The Owls of Gloucester

Chapter Eleven

Abraham the Priest was relieved to hear that Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret were still at the abbey but he had some difficulty in finding them. The prolonged search gave him time to question his motives for wishing to see the commissioners. Competing loyalties tugged his mind first one way and then another, causing him to stop, press on, turn to leave, resume the search and hesitate all over again. When he finally caught up with them, they were in the cemetery, gazing down at the last resting place of Brother Nicholas and looking for signs of a struggle. There were none. Only a raven’s beak had disturbed the earth in the mound. The feet of many mourners had already trampled the grass around the grave so it yielded up no useful clues.

The Archdeacon of Gwent called out to them and raised a hand in greeting. Ralph was not pleased to see him. Fearing that they were about to be petitioned by the newcomer about his claim to land in the Westbury Hundred, he was uncompromisingly firm.

‘Good day to you,’ he said briskly. ‘You must excuse us.’

‘But I have to speak to you, my lord.’

‘Another time.’

‘This will not wait.’

Ralph was blunt. ‘It will have to, Archdeacon. The shire hall is the only place where we consider any dispute so you must save your breath until we return there. May I say, however, that this attempt to gain our ear in private does not become you? It will hardly advance your claim.’

‘I did not come to talk about the dispute, my lord.’

‘No matter. Whatever subject you wish to discuss, we are deaf to it. Our minds are engaged elsewhere. Stand aside, I pray, for we are on urgent business that must not be delayed.’

‘Nothing is more urgent than my business, my lord.’

‘More urgent than the murder of a monk and the abduction of a novice? Really, Archdeacon. Let us keep a sense of proportion here.’

Abraham was shaken. ‘The abduction of a novice? When?’

‘Last night. From this very cemetery.’

‘But how? The abbey is surely locked.’

‘That mystery at least is solved,’ said Gervase, adopting a more friendly tone. ‘A duplicate key was obtained. Someone was able to let themselves in and out of here at will.’

He gave a concise account of what had happened, observing, as he did so, how anxious and uncomfortable the archdeacon was. The poise and dignity he had shown in the shire hall were nowhere to be seen. The impulse which brought the Welshman after them seemed to involve a degree of soul-searching. His face was drawn, his eyes had a haunted look. Gervase’s tale only served to deepen his anguish. Putting aside his own tidings, he pressed for more details about the missing boy. Ralph shifted his feet impatiently but Gervase answered every question, sensing that Abraham had a special interest in the subject.

‘Unhappily, I may be able to help you,’ he said.

‘Where’s the unhappiness in that?’ protested Ralph. ‘Help of any kind will be happily received. If you have none to give, move out of our way while we continue our investigations.’

‘Forgive me, my lord. My comment was poorly phrased. What I meant was that I know why Owen was taken and where he is destined to go. It is that which causes my unhappiness, the fear that the boy will suffer the same fate as the others.’

‘Others?’

‘Siward and Dena?’ suggested Gervase. ‘The earlier novices.’

Abraham shook his head. ‘I know nothing of any other novices, Master Bret. I was talking about young boys who vanished from the Welsh commotes. Over the years, there have been far too many cases for them to be explained away as unfortunate accidents. Grieving parents have come to me for help and comfort too often. It is horrifying. I have preached many sermons against it.’‘Against what?’ said Ralph.

‘The slave trade.’

‘Abbot Serlo touched on that,’ recalled Gervase. ‘He confided to Canon Hubert that the disappearances from the abbey could be in some way connected with it.’

‘I am certain of it,’ said Abraham sadly, ‘because I have set myself to stamp out this hideous trade. It is barbaric. I have written both to Archbishop Lanfranc and to Bishop Wulfstan because I know that they, too, are waging a war against these vile men.’

‘How does this trade operate?’

‘Cunningly, Master Bret.’

‘But where are the boys taken?’

‘To Bristol. They are then shipped to Ireland where they are sold for high prices. It is blood money. I have raised the alarm in the Welsh commotes and everyone has been on their guard. No abductions have been reported for some time. I began to hope that the trade was dying out but I am clearly wrong. They are looking elsewhere for their victims,’ he said incredulously. ‘Even inside the Abbey of St Peter!’

‘What you have told us is very useful,’ conceded Ralph. ‘How would the boys be taken to Bristol? Overland?’

‘No, my lord. That would be too risky even at night. I believe that they are hidden aboard boats which sail downriver to Bristol.

They are then transferred to a larger vessel which heads for Ireland.’

‘Has no effort been made to reclaim them?’

‘None that has met with any success. We have no friends across the water. The Irish Vikings would never admit that they had bought slaves from here, still less hand them tamely back on request. I know of one distraught father from Archenfield who took to a ship himself to search for his two lost sons in Ireland.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘He never returned.’

‘Is no check put on this trade at Bristol?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Abraham, ‘but the slave traders are devious men. Whether by bribes or by guile, they’ll find a way to smuggle their cargo out somehow. That is why we must stop it at source by catching the perpetrators of this outrage.’

The Archdeacon of Gwent had regained much of his eloquence and controlled passion. As he described the extent of the trade and his persistent efforts to eradicate it, Ralph gained a new respect for him. What he was hearing were vital new facts which pointed them in the direction they had to take next. Irritated by the Welshman’s arrival at first, he was now profoundly grateful for it.

‘We think the boy may still be in Gloucester,’ he said.

‘I doubt that, my lord.’

‘But I’ve alerted the sentries at the gates. They have instructions to stop and question everyone leaving the city. There is no way that Owen can be taken out by the man who abducted him.’

Abraham gave a melancholy smile. ‘If only that were true.’

The coracle looked far too small and flimsy to brave the treacherous waters of the River Severn. As it bobbed and spun, it described crazy patterns and seemed to be on the verge of sinking at any moment. But it was handled by an expert, seasoned by a lifetime as a fisherman and able to manoeuvre the craft in the most daunting conditions. Where others might have been alarmed by the sudden lurches and random twists, he treated them as if they were the gentle rocking of a cradle.

Owen did not share his confidence. Trussed up in the bottom of the coracle, he was covered by a blanket which was in turn covered by the morning’s liberal catch of fish. The boy was in terror, fearing for his life and wishing that he had never ventured out at night to pray beside the grave of his beloved Brother Nicholas. It was bad enough to be attacked, overpowered, tied up and dragged out of the safety of the abbey, but this new ordeal was unbearable. As the coracle was buffeted by the current into a bewildering series of circles and dips, Owen prayed that someone would remove the gag from his mouth.

He wanted to be sick.

‘You must let me help,’ implored Abraham the Priest. ‘Please, my lord.’

‘You have already been extremely helpful,’ said Ralph.

‘But I wish to join you in the hunt.’

‘That will not be necessary.’

‘Owen is not a member of your diocese,’ said Gervase quietly.

‘You have no responsibility for him.’

‘I have a responsibility for any child who falls victim to slave traders. It is my personal crusade. In any case,’ he said, looking from Gervase to Ralph, ‘a missing novice hardly falls within the sphere of your responsibility. You are relative intruders here.’

Ralph was terse. ‘Our assistance was sought by Abbot Serlo.’

‘I am glad that it was, my lord. But I am sure that the abbot would be just as eager to seek my help if he knew of my familiarity with this particular crime. Take me with you.’

‘No, Archdeacon.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I say so.’

‘Do not be offended,’ said Gervase, trying to soothe him. ‘There is no personal animus here. We admire you for what you have done in trying to put a stop to this trade but we are more accustomed to following the trails of ruthless criminals. A murder is also involved here, remember. If and when we catch up with the killer, he is not likely to surrender without a fight. We cannot risk injury to you, Archdeacon.’

‘I would willingly take that risk.’

‘Out of the question,’ decided Ralph.

‘Besides,’ said Gervase with a polite smile, ‘until you met us, you had no idea that this second crime had taken place. Another errand brought you here, a serious one, I suspect, judging by the way it seemed to trouble your mind.’ Abraham gave a mild start.

‘Would you care to tell us what the problem is?’

‘Gervase, we cannot tarry,’ said Ralph. ‘This can wait.’

‘I think not, Ralph.’

‘It must. Owen’s fate must be averted.’

‘We can spare a few minutes. Unless I am mistaken, what we are about to hear is something of grave importance. Is that not true?’ he said, turning to the archdeacon. ‘Well?’

But the Welshman was caught up in a battle of loyalties once more, unable to speak yet horrified at the dire consequences of holding his tongue. Ralph became more restive. Seeing the archdeacon’s obvious distress, Gervase tried to ease him out of it by speaking to him in Welsh.

‘Why did you come to us?’ he asked.

‘Because I could not turn to the sheriff.’

‘The sheriff?’

‘Durand of Gloucester is not a man who inspires trust,’ said Abraham, ‘and he would be equally distrustful of me. If I took my warning to him, he would either refuse to believe a word I said or suspect me of being part of the plot.’

‘Plot?’

‘What on earth is he gabbling about, Gervase?’ asked Ralph.

Gervase ignored him. ‘What is this about a plot?’

‘Master Bret,’ began the other slowly, ‘I have only come to you after a great deal of agonised thought. Please understand my position. I feel it my duty to alert you to something but there is a strict limit to the amount of information I can give.’

‘In short, you need to protect someone.’

‘It is you who must organise the protection.’

‘Why?’

‘King William is in Gloucester.’

‘So?’

‘He is in danger.’

‘The King is always in danger. He lives under constant threat.’

‘I talk of particular danger,’ said Abraham, wanting to convey urgency without providing too much detail. ‘Let us just say that news has come to my ears of an attempt on his life.’

Gervase tensed. ‘When? Where?’

‘Soon, Master Bret. At the castle.’

‘But he is surrounded by guards.’

‘The assassin will find ways to circumvent them.’

‘Assassin. We are talking about one man?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Who is he?’

‘I have told you all I can.’

‘But you obviously know who he is.’

‘Master Bret, I told you. There is a strict limit.’

‘In other words, though you wish this assassination attempt to be thwarted, you will not reveal the assassin’s name.’

‘Questions of loyalty are entailed.’

‘That means he’s a fellow countryman.’

‘Warn the King. Insist that he takes additional precautions.’

Ralph was about to burst. ‘Will the pair of you stop jabbering away in that heathen tongue and tell me what on earth is going on!’

Gervase translated the gist of the archdeacon’s remarks. The effect on Ralph was immediate. He reached out to grab the Welshman’s arm.

‘This is some ruse,’ he accused. ‘You are trying to deceive us.’

‘No, my lord,’ said Abraham, gently detaching his arm. ‘I am bound to say that your manner disappoints me. I looked for understanding and you behave exactly as the sheriff would behave.’

‘Durand would have you tortured until he got at the truth.’

‘I have told you the truth. A plot is being devised.’

‘Then tell us the details.’

‘I don’t know them, my lord. I swear.’

‘But you are certain of its existence.’

‘I am. It pains me to admit this.’

‘Why did you bring this information?’

‘Because I will not stand by when murder is planned. Even if it is the murder of a foreign king who has inflicted so much untold misery on my country. If steps are taken, this assassination can be prevented.’

‘It will be in any case,’ promised Ralph, ‘as so many other attempts have been prevented before. What can one man do against a whole garrison? Only a mad Welshman would conceive such a wild scheme.’ He fixed Abraham with a stare. ‘What is his name?’

‘Do not ask me, my lord.’

‘We need to know.’

‘Why? It will mean nothing to you.’

‘Even contemplating the assassination of the King is a serious offence. The man must be apprehended at once. You spoke earlier about eliminating the slave trade at source by arresting those involved in it. Give us a name and we can stop this crime at source as well.’ Abraham shook his head. ‘You are withholding evidence from us.’

‘I think that the archdeacon has shown bravery in coming to us in the first place,’ said Gervase, taking a softer approach. ‘He has faith in us, Ralph, and we must show a like faith in him. We must pass on the message to the castle. There is no need to say where it came from.’

‘Then what are we to say, Gervase?’

‘A warning came to us from an anonymous informer.’ He looked at their companion. ‘A warning which was only given after an immense amount of thought and recrimination.’

‘I have been in torment,’ confessed Abraham. ‘There is no way out of this dilemma. Whatever I do will tax my conscience hereafter. If I remain silent and the assassination takes place, I could never forgive myself. But in revealing the very existence of the plot, I have to betray someone I hold dear and who may pay for my betrayal with his life.’

‘No doubt of that!’ said Ralph.

‘Alert the King.’

‘What will you do?’ wondered Gervase.

‘Pray that this whole business ends without bloodshed.’

‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ said Ralph.

‘Our task is to search for Owen,’ said Gervase.

‘Take me with you,’ pleaded the archdeacon.

‘If we do, it will only be to hand you over to the sheriff.’ Ralph swiftly repented. ‘No, that will serve nothing. Gervase is right. If they double the guard there is no way that any assassin would be able to get near the King. But there is another question you must answer and I’ll take no more prevarication. I believe that you were first engaged in this plot then lost your nerve to see it through.’

Abraham was vehement. ‘No, my lord!’

‘You sought to help this assassin.’

‘I resisted him. I’m a man of peace.’

‘Then why were you lurking outside the castle on the night the King arrived?’ Abraham swallowed hard. ‘Do not deny it. I saw you with my own eyes. If you were not spying on behalf of your friend, what were you doing, Archdeacon?’

‘I was curious.’

‘Curious to see how large an escort he had? Curious to study the castle’s fortifications? Curious to find out every detail which might be of value to an assassin?’

‘My lord!’ protested the other.

‘How did you even know that the King was coming here?’

‘By complete chance. I witnessed the sudden activity around the castle. It was clearly being victualled for important visitors.’

‘They did not have to include King William.’

‘I spoke to one of the butchers who delivered carcasses of beef to the castle. He overheard the guards talking about a royal visit.

That confirmed what I expected.’

‘So you hastened to pass on this intelligence to your friend?’

He saw the flash of guilt in the other’s eyes. ‘Now, we have it.

This whole plot stems from your information. But for you, this so-called friend would have been totally unaware of the King’s presence here. True or untrue?’

‘Horribly true.’

‘You set this business in motion.’

‘Inadvertently.’

‘There is nothing inadvertent about an assassination!’

‘I have rebuked myself ever since.’

‘Not as sharply as you deserve to be rebuked.’

Gervase sought once more to cool the proceedings before Ralph worked himself up into a real temper. He was also anxious to resume their search for the missing boy, and that could not be done while they were distracted by a reported assassination attempt.

‘Go on ahead of me, Ralph,’ he advised. ‘We have heard enough to be convinced that the danger might be real. Raise the alarm at the castle so that further measures may be taken to safeguard the King. I will be hot on your heels, I promise you.’

‘Why not come with me?’

‘Because I need to speak to Abraham on his own.’

‘If it is in that incomprehensible language, I am off. The sound fills me with dread.’ He glared at Abraham. ‘As for King William inflicting untold misery on your country, Wales got ample revenge.

They sent the Archdeacon of St David’s to inflict even greater misery on us!’

‘Archdeacon Idwal?’ said the other in surprise. ‘You know him?’

‘To our cost!’

‘Idwal is a remarkable man.’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘Remarkably unlovable. If ever there was a worthy candidate for the assassin’s dagger, it is Idwal of St David’s!’ He turned on his heel and marched away. ‘Be quick about it, Gervase!’

‘Is that where the lord Ralph’s prejudice against the Welsh comes from?’ asked Abraham. ‘An unfortunate encounter with Idwal?’

‘Two unfortunate encounters.’

‘I have always found him so friendly.’

‘Leave him aside,’ said Gervase. ‘This matter must be resolved.

As for the lord Ralph’s attitude towards the Welsh, I have to point out that it has hardly been softened by the news you bring us of a Welsh plot against the King.’

‘It does not really deserve the name of a plot, Master Bret.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘A wild notion of hot-headed patriots.’

‘Patriots? So more than one person is involved?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘How many others?’

‘That is irrelevant.’

‘Not to me, Archdeacon. I’m glad you didn’t mention this to the lord Ralph or he would certainly have taken you with him to the castle. And not with overmuch ceremony, I fear. Tell me all,’ he urged, ‘for I can see that you are no assassin. You’re a devout Christian who abhors murder as the evil it is. That is why you rebelled against the idea. But you could only rebel against something you knew about and that makes you an accessory of sorts.’ He watched the Welshman carefully. ‘You told one or more friends about the King’s visit here. Were you asked to provide any additional information to them?’

Abraham lowered his head. ‘Yes, Master Bret.’

‘But your conscience refused to let you do it. I see how it was.

You unwittingly provided the spark which lit a fire and it flared up out of your control. But you refuse to gather more fuel for that fire. Is that it?’

‘You are very perceptive.’

‘May I counsel you, Archdeacon?’

‘Please do.’

‘The lord Ralph is right. It must be stopped at source and you are in the ideal position to do that. Go to this friend or friends.

Be completely open. Admit that you have alerted the castle to the danger. And impress upon this lone assassin,’ said Gervase with emphasis, ‘that a garrison of armed soldiers is now lying in wait for him. Force him to abandon what is a futile bid. That way, you will save his life for he will surely sacrifice it if he tries to get near the King. Do you agree?’

‘I’ll leave Gloucester immediately.’

‘In which direction?’

Abraham was enigmatic. ‘That is for me to know. You and the lord Ralph are on one mission of mercy. I depart on another.’

Golde could not decide why she disliked her so much. The lady Emma was a lively and intelligent woman, unfailingly courteous to her hostess at the castle and unceasingly polite to Golde herself. There was no hint of condescension in the visitor’s manner. She was relaxed and friendly.

‘I should not have called upon you at such a time,’ she apologised. ‘Had I know whom you were entertaining, my lady, I would not have dreamed of trespassing upon you.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Maud. ‘You are doubly welcome. It is true that the King’s visit has placed an extra burden on us but it does not really fall on me. How could it when I am scarcely allowed near him? Durand excludes me completely from matters of state.’

‘Is that why King William is here?’

‘So I understand.’

‘Has your husband given you no clearer indication?’

‘None,’ said Maud sourly. ‘Since the visitors arrived last night, I have hardly seen my husband. He expects me to know my place.

At the altar I swore to obey him, and that is what I will always do, but I will not pretend that I enjoy being kept on the outer fringes of his world. Is it so with the lord Hamelin?’

‘Far from it, my lady. He discusses everything with me.’

‘It is the same with Golde and the lord Ralph,’ said Maud, trying to bring her other guest into the conversation. ‘They do not keep secrets from each other. Well, most of the time, that is.’

Golde was reluctant to be drawn into a defence of Ralph at a point when she was feeling a distant sense of betrayal. When she studied the lady Emma’s lovely features and gorgeous attire, she was honest enough to admit to herself that she was faintly jealous of her, but that was not the only reason why she wished to detach herself. Evidently, the others were well acquainted with each other, having a fund of news to exchange and endless reminiscences to share. Golde was in the way. When she made her excuse and quit the room, she knew that they would have a much more enjoyable time without her.

Desiring some fresh air, she elected to go for a walk around the perimeter of the bailey so that she could reflect on the true cause of her resentment of the lady Emma. No sooner had she descended the steps from the keep, however, than she saw Ralph hurrying towards her.

‘Ah, there you are, my love!’ he said, arriving to give her a peck on the cheek. ‘I was looking for you.’

‘Why?’

‘To explain why I had to hop out of your bed with such indecent haste this morning. Hubert brought worrying news from the abbey.

One of the novices has been abducted.’

‘Oh,’ she replied. ‘It grieves me to hear that. I can see that Canon Hubert would be upset about it, but why did he need to involve you and Gervase? Surely, this is a problem for the abbey.’

‘It spills out far beyond that, Golde. I have no time to recount all the details. Suffice it to say that the abduction is linked to the murder. The man who seized that boy last night is, in all probability, the same person who killed Brother Nicholas. We have picked up his trial. I had to come back here on other business,’ he said, ‘so I thought I would tell you what is going on. Gervase and I may be away for some time.’

‘What of your duties in the shire hall?’

‘They must wait.’

‘I see,’ said Golde levelly, noting his eagerness to get away. ‘In that case, I’ll not hold you up. Thank you for warning me. I appreciate it.’

He peered at her. ‘What is wrong?’

‘Nothing, Ralph.’

‘Then why this strange coldness?’

‘Am I being cold?’ she said, contriving a warm smile. ‘I am sorry.

It was not intentional. Be on your way. Gervase will be waiting.’

‘Then he can wait,’ said Ralph, taking a step towards her. ‘You’re upset with me again, Golde. I can tell. Are you still harbouring a grudge because I forgot to mention the King’s arrival?’

‘You didn’t forget, Ralph. You chose not to remember.’

‘It amounts to the same thing.’

‘No, it doesn’t. Deliberation was involved.’

‘Ah, so that’s my crime. Deliberate deception.’

‘This has nothing to do with the King’s visit,’ she said. ‘Well, only indirectly. But my concerns are paltry beside yours. A boy’s life is in danger. Go in search of him at once.’

‘Not until you tell me why you are so fretful.’

‘Fretful?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You accuse me of holding things back from you but now you are the one guilty of deception. What is going on?’

‘The lady Maud has a visitor.’

‘Is that what has put your nose out of joint?’

‘Lady Emma. The wife of Hamelin of Lisieux.’ She watched his reaction. ‘Yes, Ralph. You met her at the shire hall. She told me how much you impressed her. The lady Emma was sure that you would have mentioned her name to me.’

He winced. ‘But I didn’t.’

‘May I know the reason?’

‘Because she was not germane to our inquiry,’ he argued weakly.

‘The lord Hamelin brought her along to support him and distract us. Naturally, we spotted his device at once. To a man, we ignored the lady Emma completely.’

‘Ralph!’ she said with amused cynicism. ‘I might accept that Canon Hubert ignored her and I’m sure that Brother Simon hid under the table, but you could never ignore a woman as beautiful as that. Undyingly faithful as he is to Alys, I daresay that even Gervase raised an eyebrow.’

The sheepish grin. ‘The lady Emma does seize the attention.’

‘Why not admit that at the start? I’m not complaining out of envy, though any woman would suffer that when confronted with her. Once again, you put me in an invidious position. The lady Emma told me something I should first have heard from you.’

‘I accept that.’

‘How many more times will this happen?’

‘Never, my love.’

‘You said that when we fell out earlier. Then this second lapse occurs. It made me feel so foolish. That’s why I could not stay in the lady Maud’s apartment with them,’ she said. ‘The lady Emma was asking about the King’s reason for being here and the lady Maud was lamenting the fact that she had no idea what it was.

When it became a discussion of what husbands tell their wives, I had to get out of there.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘If you had had the sense to tell me about your meeting with the lady Emma, none of this would have happened.’

‘Exactly. I am duly shamed, Golde, and just wish we did not have to have this dispute at the one time when it cannot properly be resolved. But, as you see, I really have to go. However, with regard to the lady Emma, I will say one thing.’

‘What’s that?’

‘No man could lead her astray. She dotes on her husband.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes,’ he said with a grin. ‘Almost as much as I dote on my wife.’

It was Golde who kissed him this time.

Having parted on more amicable terms, Ralph hurried back to the gatehouse. Gervase was waiting for him but so, he now saw, was Nigel the Reeve. The two were engaged in a mild argument.

Ralph swept up to bring it to a summary conclusion.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded of the reeve.

‘Hoping to see you, my lord.’

‘I cannot stay to be seen. Urgent business calls.’

‘That is exactly what I was discussing with Master Bret,’ said the other. ‘This urgent business. I know what it is but, at your direction, I have not mentioned it to the four claimants in the dispute which you have been trying to resolve. But they are hounding me, my lord. They demand to know why there’s been a delay and how long it will last.’

‘We do not know how long.’

‘Can I at least explain the reason for your decision?’

‘I am sure you’ve already done so to one of them,’ said Ralph, eyeing him darkly. ‘The well-informed Hamelin of Lisieux gets to hear everything from his lackey. As for the others, they could not all have been barking at your heels. We have just spoken to Abraham the Priest and he didn’t even raise the subject of the shire hall.’

‘He is not the problem, my lord,’ admitted Nigel. ‘Strang the Dane is the worst offender here. He and his creeping reeve have been trailing me relentlessly. They have commitments out of the city and cannot stay long. Yet they fear to go lest you sit in session during their absence and omit them from your considerations.’ He sounded reasonable for once. ‘Querengar has shown restraint but even he is pressing me. It’s only fair to tell them something.’

‘I agree,’ said Gervase. ‘Since the lord Hamelin knows, why conceal it from the others? They must recognise the seriousness of the crime.’

Mulling it over, Ralph put his foot in the stirrup of his horse and hauled himself into the saddle. He kept Nigel the Reeve waiting for his decision. When it came, it was abrupt.

‘Tell them,’ he said at length. ‘Warn them that it might be days before we are able to reconvene. Tell them all. Beginning, of course, with the lord Hamelin or he will be vexed with you.’

Anxiety continued to peck away hard at Abraham the Priest. It was no consolation to him that he had done what he believed was the right thing. In obeying the impulse to reveal the existence of an assassination plot, he had salved his conscience to some degree, but left it vulnerable to further attack. Riding alone out of the city, he wondered if he should have invited Tomos to go with him so that he could take soundings from his companion.

On reflection, he was grateful that he had not, convinced that the young monk might not approve of his actions and not wanting to forfeit the unquestioning faith which the latter placed in him.

There was also another side to his gratitude. In leaving Tomos in ignorance, he was sparing him any unpleasant repercussions.

Abraham had to confront Madog and his men on his own and take all their anger upon him.

Brad. It was a short word in Welsh but it had a long meaning for the archdeacon. Treason. Betrayal. Reneging on a bargain.

Violating a trust. Turning away from his country. Committing a shameful act. Disloyalty. Treachery. Was that really a fair description of his behaviour? He had betrayed his friends, it was true, but only because they were bent on a course of action he could never support. It was they who planned to commit treason, and only his treachery could stop them. And was it really treachery to deflect Madog and the others from a course of action which was almost certainly suicidal? Nothing could be achieved by the pointless waste of lives on an ill-conceived venture.

Abraham told himself that he had not betrayed his country.

Having proudly assisted at the birth of a baby boy, he had now helped to keep several adults in the breathing world. That was an achievement which was worth the obloquy he would earn. In time, the child would grow up to hear how the Archdeacon of Gwent himself had delivered him into his Welsh heritage.

Abraham could only hope that Madog and his men would, in time, weigh commonsense against disappointment and realise that the archdeacon had been their salvation. Such a resolution was a long way off, he knew that. There would be much pain and recrimination before then, much abuse to withstand.

It could be lessened. If he told them a lie, Abraham could deflect the blame from himself and let them expend their rage impotently on the King himself. He could tell them that William had left Gloucester for an unknown destination. None the wiser, Madog would lead his men back home to Wales. It was an attractive idea but it was almost instantly dismissed. His friends might not know the truth but he would and it could not be held back from them. Besides, he was their spiritual leader. They looked to him as a Christian exemplar. He had acted in the way that God would want him to act. There was no need to apologise to them or even to justify his actions. God had spoken through him.

Buoyed up by that thought, he nudged his horse into a canter until the copse at last came in view. It was an ideal refuge, large enough to conceal them yet too small and isolated to be part of the forest and thus subject to the savagery of forest law. No verderers and foresters would patrol this outcrop of trees. They were safe from scrutiny and could plot a hundred assassinations beneath the green leaves without being disturbed. But the archdeacon would disturb them now. Instead of bringing them the information they demanded, he would be announcing the demise of their plan.

When he reached the copse, he slowed his horse to a trot and picked his way through the trees, gritting his teeth and trying to shake off vestigial doubts. These were his friends and countrymen.

He had no cause to be afraid of them. Abraham came into the clearing with a welcome on his lips but it was stillborn. Madog and his men were not there and there was no sign that they ever had been. The words which he had been turning over in his mind remained unspoken. He had no idea where they could be. The Archdeacon of Gwent was all too aware of the implications. They were acting on their own now.

Whatever they decided, he was utterly powerless to stop them.

Ralph Delchard checked first with his men to see if their search had turned up anything of interest but there was nothing to report.

When he and Gervase Bret rode to each of the city gates, they met with the same response. Nothing suspicious had been seen.

No boy had been taken out through them since they had opened that morning. Recalling what Abraham had told them, the two friends turned their attention to the quayside, wondering if the river might be used as a means of spiriting Owen away. Once again, they were out of luck. Few craft had sailed downriver and none had been seen with a boy aboard who answered to the description of Owen. Ralph turned back to regard the city.

‘He’s still here, Gervase.’

‘The archdeacon doubted that.’

‘What does he know of a manhunt? Instinct is the crucial thing and mine tells me that the lad is hidden away somewhere. If we had more men, we could turn Gloucester inside out until we found him.’

‘The sheriff has men enough.’

‘Can you imagine him handing them over to us?’

‘No, Ralph,’ said the other. ‘And they are needed at the castle.

Now that you have passed on the word about a possible attempt on the King’s life, the whole garrison is on its toes. Durand does not strike me as the kind of man who would be moved by the plight of a novice. Protecting a King will seem far more vital to him than hunting for a boy who was foolish enough to wander around the abbey at night.’

‘That has been worrying me.’

‘What has?’

‘The sheer coincidence of it. Owen leaves the dormitory and someone just happens to be lurking in readiness for him. Why?

It does not make sense.’

‘It does to anyone who has been in an abbey. Young boys are playful. It is only natural. Until they reach maturer years, there will always be one or two who risk a beating to slip out at night.

Look at Kenelm and Elaf. They had many midnight escapades.’

‘I do not follow your argument.’

‘The man who lay in ambush was not waiting specifically for Owen. He may have had no idea who would appear. What he was counting on was that, sooner or later, some wilful novice would be out on the prowl. Brother Nicholas would probably have told him that.’

‘I am still not convinced.’

‘Then you have to side with the sheriff.’

‘God forbid!’

‘He still believes the killer lives in the abbey itself. An insider who knows where to skulk in order to wait for his prey to emerge from the novices’ dormitory. If he was Brother Nicholas’s accomplice, he would know how devoted Owen had been to the dead man. Devoted enough to pay a secret visit to his grave.’

‘Now that begins to make sense.’

‘Another monk as the murderer?’

‘Someone who was privy to the close relationship between Brother Nicholas and Owen. Monk or not, such a person would be able to anticipate a visit to the cemetery from the boy. Yes, Gervase,’ he said as the idea got a purchase on his mind, ‘we can rule out coincidence altogether. We are looking at careful planning here. At calculation.’

‘If he is calculating enough to get a boy out of an abbey, he will surely have the skill to smuggle him out of the city. Owen could have been hidden away in any of those carts we saw trundling through the gates. Or perhaps he was lowered over the wall at night by ropes. He has gone, Ralph. The archdeacon felt that and I agree.’

Before Ralph could reply, two familiar figures walked towards them. Strang the Dane had an arrogant strut, Balki a loping stride.

Neither looked happy at the accidental meeting.

‘I want to register a complaint!’ said Strang aggressively.

‘When do you do anything else?’ returned Ralph.

‘You have failed in your duty, my lord.’

‘I have responded to a call for help.’

‘So we have been told by Nigel the Reeve,’ said the Dane, ‘but only after we battered at his eardrums. He has just told us what he could have said this morning and saved us wasted time.’

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Gervase.

‘What do you think? Some people may neglect their work but I cannot afford to do that. Since you will not need me for some days at least, I am sailing to Bristol with a cargo of iron ore. It has been expected all week.’ He pointed to a boat moored at the quayside. ‘There it sits.’

‘That is yours?’ said Ralph.

‘Yes, my lord. It has been here too long as it is. One thing about iron ore, though,’ he added with a grim smile, ‘nobody is tempted to steal it. They would have dirty hands and aching muscles if they did.’

Ralph looked at the boat more carefully. It was a large craft with a single sail. The deck had been reinforced to take the weight of its regular cargo. When he saw how low it was in the water, he realised how large a quantity of iron ore was being carried on board. Most of it was covered by a tattered tarpaulin.

‘It will need to be searched,’ he announced.

‘Why?’ said Strang defensively.

‘So that we can be sure you are only taking what you claim to be taking. Stay here while it is searched.’ He was about to step aboard when he noticed how much the boat was moving about in the water. ‘Gervase will do the office for me.’ His friend gave him a resigned look. ‘Carry on, please. We must leave no stone unturned and no tarpaulin unlifted.’

While Gervase climbed about, Strang was vociferous in his protest. Balki insisted on taking part in the search, pulling back the tarpaulin helpfully and making it clear that there was nobody and nothing else aboard apart from the designated cargo. Annoyed by the bellows of complaint, Ralph finally silenced the Dane with a yell and sent him on his way, glad that he would not have to endure the man’s troublesome company for a few days. As soon as Gervase came ashore, the two men cast off. Oars were used to guide them out into the middle of the river then Balki hoisted the sail and it took a first smack from the wind. Ralph watched as it glided slowly downriver.

‘You would not get me into that boat.’

‘So I saw,’ said Gervase.

‘Someone had to search it. Every boat that comes downriver must be inspected from now on. If this is their means of transport, we will block it off completely.’

‘Unless we are already too late, Ralph.’

‘Late?’

‘They may have got him out during the night.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Owen may already be sailing to damnation.’

Sheer fatigue sent him off into a deep sleep. When he finally awoke, his stomach was still queasy but he was no longer being tossed helplessly around in the coracle. It was a small mercy.

Trying to move, Owen realised that he was still bound hand and foot with a gag preventing any call for help. Wet, frightened and aching all over, he forced his eyes open to take stock of his surroundings. He was propped against a wall in some kind of ruined building. Water could be heard gushing past nearby. It was a small room with a rotting floor and a door that had fallen off its hinges. Since birds flew in and out at will, he surmised that there were holes in the wall at his back.

In the far corner was a pile of old sacks, whitened by their contents but blackened with age. Other clues slowly met his gaze. Owen was eventually able to work out where he must be.

It was an abandoned mill. His heart sank as he saw what it must mean. He was some distance from Gloucester. The abbey he loved so much and the city which surrounded it were far away. He wondered if he would ever see them again. Whenever he moved even slightly, ropes chafed his wrists and his ankles.

His muscles seemed to be on fire. Wanting to cry, he could not even produce tears. It was frustrating. Owen turned his mind once more to his departed friend. His silent plea was charged with despair.

‘Help me, Brother Nicholas! Where are you?’

King William sat at the table with the others ranged around him.

The two leading barons who had ridden with him said little, having already had discussions with him on the journey to Gloucester.

Durand the Sheriff was unusually quite reticent, agreeing with all that was suggested and concealing any reservations he had about the proposed course of action. It was Bishop Wulfstan who provided most of the questions. The one prelate at the table was not daunted by the presence of four soldiers.

‘I am not entirely persuaded, my liege,’ he said respectfully.

‘Why not?’ said William.

‘Because your army is already stretched and your resources pushed to the limit. Retrenchment is the order of the day.’

‘That’s foolish talk,’ said Durand.

‘Is it?’

‘Yes, Bishop Wulfstan. In military situations, we cannot always stop to count the cost. If we did, we would never do anything.’

‘Armies must be paid, fed, moved here and there.’

‘It is an expensive business,’ said William heavily. ‘Nobody denies that. Least of all me. I have spent my whole life paying one set of men to fight another. I have fought in endless battles myself. Victory is the best source of revenue. We must never forget that. What we spend now, we recoup when we win the field.’

Wulfstan was uncertain. ‘Are we confident of winning this time?’

‘Yes!’ asserted Durand.

‘But you will not be bearing arms yourself, my lord sheriff.’

‘No matter. I will be there in spirit.’

‘And in the person of your knights,’ added William approvingly.

‘Durand will pay more than his share towards this enterprise.

That is why I held this meeting in Gloucester before holding a larger council to announce my plans. I could be sure of complete loyalty here.’

‘From the Church in particular,’ Wulfstan reminded him.

‘But you are the only one to oppose this invasion,’ said Durand.

‘Loyalty means unconditional support, Bishop Wulfstan, not penny-pinching moans of dissent.’

‘You’ll hear no moans from me, my lord sheriff. I question this decision because it is only right that someone should. Call me a devil’s advocate, if you wish, though I am sure you call me worse in private. King William does not employ me to agree with every word he says.’

William grinned. ‘It is just as well!’

‘My task is to make you think of every aspect of a plan.’

‘And you do it admirably, Bishop Wulfstan. But,’ he said as he stretched his arms, ‘we have been at it long enough, I fancy. Let us break off here and meet again this evening to finalise what we have agreed. Thank you all. Progress has been made.’ The others rose to leave. ‘Stay, Durand,’ he said. ‘I want some private conference.’

Wulfstan and the two barons bade them farewell and left the hall. The bishop was anxious to return to the abbey for news of the steps taken to track down the missing boy, and his companions wanted to exchange with each other the doubts they had been too tactful to raise during the discussion. All three of them left the keep.

Still in the hall, King William rose to his feet with a cup of wine in his hand. Old age had caused him to fill out and had put something of a waddle into his walk. He strolled across to the window.

‘What do you think, Durand?’

‘About the invasion? I have already told you.’

‘Forget that,’ said William. ‘I refer to the information we received earlier. To be honest, I am inclined to ignore it.’

‘That would be reckless.’

‘A certain amount of recklessness is always necessary.’

‘But there is no point in taking chances, my liege,’ said Durand.

‘If there is to be an assassination attempt, we must be ready to resist it. You must comply with all the precautions I suggest.’

‘Must I?’ said the other wearily. ‘I have been threatened with assassination for as long as I can remember. Most of those threats have been hollow. Those that had substance were soon snuffed out. A lot of men have gone to their deaths because they dared to imagine they might be able to kill me.’ He ran a finger around the rim of his wine cup. ‘Who could possibly have hatched this plot? So few people know that I am even in this part of the country. No,’ he decided, on the move again, ‘I will treat it with contempt.’

‘But it comes from such a reliable source, my liege.’

‘That is true. Ralph Delchard would not invent such a warning.

But how did he get wind of it? That’s what I wish to know.’

‘So do I,’ said Durand. ‘I mean to press him hard on the subject.’

‘As you wish. But all that I will agree to is an extra guard posted outside my room at night. Who could penetrate a fortress like this? You have worked hard to strengthen it. We could repel a thousand assassins from inside these walls, yet Ralph was talking of a lone killer. One man is up against hopeless odds, Durand,’ he said, putting his cup down on the table. ‘I refuse to lose a wink’s sleep over this supposed threat.’

‘You will not need to, my liege. I will protect you.’

William gave him a pat of thanks on the arm and they moved slowly towards the door. The heavy tread of the King’s feet gave ample warning. Several seconds before they left the hall, the person who had been listening outside the door was able to flit away to a hiding place.