The Wildcats of Exeter

Chapter Four

When the commissioners eventually arrived at the shire hall, they found a number of people awaiting them. Saewin had assembled all the witnesses who needed to be examined on the first day and was standing by to receive further instructions.

Ralph Delchard, Gervase Bret and Hervey de Marigny strode into the hall with the speed and purpose of men who wished to make up for lost time. Canon Hubert’s protest about their lateness was brushed aside by Ralph. Four of his men were stationed at the rear of the hall while four of de Marigny’s knights acted as sentries outside. Ralph had learned from experience that the presence of armed soldiers tended to encourage a more truthful response from witnesses.

All five of them were soon seated behind the table with documents set out before them. Ralph occupied the central position with Hubert and de Marigny on either side of him. Brother Simon was poised to record the proceedings of the day in his neat hand. Gervase was the most anxious of them all to set things in motion. Though his mind was concentrated on his duties, his heart was still in Winchester with his betrothed.

Every delay lengthened the time he would be apart from her and might, he feared, even prevent him from returning in time for his wedding.

Hervey de Marigny looked along the table and gave a chuckle.

‘What a daunting tribunal we make!’ he observed. ‘I would not like to face such an imposing set of judges.’

‘We endeavour to frighten the witnesses into honesty,’ said Ralph with a grin. ‘Only minor cases come before us today so we will not be unduly taxed. I would suggest that you watch us throughout the morning before you join in the merriment.’

‘It is hardly merriment, my lord,’ said Hubert reproachfully.

‘We are royal agents with serious business which must be addressed seriously. May I remind you that one of our principal witnesses was murdered on the eve of our arrival? That is hardly a cause for merriment.’

‘No,’ agreed Ralph. ‘I am justly rebuked. Though our work is not a tale of unrelieved tedium. I am sure that our new commissioner will find some amusement in the lies and evasions which we are bound to hear in the course of the day.’

‘Let us begin,’ suggested Gervase.

‘We have waited long enough to do so!’ sighed Hubert.

‘Your patience would make Job look restless,’ Ralph teased him. ‘It is time to let the citizens of Exeter know that we are here and that we will tolerate no false claims to property.’ He addressed one of the guards. ‘Ask the reeve to send in those involved in the first case.’

‘I find this oddly exciting,’ said de Marigny.

‘So did we at first,’ said Ralph. ‘Then boredom quickly set in.’

Hubert sniffed noisily. ‘The administration of justice is never boring.’

‘Speak for yourself, Hubert.’

‘I always do, my lord.’

‘Much of what we do is bound to be humdrum.’

‘Not if you have the intelligence to probe below the surface.’

Ralph laughed at the reproof, then composed his features into judicial solemnity as the reeve brought a number of people into the hall and directed them to sit on the benches. When all the witnesses were present, Ralph introduced himself and his colleagues then called the first man to give his testimony. After taking an oath, the witness launched into a long defence of his claim to some property to the north of the city, plucking charters out of his satchel and waving them in the air. Hervey de Marigny was enthralled. Minor disputes which seemed innocuous on the page took on a colour and vitality which surprised him. Even the most insignificant cases were invested with a bitterness which made them blaze in the shire hall.

The commissioners had complementary skills. Ralph was a stern but just leader, controlling events with a sure hand and giving every person the right to plead his case in full. As befitted a lawyer, Gervase worried away at the fine detail of a claim, haggling over the wording of charters and questioning the legal basis of many assertions. But it was Canon Hubert who most impressed their new colleague. Having found him a learned but vain man, too puffed up with his own importance, de Marigny watched with fascination as Hubert’s true mettle emerged. Fair but fearless, he asked the most searching questions and pursued any hint of deceit quite relentlessly. Three of the witnesses were exposed as arrant liars and a fourth was reduced to tears by his persistence.

By the time the cathedral bell gave sonorous warning of Nones, de Marigny felt able to take a more active role in the process, asking for elucidation, questioning witnesses directly and studying their faces for telltale signs of their true character. Under the pressure of examination, few of them maintained their composure throughout. Hervey de Marigny soon learned how to sow discomfort with an artless query and he was eventually repaid with a moment of triumph. At the end of the day’s proceedings, Ralph was the first to congratulate him.

‘Who are the teachers and who the pupil here?’ he said. ‘That was masterly. You had that fellow squirming like a fish on a hook.’

‘He was obviously lying,’ explained de Marigny.

‘But how did you know?’

‘He all but took me in,’ admitted Gervase.

‘And me,’ said Hubert. ‘I have never met so plausible a rogue.’

‘It was his very plausibility which alerted me,’ said de Marigny.

‘If his argument was as strong and irrefutable as he alleged, why did it not convince our predecessors? They smelt an irregularity.

So did I.’

‘And unmasked the man for the perjurer he was.’ Ralph gave him a pat on the back. ‘Excellently done, Hervey! You are indeed a worthy commissioner and need no more instruction from us.’

‘Tomorrow, you may think otherwise,’ said de Marigny modestly.

‘Why?’

‘Because we only dealt with the most paltry cases today, Ralph.

Small disputes which could easily be settled. Tomorrow, I believe, we are due to tackle something far more substantial and complicated.’

‘The case involving the late Nicholas Picard.’

‘Yes.’

‘I have a suggestion to make,’ said Hubert in a tone of voice which made it sound more like a decree than a proposal. ‘Let us postpone that dispute until a fitter time and deal instead with the many others which await our judgement.’

‘That is eminently sensible advice,’ said de Marigny.

Hubert was pleased. ‘Then it is settled.’

‘No,’ said Ralph, ‘it most certainly is not, Hubert. Our schedule has been worked out and we will keep to it as planned.’

‘But the lord Nicholas’s death alters everything,’ returned Hubert.

‘The only thing that it alters is his chance of appearing before us.’

‘The case must be postponed out of respect.’

‘To whom?’

‘His family.’

‘That will not be necessary.’

‘His widow will be prostrate with grief.’

‘Then why did she send word to me through Saewin that she wished the dispute over her husband’s property to be settled as soon as possible? The town reeve gave me this message as we arrived here.’

‘He delivered another message for you,’ suddenly recalled Brother Simon.

‘Indeed?’

‘It seems that there is a further claimant in that dispute.’

‘One more reason to tackle it at once,’ decided Ralph. ‘The longer we delay, the more time we give for new people to contest those holdings. We already have three in addition to the widow of the lord Nicholas, who would normally be expected to inherit his estates. Postpone this case indefinitely and we will find that half the county wish to lodge a claim.’ He rose from the table.

‘Who is the latest to be added to the list?’

‘The lady Loretta,’ said Hubert. ‘Widow of Roger de Marmoutier.’

‘That is a name of importance in Devon,’ noted Gervase. ‘The lord Roger held property scattered throughout the county and did at one time hold the land at the centre of this dispute.’

‘So did the abbot of Tavistock,’ Hubert reminded him.

‘And so did everyone else south of Bristol!’ said Ralph with sarcasm. ‘The next person who will assert his right to those holdings will be Berold the Jester! This dispute trembles on the edge of absurdity.’

‘It is a major case,’ said Gervase calmly, ‘and should be heard sooner rather than later. Many different interests are involved here. If we settle this dispute with firm authority at the start of our sojourn here, it will act as a salutary warning to those involved in later cases. It will set the standard for all else that follows.’

‘I could not agree more, Gervase,’ said Ralph.

‘Nor I support you less,’ added Hubert. ‘There are questions of taste and delicacy here. We must not be seen to incite an argument over the bones of a man who has not yet been buried.’

‘I side with Canon Hubert,’ said Simon loyally.

‘And I incline to his view as well,’ confessed de Marigny. ‘Can the widow of the lord Nicholas really wish us to proceed so soon?’

‘According to Saewin,’ said Ralph. ‘He received a personal visit from her steward, urging that there be no delay. This same steward, Tetbald, is to represent the widow before us. He has full authority to act in her stead so the case will proceed.’

‘Against my better judgement,’ noted Hubert.

Ralph beamed. ‘As usual.’

‘I find this very perplexing,’ said de Marigny, scratching his head. ‘If I was brutally murdered, I am certain that my wife would not wish to continue any litigation in which I was involved until a decent interval had elapsed for mourning. Can this lady be so heartless that she does not need to weep over her husband’s tomb? Or is there another reason why she wishes to hurry this matter through?’

‘The explanation has already been given, my lord,’ said Gervase.

‘This dispute hangs over his widow like a black cloud. Until it is dispelled, she is not able properly to mourn the deceased. And is it so surprising that a wife should fight for something which she believes is part of her rightful inheritance?’

‘Golde would do so in the same position,’ said Ralph.

‘I doubt that,’ returned de Marigny.

‘So do I,’ supported Hubert.

‘You forget that the lord Nicholas’s widow will not be here in person,’ said Gervase, keen to terminate the debate. ‘While she grieves in private, her steward can speak for her in public. If he can report to her that we find in her favour, I am sure that it will be a balm to her troubled mind.’

‘No more argument,’ announced Ralph. ‘It is agreed.’

Canon Hubert grumbled, Brother Simon rolled his eyes in despair and Hervey de Marigny still had reservations, but all three accepted his decision. As they left the shire hall, Ralph fell in beside Gervase.

‘Thank you for backing me, Gervase.’

‘I thought it important to settle this dispute while it is still within our power to do so,’ said the other. ‘It was tangled enough before we arrived but it has grown infinitely more complicated since we have been here. If we delay a judgement, we may find that its intricacies only multiply and that it takes an eternity to resolve.’

‘With you stuck in Devon while Alys pines in Winchester.’

‘That thought was at the back of my mind.’

‘So it should be, Gervase,’ said Ralph jovially. ‘Our work is of the highest importance but we must not let it keep you away from the altar. I share your fears that this case could increase in size and complexity until it dominates all the rest and ensnares us for weeks. On the other hand, it may soon be simplified for us.’

‘Simplified?’

‘Yes. Remember what Baldwin told us. Arrests are imminent.

When we know why Nicholas Picard was killed, we will have a much clearer idea of what this dispute is all about.’

‘The lord sheriff said that he was murdered by robbers.’

‘I know,’ said Ralph. ‘But who hired them?’

It was the smoke which gave them away. Breaking their journey for refreshment, they lit a fire to roast one of the chickens they had stolen from a farm. It made a tasty meal and they ate it between long gulps of ale. Their fortunes were improving. As they counted out their takings once more, they realised that they could afford to buy what had hitherto only been within reach by theft. The two of them sniggered complacently.

The posse comprised a dozen men, veteran soldiers who knew how to work together. They trailed the robbers all the way from Crediton until they reached the copse where the couple were hiding. A slow curl of smoke rose above the trees. It was all the encouragement they needed. Under the guidance of their captain, the soldiers separated to surround the copse. When the signal was given, they moved slowly in.

The robbers were dozing beside the fire when they heard the crack of a twig beneath a hoof. It brought them awake at once and both reached for their daggers. They were far too late. The clearing was suddenly boiling with the sheriff’s officers. The robbers were knocked to the ground by lances, disarmed and pinioned. Dismounting from his horse, the captain searched their purses and found them bulging with money. He also found some gold rings which had once adorned the fingers of Nicholas Picard.

When the men tried to protest, he beat each of them into silence with a mailed first.

‘Tie them to their horses!’ he ordered. ‘The lord sheriff wants them taken back to Exeter to face his wrath.’

Asa sat beside the window in her bedchamber and stared sadly out through the shutters. Perched on a low hill, the house gave her a clear view over the thatched roofs of the city to the twin peaks of castle and cathedral, but she was impervious to both.

Though her eyes looked out, her gaze was turned inward.

Memories surged through her mind in a confusing mix of nostalgia and remorse. She was a short, slender young woman in fine apparel more suited to a Norman lady than to a Saxon. Her chemise and gown were of white linen, her girdle a long silken rope with tasselled ends. Coiled at the back, her long black hair fell in curls at the front. Her face had a quiet loveliness in repose and a vivacity that was captivating when she was animated, but there was no sign of it now. As her mind dwelt on the past, a deep frown bit its way into her brow.

The knock on her door brought her out of her daze.

‘Yes?’ she called. Her servant entered. ‘What is it, girl?’

‘The town reeve has sent word.’

‘What is the message?’

‘You are to appear at the shire hall tomorrow.’

‘So soon?’

‘That is what I have been told.’

‘But the funeral is tomorrow. I must attend that.’

‘I am only passing on the message I was given.’

‘Why did you not call me to hear it in person?’

‘You warned me not to disturb you.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes,’ said the servant softly. ‘You told me to turn away any visitors.’

‘Why, so I did,’ remembered Asa, trying to gather her thoughts.

‘You were right, Goda. Had you tried to call me downstairs, you would have been given a flea in you ear for your pains. I am sorry to be so vague. My mind is elsewhere today.’

‘I understand.’

Goda was a plump woman in her thirties with bright green eyes and a large nose which turned a pleasant face into an unattractive one. As she studied her mistress, her expression bordered on maternal concern.

‘Is there anything that I can fetch you?’ she offered.

‘No, Goda.’

‘Some food perhaps? You must eat.’

‘I am not hungry.’

‘You have touched almost nothing for days.’

‘I will eat when I wish to and not before.’

‘Yes,’ said the other deferentially.

‘But I thank you for worrying about me.’

Goda gave a wan smile and turned to leave the room. Asa fell back into her reverie. Stirring herself out of it once more, she walked to the stairs and descended to the kitchen. Goda was about to fill a cooking pot with water from a wooden pail. She looked up inquisitively.

‘You are ready to eat something?

‘Not yet, Goda. I have an errand for you.’

‘I will do it at once.’

‘Run to Saewin’s house,’ ordered Asa. ‘Explain my situation.

Tell him that, whatever happens, I must not miss the funeral tomorrow. That takes priority over all else. I will gladly appear before the commissioners after the funeral.’

‘What if they call you for the morning?’

‘I will not go.’

‘That will not help your cause,’ warned Goda.

‘I shall put myself in Saewin’s hands,’ said Asa. ‘He must contrive it so that I can attend both the funeral and the shire hall. A town reeve has some influence in these matters. Ask him to use it on my behalf.’

‘I will.’

‘And Goda …’

‘Yes?’

Asa gave a distant smile which brightened the whole of her face. ‘Tell him that I will be most grateful.’

‘What makes this case so unusual, Ralph?’ she asked. ‘You have talked of nothing else since you returned.’

‘I am sorry, my love,’ he said, giving her an apologetic kiss. ‘I did not mean to bore you with my problems.’

‘They do not bore me at all.’

‘Tell me about your day.’

‘When you have satisfied my curiosity,’ said Golde. ‘I know that the lord Nicholas’s death has given this dispute more intensity, but I do not understand why it rates above all the others.’

‘Two reasons.’

‘What is the first?’

‘Money,’ said Ralph. ‘The holdings in question run to several hides and contain some of the richest farmland in the county.

Whoever inherits that property from Nicholas Picard will become quite wealthy.’

‘And the second reason?’

‘Women, my love.’

‘I do not follow.’

‘Five claimants are involved here,’ he explained, ‘and three of them are ladies. That is not only unusual, Golde, it is unprecedented in my experience. You can expect a wife or a daughter to lay claim to an inheritance, as the lord Nicholas’s widow will do in this instance, but it is rare to have two other women hurling themselves into the fight.’

‘Do they have legitimate claims?’

‘So they believe.’

‘Who are they?’

‘One is a Saxon woman, Asa, who lives here in the city. What her relationship with the lord Nicholas is I can only guess, but she purports to have a letter from him which bequeaths those holdings to her. In other words,’ he observed drily, ‘she only has a claim on the property now that he is dead. While he was alive, this Asa could only sit and wait.’

‘Is that what you think she did?’

‘I do not know, Golde. I have not met her and may be maligning her unfairly. But let me put it no higher than this,’ he said. ‘The death of Nicholas Picard is highly convenient. If we find in favour of Asa, she will be a woman of property.’

‘Who is the other claimant?’

‘One lady Loretta, widow of Roger de Marmoutier. She came out of the blue this morning to attest her right to that property.

I can only surmise how powerful an advocate she will be, but it means that we will be hard put to it to sift out the truth. Three women and two men.’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘There will be a fierce battle in that shire hall.’

‘Who are the men?’

Ralph pulled a face. ‘The abbot of Tavistock is one of them. You can always rely on the Benedictine Order to make a grab for any property that comes into dispute. Abbots have greedy fingers.’

‘Do not be so irreverent.’

‘Nor so prejudiced,’ he said, chiding himself. ‘I am sorry, my love. I condemn this prelate before I have even set eyes on him.

He may yet turn out to have the strongest claim of all.’

‘You said that there was a fifth contender.’

‘Ignore him, Golde. He is of no account.’

‘Then why does he register a claim?’

‘Out of sheer folly. He will not detain us long.’

‘What is his name?’

‘Engelric’

‘A Saxon, then?’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph dismissively. ‘We only hear him out of courtesy.

He has a claim of sorts, but it has no real worth. The struggle will be between the abbot and the three ladies. Engelric will not figure very much.’

Golde understood why. She also realised why her husband was so reluctant to talk about the man’s claim. Evidently, he was the Saxon thegn who owned the property before the Conquest and had it taken forcibly from him. Engelric’s fate mirrored that of her own father. Out of concern for her feelings, Ralph did not wish to remind her of her lost status. Born into a noble family, Golde was practising her trade as a brewer when he met her in Hereford. It had been a long and painful fall from the position she once occupied. Ralph was glad that marriage to him had elevated her once more to the rank he felt she deserved.

Recollections of her past brought a more immediate memory to mind.

‘I spoke with the lady Albreda today,’ she said.

‘Was she meek and mild or cold and supercilious?’

‘Neither, Ralph. She was polite and almost friendly.’

‘Almost?’

‘I had the feeling that she was trying to apologise to me without quite knowing how to do it. Apology is not something which the lady Albreda has much experience of, I should imagine. But at least she did not patronise me.’

‘I am relieved to hear it.’

‘How she will behave in front of her husband is another matter.

I am not looking forward to sitting beside her at table again.’

‘You will not have to, my love. Leave it to me.’

They were alone in their chamber in the keep, enjoying the pleasure of being together again after a long day apart. Ralph reflected how much more practical and loving his marriage was than that of their hosts. After a tiring session in the shire hall, he could come back to a cordial welcome and a sympathetic ear.

However weary or jaded he might be, Golde had the capacity to revive him. It was one of the things he treasured most about her. He was about to tell her so when there was a tap on the door.

‘Who is it?’ called Ralph.

‘Me,’ said Hervey de Marigny. ‘With glad tidings.’

‘Then bring them in.’ He opened the door to admit his colleague who acknowledged Golde with a smile. ‘Well, Hervey? Do not keep me in suspense. What are these glad tidings? Has Canon Hubert decided to resign his place on the commission? Was Brother Simon caught naked in a brothel? Put me out of my misery.’

‘I have just come from my lord sheriff.’

‘And?’

‘His messenger arrived as we were talking.’

‘And?’ pressed Ralph. ‘And? And? And?’

‘They have been taken,’ said de Marigny. ‘Arrested by the sheriff’s officers. The men who murdered Nicholas Picard will be hurled into the castle dungeons before this night is out.’

Patience did not come easily to Baldwin of Moeles. He was a man of action who chafed at idleness and loathed delay. Instead of waiting for his men to bring the prisoners to him, he took an escort and rode north to meet the returning posse. He was almost five miles away from Exeter when he heard them coming, the hooves of their horses clacking on the hard track. Baldwin, reined in his horse and his escort came to a halt around him. There was enough moonlight to cast a ghostly pallor on the road ahead.

Phantom figures soon came into view. The sheriff waited until they were within earshot.

‘Bring them to me!’ he yelled. ‘Show me these foul villains!’

‘Yes, my lord sheriff!’ replied the captain of the posse.

They were soon drawing up in front of Baldwin. Dropping from the saddle, he went to a horse across which one of the robbers had been tied. The man was exhausted by the pummelling he had taken and was running with sweat. The sheriff grabbed his hair and lifted up the head so that he could stare into the prisoner’s face.

‘Do you know who I am?’ he growled.

The man spoke no French but he clearly recognised the sheriff.

He began to gibber with fear. Baldwin struck him across the face, drawing blood from his nose.

‘Why did you kill Nicholas Picard?’ he demanded.

‘We found money upon them,’ said the captain. ‘Far more than two wretches like this should be carrying.’

‘And rings?’ asked Baldwin.

‘Three of them, my lord sheriff. I believe we will find that they were taken from the fingers of their victim.’

‘Animals!’ howled the other, striking the captive again. ‘Wild animals!’ He strode across to the horse which bore the other robber. ‘You will pay dearly for this, you rogue! I’ll make you suffer so much that you will beg me to hang you and put an an end to your ordeal.’

He lifted the man’s head to peer into his face, but found the eyes closed tight. When he shook him violently by the shoulder, Baldwin saw that his body was limp and unresponsive. The captain shifted uneasily in his saddle.

‘We obeyed your orders, my lord sheriff,’ he explained, ‘and travelled as fast as we could. His ropes were not secure enough.

As we galloped along, he was thrown from his horse and his head hit a stone.’

Baldwin fumed. ‘Dead! He has escaped my revenge?’

‘It was an accident. We tried to revive him but his brains were dashed out. That is why we slowed down. To make sure that his accomplice came back alive.’

The sheriff took out a dagger and cut the ropes which held the corpse in place. Taking him by the neck, he heaved the man off the horse and on to the ground, kicking him over with his foot so that the face was upturned. Baldwin spat contemptuously at the prostrate body.

‘Leave him there,’ he decreed. ‘Someone from the nearest village can bury him in the morning. I want no offal coming into my castle.’ He pointed to the other prisoner. ‘Guard him well and bring him safely back to Exeter. I’ll burn the truth out of him with a hot poker!’

It was Gervase Bret’s idea. He volunteered to attend the funeral of Nicholas Picard in order to pay his respects to a man whom he had come to know well through his perusal of the Domesday returns and in the hope of learning something about those closest to the deceased. Ralph Delchard was happy to concur. The first person to be examined that day was the abbot of Tavistock and Ralph felt confident that he, Hervey de Marigny and Canon Hubert could cope without their young colleague for a morning. He anticipated resistance from Hubert, who had not been consulted about the decision to release Gervase, but he was prepared to ride out the other’s displeasure in the way which had become second nature to him.

The funeral service was held at the cathedral. Osbern, bishop of Exeter, was himself officiating, a mark of Picard’s status in the county. The cathedral had the ancient right to bury its citizens in its own cemetery, and Nicholas Picard was also accorded the privilege of lying within the precincts. Where he might have lain in the churchyard of the humble village church on his estates, he was instead translated to the cathedral. The hideous nature of his death provoked widespread shock and sympathy, bringing a large congregation to the funeral service.

People came in from all over the country of Devon to watch the last remains of Nicholas Picard being consigned to an untimely grave.

Gervase stationed himself near the main entrance so that he could take note of visitors as they arrived. He had no difficulty in identifying the widow. She led the procession which followed the coffin. Flanked by Dean Jerome and Tetbald the Steward, she walked slowly with her head down in meditation. For all her apparent grief, Gervase did not get the impression of a woman who was disabled by her husband’s murder. Her gait was steady, her manner dignified. Even in the brief glimpse he had of her, Gervase caught something of her strength of character. Directly behind her were family members and behind them came Baldwin the Sheriff with his wife.

While the procession was making its way down the nave, he slipped into the cathedral and found a place to stand at the rear.

It was a moving occasion. Osbern was faultless. He made a public event seem very private, reaching out with voice and gesture to everyone in the congregation and delivering a eulogy which brought murmurs of agreement time and again. Mass was sung, then the coffin was carried out to the cemetery. The mourners filed out after it and stood around the grave in a wide circle.

Gervase was both participant and observer, touched by the solemnity of the occasion yet trying to glean something from it.

He had noticed Saewin when the town reeve first appeared and he now worked his way around to him. The latter stood respectfully on the fringe of the gathering and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Gervase waited until the coffin was lowered reverentially into the ground. He was grateful that Nicholas Picard’s widow had not seen her husband at the mortuary. Simply remembering the savage injuries made his stomach turn.

‘Who is that man with the widow of the deceased?’ he asked.

‘That is Dean Jerome.’

‘On the other side of her, I meant.’

‘Tetbald the Steward,’ said Saewin. ‘You will see a lot of him at the shire hall. He is to represent the lady Catherine. And there is someone else with whom you will become acquainted.’

Gervase followed the direction of his pointed finger and saw a tall, elegant woman accompanied by a stocky individual of middle years whose features, beard and garb confirmed his Saxon origins.

They seemed an unlikely couple and Gervase decided that the man must be her servant. He was too ill favoured to occupy a more intimate station.

‘Who is that?’ he enquired.

‘The lady Loretta, widow of Roger de Marmoutier.’

‘Why is she here?’

‘Everyone knew the lord Nicholas.’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase, ‘but she knew him as the man who, allegedly, took property from her which had formerly been in the hands of her husband and then her son. I would have thought she had reason to despise Nicholas Picard.’

‘She is a compassionate woman. And death can make even the vilest hatred melt away. The lady Loretta would hold no grudge against a man who had been murdered in such a terrible way.’

‘Who is the man with her?’

‘One of her household. Eldred by name.’

Gervase sought the identity of a dozen more people and Saewin was an obliging assistant. Work as the town reeve meant that he knew almost everyone in Exeter. From the looks and nods that his companion was collecting, Gervase could see that Saewin was greatly respected in the community. That boded well. Gervase was about to leave when he found that he himself was under surveillance. A short, slim young woman of quite striking beauty was studying him from the other side of the grave as if she was trying to weigh him up. When their eyes met, she gave him such a look of intense curiosity that he found it impossible to tear his gaze away from her.

‘Who is that young lady?’ he said, nodding his head towards her.

‘That is someone else whom you will come to know.’

‘Why?’

‘She will be involved in the dispute over the lord Nicholas’s property.’

Gervase was intrigued. ‘Is that Asa?’

‘Yes.’

What an extraordinary face! he said to himself. Entrancing!

He was alarmed by his reaction and lowered his eyes. Gervase had never experienced such a feeling of sudden affection at a funeral before. When he dared to look up again, Asa had vanished into the crowd.