The Owls of Gloucester

Chapter Four

Travelling with Ralph Delchard on royal business brought setbacks as well as benefits for Golde. Although she could enjoy the pleasure of her husband’s company, she also endured the discomfort of watching him plunge regularly into situations that were fraught with danger. Nor had her journeys been entirely free from personal slights and humiliations. On her first outing with Ralph, to York, she had lacked the wedding ring that made her his legitimate bride and she was, accordingly, treated as his mistress by the disapproving wife of their host.

It had caused Golde intense embarrassment and there were other places where her presence had not been wholly welcome.

After her initial meeting with the critical lady Maud, her hostess, she feared that Gloucester might be another venue where her Saxon origins aroused muted hostility or covert derision.

Golde was pleased, therefore, when Maud approached her with the offer of a guided tour of the city that afternoon. Maud was polite rather than friendly, and there was the faint sense of an effort being made, but that did not detract from the nature of the invitation. Golde willingly accepted. It would give her an opportunity both to re-acquaint herself with a city she had once visited with her father and to win over her hostess. When the two met in the bailey, horses had already been saddled for them, ostlers waited to help them mount and four soldiers were in attendance to escort them.

‘You have been here before, you say?’ recalled Maud.

‘Yes, my lady. Many years ago.’

‘You may notice some changes since then.’

‘This castle is one of them,’ said Golde without rancour. ‘When King Edward sat on the throne, he held his Witenagemot — his Great Council — at the Palace of Kingsholm.’

‘Those days are over.’

‘So it seems.’

‘This castle is now the most important building in the county.’

She gave a smile. ‘The abbot would dispute that, of course, and rightly so, but this is where affairs of state are decided. A castle can never be an ideal home for a woman but one has to make the best of it. I suspect that the lord Ralph’s manor house is a far more comfortable place to live.’

‘It is, my lady.’

‘Where are his estates?’

‘In Hampshire. A beautiful county.’

‘Gloucestershire, too, has its charms.’

Maud’s manner was pleasant and Golde detected none of the resentment she had felt during the meal on the previous evening.

What impressed her hostess was Golde’s easy mastery of Norman French, a language which she had learned from her husband while simultaneously instructing him in her own. Neither Durand the Sheriff nor his wife made the slightest effort to understand the native tongue of their citizens, still less their culture and customs.

Assisted into the saddle, the two ladies were about to ride off when the sheriff came striding across to bid them farewell.

Durand’s grin was restored along with the flirtatious glint in his eye.

‘Are you deserting me?’ he asked with mock distress.

‘We are going to see the sights,’ said his wife.

‘Am I myself not one of them?’

‘Do not fish for compliments, Durand.’

‘How else will I get them?’

‘They are yours by right, my lord,’ said Golde.

‘That is what I tell Maud but my virtues stale with time.’

His wife gave a shrug. ‘That is the way of the world.’

‘Then why do I see your beauty afresh every morning?’

She accepted the compliment with a smile, extended a hand for him to kiss then said something under her breath to Durand.

His quiet laugh made Golde feel that she was intruding on a private moment between man and wife. Approaching hoofbeats were heard and all three of them turned towards the gate. The drumming on the drawbridge timbers suggested a rider who was in a hurry. Entering the bailey at a steady canter, he reined in his horse when he recognised the sheriff. Judging by the sweat on his brow and the lather on his mount, the messenger had ridden far and fast. He pulled a letter from his belt and handed it to Durand. The seal indicated the urgency of the missive.

Opening the letter, Durand read it quickly then registered great surprise. The messenger dismounted to await his response. The sheriff signalled for him to follow then strode off swiftly towards the keep.

‘What is it, Durand?’ asked his wife.

But her beauty was no longer enough to detain him. Spurred on by some unexpected news, he was blind to anything but his duty. Golde could see how peeved her companion was at being so rudely ignored and she wisely restrained herself from attempting conversation with Maud when they set off. As they rode along, Golde wondered about the contents of a letter which could turn an amorous husband into an indifferent one.

Ralph Delchard stepped inside the abbot’s lodging and took a quick inventory of its contents while exchanging niceties. Serlo kept him standing while he appraised him, knowing that a man chosen to lead the second team of commissioners must rank high in the King’s estimation. Ralph withstood his scrutiny without flinching under the searching gaze.

‘Canon Hubert tells me that you wish to speak to me,’ said Serlo.

‘That is true.’

‘Everything about you indicates a soldier so I can hardly suppose you wish to join the Benedictine Order. That leaves two possibilities. Either you have come here to endow the abbey, or, as I suspect, you are curious to learn more about this fearful crime which afflicts us.’

‘Your suspicion is well-founded, my lord abbot.’

‘Has the sheriff requested your assistance?’

‘Not in so many words.’

‘I thought not.’

‘But I am sure he would give this visit tacit approval.’

‘And I am equally certain that he would not,’ said the abbot levelly. ‘Durand has many good qualities but tolerance is not among them. He is, by nature, unduly possessive. My guess is that he would make no bones about the fact that he does not want your interference.’

‘Help is not interference.’

‘Our sheriff would identify them as one and the same thing.’

‘And you, my lord abbot?’

‘What about me?’

‘You want this killer caught as soon as possible?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then you need additional assistance.’

‘Why should it come from you, my lord?’

Ralph spread his arms. ‘Why not?’

‘I can think of a number of reasons,’ said Serlo, lowering himself into his seat. ‘First, you have important business here in the city which should preclude anything else. Second, you are a complete stranger and cannot possibly expect me to place the confidence in you that I place in the sheriff. Third, you are profoundly ignorant of the way that this abbey is run and fourth, if I am to believe Canon Hubert, your general attitude towards religious houses falls far short of respect.’

‘I plead guilty to that last charge,’ said Ralph with a grin, ‘but, then, I am not alone in wanting to mount an investigation. My dear friend and colleague, Gervase Bret, is at my side and, as Hubert can tell you, Gervase has enough respect for both of us.

He cannot pass an abbey without genuflecting. Until wiser counsels prevailed, he all but took the cowl himself. In short, my lord abbot, his instincts are sufficiently sacred to offset my leanings towards profanity.’

‘You are an honest sinner, I’ll say that for you.’

‘Honest and cheerful.’

‘And altogether too glib, my lord.’

‘I stand rebuked. Talking of which, may I sit down?’

‘When I decide if you are staying,’ said the abbot, raising a hand to check his movement. ‘State your business, please.’

‘I want to solve a murder.’

‘Why?’

‘All just men abhor violent crime.’

‘They do not all seek to catch an offender.’

‘I cannot rest while a killer is on the loose.’

‘Durand the Sheriff has sworn to track him down.’

‘We may move at a swifter pace.’

‘Your host would not thank you for saying that.’

‘No,’ said Ralph happily. ‘Nor will he raise a cheer when we do his job for him more successfully than he himself but that thought will not hinder us. Bringing a murderer to justice takes priority over anxieties about ruffling the feathers of a sheriff.’

‘From the way you say that, I deduce that he would not be the first sheriff on whose toes you have unwittingly trodden?’ Ralph beamed at him. ‘Your position differs from ours, my lord. Durand’s word is law in these parts. When you have thoroughly upset him, you can ride away and forget all about him. It is those of us who stay here who will suffer the consequences of his wrath.’

‘You will easily cope with Durand,’ said Ralph. ‘Hubert has been talking about you all the way from Winchester. He reveres you. No aspect of your good work here has been obscured from us. To do so much in such a short time indicates a man of true Christian purpose and with enough guile to lead a sheriff by the nose.’

‘I doubt if Canon Hubert used the word guile.’

‘He called you a supreme diplomat.’

‘It is not a phrase I can apply to you, my lord.’

‘I’m delighted to hear it. Politicians have their place but so do men of action. I am one of them. That is why I cannot resist getting involved in a murder inquiry. It is not mere curiosity, believe me.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘Disgust at the nature of this particular crime.’

‘We all share that disgust.’

‘Let me help you, my lord abbot,’ said Ralph, taking a step towards him. ‘What can you lose? If I fail, the worst that I will have been is a nuisance. If I succeed — and I usually do in such cases — the whole abbey will sleep more soundly in its bed.’

‘That is certainly a desired end,’ admitted the other. ‘It has been a shattering experience. We feel invaded. The sanctity of our church has been vitiated. One of my greatest ambitions is to build a fine new abbey church and this outrage has reinforced the strength of that ambition. I want the murderer to be caught swiftly so that we can begin to put this whole hideous business behind us.’

‘That is why you need me and Gervase Bret.’

‘I remain unconvinced.’

‘We have sharper eyes than the doughty sheriff.’

‘Prove it.’

‘Easily,’ said Ralph. ‘Durand still believes that Brother Nicholas was killed by one of the other monks. We do not. No member of the Order would defile consecrated ground in this way.’

‘I am glad that you agree with me on that point.’

‘Brother Nicholas was the one member of the community who went outside the enclave on a regular basis. That is where we must look for his killer. Among the tenants whose rents he collected and among the other people he would normally meet in the course of his travels. Does that not set us apart from Durand?’

he said, showing his palms again. ‘While the sheriff’s officers are causing havoc within the abbey, we will be out hunting the murderer where he is likely to be.’

Abbot Serlo pursed his lips as he studied Ralph afresh. After a full two minutes, he eventually reached a decision and indicated the bench.

‘Perhaps you had better sit down, after all,’ he said.

The meeting took place in the Precentor’s lodging, a room too small to accommodate all five of them with any comfort and obliging the novices to stand with their backs pressed up against the wall. Ranged against them were Canon Hubert, Gervase Bret and Brother Frewine, who looked less like an owl on this occasion, and more like a mother hen worried about the safety of her chicks.

The boys were deeply grateful that the Precentor was there to support them. Gervase’s manner was friendly but Canon Hubert’s bulk and stern judicial gaze made him an intimidating figure in such a cramped area. Hubert conducted the interrogation with Gervase acting as his interpreter and turning to Frewine each time he translated a question to collect his approval of the wording. While he could have wished for a less menacing inquisitor, Brother Owl had no reservations about the skill of the interpreter.

Kenelm and Elaf were tired and scared. They had already been subjected to close questioning by the abbot, the Master of the Novices, the Precentor and the sheriff. Hoping for some relief from the endless enquiries, they were disheartened to be hauled in front of Canon Hubert. Gervase did his best to gain their confidence by talking about his own time as a novice but the boys remained on guard and Kenelm, in particular, was difficult to draw out.

‘Ask them when they last saw Brother Nicholas,’ said Hubert.

Gervase translated and the boys looked blankly at each other.

‘Three days ago,’ prompted Frewine.

‘Let them answer for themselves,’ said Hubert.

‘Well?’ encouraged Gervase.

‘Three days ago,’ agreed Elaf.

‘Where?’

‘Here in the abbey.’

‘Where exactly?’

‘Crossing the cloister garth.’

‘Was he alone?’ asked Gervase.

‘Oh, yes, Master Bret.’

‘You sound as if Brother Nicholas was usually alone.’

‘He was.’

‘Why was that?’

Elaf looked guiltily across at Frewine. Hubert grew impatient.

‘What is he saying, Gervase?’

After translating for him, Gervase suggested that he be allowed to put a series of contiguous questions himself to speed up the examination and extract more out of the boys. Reluctant to yield up control, Hubert nevertheless saw the virtue in the proposal and accepted it. Gervase turned back to Elaf, still having a silent conversation with Frewine.

‘Tell me the truth,’ said Gervase softly.

‘Brother Nicholas …’ The boy faltered. ‘He preferred to be alone.’

‘You mean that the other monks did not like him?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’

‘That is not the case at all,’ said Frewine loyally.

‘The sheriff thinks otherwise,’ countered Gervase. ‘And with great respect, Brother Frewine, I would like to hear Elaf and Kenelm answer. They may perceive Brother Nicholas in ways that are different from you.’

‘Understandably.’

‘Is that not so, Kenelm?’ continued Gervase. ‘You have said little enough so far. Whom do you agree with here? Elaf or Brother Frewine? Do you think that Brother Nicholas was unpopular?’

‘Yes,’ murmured Kenelm.

‘Why was that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Elaf?’

‘Nor me.’

‘But you must have some idea.’

‘We didn’t know Brother Nicholas very well.’

‘You knew him well enough to identify him in the cloister garth.

And you must have picked up the gossip. I know that I did during my novitiate. We were always searching hungrily for scraps of information about our holy brothers. Which ones were kind, which ones were critical, which ones sounded like wild animals caught in a snare whenever they tried to sing.’ Kenelm smiled and Elaf gave an involuntary giggle. ‘I see that you have some toneless monks here as well. We certainly did at Eltham. What sort of a voice did Brother Nicholas have?’

‘A funny one,’ volunteered Elaf.

‘Funny?’

‘He was not in the choir,’ explained Frewine quickly. ‘Brother Nicholas’s voice was not suited to choral singing, I fear. He had other virtues by way of compensation but his voice was a little odd.’

‘Odd?’

‘High and quavering.’

‘Could you not train it, Brother Frewine?’

‘I lacked both the time and the skill. My hands were already full getting the best out of the other choristers and making sure that two of them did not fall asleep during rehearsals.’ He threw a meaningful glance at the novices. ‘At least that will not happen again.’

‘No, Brother Frewine,’ promised Elaf.

‘Describe him to me,’ said Gervase to him. ‘In your own words.

How tall was Brother Nicholas?’

‘Not very tall.’

‘Short, then?’

‘No, not short. In the middle.’

‘Was he fat or thin?’

‘He was quite-’ His hands mimed a paunch but words failed him as he saw the generous expanse of Hubert’s midriff. ‘Wasn’t he, Brother Frewine?’

‘A little plump,’ conceded the Precentor.

‘Heavier than me, then?’ said Gervase.

‘Yes. Much heavier.’

Gervase nodded and ruled out the possibility of Brother Nicholas’s dead body having been carried up the ladder. Even someone as strong as Ralph Delchard would have difficulty coping with a substantially heavier load than Gervase represented. After breaking off to translate for the benefit of Canon Hubert, he resumed his questioning.

‘Let me turn to you, Kenelm.’ The boy gave a little shudder.

‘This is a fine abbey. Do you like it here?’ Kenelm nodded without conviction. ‘In other words, you like some things and don’t like others?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s only to be expected. It was so with me. I used to chafe at the loss of freedom. The sense of being trapped. Does that worry you?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘What about you, Elaf?’

‘Sometimes,’ echoed the other.

‘Did you not draw inspiration from the monks around you?’

‘Yes,’ said Kenelm.

‘Which ones?’

‘Brother Frewine.’

‘He is our best friend,’ said Elaf proudly.

‘Who else?’ Between them, the boys listed ten other names.

‘You see?’ said Gervase. ‘You know the holy brothers far better than you imagined. There was no mention of Brother Nicholas, of course. I take it that neither of you drew inspiration from him?’ They shook their heads. ‘You were too busy laughing at his funny voice.’

Elaf licked his lips. ‘We never dared to laugh at him.’

‘Why not?’

‘No reason, Master Bret.’

‘I’m sure you can recall one, if you try.’

‘We hardly ever saw him.’

‘But when you did, you were afraid to mock him.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? Did he threaten you?’

‘Not really.’

‘So what was the reason?’

There was a long pause. Hubert grew frustrated at being unable to understand what was going on. He leaned forward to speak but Gervase waved him back into silence, certain that he was on the verge of learning a significant piece of information. The two boys were trading glances.

‘Brother Nicholas was cruelly murdered,’ Gervase reminded them. ‘You had the misfortune to find him and I know how gruesome a discovery that must have been. But you’re also in a position to help us catch his killer. Any fact about Brother Nicholas is vital, including his relationship with the novices. So tell me, please, because it may be of crucial importance, why you never laughed at Brother Nicholas.’

‘Go on,’ said Frewine gently. ‘Speak honestly.’

Kenelm tried to speak then bit his lip in embarrassment.

‘Elaf?’ invited Gervase.

‘We didn’t like him,’ confessed the other. ‘None of us did.’

‘Why not?’

Elaf licked his lips again and took a deep breath before speaking.

‘It was the way that Brother Nicholas looked at us.’

The bulbous eyes of Brother Nicholas were no longer able to cause any disquiet. They were covered forever by lids which had been drawn down by a compassionate finger and thumb when his corpse was brought to the mortuary. Nicholas lay beneath a shroud on the cold stone slab, his wound bandaged and his body washed.

Herbs sweetened his noisome stink. Candles burned at his head and feet, throwing a flickering light over the last remains of the abbey’s ill-fated rent collector.

When the door opened, Abbot Serlo led his visitor in, pausing to offer up a silent prayer before he reached down to pull back the shroud. Ralph Delchard looked down at the naked body with mingled sadness and interest. Brother Nicholas was a plump man in his forties with a pasty complexion which owed nothing to the pallor of death and a body of unusual whiteness, allowing blue veins to show through on his chest. The body was almost entirely devoid of hair. What Ralph noticed was the absence of any real muscle in the arms and legs. Here was one monk who had not toiled in the fields or taken on one of the more physically demanding tasks at the abbey. Soft white hands confirmed that Brother Nicholas was a stranger to strenuous exercise.

The thickness of the bandaging showed how comprehensively the throat had been cut but there were no other marks of violence upon him. Ralph studied the face: big, round, podgy but surprisingly untouched by the march of time. Even in repose, there was a religiosity about the man. It was a quality which Ralph had never been able to understand or to appreciate but Brother Nicholas seemed to possess it. He reached out to feel the spindly legs and the weak forearms then he pulled the shroud back over the body and turned to his companion.

‘Not a strong man,’ he commented. ‘Brother Nicholas would not have been able to put up much resistance.’

‘We are monks, my lord, not soldiers.’

‘Even a monk should fight to save his life.’

‘He entrusts its safety to God.’

‘Then the Almighty was lax in his vigilance here.’

‘Do not presume to question divine dispensation.’

‘I dare not. Canon Hubert is an example of it.’

‘Let us step outside again.’

Abbot Serlo guided him out of the mortuary and back into the fresh air. Both inhaled deeply. Their long conversation had persuaded the abbot that Ralph’s help in solving the crime might be extremely useful but he wished that his visitor could take a more reverential approach. He was not quite as brusque and headstrong as the sheriff but his attitude towards the Benedictine Order had worrying similarities.

‘I must leave you, my lord,’ said the abbot. ‘Other duties await me.’

‘It was kind of you to spare me so much time.’

‘Repay me by finding the murderer.’

‘I will, my lord abbot. The more information I have, the easier the task will be. Do not forget your promise to give me a list of all of the tenants from whom Brother Nicholas collected rents.’

‘Canon Hubert will bring it to you in due course.’

‘Thank you.’

‘What will you do now?’

‘Go back to the church.’

‘Why?’

‘To pray for the salvation of Brother Nicholas’s soul,’ said Ralph.

‘A worthy motive.’

‘It was something I omitted to do on my first visit there. Having seen the body, I am anxious to repair that omission.’

‘Then I will not detain you, my lord.’

Ralph waved a farewell and headed back to the abbey church, untroubled by guilt at having to conceal the real purpose of his return visit. Pleased to find the church empty, he approached the altar rail and knelt before it, offering up the prayer for the murdered man and feeling a genuine surge of grief on his behalf.

It soon passed. Ralph made sure that nobody was watching him before moving up to the altar to borrow one of the large candles which burned there. He bore it off to the bell tower and carried it carefully up the ladder.

Having viewed the body, he, too, was having second thoughts about his earlier theory. It was not that Brother Nicholas was too heavy for him to bear. He simply doubted that the rungs of the ladder would cope with the additional weight. Ralph got up to the wooden platform and used the flame to illumine every section of it. The blood was more vivid by candlelight and its extent far greater. It was when he went to the other side of the bell that he made an interesting new discovery. Holding the candle beneath the beam, he ducked his head so that he could actually see the two hooks which he had earlier felt with his fingers. Something else caught his eye. Lying directly below the beam was a small, thin strip of leather. Ralph picked it up and laid it on his palm to inspect it.

After a thorough search, he slowly descended the ladder, glad that he had taken the trouble to pay a second visit to the murder scene. He pondered on the significance of the strip of leather and was far too preoccupied to realise that he was being watched from the shadows. Wide-eyed and tremulous, Owen, the novice, stayed hidden until Ralph had walked back to the altar. The boy took a last fearful look up at the bell tower then slipped quietly out. Tears coursed freely down his hot rosy cheeks.

‘When do you expect your sister to arrive?’ asked the lady Maud.

‘Almost any day now,’ said Golde.

‘Is that why you were so keen to accompany your husband?’

‘It was one of the reasons, though I would willingly go wherever Ralph asked me to go. I love to be near him.’

‘I enjoy Durand’s company but I have to put up with less of it.

When he goes away from Gloucester, I am never invited to go with him.’ Maud shook her head sadly. ‘I have endured some lonely weeks at the castle. The worst of it is that my husband is so secretive about his work. Most of the time, he will not even tell me where he is going, simply that he has to leave on urgent business.’

‘Being a sheriff carries huge responsibilities.’

‘We have learned that,’ said the other with a rueful smile. ‘The honour was thrust unexpectedly on Durand when his brother, Roger, died before his time. My husband feels that he has a sacred duty to carry on where his brother left off.’

‘That is to his credit.’

Golde found the visit to Gloucester interesting and enlightening.

When her companion had shaken off her irritation, she was friendly and talkative and had clearly taken the trouble to learn something of the city’s history. Some of the glances which they collected along the way were tinged either with bitterness or envy but they ignored them for the most part. It was only when Golde heard some harsh words muttered in her own language that she flushed with discomfort. On the leisurely ride back to the castle, they were conversing more easily with each other.

‘What did you say your sister’s name was?’

‘Aelgar, my lady.’

‘And this young man?’

‘Forne.’

‘When are they to be married?’

‘I do not know,’ said Golde. ‘I am hoping that my sister will tell me. All she has said in her letters is that she loves him dearly and wishes to spend the rest of her life with him. And since Forne, apparently, feels the same way about her, it sounds like a promising start for any marriage.’

‘Promising starts sometimes end in disappointment.’

‘Not in their case, I hope.’

‘So do I,’ said Maud, her cynicism tempered with goodwill. ‘But where will they stay? Room could be found for them at the castle.’

‘That is very kind of you, my lady, but they have already reserved accommodation. Forne, it seems, has a kinsman in Gloucester and they will stay under his roof. The truth is,’ she said quietly, ‘that Aelgar would feel out of place in a Norman castle. Even though she has been supplying the one in Hereford with its beer.’

Maud gave a sudden laugh. ‘Is your sister really a brewer?’

‘It runs in the family, my lady,’ explained Golde. ‘I took over the business after the death of my first husband then handed it on to Aelgar when I left. Not that she has to work in the way that I did. Thanks to the judgement of the commissioners, Aelgar inherited property on her own account. She can afford to employ others to brew the beer for her now.’

‘What of her betrothed?’

‘His interest is only in drinking it.’

Maud laughed again as they clattered across the drawbridge and went in through the gate. She gave their escort a wave of gratitude, allowing the four men to trot off in the direction of the stables. Maud looked up at the keep with a determination tinged with anger.

‘Please excuse me, Golde.’

‘Of course, my lady. Thank you again.’

‘It was a pleasure to get out of the castle for once.’

‘I did appreciate it.’

‘So did I. But we are back where we started now.’

With the help of an ostler, she dismounted and went off in the direction of the keep to confront her husband. Golde wondered why Durand kept his domestic and official duties so rigidly separate. It led to obvious friction with his wife. Not for the first time, she was grateful to be married to a man who took her into his confidence instead of using his work as a means of shutting her out. Hers was one story, Maud’s quite another. As she was helped down from the saddle, she found herself wondering what kind of story Aelgar and Forne were about to write.

Ralph Delchard waited until they left the abbey before he started to hurl a stream of questions at Gervase Bret.

‘What did you learn?’ he said.

‘A great deal.’

‘Did they tell you anything new? What sort of boys were they?

How freely were you able to talk to them? Why did they climb up that ladder in the first place? Had they ever been up in the bell tower before? Well, Gervase? Aren’t you going to tell me?’

‘I will, when I’m allowed to speak.’

‘Who is preventing you from speaking?’

‘You, Ralph.’

‘Me?’ Righteous indignation showed. ‘Me?’

‘Who else?’

Ralph unleashed another flurry of questions at him and only stopped when Gervase burst into laughter. Seeing himself through his friend’s eyes at last, Ralph joined in the mirth. They mounted their horses and let them walk slowly off along the street.

‘Let us start again,’ suggested Gervase. ‘What did you find out?’

‘That I could never be a monk.’

‘Was that ever in doubt?’

‘It’s this rule of complete obedience. Abbot Serlo seems like an intelligent and caring man, but I could never treat him as my father and bow to his every wish. He was not easy to woo but I managed it in the end. He told me all I wished to know and even allowed me to view the body in the mortuary.’

‘Did that reveal anything?’

‘I think so.’

Ralph described his assessment of Brother Nicholas then explained how much the abbot had helped him. He considered the promise to provide a list of abbey tenants to be the greatest concession he had wrung out of Serlo. Gervase talked of his own findings.

‘It was a valuable meeting.’

‘Good.’

‘Give or take a few problems.’

‘What sort of problems?’

‘Canon Hubert was the main one,’ said Gervase. ‘It was he who asked me to act as his interpreter so he controlled the interview at the start. I had to wait some time before I could work in questions of my own, questions which Hubert would not have asked on his own.’

‘At least he got you close to those novices.’

‘I could not get too close, Ralph. There was another problem.’

‘What?’

‘The Precentor. Brother Frewine.’

‘What was he doing there?’

‘Protecting the novices. They obviously trusted him and looked for his support whenever the questions had them in retreat.

Brother Frewine is a good man, honest and fair-minded, but he did defend them well.’

‘Would you have got more out of them had he not been there?’

‘I don’t know. Kenelm and Elaf may have shut up completely.

They were both very shocked by what happened. I don’t think there will be any more midnight antics from them.’

‘So what did you glean from the wretches?’

Gervase told him in as much detail as he could remember.

Ralph was a restive listener, constantly throwing in additional questions or asking for fuller explanations. When his friend came to the end of his litany, Ralph thought about the pale, hairless body stretched out on the mortuary slab. Brother Nicholas was an enigma.

‘They didn’t like the way he looked at them?’

‘That’s what they said, Ralph.’

‘Why not?’

‘They were too embarrassed to explain.’

‘Could the Precentor throw no light on the subject?’

‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘He spoke fondly of the deceased.’

‘So did Abbot Serlo, yet we know for a fact that everyone else seems to have disliked Brother Nicholas. Why? Did he look at them in a strange way as well? What was so unsettling about him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘It seems he was an excellent rent collector,’ said Ralph. ‘It was not just a case of someone not wishing to speak ill of the dead. Abbot Serlo could not praise him enough for his efficiency in bringing money into the abbey coffers. A fair amount of money at that,’ he recalled, ‘when you think how many sub-tenants inhabit abbey land.’

‘Brother Nicholas must have been trusted. His satchel would have been bulging with money when he returned to the abbey.

A robber would have made off with an appreciable haul.’

‘Yet nothing was stolen from him, apparently.’

‘Was the abbot certain of that?’

‘Yes, Gervase. As soon as he got back to the abbey, Brother Nicholas would hand the day’s takings over so that they could be entered into the account book then locked away.’

‘So he could not have been killed for gain?’

‘Unlikely.’

‘What, then, was the motive? Anger? Enmity?’

‘I will know more when I speak to the people he visited on his rounds. That is where the real clues lie, Gervase, outside the abbey.’

‘There is still much more within those walls to be dug out,’

said Gervase. ‘I would like to speak to Kenelm and Elaf alone at some stage and I would value another talk with Brother Frewine.

He is a sage old man who has been here longer than anyone else. Nobody is so aware of the undercurrents of monastic life as the Precentor.’

‘Will you take Hubert with you next time?’

Gervase smiled. ‘I will omit to remember to do so.’

Their conversation had taken them as far as the castle but Ralph called a halt before they entered it. He had been keeping his most telling find until the last moment.

‘When I climbed up that ladder, I chanced on something else.’

‘Another dead monk?’

‘Nothing quite as dramatic as that, Gervase. No,’ he said, opening a palm and stretching it out to his friend, ‘I found this.’

‘Where?’

‘Directly below those two hooks I mentioned.’

‘May I see it?’ Gervase picked up the strip of leather and turned it over. ‘Where could this have come from?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Look at that frayed edge. It was torn off something.’

‘Yes, but what?’

Gervase handed it back. ‘This could be a vital clue.’

‘That’s why I’ll treasure it.’

‘What about the sheriff?’

‘Durand? There’s no way I’ll treasure that rogue. Oh,’ he added with a grin, realising what Gervase had meant. ‘Will I tell our host about this little strip of leather?’

‘Will you?’

‘No, Gervase.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it was up to him to find it for himself.’

‘What about those hooks?’

‘Those, too. They are our clues. He has enough of his own.’

‘But we’re withholding evidence, Ralph.’

‘So we are.’

‘Durand will be livid if he finds out.’

‘He’ll turn purple with rage if he discovers that we’ve been snooping around at the abbey and he’s bound to do that if we tell him about the hooks and the strip of leather. Serlo won’t betray us, neither will Canon Hubert. There’s no need for the sheriff to learn about this.’

‘It’s inevitable at some stage.’

‘By that time, we’ll have handed the killer over to him.’

‘Can we keep him in the dark that long?’

‘We’ll have to, Gervase.’

‘Our time is limited, remember. We sit in judgement on the major dispute tomorrow. Once that starts to unfurl, we’ll not be able to pay any more visits to the abbey or to its holdings outside the city.’

‘We’ll find the time somehow.’

‘I foresee difficulties.’

Ralph gave him a hearty slap on the back. ‘Be more positive, Gervase,’ he said, nudging his horse forward again. ‘If we wish something to happen, it will. I have picked up the trail. I’ll not lose the scent now.’

‘Nor will I,’ vowed Gervase.

As soon as they entered the bailey, they were spotted by one of Ralph’s men awaiting their return. He ran across to them.

‘The lord sheriff is anxious to see you, my lord,’ he said.

‘Did he tell you why?’

‘No, but he impressed the urgency of the summons upon me.’

Ralph was worried. ‘Did you tell him where we were?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I led him to believe that you were still at the shire hall.’

‘Good man!’

He and Gervase dismounted, left their horses with an ostler and set off towards the keep. Ralph had no qualms but Gervase did not share his confidence.

‘What if he knows, Ralph?’ he asked.

‘How can he?’

‘He may have sent someone to follow us.’

‘Then he would have known we were at the abbey and jumped to the obvious conclusion. Some of his men would have hauled us out of there before we could ask our first questions.’

‘I hope that you are right.’

‘Trust me, Gervase.’

‘It’s the urgency of the summons that alarms me.’

‘Sheriffs like people to dance to their command.’

‘There’s more to it than that.’

Durand the Sheriff was in the hall, issuing instructions to his steward who was nodding seriously. When the newcomers entered, the steward was sent on his way. Ralph and Gervase stood before their host, not knowing whether they would be given glad tidings or berated for their audacity for interfering in a murder investigation. The grim expression on Durand’s face seemed to exclude the first possibility. Ralph continued to smile blandly but Gervase braced himself for a searing attack. The sheriff walked right up to them.

‘What I tell you is in strictest confidence,’ he affirmed.

‘Of course, my lord sheriff,’ said Ralph.

‘Nothing will go outside this room,’ added Gervase.

‘It will have to, I fear,’ confided Durand, ‘but we must do our best to keep it within the castle. A letter was delivered to me earlier. From Winchester. Nothing is certain but I have been ordered to make the necessary preparations.’

‘For what?’ said Ralph.

‘A royal visit.’

Gervase was astonished. ‘ Here? ’

‘Yes,’ said the sheriff uneasily. ‘I may soon have another guest under my roof. The King himself.’