, no telltale column of smoke rising above them. Yet he knew they would be there. Leaving the winding track, he headed for the copse and plunged in between the trunks of some stout elms.

The men were on their feet, alerted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Hands rested on weapons. When they saw who it was, they relaxed and gave him a cheerful welcome. Abraham dismounted and went across to Madog who was holding a piece of half-eaten chicken.

‘We didn’t expect you so soon,’ said Madog.

‘I know.’

‘Is it settled already?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then why have you come?’

‘To warn you of the delay,’ said Abraham, lowering himself on to a fallen log. ‘After hearing my evidence, the commissioners decided to ride out to the Westbury Hundred to view the property for themselves. There will be no more work at the shire hall today. I will have to stay in the city for another night at least.’

Madog waited. ‘We will remain here.’

‘Have you enough to eat?’

‘More than enough. Thanks to a kind man who keeps chickens.’

‘You stole them?’ chided the archdeacon.

‘He had more than enough to spare. But what news of Gloucester? Are these commissioners honourable men? Is there any hope at all that you may carry the day?’

‘If justice exists, I will carry it but it is only a faint hope.’

‘Those hides are part of Wales!’

‘That argument did not impress in the shire hall.’

‘It’s not an argument but a fact of life.’

‘There are other facts of life which we must accept, Madog,’

said the other softly. ‘The main one is that power lies in the hands of the commissioners. Their verdict is final. They are decent men, more honest and reasonable than I dared to expect, but that does not mean they will find in our favour.’

‘They must!’

‘We shall see. Meanwhile, you’ll have to be patient.’ Madog gave a nod and took another bite from the chicken. ‘But there’s other news, my friend. The King is due to arrive in Gloucester.’

‘The King!’

Madog was so startled that he spat the chicken straight out.

His exclamation brought the rest of the band around them in a circle. They craned their necks to hear the tidings.

‘When?’ asked one of them.

‘Soon,’ said Abraham, ‘judging by the preparations. I saw them taking provisions to the castle. I stopped a butcher and asked him why he had just delivered so many carcasses to the gate.’

‘I know which carcass I’d like to deliver!’ said Madog and gained a patriotic cheer. ‘The King, is it? Well, he’s no King of ours.’

‘Why is he here?’ asked someone else.

‘I have no idea,’ admitted the archdeacon.

Madog was thoughtful. ‘Bring word as soon as he arrives.’

‘I will.’

‘This may be an accident that heaven provides. King William.

Coming to Gloucester.’ He gave a grim laugh. ‘Within reach at last.’

Canon Hubert was delighted when he was summoned by Abbot Serlo, and that delight increased when he saw that the latter already had a visitor. The venerable Bishop Wulfstan was waiting to greet him. Educated in a Norman abbey, Hubert took a lordly view of Saxon prelates and held them in low esteem. Wulfstan was the signal exception. Hubert admired him for his intellect and revered him for his spiritual commitment. He just wished that the Bishop of Worcester would divest himself of the filthy lambskin cloak which was already filling the room with a smell of decay.

‘Bishop Wulfstan brings interesting news,’ said Serlo.

Wulfstan hunched his shoulders. ‘Hubert may already know it.’

‘Know what?’

‘That the King is riding towards us.’

‘Coming to Gloucester?’ said Hubert in surprise.

‘There,’ said Serlo. ‘He is as astonished as I was.’

‘Was the fact of this visit kept from you, Hubert?’

‘It appears so, Bishop Wulfstan,’ said the latter, annoyed to learn something so important in this way. ‘What is the nature of the visit?’

‘Nobody knows until King William actually gets here.’

‘I would value time alone with him myself,’ said Serlo hopefully.

‘Do urge him to visit the abbey. We can discuss my plans for rebuilding the church. That will surely arouse his interest.’

‘I will speak up on your behalf, Abbot Serlo.’

‘Thank you.’

‘When the time calls.’ He turned to Hubert. ‘It is good to renew our acquaintance, Canon Hubert, if only by accident, so to speak.

I hear that you are doing valuable work as a royal commissioner.’

‘It is a responsibility I shoulder willingly.’

‘That is characteristic of you. But let us turn to the reason why I wished to see you,’ said Wulfstan, sucking air in noisily through his few remaining teeth. ‘This appalling crime in the abbey.’

‘A sickening event, Bishop Wulfstan.’

‘It falls to the sheriff to apprehend the culprit but he, it seems, is convinced that the guilty man is actually a monk at the abbey.’

‘A ludicrous notion!’

‘That is what I told Durand,’ said the abbot.

‘You have my endorsement,’ promised Wulfstan. ‘I would not listen to such nonsense from the sheriff. It is why I turn to you for I believe that you and your colleagues have instituted an inquiry on your own account. Is that true?’

‘Up to a point, Bishop Wulfstan.’

‘What point is that?’

‘We have other demands on our time.’

‘Accepted. But you still manage to turn your gaze upon this disgusting act of murder and Abbot Serlo is rightly grateful. Until the crime is solved, the unpleasant atmosphere here will continue.’

Hubert believed that much of the unpleasantness could be dispelled if the bishop’s cloak was either set alight or sprinkled with frankincense but he tactfully suppressed the observation.

Instead, he tried to raise all their spirits while parading his own virtues before them.

‘There is a hideous symbolism in the murder of a Benedictine monk,’ he declared, ‘and nobody appreciates that more than I do.

Limited as my time is, I will devote as much as I can to the pursuit of the killer. I have already examined the two boys who actually stumbled upon the corpse and, I feel, drawn information out of them which Durand the Sheriff failed to elicit. I know the mind of a novice, he does not.’

‘Your colleagues, too, have been active,’ remarked Serlo.

‘That is so, Abbot Serlo. Under my direction, the lord Ralph and Gervase Bret have been diligent officers. They have searched for clues in the abbey and, at my suggestion, they will look further afield.’

‘Most encouraging,’ said Wulfstan. ‘Has progress been made?’

‘We believe so.’

‘Then you are to be congratulated, Canon Hubert.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Serlo, exuding approval. ‘It was a happy coincidence that you came among us at this time. The sheriff is an industrious man but he lacks your insight. Also, of course, he will be rather preoccupied with a royal visitor in his household. My fear is that the murder inquiry will lose impetus. The trail will go cold.’

‘Not as long as I am here!’ boasted Hubert.

‘The abbey is indebted to you.’

‘We all are,’ said Wulfstan. ‘Tell me. What conclusions have you so far reached? Where do you think the killer will be found?’

Hubert inhaled deeply and enjoyed his moment in the sun.

On the long ride back to the castle, Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret had ample time to review their visit to the Westbury Hundred.

Though largely inconclusive, it had given them some valuable information.

‘We saw the lord Hamelin in his true light,’ said Ralph. ‘He is a different person with armed men at his back.’

‘And without his wife.’

Ralph grinned. ‘I did note her absence.’

‘If only his sub-tenants had been more forthcoming.’

‘They are frightened rabbits, hardly daring to peep out of their burrows while the lord Hamelin is about.’

‘He certainly likes to make his presence felt.’

‘I’ll do the same when I have him in the shire hall again.’

‘With his wife.’

‘With, as you predict, the gorgeous lady Emma. How can someone so beautiful be taken in by someone so perfidious?’

‘His perfidy has yet to be proven, Ralph.’

‘More’s the pity!’

‘All that we have established is that the lord Hamelin cleverly blurred the boundaries between the various hides. It enabled him to snatch Strang’s land from under his very nose.’

‘I suspect that he did the same to Querengar.’

‘We need to question them all much more closely.’

Gloucester appeared on the horizon and they rode on in silence for a few minutes, grateful when a light drizzle fell to cool their warm brows. After a period of meditation, Gervase turned to his friend once more.

‘I am surprised he has not come to your attention before, Ralph.’

‘The lord Hamelin?’

‘Yes. If he hails from Lisieux, his estates cannot be far from your own. Has he never been mentioned in reports from Normandy?’

‘Only in passing.’

‘Yet he spends much time there, it seems,’ said Gervase. ‘That is where he met the lady Emma no doubt. He would certainly not encounter such a woman here.’

‘It is the one thing the French can do well.’

‘What is?’

‘Produce glorious creatures like that.’

‘Hereford has its own crop, remember.’

‘I do,’ said Ralph guiltily, ‘and Golde is a prime example. In praising the lady Emma, I do not dispraise my own wife. Not to mention yours, Gervase. Alys is living proof that Winchester also has its share of remarkable beauties.’

‘I think so.’

‘Do you miss her?’

‘Sorely.’

‘And so you should.’

‘I still believe I did right to leave her behind. Alys does not care to travel. She has none of Golde’s vitality, I fear. That is the difference between us, Ralph. While I ride back to the castle to pine for my wife, you can look forward to seeing yours.’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph.

But the word was a burning cinder in his throat. He knew that he would face stern questions from Golde.

When they reached their destination, it was clear that the King and his entourage had not yet arrived. There was an increased vigilance about the sentries and a general nervousness pervaded the castle. Gervase was keen to retire to his apartment but Ralph detained him for a while, reluctant to engage in the stormy confrontation he feared. Left alone at last, he put on his most engaging smile and returned to his chamber. Golde was waiting with icy calm. She knew.

‘I’m sorry to be so late, my love,’ he said, depositing a token kiss on her forehead. ‘Gervase and I had to ride out to the Westbury Hundred to solve a tricky problem.’

‘And did you solve it?’

‘We had only partial success.’

‘I’m glad that you feel able to confide the fact to me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It is refreshing to be given a taste of honesty again.’

‘Golde!’

‘Yes?’ she said with laboured sweetness.

‘Is this all the welcome I get?’

‘I am saving my welcome for King William.’

‘So that’s it,’ he sighed.

‘Yes, Ralph. That is it. The trivial matter of a royal visit which you heard about from the sheriff but which you somehow forgot to mention to your wife. Do you know how much that hurts me?’

‘Hurting you is the last thing I want to do.’

‘Then why didn’t you warn me?’

‘Because there was no certainty that the King would come.’

‘Could you not have explained that to me?’

‘I could,’ he admitted, ‘but I didn’t. It was a grave mistake.’

‘It was more than that,’ she said, her temper flaring. ‘It was a betrayal. After all you promised! Only last night I lay in your arms and told you how much I loved you because you were so open with me. Now — this!’

‘It is not as bad as you think,’ he said, reaching out for her.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she warned, stepping back to elude him. ‘And don’t try to palm me off with an apology because I’m too furious even to listen to it. King William is coming and you failed to tell me. Imagine how foolish I felt when I learned the news from the lady Maud. Learned it and suffered it,’ she said ruefully, ‘for she was so delighted to see that I had been kept in ignorance just like her. How she rubbed my nose in it! It was degrading, Ralph.

You were cruel to subject me to it.’

‘Not deliberately, Golde.’

‘I’ve hardly stirred outside this chamber since.’

‘Come here,’ he said gently, offering his arms again.

‘No — stay away.’

‘Golde!’

‘This is not something which can be kissed away, Ralph. You took a deliberate decision not to tell me something I ought to have known.’

‘The sheriff swore me to secrecy.’

‘Did that mean your wife had to be excluded?’

‘I thought so.’

‘And do you think so now?’

‘No, I was wrong. I confess it frankly. As for the lady Maud,’ he said vengefully, ‘I’ll not have her mocking my wife. I’ll speak to her sharply on the subject and it will not happen again, I assure you.’

Golde was livid. ‘I don’t need you to fight my battles for me and I certainly don’t want you to go charging in to make a bad situation far worse with your heavy-handed interference. No, Ralph,’ she said, shaking with rage, ‘I can take care of myself. But I would rather fight battles of my own making than be landed in them by you. Especially when you’ve taken away the one weapon I need to defend myself.’

Ralph was distraught. Unable to comfort her, he sought a means of atonement but he had no idea what it might be. Gesturing his apology to her, he made one last attempt to enfold her in an embrace. Her hostile stare made him freeze. Reconciliation was still too far off. Golde moved to sit on the bed, her back to him, and Ralph decided to give her time to calm down and let himself quietly out of the room. After the unexpected venom of her attack, he needed a chance to recuperate.

His host was in no mood to give it to him. When they met on the stairs, Durand the Sheriff was at his most wrathful. He let out a growl.

‘I was looking for you, my lord!’ he said menacingly.

‘Has the King arrived yet?’

‘Forget him. We need to talk about the abbey. Bishop Wulfstan has just come from there and I could not believe what he told me.’

‘I never believe bishops myself,’ said Ralph. ‘On principle.’

‘According to him, you have been going behind my back. You and Master Bret and that bloated Canon Hubert are trying to discharge my office for me by holding your own murder inquiry.’

‘That is not strictly true, my lord.’

‘I had it from Wulfstan himself. He told me how Canon Hubert ridiculed my efforts and bragged about your own. Apparently, you have discovered clues which I am too bone-headed to find. Is this so, my lord?’ he demanded, eyes alight. ‘Must we address you as Ralph the Sheriff from now on? Am I to quit the castle and let you be constable in my stead?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then why do you presume to interfere?’

‘Help, my lord. We are only trying to help.’

‘Well, it is the strangest kind of help I have ever received and it is neither wanted nor tolerated. How dare you! If anyone else tried to “help” me in this way, I’d cut him in two. If anyone else concealed evidence from me in a murder investigation, I’d throw him in my dungeon. This is unworthy of you, my lord!’ he railed.

‘You’re a guest here and deserve the consideration due to a guest.

But there are courtesies due to a host and you have completely failed to show them.’

‘Will you at least let me explain?’ asked Ralph.

‘Your behaviour explains itself.’

‘We are not your competitors, my lord, but your auxiliaries.’

‘Auxiliaries obey their master! You maim his reputation.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Be warned,’ shouted Durand, his temples throbbing. ‘I rule here. Life and death are at my command. Only the King has more power in this county. If there is any more interference from you, I will be forced to bring the full weight of the law down upon you.’

‘We simply wish to solve a crime!’

But his plea went unheard. Turning on his heel, Durand charged off to the hall and left his guest alone. Ralph was dazed by the force of the assault. His first impulse was to retreat to the privacy of his room but there was no solace there. He was more likely to walk into another ambush. Upstairs and downstairs, there was no escape. Caught between an irate wife and an enraged sheriff, Ralph did the only thing he felt able to do. He sat down on the step and occupied a position between the two. It was lonely but there was at least a measure of safety.

The daily routine at the abbey left the novices little opportunity to be on their own, and the few moments that Kenelm was able to steal never seemed to last long. Elaf was always prowling in his wake, seeking to reassure him, fearing that his friend might do something impetuous, hardly daring to let him out of his sight.

Kenelm was pleased, therefore, when he finally shook off his shadow. Instead of going to his usual refuge in the garden, he found a quiet spot near the Infirmary and lurked unseen beside a holly bush. Precious minutes alone were devoted to more recrimination. Kenelm was convinced that his only means of escape lay in quitting the abbey completely.

A quiet voice interrupted him with an almost deafening impact.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Owen, crouching by the bush.

‘Go away!’ snarled the other.

‘I followed you, Kenelm.’

‘Well, I don’t want to be followed.’

‘I know. I saw you dodge over here to shake off Elaf.’

‘Have you been spying on me, Owen?’

‘No, no!’ replied the other, backing away from the brandished fist. ‘I’ll go, if you wish. I just thought you might want to talk about Brother Nicholas, that’s all.’

‘Not to you.’

Owen sagged. ‘No, I suppose not. You never liked him.’

‘He was loathsome.’

‘Brother Nicholas was murdered,’ said the smaller boy with wild passion. ‘Can’t you find any sympathy in your heart?’

Kenelm was immediately chastened. ‘Yes, I can,’ he said, chin falling to his chest. ‘I never liked him but I regret what happened to him. I could not regret it more, Owen. His death has ruined my life.’

‘How?’

‘That’s no business of yours.’

‘But it is, Kenelm. We are taught to help each other.’

‘Leaving me alone is the only way to help me.’

‘Very well.’ A studied pause. ‘Did he give you anything?’

‘Who?’

‘Brother Nicholas.’

‘Why should he give me anything?’

‘That means he didn’t.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Friendship. Brother Nicholas was my friend.’

‘He had no friends.’

‘Yes, he did,’ said the other staunchly. ‘Me.’

Kenelm’s curiosity was stirred. ‘Is that what he told you?’

‘Of course.’

‘When?’

‘Whenever he saw me.’

‘But he was hardly ever in the abbey.’

‘That’s what you think. He slipped back sometimes when he was supposed to be out collecting rents. At night, usually. To see me.’

‘Why ever should he want to see you?’

‘We were friends.’

‘What sort of friends?’

‘Good ones.’

Kenelm studied the innocent young face before him. Owen had neither the skill nor the experience to deceive him. It was much more likely that he had deceived himself.

‘And did Brother Nicholas ever give you anything, Owen?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘What was it?’

‘A token.’

‘Of what?’

‘Our friendship, of course.’

An uneasy sensation coursed through Kenelm. He moved closer.

‘Did you have to do anything to get this token, Owen?’

‘Do anything?’

‘Yes, for Brother Nicholas. Did you?’

Owen nodded. ‘I had to promise to tell nobody.’

‘About what?’

‘What happened. What we talked about. What we did.’

‘Go on,’ pressed Kenelm, desperate to hear more.

But Owen’s face suddenly clouded as he remembered the taunts and beatings he had suffered at Kenelm’s hands in the past. He drew away at once. There was nobody with whom he could share his secret, least of all a novice who disliked Owen’s one true friend.

‘Tell me,’ urged Kenelm. ‘What did you and Brother Nicholas do?’

Owen gave an enigmatic smile.

‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he said.