The Owls of Gloucester

Chapter Ten

It was an entirely new experience for Ralph Delchard. He would never have believed that it was possible for him to enjoy himself within the confines of an abbey, especially when plucked unceremoniously from the arms of his wife in the early hours of the morning, but that was what was happening. Pleasure was coursing through him. It was not because he had discovered a hitherto unacknowledged spiritual dimension in his life, still less an affinity with the three Benedictine monks who greeted him at the abbey. What excited him was the thrill of the chase. Another crime had been committed, but more clues lay in its wake this time. His blood was up. Simultaneously, an innocent boy might be saved and a cruel murder solved. He was glad that Gervase Bret had hauled him out of bed.

Controlling his exhilaration, he spoke gently to Kenelm.

‘Tell your story once more,’ he invited.

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Begin from the moment you heard Owen leave. Had he ever crept out of the dormitory at night before?’

‘Never!’ said Kenelm.

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘He was not bold enough, my lord.’

‘Unlike you and Elaf.’

‘Those days are gone.’

Kenelm was feeling sorry for himself. A sleepless night had left him sagging with weariness but the new day brought nothing but endless interrogation. Shocked by Owen’s disappearance and anxious to help, he was finding that his concentration wandered and his memory played tricks on him. He pulled himself together and went through it all again with plodding slowness. It was painful.

The five of them were in the Precentor’s lodging. Abbot Serlo had been shed along with Canon Hubert, the putative leader of the murder inquiry. Only the bishop followed Ralph and Gervase to the new venue. Brother Frewine summoned the novice and they were able to hear the boy’s account at first hand. It gave them priceless new facts with which to work. Seeing Kenelm’s obvious exhaustion, Ralph took pity on him and released him after another bout of questioning. When the boy had gone, Ralph turned to Brother Frewine.

‘That’s the second time he’s broken the rules to wander about at night and the second time he’s had a nasty surprise. I have a feeling that the lad will stay in his bed from now on.’

‘If only that were true, my lord,’ said Frewine.

‘You have cause to doubt it?’

‘Grave cause. Kenelm is planning to leave us.’

Wulfstan was upset. ‘Abandon his novitiate?’

‘So I understand, Bishop Wulfstan. As you saw for yourselves, the boy is in a state of high anxiety. Brother Nicholas’s death made a deep impression on him. He thinks that the only way he can deal with the situation is to run away.’

‘Owen’s fate may make him reconsider,’ observed Gervase.

‘Possibly.’

‘Let us have his friend in,’ said Ralph.

The Precentor nodded and opened the door to summon the other novice. Elaf was morose, rocked by what might have happened to Owen and desperate to do all that he could to try to find him. At Ralph’s behest, he described the argument he had seen outside the abbey gate between Brother Nicholas and the well-dressed stranger. When they had probed him on every detail, Elaf, too, was set free and ran off to confer with Kenelm.

There was another bond between them now. Both had seen things which might have a bearing on the serious crimes committed at the abbey. Each had witnessed elements in a continuing catastrophe.

Bishop Wulfstan was impressed by their undoubted honesty.

‘Worthy novices, both,’ he said. ‘The Order must not lose them.’

‘We will do all we can to keep them,’ promised Frewine.

‘I will speak with them alone myself, if that would help.’

‘Greatly, Bishop Wulfstan. They worship you.’

‘God needs no competition from me.’ He looked at Ralph. ‘You are deep in thought, my lord. May we know what you have decided?’

‘I am still trying to piece it together. Gervase?’

‘So am I,’ said the other, ‘but this much I will vouchsafe. Brother Nicholas strayed ruinously from his monastic vows. I know that it is a painful notion to accept,’ he continued as the bishop winced, ‘but it can scarcely be denied. Money was found in his cell by Brother Frewine and there are other indications which lead me to a conclusion which you will find incredible. But it must be confronted.’

‘Brace yourselves,’ warned Ralph. ‘Tell them, Gervase.’

‘I will be brief. Brother Nicholas was paid to provide young boys to someone who came here in disguise to collect them. The same man was probably seen by Elaf having an argument with Brother Nicholas outside the gate and it led in time to murder. Wearing a cowl and using the key provided by his accomplice, the man let himself in once more last night and chanced upon Owen in the cemetery.’

‘No!’ protested Wulfstan. ‘A Benedictine monk engaged in such a business? I cannot accept that. I will not.’

‘I will,’ said Frewine simply.

‘So will I,’ agreed Ralph. ‘My thoughts move in the same direction. I would make only one comment, Gervase.’

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘I do not think that this man “chanced upon” the boy.’

‘How else could he know where and when to find him?’

‘I have no idea. But he did. He must have.’

‘The very idea of such a monster prowling on consecrated ground is abhorrent to me,’ said Wulfstan. ‘He must be stopped. Locks on every door must be changed. Patrols set up. Special protection offered to the novices. They are mere children. They deserve to be watched over as closely as any holy relics.’

‘From now on they will be, Bishop Wulfstan,’ said Frewine.

‘Too late in the day for those already abducted,’ said Ralph.

‘We must act fast. One of them at least may be recovered before any real harm befalls him.’

‘Where will you begin your search, my lord?’ asked Wulfstan.

‘At the two locksmiths.’

‘Abbot Serlo is mortified that he might unwittingly have helped to further this dreadful event. For his sake, and for the sake of his abbey’s reputation, these crimes must be answered.’

‘They will be, Bishop Wulfstan.’

‘You and Master Bret will earn our undying thanks.’

‘Do not forget Canon Hubert,’ said Ralph mischievously. ‘Our self-appointed master. He will be a crucial figure.’

‘There will be consequences,’ Gervase reminded him. ‘If we are to devote our full attention to this matter, we will have to forgo our work in the shire hall. That will not make us popular with the claimants.’

Ralph was dismissive. ‘I care nothing for popularity.’

‘It is just as well, Ralph, for the sheriff will also hurl abuse at us. My fear is that he’ll do far more than that and actually prevent us lending our assistance.’

‘No question of that!’ insisted Wulfstan.

‘You have the power to stop him?’ said Gervase.

‘The King does, Master Bret, and he has already used it on your behalf. When I told him of your splendid efforts thus far, he was so impressed that he more or less ordered Durand to allow you to continue. The sheriff has been muzzled. Ignore him.’

‘This is excellent news,’ said Ralph genially. ‘Come, Gervase.

It’s time to batter on a couple of doors. One of those locksmiths must provide another key for us. The one that unlocks this mystery.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ said Gervase.

‘What?’

‘Brother Frewine still has that money.’

‘Of course!’ said Ralph, slapping his thigh by way of self-reproach. ‘How remiss of me! That leather pouch.’ He smiled at the Precentor. ‘Could I trouble you to show it to us?’

‘With pleasure, my lord.’

Opening the door of a cupboard, Frewine took out the pouch and handed it to Ralph. He weighed it in his palm. When he opened the neck of the pouch, Ralph tipped the coins on to the table beside the flickering candle. Wulfstan was shocked by the amount of money and Gervase fascinated by its glinting newness.

Ralph’s interest was in the pouch. He took out the strip of leather he had found in the bell tower and held it against the thongs which threaded their way through the pouch.

It was a perfect match. Ralph grinned with satisfaction.

‘What you found was only part of his hoard, Brother Frewine,’

he explained. ‘The rest was hidden behind a beam in the bell tower and, if my guess is correct, snatched away by the man who killed him. I’ve got his scent in my nostrils now, Gervase. Let’s after him!’

Seated in a chair, Abbot Serlo stared ahead of him with an expression of remorse on his face. Canon Hubert stood beside him to offer consolation.

‘It was my fault,’ said Serlo quietly. ‘I am to blame, Canon Hubert.’

‘Nothing could be further from the truth, Abbot Serlo.’

‘But I gave that key to Brother Nicholas.’

‘Unwittingly.’

‘That is how it all started.’

‘We do not know that for certain.’

‘I provided the key which allowed three of my novices to be taken from the abbey against their will. What dreadful fate awaited them when they left here? What obscenities were they subjected to? What agonies did they endure?’ His whole body convulsed. ‘I will never forgive myself.’

‘There is nothing to forgive, Abbot Serlo. How were you to know to what use that key would be put? When you loaned it to Brother Nicholas, it was, presumably, for another purpose.’

‘Yes,’ explained Serlo. ‘He was due back late one night from his travels with a satchel full of the rent he collected. He asked if he could let himself in by the back gate so that he could deposit the money here at my lodging. At least, that was the reason he gave but I surmised that there was another more benevolent one.’

‘Benevolent?’

‘Brother Nicholas had his detractors but he was, at heart, a kind man. At the time of which we speak, almost two years ago now, we had an ancient porter, Brother Andrew, too old to discharge the office at night but too proud to admit it. Callers are rare after dark so he was able to sleep most of the time.’ He looked up at Hubert. ‘I thought that Brother Nicholas was showing consideration to an old man, asking to be let in by the back gate so that Brother Andrew was not roused from his slumber.’

‘Did Brother Nicholas ever borrow the key again?’

‘Never. Shortly after the first occasion, our dear porter fell into an eternal sleep. If he came back late after that, Brother Nicholas had no qualms about ringing the bell at the main gate for his successor.’ He rose to his feet. ‘It never occurred to me that he had no more need of my key because a duplicate had already been made.’

‘That is only supposition.’

‘The lord Ralph seemed convinced. So did Master Bret.’

‘Their theory is plausible but still unproven.’

‘It has the awful ring of truth about it.’

‘Even if that is the case,’ said Hubert gently, ‘you are beyond censure. Brother Nicholas had his throat cut. Is the man who made the knife culpable because he sold it unknowingly to a murderer?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘The same holds for you.’

‘But it does not, Canon Hubert.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because the cutler who provided the knife has not been directly confronted with its gruesome handiwork. I have. In supplying that key, I gave Brother Nicholas and his accomplice a means of access to this abbey. That access made possible a murder and three abductions.’

‘I am unpersuaded,’ said Hubert, shaking his head. ‘My colleagues may be a little too hasty in their judgement. Let us take these supposed abductions. How do we know that is what they are, and where is the evidence that the same man was involved?’

‘Three novices have been seized from this abbey.’

‘Three have disappeared, it is true. But were they seized?’

‘They must have been, Canon Hubert.’

‘When did the first boy go astray?’

‘It must have been all of eighteen months or two years ago.’

His despair intensified. ‘Yes, almost two years ago. I recall it now. Soon after I lent that key to Brother Nicholas. That is when Siward was taken.’

‘It could be an unfortunate coincidence.’

‘No, Canon Hubert. The link is undeniable.’

‘What of the second boy?’

‘Dena vanished from our midst some time last year.’

‘A considerable time after Siward, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘If someone really did have designs on them, why not abduct both together? It does not make sense to delay the second visit so long. No, Abbot Serlo,’ said Hubert, ‘I begin to have reservations about this.’

‘I wish that I could share them.’

‘At least absolve yourself of any criticism.’

‘Impossible!’ said the abbot, wringing his hands as he paced the room. ‘And even if I do not accuse myself, they will.’

‘They?’

‘Owen’s parents.’

‘I was forgetting them.’

‘They will be utterly heartbroken when I tell them. They are good Christians, Canon Hubert. God-fearing people who placed their only child here in the abbey in the confident belief that he would be nurtured and protected. What am I to say to them?’ he asked, arms flailing. ‘No words of comfort exist for parents in such a situation. I have been through it twice before, remember.

First, when Siward left. Then with Dena’s parents. I have never been through such harrowing interviews.’ He clasped his hands in prayer. ‘Dear God in heaven, do not inflict the ordeal on me again. Help us to find him, Lord. We humbly beg you to return your young servant safely to the abbey.’

‘Amen,’ said Hubert.

‘They will have to be told,’ said Serlo through clenched teeth.

‘It is their right. Owen’s parents must be informed.’

‘But not just yet, Abbot Serlo.’

‘It is a cruelty to keep it from them.’

‘Is it not more cruel to put them through a torture which may yet be avoided. Hold off a while, I implore you. Give us a little time to look more closely into this crime. With God’s blessing, we may be able to give Owen’s parents some good news.’

‘That depends on your colleagues.’

‘Hold faith with them.’

‘Can they really solve these crimes, Canon Hubert?’

‘The lord Ralph and Gervase Bret are remarkable individuals.’

‘But you said earlier that you had doubts about their theory.’

‘I do,’ admitted Hubert readily. ‘But in matters like this, they have a curious habit of proving me wrong.’

By the time they left the abbey precincts, Gloucester had already stirred. Tradesmen were open for business and people were milling in the streets. Ralph and Gervase called on the first of the two locksmiths but drew a complete blank. The man neither recognised the key which they showed him nor remembered having made one quite so large. Everything hinged on the second locksmith.

Ralph had misgivings.

‘What if the duplicate was not made in Gloucester?’

‘Where else?’

‘Brother Nicholas travelled far and wide.’

‘Only into the country,’ said Gervase, ‘and locksmiths are thin on the ground there. I daresay that Tewkesbury has one, Winchcombe, too, but the abbey holdings do not lie in that direction. The rent collector would have no cause to visit either town.’

‘His accomplice might,’ suggested Ralph. ‘What better way to cover his tracks than to employ a locksmith far away from here?’

‘But there was no need to cover his tracks.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he never expected anyone to discover that the duplicate had been fashioned. For two whole years, nobody did.

Brother Nicholas and his accomplice made one fatal mistake, Ralph.’

‘What was that?’

‘They never expected us.’

Ralph was reassured enough to give a hearty laugh. When they found the second locksmith, the street in which his shop lay was quite busy. Two customers were calling on the tradesman himself. Ralph wanted to push to the front of the queue but Gervase advised patience so that they could study the locksmith and gauge his character. Palli was a short, fussy, fidgety man with shoulders hunched by a lifetime of bending over his work.

Thick veins stood out on the backs of unwashed hands. Ralph noted the dirt under his fingernails.

‘I’m glad the fellow does not cook my food,’ he said.

‘He seems proficient enough at his trade,’ noted Gervase, looking around. ‘His shop is larger than the other one and these customers clearly trust him. He may well be our man, Ralph.’

‘And if he isn’t?’

The question hung unanswered in the air. When both customers departed, Ralph and Gervase stepped up to the counter. Palli appraised them with a keen eye. It did not approve of Ralph Delchard. The little locksmith turned instead to Gervase Bret.

‘Can I help you?’ he grunted.

‘I hope so,’ said Gervase, showing him the key borrowed from the abbey. ‘Did you make this?’

‘No,’ said Palli at once.

‘How do you know? You have not looked at it properly.’

‘I don’t need to. I can see at a glance that it doesn’t bear my mark. Here,’ he explained, taking a large key from a hook and pointing to a crude pattern stamped into it. ‘All my work bears my signature.’

‘Forget this particular key,’ said Gervase, wishing that the man would stop twitching. ‘I borrowed it from the porter at the abbey.

What I want to know is whether or not you made a duplicate of it.’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’

‘Take it, man,’ ordered Ralph irritably. ‘And be quick about it.’

Giving him a hurt look, Palli accepted the key, weighed it in his hand then subjected it to thorough scrutiny. He ran a finger gently over it as if stroking a cat. Ralph’s irritation grew.

‘Well?’ he demanded.

‘I may have done,’ said the other uncertainly, ‘but I couldn’t be certain. So many keys pass through my hands, my lord.’

‘But surely not as large as this one,’ argued Gervase. ‘Apart from the abbey, only the castle and the churches would have something this size.’

‘I know. I make keys for both.’

‘So you are used to this kind of work.’

‘It is my trade, sir.’

‘There is another locksmith in Gloucester. If someone wanted a duplicate of that key, where would they go? To him or to you?’

‘To me, if they had any sense. He is a poor workman.’

‘Stop boasting about yourself,’ ordered Ralph. ‘It’s very important that we know if a duplicate was made. Now, have you seen this key before or one identical to it?’

‘I’ve seen a number like it, my lord,’ said Palli, turning it over in his hand. ‘Whether they were identical is another matter. I’ve certainly made no duplicate in recent months.’

‘This would not have been a recent commission,’ said Gervase.

‘Oh.’

‘We can’t give an exact date but it might be up to two years ago.’

‘Two years!’

‘Think back.’

‘You’re asking a lot there,’ said Palli, fidgeting with the key before handing it back. ‘Two years! Several keys have passed through my hands in two years.’

‘This one will pass through your innards if you don’t try harder,’

warned Ralph. ‘Cudgel your brain, man. A key from the abbey.

Two years ago. A duplicate is wanted. That sort of thing doesn’t happen every day.’

‘No, my lord,’ conceded the man. ‘You have jogged my memory.

It’s not often that a monk walks into my shop. Especially one who pays me so well. Yes,’ he said, groping in his mind for detail. ‘I’d have thought it was only a year ago but it could well be two, even more. And he did ask for a duplicate to be made. Quickly, for he could not leave the key with me for any length of time. The one I sold him must still be at the abbey. You’ll know it by my mark.’

‘You’ll know me by my mark, if you’re not careful!’ warned Ralph.

‘This monk you mention,’ said Gervase. ‘Can you describe him?’

‘They all look the same to me.’

‘But he was definitely from the abbey?’

‘Oh yes. He left the key with me first thing in the morning and came back after nightfall. My wife and I had gone to bed. She was not best pleased when he came knocking on our door.’

‘You said that he paid you well.’

‘More than I asked.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Because he was so delighted with my work,’ said Palli. ‘He had this satchel over his shoulder and he took the money out of that. I could hear the coins jingling. That satchel sounded as if it was full.’

Ralph and Gervase had the identification they needed. Brother Nicholas had bought the duplicate key himself. The one which he had given to Palli had been borrowed from Abbot Serlo. It was not needed by the rent collector again. Gervase thanked the locksmith and they went out. Ralph’s annoyance gave way to a surge of excitement.

‘I knew it, Gervase! We’re on the right track.’

‘It’s going to be a long and winding one.’

‘No matter. We’ll follow it.’

‘Where next?’

‘To the odious Nigel the Reeve,’ said Ralph. ‘Our work at the shire hall is suspended indefinitely. He’ll need to inform everyone of that. And while we’re at it, we can ask him how he knew that King William was due in the city last night.’

‘There is someone else to whom I’d like to put that question.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘The Archdeacon of Gwent.’

‘No, Madog. Put it from your mind at once. I will not listen to such talk.’

‘The others have listened,’ said Madog, indicating his men.

‘And they agree with me. It’s too good a chance to miss.’

‘This is madness.’

‘It’s revenge.’

‘You would have no hope of success.’

‘Let us worry about that.’

‘I forbid you even to discuss it.’

‘You are too late. It’s settled.’

‘Does my opinion count for nothing?’

Madog looked shifty and declined to answer.

Abraham the Priest had found them in the same copse. They were bored with the encampment, weary with the long wait and desperate for action to relieve the tedium. The news he brought from Gloucester would not be welcome.

‘There has been a further delay,’ he told them.

‘Again!’ said Madog over the general murmurs of complaint.

‘I fear so.’

‘But why? We all hoped that we would have ridden back to Wales by now with a piece of our territory restored to us. What is wrong with these commissioners? Can they not make a simple decision between the four of you?’

‘This dispute is far from simple, Madog.’

‘Is that why it is being dragged out?’

‘I have no idea,’ admitted Abraham. ‘All I can tell is what Nigel the Reeve told me. Judgement is suspended. I must wait to be called.’

‘How long?’

‘As long as it takes.’

‘This is villainy on their part, Archdeacon. They mean to keep you until you tire of waiting and ride away, thus forfeiting your right to be heard. Demand a speedier resolution.’

‘It is the same for the others as for me, Madog. They, too, must sit on their hands while the commissioners are otherwise engaged.’

‘I care not for them. Yours is the only claim that matters.’

‘God willing!’

‘Make them see that.’

‘I have put our case as eloquently as I could,’ said Abraham with quiet dignity. ‘They recognised its strength. I could see it in their eyes. But they will not make a judgement until they are ready. I will stay in Gloucester with Tomos until we are called again but there is no need for you to tarry,’ he said, raising his voice for all to hear. ‘I was grateful for your company on the ride here but we can make our own way back. Go home, friends. Your wives and children miss you. Why spend another night under the stars when you could be back in Wales?’

‘We’ll stay,’ said Madog firmly.

‘But we have no need of an escort.’

‘We rode with you to make sure that you were not ambushed on the way and because we have a vested interest in the land you are trying to restore to us. That in itself is reason enough to linger.’

‘It might take days.’

‘What I have in mind would take only a second. And that’s the real reason we won’t go from here. We have business in Gloucester.’

‘No, Madog. Keep away from there.’

‘It was you who told us where King William was.’

‘I begin to wish that I hadn’t.’

‘Then why did you confirm it by watching him arrive?’ said Madog with a knowing smile. ‘I see your position, Archdeacon. As a priest, you can never condone violence; as a Welshman, you long for his death as fervently as the rest of us.’

‘That’s untrue!’ denied Abraham over the shouts of approval. ‘I would not condone this under any circumstances, Madog. It is sinful. It is criminal. And what is more, it is doomed to failure.’

‘Not if it is carefully planned.’

‘You would never be allowed near the King. He is protected by an entire garrison. What can a handful of men do against them?

You are up against impossible odds, Madog.’

‘That’s why you must help us.’

‘Never!’

‘It’s your duty. Think what this monster has done to our country. That land in the Westbury Hundred is only a fraction of the territory which has been stolen from us and occupied by foreigners. Why fight in the shire hall for a few hides of land when you can help to reclaim the whole of Wales?’ A cheer went up from the men. ‘It’s no coincidence that we are here at the same time as the King. It is destiny.’

‘Then it is one I reject,’ said Abraham firmly.

Madog tapped his chest. ‘One man is all that it will take.’

‘Go home. Forget this nonsense.’

‘One man, Archdeacon. Inside the castle at night. All I need to know is where the King will be sleeping.’ He saw the question which formed in the other’s eyes. ‘How can you find out? It is easy. The commissioners lodge at the castle. They will know which apartment the King occupies. Talk to them. Then find a means to look inside the castle in order to make a plan of it. Send the information to me.’

‘It would be pointless.’

‘Let me worry about that.’

‘The King is guarded day and night.’

‘Find out where he sleeps.’

‘No, Madog,’ said Abraham staunchly. ‘I will not do this.’

The others converged on him to form a menacing circle.

‘Do you have any choice?’ said Madog.

Strang the Dane was in as fiery a mood as ever at the shire hall.

With Balki at his side, he directed his anger at Nigel the Reeve.

‘A delay?’ said Strang. ‘A further delay?’

‘How many times must I tell you?’ asked Nigel.

‘I want a resolution today.’

‘We all do, Strang. I want the commissioners out of my city so that I can get on with running it properly. They have caused far too much commotion here and I want them on their way.’

‘Then order them to do their appointed duty.’

‘I wish that I could.’

‘Make them, Nigel. Force them to come back here.’

‘They do not recognise my authority,’ said the reeve frostily.

‘Then petition the sheriff. Let him call them to account.’

‘Royal commissioners answer solely to the King, I fear. They will only sit in session when they are good and ready, Strang. It is annoying, I know, but there’s no remedy. You must wait.’

‘But I can’t. I have a shipment of iron ore leaving soon.’

‘That is irrelevant.’

‘Not to me,’ said Strang hotly, ‘so don’t be high and mighty with me. This is my livelihood. I must be aboard that boat.’

‘Then leave Balki to deal with the commissioners.’

‘I want to see justice done with my own eyes. Besides, I will need Balki to sail with me. We cannot cool our heels here because the royal commissioners are too lazy to do their job.’

Nigel tried to silence him but the reeve’s supercilious tone only enraged the Dane further. He was yelling at the top of his voice when one of his rivals rode up on his horse. Hamelin of Lisieux was mildly amused.

‘Oh!’ he said. ‘It is Strang the Dane. I mistook you for a fishwife, haggling over her prices. Good day, Nigel.’

‘Good day, my lord,’ returned the other politely.

‘Have you heard the news?’ growled Strang.

‘Heard it and accepted it,’ said Hamelin. ‘The law is a snail, my friend. It crawls very slowly. I would have preferred this business to have been resolved by now but the snail has a little distance to go it seems.’

‘I’d like to crush its shell under my foot.’

‘Be patient.’

‘How can I be? I must leave Gloucester very soon.’

‘Take my advice and depart right now,’ said Hamelin easily, ‘for you will avoid humiliation that way. My claim obliterates all others.

You are wasting your time by challenging it.’

‘We do not think so, my lord,’ said Balki.

‘Your opinion has no validity.’

‘Yes, it does. As the commissioners will show.’

‘If and when we ever see them again!’ grumbled Strang. ‘There’s no sense in staying here. You know where to find me, Nigel.

Make it soon.’

With his reeve in attendance, Strang stalked off down the street.

‘A pleasant fellow!’ said Hamelin.

‘I am glad to see the back of him, my lord.’

‘Did you tell him the cause of the delay?’

‘Of course not,’ said Nigel. ‘It would only have fed his anger the more to learn that the commissioners had put his concerns aside to turn their attention elsewhere. Besides, I only confide in friends, my lord.’

‘I am glad that I am one of them.’

‘The best.’

‘Thank you. How did the others receive the news?’

‘Neither was pleased but none were as malevolent as Strang. I wish they could all have accepted the delay with the good grace you showed.’

‘Unlike them, I am in no hurry.’

Nigel grinned. ‘Unlike them, you foresee the verdict.’

‘There is that,’ said Hamelin casually. ‘What word from the castle?

The King arrived last night, I hear. Do we know to what purpose?’

‘Not yet, my lord.’

‘Let me know what you learn.’

‘Instantly.’

‘And what about these public-spirited commissioners? Are they really looking for a missing boy instead of sitting in judgement here? What is wrong with Abbot Serlo?’ he said artlessly. ‘He used to have such a strong grip. Not any more. First he loses a monk. Now a novice. If he is not careful, the whole abbey will float away from him.’

After returning the borrowed key to the porter, Ralph and Gervase hoped to speak to the abbot but the latter was otherwise engaged.

Canon Hubert explained to them why Serlo could not be disturbed.

‘He is in the chapter-house,’ he said sonorously. ‘Chapter is normally the time when the temporal business of the abbey is discussed but, for obvious reasons, that has been postponed.

Abbot Serlo is addressing the monks about the worrying disappearance of Owen.’

‘We have some news for him on that score,’ said Gervase. ‘Ralph and I visited a locksmith in the city. He recalls making a duplicate key for a man who sounds very much like Brother Nicholas.’

‘But you never met Brother Nicholas.’

‘I did,’ said Ralph. ‘Unfortunately, he was lying naked on a slab in the mortuary so his conversation was limited. But we’re certain it was him. He paid the locksmith out of a satchel filled with the rent he’d collected. And this happened at precisely the time when he had the abbot’s key in his possession.’

‘So far, our guesswork is accurate,’ said Gervase.

‘That will reassure Abbot Serlo greatly,’ said Hubert, ‘and I fear that he is in need of reassurance. In a private moment with me, he confessed how this latest crime had wounded him to the heart.

It was lucky that I was there to offer succour.’

‘Yes,’ teased Ralph, ‘it must have been very comforting for him to know that he had the leader of the murder investigation at his side.’

‘A misunderstanding, my lord.’

‘I wonder how it arose?’

‘Not from anything I said, I assure you.’

They were standing near the abbey gatehouse in bright sunshine but they were far too preoccupied either to note or enjoy the fine weather. The fate of an innocent young boy was at the forefront of their minds. Ralph did not pursue the taunting of his adipose colleague.

‘There’s something else you may tell the abbot,’ he said seriously. ‘We believe that the lad may still be in the city.’

‘What makes you think that?’ asked Hubert.

‘We spoke to the sentries at the gates. Nobody left Gloucester during the night. Owen must have been kept here. If his captor tries to smuggle him out, he will not find it easy. Eyes are peeled at every gate.’

‘That is good to hear, my lord.’

‘I have deployed my own men in a thorough search for the boy.

It will be a difficult task in a place this size but they will knock on as many doors as they can. Someone may have seen something in the night.’

‘Could not the sheriff’s officers help?’

‘I prefer to work independently of Durand,’ said Ralph. ‘He does not take kindly to unsolicited help.’

‘But it has been solicited. By the abbot and by Bishop Wulfstan.’

‘Have the boy’s parents been told yet?’ asked Gervase.

‘No,’ said Hubert. ‘I counselled against it.’

‘Very wise. It might only inflict unnecessary suffering on them.

Do they live in Gloucester itself?’

‘A few miles away, Gervase.’

‘Then they will not pick up any gossip in the city.’

‘That would be the worst possible way to find out,’ said Ralph.

‘Well, we know how the kidnapper got in and out of the abbey.

But where is he hiding the boy? More to the point, is Owen still alive?’

‘I hope so,’ sighed Gervase.

Hubert was more positive. ‘I’m certain of it. When I was alone with the abbot, he confessed something he had been too frightened to put into words before. The thought has haunted him ever since the first of the novices was taken from the abbey.’

‘What thought is that, Canon Hubert?’

‘Abbot Serlo tried to dismiss it from his mind when Siward went. He almost persuaded himself that the boy must have run away. It was a less disturbing interpretation to put on the facts.

Dena’s disappearance made that notion untenable.’

‘What are you talking about?’ pressed Ralph.

‘The abduction of Owen. The abbot knows why he was taken.’

‘Does he?’

‘Bishop Wulfstan agrees with him. But, then, the bishop has been campaigning against it for many years.’

‘Against what?’

‘The kidnapping of young boys. It is not only this abbey which has suffered. All over this county there have been strange disappearances.’

‘To what end, Hubert?’

‘Monetary gain.’

‘The boys are sold? ’

‘I fear so, my lord. We have stumbled upon a slave trade.’

Surprised to be told that she had another visitor, Golde was even more astonished when she found Abraham the Priest waiting for her at the castle gate. He introduced himself and explained his predicament.

‘I am sorry to disturb you, my lady,’ he said, ‘but I need to speak with your husband as a matter of great urgency.’

‘He is not here, I fear.’

‘I know that but I hoped you could tell me where he was.’

‘Could not the reeve do that? He is answerable to my husband.’

‘Nigel the Reeve has been less than helpful. All he would say was that the commissioners had suspended their deliberations. No reason was given. We were simply informed of the decision.’

‘Then my advice would be to accept it,’ said Golde warily. ‘My husband will not thank you for badgering him about your claim.

The place to do that is in the shire hall.’

‘This is nothing to do with my claim,’ he said with passion. ‘I must apprise him of something else. And quickly. Please tell me where he is. I have met the lord Ralph and I know that I can trust him.’ He glanced towards the keep. ‘I am not sure that I could say the same of the sheriff.’

Golde could hear the sincerity in his voice and knew that he would not come in search of her husband on a trifling matter.

She tried to help.

‘The truth is that I don’t rightly know where he is,’ she said.

His shoulders sagged. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘What I can tell you is this. My husband was summoned to the abbey in the early hours of the morning. Some crisis has blown up there, it seems. If you really must track him down, the abbey would be the best place to start.’

‘Thank you, my lady. Thank you very much.’

The Archdeacon of Gwent strode off through the gate and left her wondering what had put the arrowheads of concern in his brow. She was about to turn away when horses came trotting into the bailey. Four men-at-arms were escorting a woman of such beauty that every eye was immediately turned to her. When she saw Golde, she nudged her horse across to her and flashed a brilliant smile.

‘Good morning,’ she said brightly. ‘I am calling on the lady Maud.’

‘I am just about to return to her myself.’

‘Then I will accompany you, if I may. You must be a guest here.’

‘Yes, my lady. My husband is one of the royal commissioners visiting Gloucester. His name is Ralph Delchard.’

‘Then I know him. I met him at the shire hall when my own husband appeared there to substantiate a claim. You are fortunate. Ralph Delchard is a proper man in every sense.’ She beamed regally. ‘I am the lady Emma, wife to Hamelin of Lisieux.

I am sure that your husband must have mentioned me.’

‘Of course,’ said Golde with convincing honesty.

But it was a lie which smouldered at the back of her mind.

Brother Paul was lenient. Showing a compassion they did not know he possessed, the Master of the Novices released both Elaf and Kenelm from their lessons that morning in the belief that they needed time to recover from the horrors they had witnessed. It was a welcome change of heart. When he confessed that he had left the dormitory at night once more, Kenelm expected to be flogged by Brother Paul. Instead, he was free to wander in the garden with his friend but it gave him no discernible joy. He remained distrait. Elaf was concerned about him.

‘You look ill, Kenelm.’

‘I feel ill.’

‘Go to the Infirmary. Seek a remedy.’

‘My illness cannot be cured with a herbal compound, Elaf. It’s not my body that is sick. It’s my mind.’

‘Do those terrible thoughts still come?’

‘They are worse since last night. I fear so for Owen.’

‘So do I, Kenelm.’

‘I feel so guilty that I laughed at him now.’

Elaf nodded. ‘What I cannot understand is why he went to the cemetery in the first place. And at night.’

‘It was the only time when he wouldn’t be seen.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Can’t you guess? He was going to pay his respects.’

‘To Brother Nicholas?’ said Elaf in wonderment. ‘Why?’

Kenelm stared at him to make sure that he could trust him, then he looked around to ensure that there were no eavesdroppers. With a hand on his friend’s shoulder, he led him deeper into the garden.

‘Nobody must know this, Elaf.’

‘You can rely on me.’

‘Can I?’

‘Of course.’

‘Swear it.’

‘I do, Kenelm!’

‘I didn’t even tell this to Brother Owl and the others.’

‘Not even to Bishop Wulfstan?’

‘Most of all to him. He frightens me. He is so saintly.’

‘Bishop Wulfstan inspires me,’ said Elaf. ‘But what’s this secret you kept from them? Was it something that happened last night?’

‘No, yesterday.’

‘Go on.’

‘I slipped away to be alone.’

‘Yes, I know, Kenelm. I looked for you everywhere.’

‘I was in no mood for company,’ explained the other, ‘so I sought a hiding place. Over by the Infirmary. But someone followed me.’

‘Owen?’

‘Yes, Elaf.’

‘Why?’

‘He wanted to talk about Brother Nicholas. Don’t ask why he chose me but he did. If I’d known it was the last time I’d ever speak to him, I’d have listened more carefully.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He was saying something important.’

‘About what?’

‘Why he liked Brother Nicholas. Yes, I know, we hated him and so did the other novices. I think the only one of the monks who could bear to be near him was Brother Owl.’

‘He puts up with anybody.’ A half-smile came. ‘Even us.’

‘Yes, even us. He’s been a friend.’

‘Tell me about Owen.’

‘He and Brother Nicholas were closer than we thought.’

‘Is that what Owen told you?’

‘Not in so many words,’ said Kenelm, ‘but that’s what it amounted to. How and when they met, I’m not sure, but they obviously did or they couldn’t have developed a bond between them. That’s what it was, Elaf. A bond. Like the one between us.’

‘But we spend all day together.’

‘It makes no difference.’

‘It does, Kenelm. We’re both novices. We’re the same age, we have the same interests. It’s, well … it’s sort of natural. Brother Nicholas was a monk. He was much older than Owen. What could they possibly have in common?’

‘That’s what I’ve been thinking about.’

‘Did Owen say what it was?’

‘He hinted at it, Elaf. What he did last night proves it. I mean, it takes bravery to go in among those gravestones in the dark. I didn’t have it. I ran away. But Owen had it. And I know who he got it from.’

‘Who?’

‘Brother Nicholas.’

Elaf frowned. ‘From this bond they had between them?’

‘Yes. If I’d heard this a few days ago, I’d have sniggered as loud as anyone, but not now. What happened to both of them has made me show a little more respect. Brother Nicholas was murdered. Owen was taken away by someone. They deserve respect, Elaf.’

‘I know.’

‘Well, don’t laugh when I tell you why Owen went to the cemetery last night. Do you promise?’

‘I promise.’

‘It’s very simple, really.’

‘Is it?’

‘Owen loved him.’