The Stallions of Woodstock

Chapter Eight

Mild uproar greeted Ralph’s announcement but it was quelled immediately by a peremptory command from the sheriff. Robert d’Oilly mustered all the righteous indignation that he could and directed a withering gaze at the newcomer.

‘How dare you interrupt these proceedings!’ he said. ‘You have no place in this court and I demand that you withdraw.’

Ralph held his ground. ‘I am needed here.’

‘Leave now or I will have you removed by force.’

‘That would be very foolhardy, my lord sheriff.’

‘You are in contempt of court.’

‘I have come to defend the prisoner.’

‘Depart, sir!’

‘Not until you have heard me out.’

‘Away with him!’

He gave a gesture and four guards converged on Ralph but his bold rejoinder made them stop dead in their tracks.

‘Stay!’ he warned. ‘Lay hands on me and you will have to answer to the King himself. He will ask stern questions about the administration of justice in this shire. King William already has cause to be displeased with Oxford. I came to the town bearing a royal warrant and accompanied by two other commissioners.’ He aimed his words directly at the sheriff. ‘One of those colleagues, Maurice Pagnal, whom you entertained as your guest at the castle, and with whom you discussed one of the cases that came before us, has been sent home in disgrace because he succumbed to bribery and tried to influence our verdict to the benefit of his paymaster. Maurice Pagnal will face the wrath of the King. Am I to tell his grace that injustice runs much deeper here in Oxford?’

The four guards looked helplessly across at their master. Ralph Delchard exuded such authority and spoke with such fearlessness that they were reluctant to carry out the sheriff’s order. Robert d’Oilly rescinded it with a flick of his hand and they returned gratefully to their positions.

Ebbi could not understand a word that was said but he sensed that he now had a friend. In a place where he had been treated with such cruelty, it was an unexpected bounty. He looked up at Ralph with pathetic gratitude.

Bertrand Gamberell saw only a mischievous interloper.

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘My name is Ralph Delchard and I am a royal commissioner.’

Realising who the newcomer was, Gamberell showed a modicum of respect. ‘That gives you no right to interfere here,’ he said with slight deference. ‘This crime is outside your jurisdiction.’ He rose to his feet to introduce himself. ‘I am Bertrand Gamberell. My name will already have significance for you. Two days ago, one of my men was murdered in Woodstock during a horse race and I am here to make certain that his killer pays dearly for his crime.’

‘First, make certain that you catch the right man.’

‘He sits beside you, my lord.’

‘Ebbi is innocent. We have the proof of it.’

‘You know nothing whatsoever about this case.’

‘That is not true,’ said Ralph. ‘My lord Wymarc showed me the scene of the crime and explained in great detail what happened. Is that not so?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ agreed Wymarc, enjoying a rare chance to dumbfound Gamberell. ‘You expressed great curiosity and I was able to show you all that you needed to see.’

‘Not quite all. There was a vital element missing. I have just returned from a second visit to Woodstock with fresh evidence.’ He touched Ebbi again. ‘And it exonerates this man here, who has been most shamefully abused.’

‘Do not listen to him, my lord sheriff,’ urged Gamberell.

‘I believe that we should,’ countered Wymarc.

‘Your opinion was not sought.’

‘Neither was yours, Bertrand.’

‘Whose knight was killed out there in Woodstock?’

‘On whose land did the murder take place?’

‘Stop this bickering!’ snarled Robert d’Oilly.

‘Let me make a suggestion,’ said Milo Crispin, who had preserved his composure throughout. ‘If there is indeed new evidence, it should be taken into account but not before it has been sifted properly and that is best done in private. My advice is this, my lord sheriff. Adjourn the case until all the facts relating to it have been scrutinised then reconvene the court at your discretion. This answers all.’

‘Well spoken, friend,’ said Ralph.

‘My name is Milo Crispin.’

‘I had a feeling that it might be.’

‘Milo talks sense,’ endorsed Wymarc.

‘We have delayed this trial long enough,’ said Gamberell. I recommend that you proceed with it now, my lord sheriff. We have the guilty man before us. What more do we need?’

‘The truth,’ affirmed Ralph.

All heads turned to Robert d’Oilly. The decision lay with him and a great deal was hanging on it, not least his own reputation. If he let his authority be undermined by Ralph Delchard, then he would lose some of the respect in which he was held by the other barons and knights in the hall. On the other hand, were he to try the case without even examining the alleged new evidence, he would be incurring the displeasure of a royal commissioner and, through him, the anger of the King.

Two factors weighed most heavily with him. The trial was to have been a mere formality. He had pronounced sentence on Ebbi the moment the man was dragged before him and he had never doubted his guilt nor allowed Ebbi any chance of pleading his innocence. A Saxon villain suited his purpose in every way. If the prisoner were somehow exonerated and — it did not bear thinking about — acquitted and released from custody, then his handling of the case would be shown to be seriously at fault. What he saw as legitimate force used to question an assassin would instead become mindless brutality against an innocent man. Robert d’Oilly needed a verdict of guilt.

That prompted him to continue.

A second factor held him back and that was the dismissal of Maurice Pagnal. He was the one amenable member of the tribunal, impelled by an old loyalty and rewarded by a hefty bribe. The sheriff and he were kindred spirits. Yet Maurice had been exposed and instantly discharged from the tribunal. Ralph Delchard had asserted himself to great effect.

There would be severe repercussions when the King heard the grim tidings, and the more Robert d’Oilly obstructed the royal commissioners, the worse those repercussions would be for him.

Ralph chose that moment to reinforce the point.

‘No man is above the law,’ he reminded. ‘The greatest landholder in this county was the King’s own half-brother, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, Earl of Kent and one of the richest men in the kingdom. Where is he now? Languishing in prison, his lands forfeit.’ His gaze moved from d’Oilly to Milo Crispin. ‘Three men in this shire own between them one-fifth of its land. Two of them sit in this hall, the third, Roger d’Ivry, is presently in Rouen where he holds the Tower. None of those men is above the law. Let them remember Odo. If they try to thwart justice, they will bring the law down upon their own heads.’

Robert d’Oilly caught his son-in-law’s eye and wished that he could appear as calm and detached as Milo, whose advice, as always, had been sound though uncomfortable. There was no easy way out of the predicament. Hiding his misgivings behind a show of authority, the sheriff banged the table once more and enforced absolute silence.

‘This case is adjourned until tomorrow,’ he said.

Coming to Oxford was in the nature of an ordeal for Leofrun. Crowds frightened her. She was a simple countrywoman who had rarely travelled more than a few miles from the place where she was born.

In a town as big as Oxford, even with two men to escort her, she felt lost and threatened. Only the thought of helping Ebbi kept her from leaping down from Gervase Bret’s horse and running back home.

Leofrun was quite overwhelmed.

The sense of menace pressed down upon her even more when she rode through the castle gates. She clutched Gervase’s shoulders tighter than ever, unused to being on any horse, still less on one ridden by a royal commissioner. Guards looked at her with derision, wondering why a scraggy old Saxon woman was being brought into the castle with such undeserved courtesy. She was humiliated by their sneers.

Gervase spent all his time trying to reassure her.

‘You will not have to stay here for long,’ he said.

‘Take me back now.’

‘No, Leofrun.’

‘Then let me walk home. I cannot stay here.’

‘You must. Until you are called.’

‘I am afraid.’

‘That is understandable.’

‘They will hurt me.’

‘Nobody will lay a finger on you.’

‘I should never have come.’

‘Would you desert Ebbi?’

She gave a despondent shrug. ‘What can I do? Who would listen to an old woman like me? Nobody will believe me.’

‘They will if you speak under oath.’

‘I will not know what to say.’

‘The truth.’

She began to sob and he put a consoling arm around her.

They were in an ante-room in the keep and Gervase was having doubts about her value as a witness. Leofrun was the only person whose evidence could save Ebbi but that evidence had to be offered clearly and confidently. If she was tearful now, when they were sitting alone on a bench, how could she possibly survive in a courtroom where she would have to face some searching questions? It had been embarrassing enough for Leofrun to have to confide in a stranger like Gervase. To make the same confession in front of more hostile listeners would be a continuous agony for her.

‘It will not be as bad as you fear,’ he said.

‘I will let you down.’

‘No, Leofrun.’

‘I will let Ebbi down. He will hate me for it.’

‘He will thank you with all his heart.’

A fond smile slowly spread across the moist cheeks.

‘Do you think so?’

‘I know it,’ he promised. ‘Ebbi sent me to you.’

‘That is true.’

‘He spoke so warmly of you, Leofrun.’

‘Did he?’

‘You are all that he has.’

Her voice cracked with emotion. ‘Ebbi is all that I have. I cannot bear the thought of what he has suffered here.’

‘Then help him, Leofrun.’

‘Do you really think I can?’

‘Be schooled by me and all will be well.’

She grasped his hands and squeezed them gratefully.

‘Why are you being so kind to us?’

‘I will not see an innocent man convicted of this crime.’

‘Ebbi trusted you. I see why.’

‘Put your own trust in me, Leofrun.’

She nodded and made an effort to collect herself.

‘Will you be in there with me?’ she asked.

‘I will not leave your side.’

‘How will I understand what they say to me?’

‘I will act as your interpreter.’

‘Will they deal harshly with me?’

‘Not while I am there,’ he said firmly. ‘I am a lawyer by training.

The court is my home. You will be safe.’

‘Will I?’

Leofrun was unconvinced. She sat there in trepidation without saying another word. Several minutes passed. When the door opened without warning, she gasped in alarm. Gervase steadied her with a touch on her arm, then rose to speak to the guard who had just entered. The message was short. When the man went out again, Leofrun looked questioningly up at Gervase.

‘The court has been adjourned,’ he explained.

‘What does that mean?’

‘We got here in time.’

‘Ebbi has been sentenced?’

‘Not yet. My lord Ralph managed to stop the trial before it reached a verdict. He is now talking to the sheriff about you.’

‘Me? Why?’

‘He has to persuade the sheriff to admit your evidence.’

‘And if he fails?’

Gervase did not attempt to conceal the truth from her.

‘Ebbi will die.’

Robert d’Oilly was in a truculent mood. He did not like to be balked at any time. To have his authority questioned in so public a way was intolerable to him. When he conducted Ralph to a private apartment in the keep, he slammed the door behind them and confronted his guest.

‘That was unforgivable!’ he stormed. ‘You barged into a court when a trial was in progress and had the audacity to claim that I am slack in my duties.’

‘I made no such claim, my lord sheriff.’

‘Take care how far you go!’

‘There was no personal attack on you.’

‘Oxford is mine,’ declared the other. ‘All mine. I have been castellan here for twenty years and kept this town under strict control. It is the only way to get respect from these people. Show one sign of weakness and you are lost. Rule by force and they learn to obey.’

‘There is another way to earn their respect.’

‘And what is that?’

‘By dispensing justice.’

‘I always do.’

‘A trial such as this one? Hastily convened when the murder victim is still fresh in the ground? Why the unseemly rush? What time has there been to gather all the evidence?’

‘The man confessed. That was evidence enough.’

‘He admitted his guilt in so many words?’

‘Well, no. Not exactly. But he did not deny it.’

‘The fellow has been beaten to a pulp and scared witless. What credence can you place on anything he tells you? I saw Ebbi in court.

Is that how you treat your prisoners before they are convicted?’

‘He was insolent and unhelpful.’

‘That means he did not admit his guilt.’

‘Whose side are you on?’ demanded the other.

‘Yours. If you deal justly.’

Robert d’Oilly turned abruptly away and marched to the window.

Down in the bailey, he could see an armed guard escorting Ebbi back to his cell. Arnulf the Chaplain was walking beside them, talking to the prisoner and reaching out to steady him when he stumbled. The sheriff waited until Ebbi disappeared from sight before swinging back to face Ralph.

‘What is this new evidence?’ he said sceptically.

‘First, let me tell you how the murder was committed.’

‘I know that already. The assassin hurled a dagger at Walter Payne’s back then made his escape into the forest.’

‘You are wrong, my lord sheriff.’

‘Every man present has vouched for those facts.’

‘Did any of them see the assassin run to the forest?’

‘No,’ conceded the other.

‘Let me tell you why.’

Ralph gave a brief account of their search of the copse and discovery of the hiding place. The sheriff showed a grudging admiration for their pertinacity.

‘You and Master Bret have been very thorough.’

‘Gervase deserves the real credit,’ said Ralph. ‘He found the hole in the ground and lay hidden in it himself.’

‘You have learned how the assassin eluded capture but that does not absolve Ebbi from blame. He may still have committed that murder before concealing himself in the hiding place.’

Ralph was scornful. ‘You have met the man, my lord sheriff. Would Ebbi really have the strength and skill to hurl a dagger with such accuracy? Never! Nor would he have the guile to devise such a cunning hiding place in the copse. And there is another telling detail. When he was taken, did your men find Ebbi coated with dirt?

‘They made no mention of it.’

‘Then there is further evidence in his favour. Wait until you see Gervase. He was only in that hole for a minute or two yet his face was besmirched and his attire was covered with filth. Had Ebbi been under the ground much longer, he would have come out in a far worse state before he raced to the cover of the forest.’

‘That is a fair point,’ admitted d’Oilly.

‘There is one final question to be asked.’

‘What is that?’

‘ Why should he kill Walter Payne?’

‘A random act of violence.’

‘There was nothing random about this. It was planned with great care. The assassin chose his target and worked out his means of escape in advance. Ebbi has never met Bertrand Gamberell’s knight.’

Ralph spread his arms. ‘Why go to such lengths to kill him?’

Robert d’Oilly was forced to bow to the inexorable logic of the argument but he was reluctant to loosen his grasp on the prisoner. A lesser crime could be attributed to him.

‘What was Ebbi doing in the forest?’ he challenged.

‘I was coming to that, my lord sheriff.’

‘At the very least, my men caught a poacher. Forest law is there to be enforced. Ebbi may yet hang on to his life but we’ll castrate him for that offence.’

‘Was he caught with game in his possession?’

‘No, but he may have hidden it so that he could retrieve it at a fitter time. When my men hunted him down, he made a run for it. If he committed no crime, why should he flee?’

‘Leofrun will explain that.’

‘Who?’

‘The witness we brought with us, my lord sheriff. Leofrun may seem like an ill-favoured old woman to us but Ebbi sees her through different eyes. That is why he ran from your men. To divert their attention and spare the blushes of a lady.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘An assignation,’ said Ralph with a grin. ‘Ebbi and Leofrun had a secret tryst. He is single, she is a widow. They lack the marriage vows which would make their love valid so they have to resort to stolen moments of pleasure.’ He gave a confiding chuckle. ‘Come, my lord sheriff. Which of us has never dallied with a lady in the greenwood? We might not choose such an unsightly lover as this Leofrun but that does not alter the case. If we were surprised in the long grass with a lady, would not our first instinct be to protect her from discovery and shame?’

‘This is some ruse,’ decided the sheriff.

‘It is God’s own truth.’

‘The woman is lying. She will say anything to save his balls from the knife.’

‘She has a vested interest in those balls, I grant you. But ask yourself this. Would any woman admit in open court that she was copulating in the forest with a man to whom she is not wed unless she knew that he was completely innocent and that her confession could save him from a death sentence?’

Robert d’Oilly took time to consider Ralph’s argument.

‘Where is the woman?’ he said at length.

‘Here at the castle.’

‘I will need to hear the story from her own lips.’

‘Gervase will be a ready interpreter.’

‘Fetch her in at once.’

‘I will,’ said Ralph. ‘But first brace yourself.’

‘Why?’

‘Leofrun is a most unlikely enchantress.’

When Arnulf came back up the steps from the dungeons, he saw Ordgar crossing the bailey and moved to intercept him. It was important to secure a father’s approval.

‘Has your daughter spoken to you?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Ordgar. ‘Bristeva is thrilled.’

‘What about you?’

‘I am pleased with your decision, if somewhat surprised.’

‘Surprised?’

‘Can my daughter really deserve this honour?’

‘She has a fine voice, Ordgar.’

‘I know,’ agreed her father, ‘and I love to listen to her. But I have also heard the other girls in your choir, Father Arnulf. Much as I love my daughter, I must admit that Bristeva will never compare with my lord Wymarc’s sister.’

‘Helene did have an exceptional talent, it is true. But her brother has, alas, taken her from us. We miss her dreadfully. However, there is no point in dwelling on the past. We must look to the future and find a replacement for Helene.’

‘And can Bristeva be that replacement?’

‘I believe so.’

‘She will need much help from you.’

‘That is why I am glad of this chance to speak to you,’ said Arnulf politely. ‘I want your permission before we go any further. Bristeva will have to spend more time here at the castle from now on. Are you happy for her to do that?’

‘Very happy. I will not hold her back.’

‘You have no reservations about this?’

‘None at all, Father Arnulf. You have surely seen that?’

‘What I have seen is a loving father doing all he can to encourage his daughter. That is as it should be. But you have not always been the one to escort Bristeva to and from the church. When your son has brought her, I have sensed a strong disapproval.’

Ordgar stiffened. ‘Has Amalric been disrespectful?’

‘He has expressed a low opinion of the choir.’

‘Let me speak to him. I’ll chide him for his rudeness.’

‘You might also have a word with your steward.’

‘Edric?’

‘Yes,’ said Arnulf with mild embarrassment. ‘I am sorry to have to report this to you. Your son has shown disapproval but it is your steward who has been openly hostile. On the few occasions when he has come to collect Bristeva from a choir rehearsal, Edric has been very resentful of the time she spends here. When I asked him why, he told me that your daughter had no place in the choir of a garrison church.’

‘Then he spoke wildly out of turn.’

‘It is a relief to hear you say that.’

‘From now on, I will escort Bristeva to the castle. I will not have my son or my steward causing any upset. I am proud of my daughter’s talent and will do all I can to let you develop it.’

‘That brings me to the banquet.’

‘Banquet?’

‘I did not dare to mention this to Bristeva herself until I had first discussed it with you.’ Arnulf glanced across at the keep. ‘A banquet is to be held in the hall on Saturday in honour of an illustrious visitor. Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances is to stay here as a guest and a lavish entertainment has been planned.’

‘How does this affect me?’

‘I want Bristeva to take part in that entertainment.’

Ordgar had immediate doubts. ‘To sing before such a large gathering?

My daughter is surely not ready for that.’

‘She would be with careful rehearsal.’

‘My lord Wymarc’s sister would be a more suitable choice.’

‘Helene is no longer available to us,’ said Arnulf sadly. ‘And I would hate to miss such an opportunity to display one of my choristers.

Bristeva would only have to sing two songs. The bishop is known for his generosity.’

‘The occasion might overwhelm her.’

‘Not with me there to guide her and you to support her.’

‘Me?’

‘You would be invited to the banquet. When such an honour is bestowed on Bristeva, her father must be there to enjoy the moment.

Will this persuade you?’

Ordgar required only a minute to reach his decision. By singing at the banquet, his daughter would not only achieve some personal glory.

There would be a tangible reward at a time when the family was sorely in need of money. A further inducement was the fact that Ordgar would for once be on equal terms with the Norman aristocracy as a guest at the banquet.

‘Bristeva will sing for you.’

Arnulf the Chaplain gave a benevolent smile.

Apology was anathema to Bertrand Gamberell. It was an article of faith with him that he did what he wished and never had to explain or excuse his actions. The need for apology was something which only lesser mortals encountered. Gamberell had always been above it until now but the time had finally come when he himself was obliged to say that he was sorry. He was so unaccustomed to the process that he did not know where to begin. It made his discomfort even more intense.

‘A word in your ear, Milo,’ he said.

‘I have heard enough from you for one day.’

‘That is what I wish to discuss with you.’

‘Save it until another time,’ said Milo Crispin with a foot in the stirrup. ‘I have to ride back to Wallingford.’

‘This will not wait.’

‘It will have to, Bertrand.’

Milo hauled himself up into the saddle but he was not allowed to leave. Gamberell held on to the horse’s bridle. He searched desperately for the words which would assuage his rival without involving his own loss of face.

‘Are you turned ostler now?’ taunted Milo.

‘I spoke too hastily at the funeral.’

‘That is ever your fault, Bertrand. One of them, I should say, for you have many defects. Your words outrun your sense.’

Gamberell cleared his throat and shifted his feet awkwardly. His smile of apology was more like a grimace of pain.

‘I was vexed beyond endurance,’ he explained.

‘That was plain.’

‘Hyperion was stolen from me today. That was a terrible shock. It put me in a choleric mood. When I arrived at the funeral, I was still pulsing with anger.’

‘We all saw that.’

Gamberell clenched his teeth. There was more shifting of his feet and negotiation with his pride before he finally blurted it out.

‘I was wrong to direct my anger at you, Milo. I was under great strain at Walter’s funeral. Losing him in such a tragic way was a vicious blow. When Hyperion was taken from me as well, I could not at first handle my despair. Now I can.’ He released the bridle and lowered his head. ‘I am sorry to have accused you like that.’

‘I would prefer to forget it, Bertrand.’

‘Thank you.’

‘On one condition.’

Gamberell looked up. ‘What is that?’

‘When you have found Hyperion again,’ said Milo, ‘and realised that I had no part in his disappearance, you must let me pit my own horse against your black stallion for double the original stake.’

‘Gladly!’

‘Wymarc, too, will be invited to take part.’

‘What of Ordgar?’

‘He will be unable to compete again, I fancy.’

‘Why is that?’

Milo was impassive. ‘It does not matter,’ he said evenly. ‘The first priority is to find Hyperion. Such a distinctive horse will be difficult to hide. I am sure that your men are already conducting a search. If you need help, I will put some of my own retinue at your disposal.’

‘You take an uncommon interest in Hyperion.’

‘I want him returned so that I may beat him.’

‘You have no hope of doing that,’ said Gamberell with a touch of his old bravado. ‘Nor does Wymarc. You will both be throwing your money away yet again.’

‘We shall see, Bertrand.’

‘Do not delude yourself. You do not have a horse in your stables to touch Hyperion. Wymarc’s stables are even less equipped to compete with my stallion.’ He gave a callous laugh. ‘The only thing Wymarc has worth riding is that comely sister of his. Helene. I would be happy to saddle her myself.’

He was still laughing as Milo Crispin rode away.

Leofrun shook like a leaf throughout the entire interview. She was terrified of the sheriff and humiliated by the position in which she found herself but she knew that she held the key that might unlock Ebbi and she tried desperately hard not to drop it. Robert d’Oilly questioned her closely and Gervase Bret was a deft interpreter. It seemed incredible that such an unprepossessing woman could arouse such ardent love in any man but Leofrun gave a clear testimony.

‘We met in the forest every week,’ she explained in a quavering voice. ‘Always the same place, always the same time. Nobody suspected for a moment. What harm were we doing? In the sight of God, we may not have been man and wife. In our own hearts, we were. And always will be.’

It was a touching act of devotion. Even the sheriff came to accept that she was giving an honest account of what happened. Leofrun had no reason to lie. Her evidence and the discovery of the hiding place in the copse had complicated the murder inquiry. Suspicion was slowly lifting from Ebbi.

‘It is a case of wrongful arrest,’ argued Ralph.

‘He should not have fled from my men,’ said d’Oilly.

‘Ebbi feared being mistaken for a poacher.’

‘He should have stood his ground and explained.’

‘A lady’s honour was at stake.’

The sheriff wrinkled his nose in disgust.

‘That is not what I would have called it,’ he said. ‘She stinks to high heaven. If I had been rolling in the grass with this revolting old Saxon sow, I would have run a mile sooner than own up to such bestiality!’

Although the insult was not translated for her, Leofrun gathered something of its import and looked deeply hurt. Gervase leapt swiftly to her defence.

‘That remark was uncalled for, my lord sheriff,’ he said with controlled anger. ‘Leofrun has shown courage in coming here today and no little dignity. Before you sneer at her again for being what she is, you might remember that both you and my lord Ralph have chosen Saxon ladies as your wives.’

‘And I could not have chosen better!’ attested Ralph.

‘Leave my wife out of this,’ said d’Oilly. ‘There is a world of difference between a gracious lady and a foul slut like this one before us. If she is Ebbi’s woman, his five senses must be sadly lacking for nobody in his right mind would willingly touch, taste, smell, look at or listen to this creature with any hope of pleasure.’

‘That is not the point at issue,’ Gervase reminded him.

‘No,’ added Ralph. ‘Whatever her shortcomings, she has spoken with great sincerity and her evidence clears Ebbi.’

‘I am not so sure,’ said the sheriff.

‘You have examined her at length,’ said Gervase.

‘True. But I am not entirely satisfied with her answers.’

‘Then press her even more on the subject.’

‘What else can she tell us?’

‘The situation is plain,’ said Ralph, trying to nudge the sheriff towards a decision. ‘Leofrun’s evidence has changed everything. She has provided Ebbi with an alibi. You can either exercise your right to act upon her testimony and release the prisoner forthwith, or reconvene the court tomorrow and call her as a witness. Then we will have to go through the whole thing again.’

Robert d’Oilly contemplated the idea without enthusiasm. Ralph pressed home the advantage he felt that they had gained. He first nodded to Gervase and the latter took Leofrun out of the room. Then Ralph moved in close to his host.

‘Well, my lord sheriff,’ he asked, ‘which is it to be? A quick decision in private or a long and tedious trial in public that will end in an acquittal? Set the prisoner free. Then we can join forces to hunt down the real killer.’

Ebbi was more confused than ever. Resigned to his fate, he had fully expected the trial to end in his conviction. Ralph Delchard’s intervention had delayed the proceedings and even raised the faint possibility of a reprieve. According to the chaplain, there were definite grounds for hope. Yet Ebbi was still shut away in a reeking cell, denied food, daylight and companionship, and treated in every way like a condemned man. The hope which had stirred in the courtroom was soon supplanted by his earlier despair.

When he heard the sound of voices, he did not even look up. Guards might be coming to mock him again, or Robert d’Oilly to interrogate him with even more ferocity. His body would not be able to withstand further torture. If confession would spare him, he was now ready to offer it without resistance. A key scraped in the lock and the door swung open. Footsteps rustled in the straw. The prisoner shrank defensively into a corner.

‘Do not be afraid, Ebbi,’ said Arnulf softly. ‘It is over.’

‘Over?’

‘Your ordeal. The sheriff has signed your release.’

‘Can this be true?’ cried Ebbi, clutching at him.

‘God has answered our prayers.’

‘But what has changed the sheriff’s mind?’

Arnulf helped him to his feet and guided him out.

‘Her name is Leofrun. She is waiting for you.’