The Wildcats of Exeter

Chapter Six

Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret rode out of the city to inspect the scene of the crime. Trapped in a musty shire hall for most of the day, Ralph found the fresh air bracing, and after the grim visits to a funeral and a castle dungeon Gervase was also glad to exchange Exeter for the refreshing tranquillity of the countryside.

When they reached the wood on the road north, it did not take them long to find the place where the ambush occurred. There were several beech trees but few grew alongside the meandering track and overhung it. They dismounted to examine what they felt certain was the correct spot. Dried blood still clung to the grass and there were signs of a struggle. Twigs were snapped off from a bush, wild flowers had been unceremoniously flattened and the earth was heavily scored.

Ralph knelt down to run an exploratory hand over the ground.

‘This was definitely the place,’ he decided. ‘Ideal for an ambush.’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase, glancing around. ‘Where would the killer have lurked? Every tree could have hidden him.’

‘You are standing beneath the one that did, Gervase.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look upwards.’

Gervase raised his eyes to the overhanging bough. It was thick enough to support the weight of a man, and the abundant foliage would have provided concealment, but the branch was high above the track.

‘I know what you are thinking,’ said Ralph, rising to his feet.

‘How did the murderer get up there?’

‘Exactly.’

‘There is only one way to find out, Gervase.’

‘Is there?’

‘You or me?’

‘I do not understand.’

‘One of us has to climb the tree,’ said Ralph with a smile.

‘Since you are younger and more agile, I accept your offer to tackle it.’

‘But I did not make an offer.’

‘Surely you wish to spare my old bones?’

Gervase grinned. ‘No,’ he said with a nudge. ‘What I will promise to do is to catch you if you fall.’

‘Get up there, man!’

‘Is that a request or an order?’

‘Common sense. I would climb up it like a bear whereas you can run up it like a squirrel. Go on, Gervase. I’ll warrant you will find something of interest once you work your way out on to the bough.’ He walked to the trunk and linked his hands together.

‘Come, I’ll help you.’

Gervase appraised the tree. It was a fully grown beech, now in full leaf and with boughs reaching out in all directions. There was an air of solidity and permanence about it. After rubbing his palms together in preparation, he steeled himself then put a foot into the cradle made by Ralph’s hands. His friend hoisted him effortlessly up to the first branch. Gervase got a firm grip before swinging a leg up and hooking it over the bough. He made slow progress. Gervase was lithe enough but his work at the Chancery in Winchester gave him little opportunity to develop his tree-climbing skills. Ralph directed him from below, telling him which branch to move to next and urging him on.

Eventually, Gervase was sitting astride the bough which overhung the track. He moved himself carefully along it, making the whole branch genuflect gracefully and rustle its leaves. When he reached a point directly above the track, he was screened from view by the foliage.

‘What can you see?’ called Ralph.

‘Everything.’

‘A good view of the road from Exeter?’

‘A perfect one, Ralph.’

‘Could you jump on to a passing traveller from there?’

‘It would be a long drop.’

‘Long but not impossible.’

‘Not impossible for some,’ said Gervase. ‘Inadvisable for me.’

‘Can you see anything else up there?’

‘Yes.’

Gervase looked at the marks along the bough. The bark had been scratched by sharp claws but there was also a much thicker souvenir, an inch or more in width, running, it seemed, over the whole circumference of the branch. Pale, shiny wood showed through the stripped bark. He ran a meditative finger over it.

‘Are you still up there?’ said Ralph impatiently.

‘Yes.’

‘Well?’

‘I think that someone tied a rope up here and swung down. A fairly heavy man, judging by the marks he left. He may have practised a few times,’ he concluded. ‘That would explain why the bark is worn through.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Scratches made by claws.’

‘What sort of claws?’

‘Come up and see for yourself, Ralph,’ he teased.

‘No thank you.’

‘You’ll get a fine view.’

‘I prefer the one from down here.’

‘The scratches are very deep.’

‘Can you guess what sort of animal put them there?’

‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘Not a big one, I suspect.’

‘There we are, then,’ said Ralph with light sarcasm. ‘All we need to look for is a small creature who uses his claws to climb the tree and a rope to get down from it. Would that description fit the man you saw in the castle dungeon?’

‘No, Ralph. He was not the killer.’

‘How can you be certain?’

‘Only a determined man would take the risk of climbing up here and hurling himself on someone passing below. Two robbers would find a much easier way to stop their victim and, as we both know, they would never let his horse get away. Apart from being a valuable prize, it might return to the man’s stables and alert the household.’

‘Which is exactly what it did.’

‘The prisoner at the castle was telling the truth.’

‘So who was our woodland assassin?’

‘Someone who was strong, fit and daring.’

‘With claws instead of fingernails.’

‘I just can’t explain these scratch marks,’ said Gervase. ‘Unless they were made by some animal at a different time and are unrelated to the ambush. But we have established one thing, Ralph.’

‘What’s that?’

‘How a single attacker gained the advantage over Nicholas Picard.’

‘The element of surprise?’

‘And the force of his descent.’

Gervase lifted a leg over the bough and hung with his arms at full stretch. Without warning, he suddenly dropped to the ground, missing Ralph by a matter of inches and sending the latter scrambling backwards in alarm. Gervase bent his knees to lessen the impact of the landing.

Ralph was indignant. ‘You almost hit me!’

‘That is how he did it.’

‘Putting the fear of death into a friend like that?’

‘No, Ralph,’ said Gervase, dusting himself off. ‘I think that he used that rope to swing down and knock the lord Nicholas from the saddle, then stunned him before slitting his throat.’

‘How did he know that his victim would ride this way?’

‘It is the only road that leads to his manor house.’

‘But how could he be sure that Nicholas Picard would be alone?’

‘Because he saw him enter the city,’ said Gervase. ‘Without an armed escort. Knowing that his victim would have to ride back through the wood on his own, he set up the ambush. We are looking for someone who is well acquainted with the lord Nicholas and his habits. This was no random attack, Ralph. Too much preparation was involved.’

‘What about the claw marks up there?’

Gervase rubbed his smoothly shaven chin while he ruminated.

‘They still puzzle me,’ he admitted.

It was an occasion for a gentler approach. Hervey de Marigny knew that there were times when subtlety achieved far better results than threat and abuse. Those were the weapons for which Baldwin the Sheriff first reached and they were not always the most effective ones against a seasoned knight like Walter Baderon. Softer words were needed.

‘Good even, friend,’ said de Marigny.

‘My lord.’

‘You have a long night ahead of you.’

‘Do not remind us!’ moaned Baderon. ‘While others may sleep in their beds, we have to stay on sentry duty here at the North Gate.’

‘I am surprised you do not fall asleep through boredom.’

‘It is an unwelcome duty.’

‘Whom do you serve?’

‘The abbot of Tavistock.’

‘A churlish gentlemen, I hear.’

‘But a good master,’ said the other loyally.

‘How long have you been with him?’

‘Nigh on fifteen years, my lord.’

‘Yet you still have to mount a guard here?’ said de Marigny.

‘After all that time, I would have thought you might have earned sufficient thanks from the abbot to be excused such onerous duty.’

‘We all have to take our turn.’

‘Is there nothing to liven up the long night hours?’

‘Liven them up, my lord?’

‘Come, sir,’ said de Marigny with a confiding chuckle. ‘I have done my share of standing on guard in the darkness. On cold nights, we had drink brought out to warm us up. In summer, we had a woman or two to help us pass the time. There is good sport to be had up against a wall.’

Walter Baderon sniggered. ‘We learned that long ago, my lord.’

‘Are the ladies of Exeter obliging?’

‘Very obliging.’

‘And not too costly?’

‘They will always do favours for a soldier.’

‘Especially a captain of the guard like yourself.’

‘I always have first pick.’

Hervey de Marigny laughed. He had sauntered out to the North Gate shortly after Baderon and his men relieved their predecessors on sentry duty. Before their stint even began, they looked jaded. Conversation with a visitor to the city was a pleasant relief. Walter Baderon fell into it without realising to whom he was talking.

‘You have my sympathy, friend,’ de Marigny went on, drawing attention once again to the common ground between the two of them.

‘Why, my lord?’

‘Exeter is not the most hospitable city for Normans.’

‘That is true!’

‘I was part of the army which besieged the place. These men of Devon are hostile and unforgiving. I would not turn my back on any of them.’

‘Nor me.’

‘Are you still resented and sneered at?’

‘Daily.’

‘We had more than harsh words hurled at us.’

‘We, too, have incidents from time to time,’ said Baderon, hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘It is usually when some Saxon youths have drunk too much of that foul ale they brew. They taunt us to build up their courage then draw their weapons.’

‘What do you do?’

‘Bang their heads together and send them home.’

‘No bloodshed?’

‘Not unless they really annoy me.’

They chatted on amiably, both of them keeping one eye on the traffic coming in and out of the gate. There was no hurry. The commissioner took time to win the man’s confidence. It would be worth it. They had been together for half an hour when de Marigny came round to the subject which brought him there.

‘Have they caught the villain yet?’ he asked.

‘What villain?’

‘The one who ambushed the lord Nicholas,’ he said casually. ‘I have only been in the city a few days but people talk of nothing else. They are certain that the victim was murdered by Saxons out of revenge.’

‘That may be so, my lord.’

‘Have any arrests been made?’

‘Word has it that two men were taken. One was killed but the other is being held in the castle dungeon.’

‘That is good to hear. Who was this Nicholas Picard?’

‘A baron of some substance.’

‘Buried here at the cathedral, I believe.’

‘That is so, my lord.’ His lip curled. ‘I dare swear that there was much weeping among the ladies at the graveside.’

‘Why so?’

‘The lord Nicholas was a very popular man.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Ladies came running and he did not turn them away.’

‘A man after my own heart!’

‘And mine, too!’

‘Yet struck down before his time.’

‘Alas, yes.’

‘When was this?’

‘A few days ago, my lord,’ said the other, ready to reveal his own part in the story. ‘He rode out past us that evening without noticing that we were here. I hailed him but got no reply. I remember thinking how wrapped up in his own thoughts he was.’

He gave a shrug. ‘Twenty minutes later, he was dead.’

‘Twenty minutes?’

‘It could not have taken him much longer to reach that wood.’

‘Unless he stopped on the way.’

‘He did not do that, my lord,’ said the other. ‘He was riding home.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

‘By the route that he took. I walked through the gate and watched him ride off until he was out of sight. From the moment he left the city, the lord Nicholas was doomed.’

‘Did anyone trail him?’

‘Nobody whom I saw.’

‘Then someone must have been lying in wait.’

‘So it seems.’

‘Resentful Saxons?’

‘Most like.’

‘Who else could have a reason to murder him?’

Baderon checked his reply at the moment it was about to leave his mouth, resorting instead to a shake of the head, but de Marigny did not let the matter go. He lifted an artless eyebrow.

‘So you recognised him when he left the city that night?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘How?’

‘Everyone knows — or knew — the lord Nicholas.’

‘Including the abbot of Tavistock? Did he know him?’

‘Only too well!’ came the rueful reply.

‘Oh?’

‘That is all I can tell you,’ said the other brusquely. ‘Except that the name of Nicholas Picard was not spoken with any affection in Tavistock.’

‘Abbots are famed for their generosity of spirit, are they not?

Why is your master an exception to the rule?’ When there was no answer, de Marigny shifted his ground slightly. ‘What of the lord Nicholas’s wife?’ he asked. ‘How did she view her husband?’

‘Lovingly.’

‘Yet you suggest that he was unfaithful to her.’

‘The lady Catherine accepted her lot without complaint.’

‘Might she not have resented her husband beneath the surface?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You do not sound convinced.’

‘The lady Catherine was a tolerant wife.’

‘You seem to know her well.’

‘Only by repute.’

‘Have you never met the lady?’

A long pause. ‘Once or twice.’

‘What was your opinion of her?’

‘It is not my place to have an opinion, my lord.’

‘Every man is entitled to an opinion where a woman is concerned. Was she beautiful or ill favoured? Tall or short? Happy or long-suffering? You must have some memory of her.’

‘The lady Catherine made an unfortunate marriage.’

The words slipped out quietly but they were all that Walter Baderon was prepared to say on the subject. There was no point in pressing him. He was on the defensive now. Affecting indifference, de Marigny turned to a discussion of the town’s fortifications.

‘Exeter was well-defended when we laid siege to it.’

‘Its defences are even stronger now, my lord.’

‘So I have observed. King William does not trust the men of Devon. When we took possession of the city, he not only ordered that the castle be rebuilt and extended, he made sure that the whole county was ringed with fortresses.’ He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘And that all of them were served by knights such as yourself.’

‘It is necessary work.’

‘And it has its moments of interest.’

‘Interest, my lord?’

‘You are a prime witness in a murder inquiry.’

‘Yes,’ said the other uncertainly.

‘Let us face it, my friend. You were probably the last person to speak to him. I doubt that his killer had much time for conversation. By being at your post on the night in question, you were in a unique position.’ He glanced at the gate. ‘You say that you watched the lord Nicholas until he disappeared from sight?’

‘I did.’

Hervey de Marigny smiled disarmingly. ‘Why?’ he asked.

When the town reeve arrived at the house, he was admitted by Eldred who gave him a nod of welcome before conducting him to the parlour. The servant remained long enough for the exchange of pleasantries between Saewin and Loretta, then withdrew silently. Loretta was seated at the little table. She waved her visitor to a stool opposite her. He perched uneasily on the edge of it, wondering why she had sent for him but feeling too abashed to ask. There was something about her which always induced a sense of exaggerated respect in him.

‘I saw you at the funeral,’ she began.

‘Yes, my lady. It was a harrowing occasion.’

‘For most of us, that is,’ she observed wryly, ‘The lord Nicholas’s widow did not seem harrowed. When my husband died, I was on the verge of collapse. The funeral was an ordeal from start to finish. That did not appear to be the case today. The lady Catherine was a robust mourner.’

‘Each of us grieves in his or her own way,’ he said.

‘I could not agree more, Saewin.’

‘She is a noble lady and bore her affliction with dignity.’

‘And what a terrible affliction it was!’ she said with a sharp intake of breath. ‘A dear husband, brutally murdered. It must have been a comfort to her to know that the sheriff had the culprit in his dungeon.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ he said evasively.

‘Are you hiding something from me?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then why do I get the impression that you are? At the funeral, they were all talking about the arrest of the two men responsible.

I overheard the details a dozen times. Are you telling me that they are not true?’

‘I know no more than you, my lady.’

‘Will the man be convicted and hanged?’

‘Probably.’

‘Good. Only then will the lady Catherine be able to mourn properly.’

‘There may be something in that.’

‘Oh, there is, Saewin. There is.’

He could never understand why she made him so uncomfortable.

It was not simply her extraordinary poise and natural authority.

When he dared to look at her with any degree of scrutiny, he could admire her mature beauty and her immaculate attire. There was nothing accidental about the lady Loretta. She took great pains with her appearance.

‘When will I be called to the shire hall?’ she asked.

‘Tomorrow, I believe.’

‘Has the decision not yet been made?’

‘It is a question of time, my lady,’ he explained. ‘The commissioners never know how much to allot to each person. It took them a whole day to examine the abbot of Tavistock and they are still not done with him. Tomorrow, the first claimant to be called is Engelric. Who can say how long he will keep them engaged?’

‘Engelric’s claim is ludicrous.’

‘They feel an obligation to hear it.’

‘Only to dismiss it summarily. Will I be the next to be heard?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘Who will precede me?’ His embarrassment was an answer in itself. ‘I see,’ she said crisply. ‘I have to give way to a person of her rank, do I?’

‘It is not a question of giving way.’

‘Is my claim considered to be inferior to hers?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘And inferior to that of Engelric?’

‘There is no significance in the order,’ he insisted. ‘If there were, then you should feel reassured for the last person to be summoned before the commissioners will be Tetbald the Steward.

That would suggest that the claimants are being questioned in a sequence of rising importance.’

There was a considered pause during which she studied his face and noted the obvious tension in his body. A smile which was intended to relax him instead made him feel even more unsettled.

‘How favourably did they look upon the abbot of Tavistock?’ she said.

‘The proceedings are held in private, my lady.’

‘You saw the abbot when he left and you must have gleaned something from their manner when the commissioners dispersed.

Was his claim felt to be a just one?’

‘They did not confide in me, my lady.’

‘You were there, Saewin. You must have some idea.’

‘The abbot departed in an angry mood, that is all I know.’

‘Then you have told me what I hoped to hear,’ she said calmly.

‘I’ll wager that Engelric will be sent on his way empty-handed as well. That means there are only two of us in contention.’

‘Three, my lady.’

‘I do not count her, ’ she said with scorn.

‘Nevertheless, Asa will be called before them.’

‘Then me.’

‘Then the lady Catherine’s steward.’

‘I have met Tetbald,’ she said with a look of distaste. ‘But tell me about these commissioners, Saewin. That is what I really wish to find out. What sort of men are they? Describe each one to me.’

He rubbed his palms nervously. ‘I am not able to do that, I fear.’

‘Why not?’

‘My office rests on my discretion.’

‘You are not being forced to be indiscreet,’ she argued. ‘I would never dream of placing you in such a position. Besides, what you tell me will go no further than these four walls.’ She leaned forward. ‘All I seek is a few facts. If I am to face these judges, I would like to know what awaits me.’

‘Decent men, well versed in their craft.’

‘They are led by Ralph Delchard, I understand?’

‘My lady …’

‘It is not a secret. Who is he?’ His hesitation irritated her. ‘Is it such an impossible favour that I ask?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps you should remember some of the favours I have done you and your kind, Saewin. Who brought the message to you earlier?’

‘Eldred.’

‘And who admitted you to my home?’

‘Eldred.’

‘I took him into service when nobody else would do so. And on whose recommendation, Saewin? Who brought Eldred to me?’

He lowered his head. ‘I did, my lady.’

‘You sought a favour for a fellow Saxon. I granted you that favour.’

‘Have you been disappointed in him?’

‘No, Eldred has been a loyal servant.’

‘Then I was in some sense doing you a favour, my lady.’

‘Do not try to twist your way out of this,’ she warned. ‘There is something else that you are forgetting, Saewin. Something which involved my husband. Do I need to jog your memory about that?’

He shook his head. ‘I am indebted to the lord Roger.’

‘I am glad that you remember it. There were many who felt the office of town reeve would be safer in Norman hands but my husband rated you highly. He argued strongly on your behalf, Saewin.’

‘I know.’

‘But for him, you would not hold your position. Is that not so?’

‘It is, my lady.’

‘Yet you still deny me?’

‘Not deliberately.’

‘Then why do I feel slighted?’ she said levelly. ‘Why do I feel insulted at having to ask in this way? Why do you betray my husband so?’

‘It is not betrayal, my lady.’

‘Then what is it?’

Saewin could no longer stay in his seat. Jumping to his feet, he turned away and walked up and down for a few moments, weighing up his options and trying to compose himself. Loretta watched him closely. When he finally turned to her, she gave him an expectant smile which melted all his resistance. He capitulated with great reluctance.

‘What do you wish to know, my lady?’ he asked.

When they returned to the castle, Baldwin was in the outer bailey, issuing orders to one of his men. Dismounting from their horses, Ralph and Gervase walked across to meet him. The sheriff’s greeting was polite but lacked any real warmth. His eye kindled with suspicion.

‘Where have you been?’ he said.

‘For a ride,’ replied Ralph.

‘In which direction?’

‘I forget, my lord sheriff. We simply wanted to get out of the city to breathe some clean air. Devon is a pretty county. We are sorry that we will not get to see much of it.’

‘Did you go to the wood?’

‘We may have done.’

‘What were you hoping to find there?’

‘Peace and quiet.’

‘Why waste your time?’ said Baldwin. ‘A man was murdered but his killer is now in custody. That is the end of the matter.’

‘Only if your prisoner is indeed the culprit,’ Gervase pointed out. ‘And I do not believe that he is, my lord sheriff.’

‘We have a confession from him.’

‘Oh?’

‘He lied to you but was forced to yield up the truth to us.’

Gervase did not wish to know any of the details. Under torture, the prisoner would have confessed to anything. He felt sorry for the man and was grateful that he had spoken with him before his spirit was broken. There was no point in arguing that he was innocent. Only the arrest of the real murderer would convince Baldwin that his prisoner did not kill Nicholas Picard, and they had little evidence on which to act so far. Gervase and Ralph were working on instinct but it had always served them well in the past. They had to bide their time.

‘I hear that you crossed swords with the abbot of Tavistock,’

said the sheriff with a grim chuckle. ‘He is a bellicose man when roused. I have had a few skirmishes with him myself.’

‘We still have bruises from our encounter with him,’ said Ralph.

‘He is a pugnacious Christian and no mistake!’

‘He presented his case well,’ said Gervase.

‘To what effect?’ asked Baldwin.

‘We will have to see, my lord sheriff. Four other claimants have to be heard before the abbot’s deposition can be weighed in the balance. This dispute will take some time to resolve.’

‘Surely not. The widow must inherit.’

‘It is not as straightforward as that.’

‘No,’ added Ralph. ‘We have three ladies, a battling abbot and a Saxon thegn in contention here. The property in question was problematical enough while the lord Nicholas was alive. His death has introduced even more complications. What surprises us,’ he continued, ‘is why such a wealthy and important man took so little account of his personal safety. To ride home alone at dusk was very foolhardy.’

‘He was a fearless man.’

‘Fear might have kept him alive.’

‘He was not to know that robbers lurked in the wood.’

‘It is a place where ambush is always a threat to a lone traveller.

What had he been doing in Exeter that made him so careless?’

‘I can answer that,’ said a voice behind them. ‘Dipping his pen in the ink of life, then signing his death warrant.’

They turned to see Berold the Jester. He had crept up behind them to eavesdrop on their conversation. Wearing a hauberk that was far too big for him, he was holding a sword that was absurdly short and garlanded with coloured ribbons. His eyes twinkled merrily either side of the iron nasal of his helm.

‘Have you been here so long and learned so little?’ he mocked.

‘About what?’ said Ralph.

‘The lascivious lord Nicholas. The wonder is that he was out of a woman’s arms long enough to get himself killed. Three women fight over his property but it was promised to thirty or more in the bedchamber.’

‘Do not listen to him,’ said Baldwin indulgently.

‘Nicholas Picard was led by the pizzle,’ said Berold, performing an obscene mime with the sword. ‘His brains were in his balls.’

‘Peace!’ warned his master.

‘He fooled many a husband in Exeter.’

‘Enough, I say!’

‘He was better at fooling than I am.’

‘Berold!’

‘Look to the ladies! That is my counsel.’

‘Leave us!’

‘The secret lies between a woman’s thighs. Remember that.

Nicholas Picard kept his prick hard.’

Before the sheriff could cuff him into silence, Berold jumped back, thumbed his nose at him, sheathed his sword then cartwheeled round the courtyard. Baldwin watched him with amusement.

‘Berold pops up when you least expect him.’

‘Is it true about the lord Nicholas?’ asked Ralph. ‘Was he such an amorous friend to the ladies?’

‘He was a handsome man, Ralph. Many favours came his way.

Who would not take advantage of such bounty?’

‘Gervase would not. He is betrothed.’

‘Nicholas Picard was married. That did not restrain him.’

‘Did his wife tolerate his wanderings?’

‘I think she was grateful for them,’ said Baldwin darkly. ‘But ignore what Berold told you. He always exaggerates. It goes with his trade. If he did not make me laugh so much, I would have thrown him out years ago.’ He turned on his heel and marched off towards the keep.

‘What do you make of that, Gervase?’ asked Ralph.

‘I think that the fool speaks more wisdom than his master.’

‘So do I. Nicholas Picard loved a sport which probably cost him his life.’ He grinned broadly. ‘When the good Bishop Osbern delivered his eulogy at the funeral, did he make mention of any of this?’

‘No, Ralph.’

‘I wonder why.’ He guffawed loudly as they strolled across the courtyard.

By the light of the candle, Asa stared at the letter but saw only the man who had written it. She ran the parchment softly against her cheek to savour his memory. Her tears had stopped now to be replaced by a dry-eyed nostalgia that was in turn buttressed by a quiet determination. Her letter was not only a treasured memento. It was a weapon with which to fight for her rights. An heirloom.

Asa had not stirred from her bedchamber since she returned from the funeral. Food and drink lay untouched on a tray beside her. She was deaf to the entreaties of her servant. The service at the cathedral had been a trial, but she endured it willingly for his sake. In an almost exclusively Norman gathering, Asa was an obvious outsider, a Saxon interloper who was made to feel the lowliness of her position, hurt by remarks, wounded by glances, insulted by gestures, disdained by all. It was worth it.

The letter wiped away all memory of the slights she had suffered.

She kissed it softly then caressed his signature.

Footsteps ascended the stairs then there was a tap on the door.

‘Yes?’ she called.

Goda entered and shut the door behind her. ‘You have a visitor.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Can you not guess?’

Her heart sank. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘What shall I tell him?’

‘That you found me asleep.’

‘He will have heard our voices.’

‘Then tell him that I am unwell.’

‘Will you not even speak with him?’

‘No, Goda. Send him away.’

‘But he is anxious to see you.’

‘Another time.’

‘He will not be pleased.’

‘I will live with his displeasure,’ said Asa with sudden anger.

‘Who does he think he is? I am not at his beck and call any time of the day. Has he forgotten where I was this morning? At a funeral service. I wish to mourn in private, Goda. I need to be alone.’

‘Shall I tell him to come back?’

‘Simply get him out of my house.’

‘It is not wise to offend him,’ warned the servant. ‘He can be helpful.’

Asa pursed her lips and nodded. ‘That is true, alas. My whole life turns on men who can be helpful to me. Say that I am unable to see him now,’ she continued. ‘Give him my apologies.’

‘When is he to call again?’

A sense of power coursed through Asa and made her smile.

‘When I send for him,’ she said airily.