The Elephants of Norwich (10 page)

Brother Joseph was a tall, slender, lugubrious man in his fifties who seemed to be carrying all the cares of the world on his stooping shoulders. As the sacristan of the abbey, he was responsible for the safety of its valuables and he looked upon the theft of the miniature elephants as the grossest failure on his part. No sooner had he met Ralph Delchard than he was apologising to the commissioner for the loss of the treasures. The three men were in the abbey church. Hands fluttering like a pair of renegade doves, the sacristan was showing the visitors the table on which the elephants had been displayed along with the abbey’s extensive stock of gold plate.
    ‘I’ll never forgive myself,’ he wailed. ‘Abbot Alfwold assures me that it was not my fault but I believe that it was. I should have taken more care.’
    ‘Where are your valuables normally kept?’ asked Ralph.
    ‘In a locked chest.’
    ‘Is that where they spent the night in question?’
    ‘No, my lord,’ said Joseph. ‘To my eternal shame, I left them on this table.’
    ‘Had you ever done so before?’
    ‘Many times. The one place you do not expect theft is inside an abbey, especially one as remote as this. Don’t you agree, Brother Daniel?’
    ‘Yes,’ said the monk. ‘It’s the same at Winchester. Gold plate, sacred vessels and holy relics are frequently set out yet are never under the slightest threat.’
    ‘When did you become aware of the theft?’ said Ralph.
    ‘Not until after Prime.’
    ‘Wasn’t that rather late, Brother Joseph?’
    ‘Horrendously late,’ confessed the other, wincing at the memory. ‘Had I noticed it at Matins or at Lauds, we could have taken swifter action.’
    ‘Only if the thief had already struck,’ argued Ralph. ‘The elephants might have been here during the first two services of the day then been taken before Prime.’
    ‘Not while we were all still in church, my lord. There’s no gap between Lauds and Prime. We don’t move from here.’
    ‘Perhaps not,’ ventured Daniel, ‘but you’d all be engrossed in prayer.’
    Joseph was shocked. ‘Not even the vilest thief would steal from us at a time like that, surely? It would be sacrilege.’
    ‘I don’t think this man is hoping to claim his reward in heaven,’ observed Ralph, tartly. ‘Though the abbot did hint at the possibility that he might already wear a cowl.’
    ‘That’s inconceivable.’
    ‘Is it?’
    ‘I simply can’t bring myself to accept that.’
    ‘Nor can I,’ said Daniel, loyally.
    Ralph was characteristically blunt. ‘I side with Abbot Alfwold. When a crime like this is committed,
everyone
must be under suspicion, regardless of whether or not he belongs to the Benedictine Order. After all,’ he said, indicating the table, ‘the monks go right past here in single file. Even with candles, it must be gloomy in here during Matins and Lauds. What would be easier than for one of your number to sweep up the elephants in his hand and put them into his scrip?’
    ‘No, my lord!’ protested Joseph.
    ‘What could he hope to gain?’ challenged Daniel. ‘Monks take a vow of poverty. Gold is no use to them here. There’s no motive, my lord.’
    Ralph shrugged. ‘Perhaps someone liked elephants.’
    ‘They were taken
out
of the abbey. That much we do know.’
    ‘Granted, but that doesn’t let the holy brothers off the hook. Who was better placed to know when and where the treasures would be on display? It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that one of the monks stole the elephants then passed them to a confederate outside the abbey.’
    ‘Such a thought appals me,’ said Joseph with a shudder.
    ‘Then let’s set it aside while we consider your theory.’
    ‘It’s more than a theory, my lord. It’s the only explanation.’ The sacristan gave an apologetic smile before relating his narrative. ‘On the night in question, three travellers were staying at the abbey. Two were pilgrims, on their way to Yarmouth to take ship. The other was a man named Starculf. He told us that he was a falconer, riding north to Lincoln to collect a peregrine for his master. Starculf hailed from an estate on the Suffolk coast. He’d been in the saddle for a whole day when he arrived at our gate.’
    ‘Who admitted him?’
    ‘The hospitaller. He had no call to turn him away.’
    ‘Did you meet this Starculf yourself?’
    ‘Yes, my lord. I’m not such a poor steward as you might think. Since the abbey’s valuables are under my protection, I make a point of talking to all our guests in case I sense that they are here for nefarious purposes.’
    ‘What did you think of Starculf?’
    ‘He seemed honest and open. I had no qualms.’
    ‘Until the following morning.’
    ‘He left before any of us really knew that he was gone.’
    ‘But not on the road to Lincoln,’ said Ralph. ‘He had a shorter journey ahead of him than that. Can you describe this man to us, Brother Joseph?’
    ‘I’ll never forget him,’ said the sacristan. ‘He was a short man of some thirty years or more. Stout and well built. He carried himself with confidence and was grateful for our hospitality.’ He gave another shudder. ‘Now I know why!’
    ‘You mentioned that two pilgrims also spent the night here.’
    ‘They joined us here in church for Prime.’
    ‘Were they still in the abbey when the theft was discovered?’
    ‘Yes, my lord. They were so upset that we might think them responsible that they offered to let us search their belongings. But there was no need,’ said Joseph. ‘All I had to do was to search their faces. They were no thieves.’
    ‘That brings us back to Starculf.’
    ‘We feel that it must have been him.’
    Ralph was puzzled. Starculf had been dismissed from the service of Richard de Fontenel and had every reason to hate his former master. If he had stolen the gold elephants, he would hardly have surrendered them to a man he loathed. There had to be some other explanation of how they came into the possession of de Fontenel. Was it possible that Starculf himself had been robbed of them? Or had he sold the treasures to a third person who made a handsome profit by passing them on to the man who wanted them as a wedding gift? It was evident that de Fontenel knew he was receiving stolen property. He had gone to some lengths to give the impression that the gold elephants had come from abroad. Ralph thought about the lady Adelaide. Pleased at the notion that her suitor had scoured the Continent on her behalf, she would be horrified to learn that he was giving her plunder from the abbey of St Benet.
    ‘How did you know that the elephants had been stolen, my lord?’ asked Joseph.
    ‘I picked up a rumour.’
    ‘From whom?’
    ‘I can’t remember,’ said Ralph, careful not to give too much information away. ‘It may have been from Richard de Fontenel. Do you know the man, Brother Joseph?’
    The monk grimaced. ‘Only by repute.’
    ‘Has the lord Richard ever visited the abbey?’
    ‘No,’ said the other firmly. ‘From what I hear, he has no interest in monastic houses. The lord Richard is not among our benefactors.’ He slipped his hands inside his sleeves. ‘How did he come to hear of our robbery?’
    ‘I’m not sure that he did,’ said Ralph, dismissively. ‘I may have caught wind of it from someone else. That’s why I came here today. I wanted to establish the facts. I don’t hold with theft, Brother Joseph,’ he added, hand on his sword hilt. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to see the elephants returned to the abbey.’
    ‘Thank you, my lord.’
    The sacristan followed him out of the church, showering him with gratitude. Ralph summoned his men and they mounted up to depart. Brother Joseph followed his visitors outside and waited until Ralph was in the saddle.
    ‘Will you be able to recover our little elephants, my lord?’ he asked.
    ‘If at all possible. To tell you the truth, I’d rather like to see them.’
    ‘Where will your search begin?’
    ‘With the man who gave them to the abbey in the first place.’
    ‘Jocelyn Vavasour?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘He sounds as if he might be a holy treasure himself.’

It took well over an hour to gather his men from the surrounding estates but Richard de Fontenel’s temper did not cool in the meantime. When fifteen armed men had answered his call, he mounted his horse and led them off at a canter. Impelled by the desire to strike at Mauger Livarot, he had no precise idea what form his action would take. At the very least, he intended to wreak havoc on his rival’s land, destroying crops, pulling down fences, even setting fire to barns or dwellings. Confrontation with Livarot himself was what he craved most, however, hoping to provoke him into a duel that he was confident of winning. Surprise was the crucial factor. As they thundered along the bone-hard track, de Fontenel prided himself on the suddenness of his attack. His enemy would be taken completely unawares. Livarot would not merely be humiliated – even killed in single combat – he would be lessened in the eyes of the lady Adelaide. It was de Fontenel who would assuredly rise in her esteem. His assault on his rival was also a road to marriage.
    But the road was unaccountably blocked. Cresting a hill, de Fontenel expected to lead his men down the incline to Mauger Livarot’s undefended manor house. The sight that confronted him and his troop made them bring their horses to a sharp halt. Waiting for them in front of the house were twice their number of men, armed and poised for a charge. Richard de Fontenel’s strategy paled in the face of resistance. Mauger Livarot was ready for him, inviting attack and sure of success. He gave a signal with a raised arm, then led his men forward at a trot until they were only twenty yards from the newcomers. Ordering them to halt, Livarot grinned at his visitors.
    ‘Did you want something, my lord?’ he taunted.
    ‘I’d like your head on a plate,’ said de Fontenel, glaring at him.
    ‘You’re welcome to come and take it.’
    ‘Don’t tempt me, Mauger.’
    ‘We outnumber you. Why not use what little brain you have and go home?’
    ‘You
knew
that we were coming. How?’
    ‘That’s my business.’
    ‘Who warned you?’ Richard de Fontenel drew his sword and was about to nudge his horse forward when he heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Looking to his left, he saw the sheriff riding round the angle of a copse with several of his men at his back. Roger Bigot took in the situation at a glance. He rode into the gap between the two rivals and reined in his horse, his men pulling up in a line behind him. Richard de Fontenel was startled by the appearance of the sheriff but Mauger Livarot was delighted.
    ‘Welcome, my lord sheriff!’ he said, smirking happily. ‘I’m glad that you got my message in time.’
    ‘What’s going on here?’ demanded Bigot.
    ‘We’re giving our knights a little exercise.’
    Bigot turned to de Fontenel. ‘You’re trespassing, my lord. Do you realise that?’
    ‘Stay out of this,’ was the surly reply. ‘It’s none of your business.’
    ‘Keeping the peace in this county is my business.’
    ‘That’s why I sent for you, my lord sheriff,’ said Livarot with false piety. ‘At least, one of us has a healthy respect for law and order.’
    ‘Disperse your men, Mauger.’
    ‘Gladly – when these interlopers have been driven off my land.’
    ‘Well?’ said Bigot, addressing de Fontenel. ‘What are you waiting for?’
    De Fontenel scowled. ‘I’ll be back!’
    ‘Not if you have any sense.’
    ‘Mauger killed my steward!’
    Bigot was calm. ‘Bring me the proof and I’ll arrest him for the crime. Cause any more trouble on his land, however, and I’ll be forced to arrest you instead. Is that clear, Richard?’ he said, his voice ringing with authority. ‘Nobody takes the law into his own hands while I hold the office of sheriff. Now, away with you!’
    Richard de Fontenel glowered at his rival, then looked back at the sheriff. Roger Bigot was a man of his word. Further provocation would be foolish. With a snort of disgust, de Fontenel swung his horse round and dug his spurs into its flanks. He went galloping all over the crest of the hill with his men, enraged, frustrated and outmanoeuvred by the rival he had come to punish. It was a long and cheerless ride back to his home.

It was mid-evening by the time Gervase Bret and Eustace Coureton rode back into the bailey of Norwich Castle. Their return journey had been spent in a long discussion about the value of their visit to the combative Olova. The men disagreed. Gervase, who had spoken to her in her own language, felt a natural sympathy for the woman and was inclined to accept her word. Coureton, however, relying on her manner and gestures to form an opinion of her, was a little more sceptical.
    ‘I think it was deliberate, Gervase,’ he said.
    ‘What was?’
    ‘Inviting us into her house like that so that her grandson could eavesdrop outside.’
    ‘There was nothing sinister about that,’ said Gervase. ‘Skalp was simply making sure that no harm came to Olova. Besides, what did he hear? We were hardly giving away any great secrets inside that hut.’
    ‘I distrusted him.’
    ‘Not as much as Skalp distrusted us, my lord.’
    ‘He was a truculent character. Just like his grandmother.’
    ‘I dare say that Olova wasn’t quite so truculent when she was the wife of a thegn with appreciable holdings in the county. She was a dignified lady then,’ he said, recalling the proud way she bore herself. ‘The Conquest changed her life completely.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Coureton. ‘It brought Richard de Fontenel into her life.’
    ‘And Hermer the Steward. She had nothing but scorn for him.’
    ‘I couldn’t understand why, Gervase.’
    ‘Nor me,’ confessed the other, ‘but it seemed to have something to do with Hermer’s fondness for women. I didn’t see any there apart from Olova. Did you?’
    ‘No, but they probably went into hiding when they saw us coming.’
    ‘Why should they do that?’ wondered Gervase.
    When their horses had been stabled, they made their way to the keep and went off to their separate apartments. Alys was dozing on the bed when her husband entered but awoke at once, sweeping aside his apologies for disturbing her and insisting that she was just taking a short nap. As she talked about how she and Golde had spent the afternoon, she was bright-eyed and animated. It was Gervase who had to suppress an occasional yawn, feeling a slow fatigue settling in. He gave her only the briefest outline of his visit to Olova.
    ‘She wasn’t exactly pleased to see us,’ he admitted.
    ‘It was like that in the market this morning. Pure resentment.’
    ‘I didn’t blame her, Alys. In her position, I’d have harboured a grudge.’
    ‘No, you wouldn’t. It’s simply not in your nature.’
    ‘Oh, I bear a grudge from time to time.’
    She was hurt. ‘Not about me, I hope?’
    ‘Of course not. You’d never give me the slightest cause.’
    ‘Is that the truth?’
    ‘You know it is,’ he assured her. ‘Why do you think I agreed that you should come with me to Norfolk? I wanted you there at the end of the day, Alys. And first thing in the morning as well.’
    ‘What about the time in between?’ she asked with a smile.
    ‘Any time spent with you is pure joy.’
    She gave him a kiss on the lips. ‘Thank you.’
    Though he embraced her warmly, his mind was not entirely on his wife. Gervase was still remembering his talk with Olova, wondering if he might have got more out of the awkward old woman if he had taken Brother Daniel with him instead of Eustace Coureton. It was the sight of Norman soldiers in helm and hauberk that rankled with her. Gervase had the feeling that Hermer the Steward might have visited her in the past with an armed escort. Intimidation was patently a weapon he had often used. Cowed by his master, it was he who became the bully when dealing with others.
    ‘We’re bidden to the hall whenever we’re ready,’ said Alys, giving him a playful push when he failed to reply. ‘You’re not listening to me, Gervase!’
    ‘Yes, I am.’
    ‘What did I say?’
    ‘Something about the hall.’
    ‘You didn’t hear me, did you?’
    ‘Yes, I did.’
    ‘You were miles away.’ Pretending to be upset, she stalked across to the window and stared out. Gervase went up to put his arms around her waist, nestling his head into her wimple.
    ‘I’m sorry, Alys.’
    ‘Are you?’ she asked, pouting.
    ‘I’m back with my wife now, I promise.’
    ‘You’re not the only one.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Look down there,’ she said, pointing to the bailey. ‘Ralph has just ridden in through the gate with Brother Daniel. Golde is there to welcome them.’
    Gervase gazed over her shoulder to watch the reunion down below. Ralph dismounted to collect a kiss from his wife then walked towards the keep with an arm around her. There was a decided jauntiness in his step.
    Alys smiled approvingly. ‘He’s pleased to see Golde again.’
    ‘That’s not the only reason he’s in such good spirits,’ said Gervase, reading his colleague’s manner and movement. ‘His visit was more profitable than ours. He found out something important at the abbey of St Benet. I wonder what it was.’

Mauger Livarot, dining alone at his manor house, sat back in his chair and drank the remains of the wine. When he set the cup down on the table, he was still grinning broadly. The steward stood a few yards away, smiling obsequiously and rubbing his palms together. Livarot went off into a sudden peal of laughter.
    ‘The look on his face was a joy to behold, Drogo,’ he recalled.
    ‘I’m sure it was, my lord.’
    ‘Richard de Fontenel thought that he’d take me by surprise and instead he found us ready and waiting. We’d even alerted the lord sheriff to the prospect of trouble.’
    ‘Forewarned is forearmed,’ said his steward.
    ‘Yes, your man did well.’
    ‘That’s what I told him.’
    ‘Give him a just reward.’
    ‘I already have, my lord. He earned it.’
    ‘It’s just as well the lord Richard is too stupid to realise that we have a spy in his house. You picked exactly the right man for the job, Drogo.’
    ‘He misses nothing.’
    ‘The fellow has been worth his weight in gold.’
    ‘Just like those two elephants.’
    They shared a throaty laugh, then Livarot became serious. He beckoned his companion closer. After biting hungrily at a leg of chicken, he tossed it aside, chewed noisily and spoke through a full mouth. ‘I want those miniature elephants.’
    ‘Why, my lord?’
    ‘Never you mind. Just get them for me.’
    ‘But how?’ said Drogo, alarmed. ‘I’ve no idea where they are.’
    ‘Then you’ll have to conduct a search, won’t you? It’s crucial that I get my hands on them before the lord Richard does. Then I can put them to the purpose for which he acquired them,’ said Livarot, swallowing the last of the chicken. ‘That will give me the utmost satisfaction. To use his own bait in the trap.’
    ‘Trap, my lord?’
    ‘A personal matter between the lord Richard and me.’ He poured more wine from the jug and sipped it. ‘Find out where those gold elephants are, Drogo.’
    ‘That won’t be easy.’
    ‘I didn’t say that it would be.’
    ‘The lord sheriff has failed to track them down so far.’
    ‘That’s all to the good,’ said Livarot. ‘If he recovers them, he’ll only give them back to the one man who must never set eyes on them again. They must belong to me.’
    Drogo was anxious. ‘Have you ever seen them, my lord?’
    ‘No, but I’ve seen the effect they have.’
    ‘How big are they?’
    ‘Who knows?’
    ‘Could you give me a detailed description?’ asked the steward.
    ‘No, I can’t.’
    ‘That complicates matters. It will be even more difficult searching for something when I have no idea what it looks like.’
    ‘They’re elephants, man. Two small, smooth, shiny gold elephants.’
    ‘That doesn’t help me. I’ve never seen such an animal.’
    ‘Well, you’d better make sure that you see one now,’ said Livarot, shooting him a warning glance. ‘Two of them, to be exact. This is not an idle request, Drogo. It’s an order. And it takes precedence over everything else.’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    ‘Use the man you have at the castle. That’s the best place to start.’
    ‘I’ll get word to him this evening.’
    ‘Roger Bigot may not be able to track down the missing elephants but Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret might. They’ve sharper noses to sniff a trail,’ he said with grudging admiration. ‘Follow them, Drogo. They’ll lead you to the elephants.’
    ‘Will they?’
    ‘If anyone can find those beasts, they can.’
    ‘I hope so, my lord.’
    ‘All you have to do is to make sure that you grab them first.’
    The steward looked doubtful. Livarot took another swig of his wine. ‘Take care,’ he said, raising a finger. ‘This means a lot to me. Get me those two gold elephants and you’ll be richly rewarded. Fail me,’ he added, menacingly, ‘and I may be looking for a new steward. Now, off with you!’

The feast was not as lavish as the banquet on the previous evening but it was still much larger and more appetising than any meal the commissioners would normally have enjoyed. The cooks who toiled in the castle kitchen had mastered all the arts of choosing and preparing food. Venison was the main dish, garnished with a delicious sauce and served with a selection of vegetables. Wine and ale flowed freely. Roger Bigot and his wife entertained their guests in the hall, controlling the arrival of each course with a series of unobtrusive signals. Minstrels played at the far end of the room. Dozens of candles burned brightly. Famished after his long ride, Brother Daniel accepted the invitation to join his colleagues and he ate as heartily as any of them. Eustace Coureton was delighted to be seated next to the monk, enabling him to talk in Latin and to quote his favourite Roman authors. Daniel was responding with whole paragraphs from St Augustine’s
De Civitate Dei
.
    Disappointed that the lady Adelaide was not present, Ralph Delchard enjoyed the occasion immensely, moving easily from inconsequential chatter to a discussion of more serious topics. He was fascinated to hear of the sheriff’s intervention in the threatened outbreak of violence between Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot, but the real value of the evening lay in the fact that he was seated beside Gervase Bret and thus able to exchange information about their respective visits that day. At the mention of a certain name, Gervase sat up with interest.
    ‘Jocelyn Vavasour?’ he repeated.
    ‘He was the man who presented the gold elephants to the abbey in the first place and started all this trouble. Apparently, he’s become an anchorite.’
    ‘I wondered what happened to him.’
    ‘You know the man?’
    ‘Only through my study of the returns from this county,’ said Gervase, making an effort to recall the salient details. ‘His name appeared time and time again. At one point, Jocelyn Vavasour had a number of holdings in the county, then seemed to lose them all.’
    ‘He gave them away, Gervase.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Madness.’
    ‘That’s your way of saying that he wanted to live a more spiritual life.’
    ‘What’s to prevent a man from owning property
and
having religious impulses?’
    ‘Try reading the Bible,’ advised his friend.
    ‘The lord Jocelyn gave everything away.’
    ‘Not quite everything,’ said Gervase, brow furrowed with thought. ‘If memory serves me, he retained one of his outliers. A small acreage in the hundred of Holt, to the north of here.’
    ‘Then that’s where we might find him.’
    ‘Possibly. I can’t think why else he should keep that patch of land.’
    ‘I’ll search for him tomorrow.’
    ‘Take a boat with you, Ralph.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘It’s a coastal property,’ explained Gervase. ‘My guess is that it’s more water than land. In short, an ideal place for a hermit to live and to commune with God.’
    Ralph frowned. ‘I saw enough water on the way to the abbey.’
    ‘Would you rather I went in search of the lord Jocelyn?’
    ‘No, Gervase. He’s mine. We have the same background. I want to know why a man who fought hard for everything he has tosses it foolishly away instead of settling down on his estate with a beautiful wife.’ He looked fondly at Golde. ‘As I’ve done.’
    ‘There’s a simple answer to that.’
    ‘Is there?’
    ‘You were lucky enough to meet Golde before he did,’ Gervase pointed out, mischievously. Ralph laughed appreciatively. ‘By the way,’ Gervase went on, ‘did you tell Abbot Alfwold that the missing elephants turned up in the lord Richard’s hands?’
    ‘No, I thought it better to say nothing.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I had no proof that the lord Richard was behind the theft. If I’d mentioned him as a potential suspect, the abbot would probably have sent word to the bishop, inciting him to take action. That would have confused matters even more.’
    ‘Yes,’ sighed Gervase. ‘The last thing we want is for Bishop William de Bello Fargo to come charging up here from Thetford to join in the hunt. He’d only get in our way and put the lord Richard on the defensive.’
    ‘That was my reasoning,’ said Ralph. ‘We also kept Brother Joseph, the sacristan, ignorant of what we knew though I floated the name of the lord Richard past his anxious eyes. It’s curious, Gervase. I never thought I’d feel sorry for anyone inside an abbey but I was overwhelmed with sympathy for poor Brother Joseph. He’s positively writhing with guilt.’
    ‘The kindest thing we can do is to return the elephants to him.’
    ‘As soon as possible.’
    ‘But you want to speak to Jocelyn Vavasour first.’
    ‘I’ll go in search of him at first light.’
    Ralph turned to look up the table at his host. Roger Bigot was just breaking off a conversation with Alys in order to wave to the minstrels. They struck up a more lively tune and the sheriff nodded his approval. Ralph caught his eye.
    ‘Perhaps you could help us, my lord sheriff,’ he said.
    ‘Gladly.’
    ‘You must have heard of one Jocelyn Vavasour?’
    ‘Heard of him and known him, my lord,’ said Bigot with admiration. ‘I fought alongside him more than once. He was a doughty soldier, brave and loyal. But if you wish to know about Jocelyn Vavasour, the man to ask is the lord Ivo.’
    ‘Ivo Tallboys?’
    ‘The same. It was he who commanded the siege of Hereward the Wake in the fen county. Jocelyn Vavasour was one of his ablest lieutenants. I remember the lord Ivo telling me how valuable an asset he was. Jocelyn Vavasour knew the fens almost as well as Hereward. He was completely at home there.’
    ‘That settles it!’
    ‘Settles what?’
    ‘The location of his refuge. He’s probably hiding in the marshes.’
    ‘That’s very likely,’ agreed Bigot. ‘A second Hereward.’
    ‘I hope I don’t have to lay siege to the lord Jocelyn.’
    ‘He’s known by another name now.’
    ‘Vavasour the Madman?’
    ‘No,’ said Bigot, solemnly. ‘Jocelyn the Anchorite.’