The Wildcats of Exeter

Chapter Ten

Golde became increasingly restive. When she heard about the mysterious disappearance of Hervey de Marigny, her first instinct was to join the search, but she heaved herself off the bed only to find that her ankle would not support her weight. Confined to her chamber, all that she could do was wait, pray and ponder. It was frustrating. The longer she lay there, the more anxious she became about the commissioner’s safety and the more she chafed at her isolation.

When she heard footsteps ascending the stairs outside, she hoped that it would be her husband with reassuring news about their missing friend, but the man who knocked on the door before putting his head round it was Joscelin the Steward. He gave her an apologetic smile.

‘I am sorry to disturb you, my lady,’ he said.

‘Is there any news of the lord Hervey?’

‘Not yet, I fear.’

‘When there is,’ she asked, ‘please bring it to me.’

‘I will, my lady. But I have brought something else now.’

‘Oh?’

‘You have a visitor.’

Golde was pleased. ‘That will break the tedium. Who is it?’

‘Bishop Osbern.’

Pleasure turned to consternation and Golde plucked at her chemise, worrying that she was not properly dressed to receive such an illustrious visitor and feeling at a severe disadvantage.

Osbern immediately put her at ease. Stepping into the room, he thanked Joscelin with a smile, then turned his attention to Golde, who was struggling to rise.

‘Rest, my lady,’ he said softly. ‘Do not get up for me.’

‘This is an honour, your Grace.’

‘For me also.’

‘Your arrival has caught me rather unawares.’

‘It is good to know that the Church can still spring an occasional surprise.’ He dismissed Joscelin with a nod, then moved to the stool. ‘May I sit down, my lady?’

‘Please do.’

‘The stairs are steep and my legs are no longer young.’ He lowered himself on to the stool and appraised her with sympathy.

‘How do you feel now?’

‘Much better, your Grace.’

‘You were thrown from your horse, I hear. They are unreliable animals at times. I can see why Canon Hubert prefers a donkey,’

he said with a wry grin. ‘A small creature like that would be quite unable to dislodge such a portly rider. But I am pleased to see you looking so well, my lady. You have colour in your cheeks and are patently in good spirits.’

‘I was until I heard the sad tidings.’

His face clouded. ‘Ah, yes. The missing commissioner. It is very disturbing. I have only just heard,’ he explained. ‘I came to the castle for an appointment with the sheriff but discovered that he was out leading a search party. It was his wife who told me of your accident. When the lady Albreda mentioned that you hailed from Hereford, I felt that I had to make your acquaintance and enquire after your health.’

‘That was very kind of you, your Grace.’

‘I was happy to turn my visit into an errand of mercy.’

‘I feel overwhelmed.’

Golde was touched by his concern for her. Though she was still in awe of her visitor, she found his a gentle presence and was able to relax to the point where she could begin to enjoy their conversation. Bishop Osbern smiled benignly and seemed completely at home in the chamber.

‘Tell me about Hereford,’ he said.

‘I have not lived there for some time, your Grace.’

‘When did you last visit the town?’

‘Some months ago,’ she said. ‘When my husband travelled to Chester with the other commissioners, I took the opportunity to stop at Hereford on the way in order to see my sister. It was good to be back there again. The town holds happy memories for me.’

‘It does for me as well, my lady. If you spent your childhood there, you will no doubt remember my brother, who was earl of Hereford.’

‘Oh, yes, your Grace. We all knew Earl William.’

‘It was always a delight to visit him in such a beautiful town.

He was so proud to be given the responsibility of mounting guard on the Welsh border. I am a man of God myself and abhor violence in all its forms, but we do, unfortunately, need brave warriors like my brother to maintain the peace and make our mission possible.’ He heaved a sigh of regret. ‘His son, alas, was cut from different cloth. His rashness made me ashamed to call him nephew. It has left a stain on our family.’

‘The people of Hereford were shocked.’

‘As well they might be, my lady. My nephew inherited an earldom from his father, then promptly joined a rebellion against the King.

It was a disastrous escapade and not without its embarrassment for me. The rebellion was easily quashed but it made the King understandably wary of creating another earl of Hereford.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But let us put all that behind us. I did not come here to bore you with a sermon on the political ills of your town. What do you think of Exeter?’

‘It is a charming city.’

‘How much of it have you seen?’

‘A great deal,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘The lady Albreda conducted me around it yesterday with Berold the Jester.’

‘A lively companion.’

‘He made me laugh.’

‘That is his art, my lady, though his fooling sometimes has a sharp edge. Canon Hubert was shaken when Berold appeared before him in a Benedictine cowl.’

‘Canon Hubert is very sensitive to any ridicule.’

‘I know. He urged me to complain to the sheriff but it would have been pointless.’ He smiled tolerantly. ‘You cannot have a disciplined jester. It is a contradiction in terms. But tell me about yourself.’

Golde was flattered by his attention. Osbern was genuinely interested in what she had to say and it encouraged her to talk freely about her life and work in Hereford. He was fascinated to hear that she had been a brewer of some distinction in the town and listened attentively to her account of how she met Ralph Delchard.

‘It is good to know that someone in Hereford drew benefit from the visit of the royal commissioners,’ he observed. ‘Your husband’s work will never make him popular, important as it is.

He must meet with a great deal of resentment.’

‘Ralph has grown accustomed to that.’

‘Taxes always arouse hostility and sometimes, I fear, it can spill over into violence. I dearly hope that is not the case here.’

‘Here?’

‘The lord Hervey’s disappearance.’

‘You think he may have been attacked?’ she said in alarm.

‘It is, alas, a possibility,’ said Osbern sadly, ‘and one that the sheriff has evidently considered. Hence the size and urgency of this search party. This city has a long history of resistance to authority. The lord Hervey would not be the first man to suffer because of the office he holds.’ He saw the anxiety in her face.

‘Will you join me in a prayer for his safety?’

‘Yes, your Grace,’ she said. ‘Gladly.’

Gervase Bret was in a quandary. The letters which had been delivered to the shire hall by an anonymous hand caused him great discomfort and forced him into the anomalous position of having to deceive Canon Hubert and Brother Simon. When he glanced through them, he could see that the letters had a bearing on the dispute before them, but they were of so intimate a nature that he felt he was intruding into someone’s privacy and he drew back from divulging their contents to his colleagues, deciding instead to act independently even though he saw the danger involved. Gervase knew why the letters had been addressed to him. Of the commissioners, he was the only one who could understand the language in which they were written.

Noting his embarrassment, Hubert became intensely curious.

‘Are we to know what those letters contain?’ he asked.

‘No, Canon Hubert,’ said Gervase, putting them into his satchel.

‘They concern a personal matter.’

‘Why were they delivered in such a strange manner?’

‘I do not know.’

‘It seems odd that they were brought to the shire hall.’

‘Odd?’

‘If it is personal correspondence, it would surely have been sent to you at the castle. Since they came here, I am bound to wonder if they pertain in any way to our deliberations.’

‘No, Canon Hubert.’

Gervase’s denial was firm enough to convince but it left him feeling profoundly guilty. He was glad when they recalled the first claimant to the hall. The verbal tempest created by the abbot of Tavistock diverted attention from him and gave Hubert the chance to take a leading role in the debate, responding vigorously to the prelate’s wilder accusations and making it clear that his own black cowl should not be taken as an indication of prejudice in favour of the abbey. Brother Simon watched in open-mouthed wonder, alternately cowed by the abbot’s vituperation and inspired by Hubert’s authoritative rebuttals. Gervase asked a few pertinent questions about the wording of the documents which were offered in support of the abbey, but the real battle lay between the claimant and the canon.

When the session finally ended, the abbot of Tavistock crept away to lick his wounds like an injured lion. Encouraged by what he perceived as Hubert’s sympathetic treatment of him at their first encounter, he had come with high hopes, but he went away feeling battered and betrayed. Gervase was the first to congratulate his colleague on his steadfast performance.

‘That was masterly, Canon Hubert.’

‘I had to defend the integrity of this commission.’

‘You did so superbly.’

‘Thank you, Gervase,’ said the other, preening himself. ‘You might mention it to the lord Ralph.’

‘Most certainly.’

‘We have been able to manage perfectly well without him.’

‘And without the lord Hervey,’ added Simon.

All three of them were brought to a sharp halt. In the cut and thrust of debate, they had forgotten all about the missing commissioner. No news had been brought of Hervey de Marigny, which meant that he had still not been found. Their apprehension grew. Much as he had relished his position of command, Hubert would willingly have sacrificed it for the safe return of a respected colleague. They were in a more subdued mood when the last witness of the day was shown into the hall.

Loretta looked as poised and elegant as ever. She was accompanied by Eldred as before though he did no more than sit there in melancholy silence. Loretta expressed surprise that only two commissioners were there to examine her but Hubert assured her that he and Gervase were fully authorised to put her claim under scrutiny again.

‘Does that mean you will reach a conclusion today?’ she asked.

‘That is highly unlikely, my lady,’ said Gervase.

‘Why?’

‘Because we are still not satisfied that we have all the facts before us.’

‘I have given you the only facts which matter,’ she said blandly.

‘The holdings in Upton Pyne belonged to my late son, William, and should be restored to me immediately.’

‘This property seems to hold a special significance for you, my lady,’ said Hubert. ‘Is that a fair comment to make?’

‘A very fair comment, Canon Hubert.’

‘Do these holdings have some peculiarly attractive features?’

‘No.’

‘Then why are you so anxious to recover them?’

‘It is a matter of honour,’ she said.

‘This dispute is very distressing to the lord Nicholas’s widow.’

‘I have every sympathy for her, Canon Hubert, but I will not let this opportunity pass by without asserting my entitlement. May I remind you that it was while I myself was in mourning that this property was taken from me in the first place?’

Canon Hubert backed off and left the bulk of the questioning to Gervase. Searching enquiries were put to her but Loretta was equal to each one of them and the legitimacy of her claim could not be doubted. She conducted herself with far more dignity than the abbot of Tavistock and her arguments were correspondingly more effective. Even Canon Hubert began to be swayed by her.

When they had exhausted their questions, she had some of her own for them.

‘Will I be called before you again?’ she asked.

‘It is possible,’ said Gervase.

‘What more can I tell you?’

‘We may need to test your reaction to evidence which is given by the other claimants. They, too, may be examined again.’

‘To what end?’

‘The pursuit of the truth,’ said Hubert.

‘But it lies in the documents I have already shown you,’ she said, indicating the satchel carried by Eldred. ‘Study them again if you are not convinced. I have waited a long time to regain this property and my patience is not unlimited. Why waste your time listening to claims that are patently fraudulent?’

‘There is nothing fraudulent about the lady Catherine’s claim,’

said Gervase. ‘Her husband’s will bequeaths those holdings to her. And the others involved in this dispute must also be heard.’

‘Heard then dismissed as impudent.’

Hubert bridled. ‘That is for us to decide.’

‘Can you take the claim of Engelric seriously?’ she said with a muted contempt. ‘Or that of the abbot? They fight a battle whose outcome was settled long ago. As for the other extraordinary claimant …’

‘We cannot discuss any of the contestants with you, my lady,’

said Gervase firmly. ‘None of them have sought to pour scorn on you. It will not help your cause to be critical of them.’

‘I apologise, Master Bret,’ she said quickly. ‘You are right. I am letting my impatience get the better of me. You are the judges here and I am a mere supplicant. I bow to your authority.’

‘You have no choice but to do so,’ warned Hubert.

‘I accept that.’ She rose to leave. ‘I bid you farewell.’

‘One last thing, my lady,’ said Gervase.

‘Yes?’

‘How do you come to know so much about the rival claimants?’

‘It is in my interests to do so,’ she said with a quiet smile.

Ralph Delchard’s concern served to deepen his irritation. He rode beside the sheriff and helped to supervise an exhaustive search of the city. It produced no results. Premises were searched and people questioned endlessly, but Hervey de Marigny’s whereabouts were not revealed. As the afternoon shaded into evening, Ralph slapped his thigh in exasperation.

‘God’s tits!’ he exclaimed. ‘He must be somewhere!’

‘Not in the city,’ said Baldwin.

‘We have not searched hard enough.’

‘Over sixty men have combed every street and building in Exeter, my lord. They even went into the crypt of the cathedral. The lord Hervey is nowhere to be found. Is there not a chance that he may have ridden out of the city without telling you?’

‘No,’ said Ralph. ‘Besides, his horse is in the stable.’

‘He may have procured another.’

‘For what purpose? Hervey de Marigny came here on royal business and he would not willingly have left until it was discharged. There is only one explanation here, my lord sheriff,’

he said grimly. ‘Foul play.’

‘Let us not fear the worst.’

‘We have to face the facts.’

‘He may yet be found in good health.’

‘I do not share your optimism. Search more thoroughly.’

‘My men have left no stone unturned,’ said Baldwin, ‘and your own men have been equally diligent. If the lord Hervey was in Exeter, we would surely have tracked him down by now. I will widen the search outside the city. It is the only thing left to do.’

‘Not quite, my lord sheriff.’

‘What is your advice?’

‘Arrest the abbot of Tavistock.’

Baldwin blinked in amazement. ‘On what possible grounds?’

‘Concealment of evidence.’

‘Can you be serious, my lord? Do you really imagine that the abbot is involved in the disappearance of the lord Hervey?’

‘Indirectly, yes.’

‘What evidence do you have?’

‘That of my own eyes and ears. The lord Hervey told us that he would speak to Walter Baderon again when he came on duty at the North Gate.’

‘None of the sentries remembers seeing them together.’

‘None of the sentries admits to it,’ corrected Ralph, ‘but only because their master has told them to keep silent. Why did the abbot send this Baderon back to Tavistock if not to evade our enquiries? He is the key to this whole business, I feel sure.’ He became peremptory. ‘Put the abbot under lock and key while I ride to Tavistock to arrest Walter Baderon.’

‘I will do nothing of the kind, my lord.’

‘Then you are slack in your duties.’

‘Do you dare to insult me?’

‘No, my lord sheriff,’ said Ralph with a note of apology. ‘You have acted promptly and put your men at our disposal. I am grateful for that. But I would be even more grateful if you would at least interrogate the abbot. I am certain that he is hiding something.’

‘I do not share that certainty.’

‘Why was the captain of his guard sent home?’

‘It might just be a coincidence, my lord.’

‘I beg to differ.’

‘The abbot is not responsible.’

‘He knows something,’ insisted Ralph. ‘I saw it in his eyes.’

Baldwin was unmoved. ‘I have no cause to interrogate him, still less to issue a warrant of arrest. Have you any idea what complications would follow? I’d have the Church itself around my ears.’

‘An abbot is not above the law.’

‘The law requires proof of guilt, my lord, and you have none.’

‘Very well,’ said Ralph. ‘I’ll tackle the abbot myself.’

‘No,’ ordered the sheriff. ‘I will lead this search. The lord Hervey told you that he would talk to this Walter Baderon but it is far from certain that he did so. The last reports we have of him come from my own sentries who saw him leave the castle. Something may have happened to him before he got anywhere near the North Gate.

Be ruled by me, my lord. I will not condone intemperate action.’

Ralph looked around him, his howl a mixture of anger and despair. ‘Where is he?’

Gervase was troubled by severe misgivings. He walked up and down the street three times before he dared to approach the house. In answer to his tentative knock, Goda opened the door.

She eyed him with suspicion. He stammered an enquiry but the servant did not have time to answer. Hearing his voice, Asa came swiftly out of the parlour.

‘Master Bret!’ she said with delight.

‘I was hoping to find you at home.’

‘You have brought me good news? My claim has been upheld?’

‘We have not yet reached a decision,’ he said, ‘and your claim may be in jeopardy. That is why I came.’

She invited him in and closed the door of the parlour after them. ‘What is wrong?’ she asked.

‘You have not been telling me the truth, Asa.’

‘Yes, I have!’

‘You deliberately misled me.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘These letters,’ he said, taking the packet from his satchel and handing it to her. ‘Do you recognise them?’

She winced visibly. ‘No, I do not,’ she said.

‘They bear your name.’

‘Then someone forged my signature.’

‘They could not have forged the contents, Asa,’ he said. ‘I have read the letters through and I know that only you could have written them.’

A long pause. ‘Where did you get them?’ she asked finally.

‘They were delivered to me at the shire hall.’

‘By whom?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘By her!’ she sneered. ‘By the precious lady Catherine! Except that she would not deign to bring them herself. That creeping Tetbald would have been given the office.’

He fixed her with a stare. ‘Did you write those letters, Asa?’

‘Yes,’ she confessed. ‘But only under duress.’

‘Duress?’

‘The lord Nicholas made me write them.’

‘Why?’

‘He said that he wanted proof of my love,’ she sighed, ‘though he had ample proof of that in my bedchamber. He told me that he needed some token from me to help him endure the pain of being apart. These were private letters, Master Bret,’ she chided, ‘and you had no business to read them. I am disappointed in you.’

‘They touch on the dispute and can be construed as evidence.’

‘Evidence of my love for him. I freely acknowledge that.’

‘But there are other things you did not freely acknowledge,’

said Gervase sharply. ‘You gave me the impression that the lord Nicholas promised you those holdings as a spontaneous gesture of affection.’

‘And so he did!’

‘Then why does one of your letters demand written proof that you will be his beneficiary? You threatened to withdraw your favours unless he gave you a more visible sign of commitment.

In other words,’ continued Gervase, watching her closely, ‘the letter which you produced before the tribunal was not the gift of a grateful man to a lover. It was a price exacted from him by you.’

‘No!’ she cried.

‘You sought to deceive us.’

‘That is not true.’

‘It was the lord Nicholas who wrote a letter under duress.’

Asa burst into tears and hurled the letters away. In spite of himself, Gervase felt sorry for her and wanted to console her in some way, but he did not dare to reach out to her. He waited until her sobbing eased.

‘Why did you write in your own language?’ he asked.

‘It came easier to me. I could express myself more clearly.’

‘Did the lord Nicholas understand it?’

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘When he saw how well I could speak his tongue, he insisted on learning mine. We spent hours on end playing with words and phrases. He wanted to be close to me and that meant learning my language, difficult as it was for him. If that does not convince you that he loved me, then nothing will.’

‘The lord Nicholas loved you deeply, Asa. I am certain of it.’

‘Then why torment me like this?’

‘Because you exploited that love,’ said Gervase. ‘It is there in your letters. Every one of them contains some demand. He may not have paid for your favours with money but you still set a high price on them.’

‘I was worth it!’ she said with defiance.

Gervase was suddenly alarmed. He wondered what he was doing there and how he could best extricate himself. If his colleagues discovered where he had been, he was not sure that he could adequately explain himself. Asa sensed his confusion. She took a step closer to him.

‘I thought you were a friend,’ she said. ‘I hoped that you would help.’

‘I have helped you, Asa.’

‘How? By reading my letters?’

‘By bringing them to you in person instead of showing them to my colleagues. You spoke to us on oath in the shire hall. Those letters show that you committed perjury and make your claim worthless.’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘I earned that property.’

‘Not in any legal way.’

‘I meant more to the lord Nicholas than any woman alive.’

‘Then why did you have to wrest gifts from him?’

‘It was a game we played. He liked it that way.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Asa.’

‘He wanted me to have that property.’

‘After his death,’ he reminded her, ‘and that must have seemed a long way hence when you forced him to write that letter of intent. Or did you think that the lord Nicholas might not have long to live?’

Gervase himself was surprised by the force and directness of his question. It struck her like a whiplash and she flinched in pain. When she regained her composure, she looked at him with a hatred that was tempered with curiosity. Gervase could not tear his eyes away from hers. After a long pause, Asa reached out to take his hand in hers. He did not resist.

‘What really brought you to my house?’ she asked softly.

The passage of time did not still her anger. Hours after her steward had returned from the shire hall, Catherine was seething. She preserved a dignified calm in front of the rest of the household, but Tetbald was allowed to see her true feelings. When they were alone again in the parlour, she rounded on him with her eyes blazing.

‘You swore to me that the matter would be decided today,’ she said.

‘I had every reason to believe that it would.’

‘You failed me, Tetbald.’

‘No, my lady.’

‘All those promises, all those proud boasts.’

‘You will still inherit the entire estate,’ he assured her.

‘That is what you said when you rode off this morning.’

‘There were problems at the shire hall, my lady. A long delay.

Saewin would not tell me what caused it but two of the commissioners did not even turn up to examine me.’

‘Did you convince those who were there?’

‘Not completely,’ he confessed.

‘You had my husband’s will in your hands.’

‘Even that was not conclusive, my lady. They haggled interminably. They are not yet sure if the holdings in Upton Pyne are a legitimate part of the inheritance.’

‘They have to be,’ she asserted. ‘I want everything.’

‘You shall have it.’

‘Not if I have to rely on you, Tetbald. Perhaps I need another advocate.’

‘It is too late to decide that now,’ he said with a scowl. ‘Before you blame me for things which were no fault of mine, you might remember what I have done for you so far. I have given good service.’

‘True,’ she conceded.

‘The lord Nicholas employed me but my first loyalty was towards you.’

‘I have not forgotten that.’

‘Then do not treat me so harshly, my lady.’

‘You displease me.’

‘Their judgement has been postponed a little, that is all.’

‘If it is postponed,’ she said angrily, ‘it means that it is no longer certain to be in my favour. There are doubts in the commissioners’ minds. And you must have put them there, Tetbald.’ She walked away from him and was lost in her thoughts for some time. Tetbald smarted in silence. He had never seen her so angry before and it troubled him. When she swung back to him, her jaw was set. ‘I will go there myself next time.’

‘That would be folly.’

‘The folly lay in delegating it to you.’

‘I am used to such legal wrangling, my lady. You are not.’

‘My presence at the shire hall will be a weapon in itself.’

‘A weapon that can be turned against you,’ he argued. ‘It is only days since the funeral. His widow is expected to mourn in private, to be so overcome with grief that she will not stir from her chamber. You agreed that it would be unseemly for you to be involved directly in this dispute.’

‘Only because I trusted you to act on my behalf.’

‘And that is what I am doing, my lady.’

‘Not to my satisfaction.’

She walked to the window and gazed out at the surrounding land. Stung by her criticism, Tetbald was anxious to win back her favour. He moved across to stand directly behind her. Catherine’s ire seemed slowly to abate. He could see that she was more relaxed. When he ventured to put a hand on her hips, however, she tensed immediately.

‘I am sorry, my lady,’ he said, swiftly withdrawing his hand.

‘But I implore you to reconsider. Your appearance at the shire hall will contradict everything that I said about you. It could prove ruinous.’

‘I will take that chance.’

‘Would you throw it all away now when we have come so far?’

She turned to face him. ‘We?’ she said coldly.

‘You could not have done it without me.’

‘That may be so, Tetbald, but I rule in this house now. I make my own decisions and do not look to you for approval. I will go to the shire hall. If a man’s whore is allowed to assert her claim,’

she said bitterly, ‘then his wife ought at least to have the same entitlement.’

Before he could stop her, she swept out of the room and ascended the stairs. Tetbald heard the door of her bedchamber being shut and bolted.

Ralph Delchard was still locked in argument with the sheriff when the messenger brought the news. They abandoned their quarrel at once and followed the man-at-arms as he cantered through the streets towards the South Gate. Leaving the city, they followed the river for almost half a mile downstream until they came to a small crowd of people being held back from the bank by soldiers from the castle garrison. Ralph dropped down from the saddle and pushed his way past the onlookers. Baldwin lumbered after him.

The body of Hervey de Marigny had been hauled from the water and laid on the bank. A soldier was bending over him to shield the horror from the gaze of the people behind him. When Ralph first saw his friend, he felt as if he had taken a violent blow between the eyes. He reeled back and needed a moment to steady himself. The sheriff, too, was appalled by the sight. Hervey de Marigny was almost unrecognisable. His face was hideously scored with lacerations and his throat was comprehensively cut. His lower lip had been bitten off. The body was sodden and limp, the limbs stretched at an unnatural angle. Water had washed most of the blood away, making the jagged wound on his neck look raw and livid. Ralph could still see the agony in his sightless eyes.

‘Who found him?’ he asked, kneeling beside the soldier.

‘I did, my lord,’ said the man.

‘Like this?’

‘No, he was half in the water. I pulled him out.’

‘Had he drifted downstream?’

‘I think not, my lord. It looks as if the body was dumped here.

There was no attempt to weight it so that it would sink. It was almost as if the killer wanted it to be found.’

‘As a warning!’ said Baldwin, standing over them.

‘To whom?’ said Ralph.

‘All of us. This is some Saxon outrage.’

‘The killer will pay dearly, I know that.’

‘We will hunt him down, my lord. Have no fear.’

‘But I do, my lord sheriff,’ said Ralph, standing up. ‘I will track down the villain myself because I cannot trust you to do it.’

The sheriff bristled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at his injuries. They are similar to those found on the body of Nicholas Picard. I believe that he and Hervey de Marigny were butchered by the same man.’

‘You may well be right,’ conceded the other.

‘Then you will understand why I have no faith in your ability to catch the man. A prisoner lies in your dungeon, charged with the murder of Nicholas Picard. Answer me this, my lord sheriff,’ said Ralph with sarcasm. ‘How did he get out in order to kill his second victim?’