The Elephants of Norwich (5 page)

Impervious to the discomfort Brother Daniel knelt at the altar rail in the chapel for a long time and offered up prayers for the soul of the dead man. Since he had discovered the corpse he felt a personal responsibility towards Hermer the Steward even though he had never met him. When he finally got up, genuflected and turned, he was astonished to see Eustace Coureton waiting patiently for him at the rear of the nave.     ‘How long have you been there, my lord?’ he asked.
    ‘Long enough to appreciate how devout you are, Brother Daniel.’
    ‘I wasn’t only prompted by devotion. To be honest, I went down on my knees in abject fear. I asked God to send me the courage to face this horror. For that is what it was, my lord,’ he admitted. ‘When I looked into the eyes of the dead man, I felt the cold hand of mortality gripping me by the throat.’
    ‘A natural reaction,’ said Coureton easily. ‘We all feel like that when we look upon violent death for the first time. As a soldier, I, alas, grew hardened to such sights. There’s nothing as sickening as a walk across a battlefield that’s strewn with corpses. Man’s inhumanity to man is writ largest there. Yet I did it without a tremor eventually. I knew that life must go on.’
    ‘That’s why I feel so guilty.’
    ‘Guilty?’
    ‘He lay dead at my feet, I was still alive.’
    ‘Thank the Almighty for your good fortune.’
    ‘I did, my lord. Several times.’
    ‘Then you’ve no cause to be troubled by guilt.’
    ‘So why does my conscience plague me?’
    ‘I don’t know, Brother Daniel.’
    ‘My head is still pounding.’
    ‘Rest awhile,’ said the other, lowering him on to a bench and sitting beside him. ‘You need time to come to terms with what you saw.’
    In the short time they had known each other, Eustace Coureton had grown fond of the monk. Brother Daniel was a congenial member of the party, intelligent, willing and quick to learn, but on the long road from Winchester, when the two men had enjoyed several conversations together, Coureton had detected a more sensitive side to his friend. Behind the amiability and the spiritual exuberance was a decided vulnerability. Hearing of Daniel’s unwitting discovery of the murder victim, Coureton had guessed that the monk would be duly appalled by the experience and might welcome a friendly face, and it was for this reason that he sought him out in the chapel.
    Daniel spoke in a whisper. ‘When one of the holy brothers passed away at the abbey it was always a peaceful event. Sadness was tinged with relief that the departed would be going to a far happier station than they had enjoyed on earth. But not in this case, my lord.’
    ‘I know. Gervase Bret gave me the details.’
    ‘It was a ghastly sight. I’ll never forget it.’
    ‘Yes, you will,’ said Coureton soothingly. ‘Time is considerate towards us. It suppresses darker memories. I knew that you’d be shaken by the ordeal and repair to the chapel. That’s why I came to find you.’
    ‘I’m grateful for your kindness, my lord.’
    ‘You shouldn’t be left alone. Come and join us, Brother Daniel.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘In the hall.’
    The monk was amazed. ‘The banquet is still being held?’
    ‘It begins very soon.’
    ‘How can anyone enjoy a feast when a foul murder hangs over us?’
    ‘In the circumstances, I don’t think there’ll be much enjoyment, but the banquet had to go forth. It was too late to abandon it. Besides,’ he said, philosophically, ‘we have to keep body and soul together. Even a monk must eat and drink.’
    ‘I lack any appetite.’
    ‘Then at least sit with us in the hall. Company will distract you.’
    ‘It’s more likely to sadden me, my lord,’ said Daniel. ‘Don’t worry about me. You go to the banquet with the other guests. I’m only a humble scribe. I don’t really belong there. The chaplain has invited me to share more homely fare with him, so I’ll have someone to comfort me.’
    ‘What will you do after that?’
    ‘Come back here to pray once more.’
    Coureton gave a tired smile. ‘Who knows? I may even join you.’
    ‘You’ll be too busy sleeping off the effects of too much wine,’ said Daniel with a flash of his old spirit. ‘I don’t begrudge you that. Drink a cup for me – but raise another for Hermer the Steward.’
    ‘We’ll all do that, Brother Daniel.’
    ‘Do the ladies know of the murder?’
    ‘It would be impossible to keep it from them.’
    ‘I hope that they’re not too distressed. The lady Golde is robust enough to cope with such grim tidings but Master Bret’s wife is a more delicate creature.’
    ‘I fancy that she may be tougher than she appears.’
    ‘You probably thought the same about me, my lord,’ said the monk with a self-deprecating shrug. ‘Yet look at me now. Cowering in the chapel because I stumbled upon a corpse.’
    ‘There’s rather more to it than that.’
    ‘Is there?’
    ‘Yes, Brother Daniel,’ explained the other. ‘To begin with, what you found was a mutilated body that turned your stomach. You were bound to turn to God for support. Then again, you may have made a critical discovery that will simplify our work here.’
    ‘In what way, my lord?’
    ‘Hermer the Steward was set to be a crucial witness in the major dispute we’ve come to witness. Alive, he would have been vital to his master’s chances of success.’
    ‘And dead?’
    ‘He becomes a key that may unlock the door to the truth. A grotesque truth at that. It’s small consolation to you, I know,’ Coureton said with a hand on the monk’s shoulder, ‘but your walk outside the castle may have been providential. In finding that dead body, you did us a kind of favour.’

The banquet was a muted affair. Fine wine and delicious food were served but they were consumed without any relish. News of the murder hung over the occasion like a pall and, though few people discussed the details, all of them had the crime very firmly in their minds. The long table in the hall was presided over by Roger Bigot and his wife, Matilda, a handsome woman in rich apparel who did everything with a natural grace, but not even her smiling affability could put the guests at their ease. Apart from the three commissioners and the two attendant wives, over a dozen others had been invited to dine at the sheriff’s table and they had been chosen with care. Both Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot had been passed over because they were implicated in one of the disputes that Ralph Delchard and his colleagues had come to settle and they would, in any case, be fractious guests if forced to take part in a feast together. Others who might try to curry favour with the commissioners because they, too, would appear before them at the shire hall in due course were also excluded from the guest list.
    Those who remained were Norman barons of some standing in the county, outwardly eager to hear of affairs in Winchester, the nation’s capital, yet inwardly suspicious of royal agents whose remit included the imposition of taxes. The men were cautious, their wives largely subdued. Nobody dared to offend the commissioners. Sporadic laughter echoed along the hall but it often had a hollow ring to it. Eustace Coureton took more pleasure from the evening than most, talking volubly to those around him and seizing the opportunity to learn as much as he could about the county to which they had been sent. The discovery of a murder victim did not diminish his appetite in the least. He set about his food with a gusto worthy of Canon Hubert and visibly lifted the jaded spirits of his neighbours with his military anecdotes.
    Gervase Bret looked at his colleague with envy, wishing that he had Coureton’s ability to put an horrific event aside in the interests of social decorum. Memories of his visit to the empty house inhibited Gervase. He ate little, drank sparingly and spent most of the time keeping a worried eye on his wife who, dismayed at the tidings, had lost what appetite she possessed and merely picked at her food out of politeness. Gervase regretted having told her about the crime but it was not something he could easily keep from her and he preferred to give his own carefully doctored version of events before she heard the details from anyone else. Though unable to savour the banquet, Alys nevertheless slowly came to take some enjoyment from it, feeling increasingly relaxed in the company of strangers and shooting her husband affectionate glances whenever she felt a surge of pride. The banquet was, after all, being held partly in his honour and that gave her an associated status. Alys warmed to the new sensation of importance.
    She was not able to match Golde’s aplomb. Seated beside the sheriff, Golde held her own as if born to the situation, speaking to him in his native tongue with a fluency schooled by her husband. She was lively, attentive and well informed. Roger Bigot and his wife were entertained by her comments and struck by her strong opinions on all manner of subjects. Ralph Delchard did not need to support her in any way. Golde’s ability to sustain an intelligent conversation liberated him to pay attention to the guest on his immediate right. Apart from being one of the most attractive women in the room, the lady Adelaide was a central figure in the feud between the two most prominent Norman lords in the vicinity. Ralph attempted some gentle probing.
    ‘You were married to Geoffrey Molyneux, I believe,’ he said.
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ she replied softly. ‘Happily married for several years.’
    ‘His family lived not far from Lisieux.’
    ‘You knew them?’
    ‘Only as distant neighbours. I grew up on the other side of Lisieux and inherited my father’s estates when he died. Had I gone back to Normandy, I might well have met your husband, but there was a huge obstacle to overcome.’
    ‘Obstacle?’
    ‘Yes, my lady,’ said Ralph, grimacing. ‘The English Channel.’
    She gave a brittle laugh. ‘You’re no sailor, I take it.’
    ‘The sea terrifies me. I’m a soldier. I like dry land beneath my feet. That’s why I rarely return to Normandy. I’ve promised to take my wife, Golde, there one day but I’m not sure if that promise will ever be honoured.’
    ‘Shame on you, my lord!’ she teased.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘A husband should never let his wife down.’
    ‘Even when it would spare him great distress?’
    ‘Especially then,’ she argued, good-naturedly. ‘It’s a sign of true love to endure distress for someone else’s sake. Your wife would be duly grateful.’
    ‘I doubt that she could summon up much gratitude if she saw her loving husband leaning over the side of the boat throughout the voyage. But you raise an interesting point about marital promises, my lady,’ he said, artlessly. ‘Should they be fulfilled only if they’re freely given by the husband, or if they’re extracted deliberately by the wife?’
    ‘In both cases.’
    ‘Did you keep your own husband to that rule?’
    ‘There was no need, my lord. He spoiled me wonderfully.’
    ‘Is that what you look for in a husband? Someone who’ll spoil you?’
    ‘I’d need to be loved and cherished first.’
    ‘Few men could resist doing either for you,’ he said, gallantly. ‘The wonder is that you’ve remained a widow for so long. You must fight off suitors in droves.’
    ‘One or two, perhaps.’
    ‘You’re being too modest, my lady.’
    ‘Am I?’
    ‘Every man in the room has been staring at you.’
    ‘But they’re all married. They stare without consequence.’
    ‘Only because it gives them so much harmless pleasure. But there must be enough single men in Norfolk to make up a posse. If I were not wed, I’d be among them.’
    ‘No woman wishes to be hunted by a pack.’
    ‘Then you must pick out a favourite. Who will it be?’
    ‘Why not ask the lord sheriff?’ she said meaningfully. ‘I can see that you’ve already discussed my marital prospects with him. It’s one of the penalties of becoming a widow. No sooner is one husband consigned to his grave than everyone wonders who will follow him. I’m surprised that a royal commissioner should take an interest in such pointless tittle-tattle.’
    Ralph backed off. ‘Accept my apologies,’ he said, penitently.
    ‘I’m not offended, my lord.’
    ‘You’ve every right to be. I should mind my own business.’
    ‘I’d agree with that,’ she said with a cold smile.’
    ‘You see? I did upset you.’
    ‘It will take a lot more than that to upset me.’
    A servant came between them to refill her cup with wine. When the man stood back, Ralph saw that the lady Adelaide was talking deliberately to the man on her other side and he chided himself for being too inquisitive. He had learned something about her character but nothing at all about the competing claims of her two suitors. Ralph was still wondering which of the men would finally lure her into marriage when one of the contenders made a dramatic appearance.
    Throwing open the door, a furious Richard de Fontenel came marching down the hall to stand accusingly in front of the sheriff. Servants froze in their positions and the buzz of conversation died instantly. Everyone turned to look at the enraged intruder. He gazed at the banquet with utter disgust before pointing directly at the host.
    ‘So this is where you are, my lord sheriff!’ he shouted. ‘My steward is savagely murdered and all you can do is fill your belly. Perform the office that’s required of you,’ he said, banging the table with a fist for emphasis. ‘Arrest the lord Mauger –
now
!’
    The festivities were at an end.

Covered with a shroud, the body lay on a stone slab in the morgue. Although it was a warm evening outside, there was an abiding chill in the air and Ralph Delchard gave a slight shiver as he followed the sheriff and his turbulent guest into the chamber. Richard de Fontenel was more restrained, cowed by a rebuke from Bigot and showing a respect for the dead now that he was on hallowed ground. Darkness was closing in on the castle and what little natural light penetrated the morgue was now spent. The dancing flame of a single large candle illumined the scene. Hermer somehow looked much smaller than when alive, a shapeless lump beneath the shroud. Herbs had been used to sweeten the smell of decay but it still invaded their nostrils. At the sheriff’s invitation, de Fontenel stepped forward to tug back the shroud. A gasp escaped his lips. The body had been washed and most of the wounds had been bound up, but the corpse was still repulsive to behold. After taking a quick inventory, de Fontenel covered his steward up again.
    ‘What happened to his hands?’ he asked.
    ‘They were not found with the body,’ said Bigot.
    ‘Hacked off?’
    ‘Presumably, my lord.’
    ‘But why?’
    ‘I was hoping that you might suggest an answer.’
    ‘It’s needless butchery.’
    ‘Can you think why someone would wish to commit it?’
    ‘You know what I think, my lord sheriff,’ growled the other.
    He lifted the shroud again to take another look at Hermer’s face. Ralph studied his reaction. He and Gervase had visited the morgue earlier to scrutinise the body in the hope of finding that telltale evidence had been revealed by its tending. Neither of them had ever met the steward yet they treated his corpse with a reverence they felt appropriate. There was nothing reverent about de Fontenel’s perusal. As he gazed down at the bruised face for the second time, he might have been appraising some rotten food served up to him by mistake. Ralph saw no hint of grief, still less of affection. He was grateful that the sheriff had asked him to accompany them. It meant that he was able to lend support to his host and take the measure of a man whose extraordinary behaviour had interrupted the banquet in the hall. Richard de Fontenel did not endear himself to the commissioner.
    ‘Let’s get out of here,’ the visitor said, flicking the shroud back into place. ‘I’ve seen all that I need to of Hermer.’
    ‘What will you do with the body?’ said Bigot.
    ‘Take it back with us. My men have brought a cart for the purpose. Hermer will be buried in the local church. And soon,’ he added. ‘Before that stink grows worse.’
    ‘Death is never fragrant, my lord,’ observed Ralph.
    Ignoring the remark, de Fontenel led the way out. When all three of them stepped back into the fresh air, they saw torches burning in the bailey. The last of the guests were leaving the castle. Roger Bigot now gave vent to his own anger.
    ‘I’ve indulged you far enough,’ he said, sharply. ‘It’s time for recompense.’
    ‘I owe you nothing, my lord sheriff.’
    ‘An apology is the least that you could offer,’ prompted Ralph.
    The visitor rounded on him. ‘Who asked you for your opinion?’
    ‘Nobody. I offer it of my own free will.’
    ‘Then I treat your advice with the contempt it merits.’
    ‘Don’t insult my guest,’ warned Bigot. ‘I’ll have no more of that.’
    ‘Then tell the lord Ralph to hold his tongue.’
    ‘Tell me yourself,’ said Ralph, squaring up to him. ‘If you dare.’
    ‘I’d dare more than that,’ asserted de Fontenel, truculently.
    ‘Would you?’
    Their eyes locked in a silent tussle. Richard de Fontenel was smouldering but caution slowly got the better of anger. Ralph’s stare was calm but steadfast, conveying a challenge that was too daunting for his adversary to take up. The fact that he was a royal commissioner also had to be weighed in the balance. If rough hands were laid upon his agent, the King himself would come in search of the malefactor. It was Richard de Fontenel who eventually gave way and averted his gaze. The sheriff issued a stinging reproach to his uninvited guest.
    ‘Take care, my lord,’ he said, confronting him. ‘Offend anyone else beneath my roof and you’ll pay dearly. The banquet you so rudely interrupted this evening was held in honour of important visitors. It was arranged days ago and could not be cancelled at the last moment because of a sad turn of events. No disrespect was being offered to your steward. As you saw, his body was treated with care and respect. Its very presence in the morgue ensured that little merriment took place in my hall this evening.’
    ‘I can vouch for that,’ Ralph confirmed.
    ‘There was no excuse at all for your boorish behaviour,’ continued Bigot, glaring at de Fontenel. ‘It disgusted me, upset my wife and outraged my guests. While I’m sheriff here, I’ll obey nobody’s wild demands. Mark that well, my lord. The next time you ride unbidden into my castle with a troop of men at your back, I’ll have each one of you clapped in irons. Is that understood?’
    ‘Yes,’ murmured the other.
    ‘Speak up, man!’
    ‘Yes, my lord sheriff. I was perhaps a little intemperate.’
    ‘Is that all you have to say?’
    Richard de Fontenel shifted his feet and threw a hostile glance at Ralph, annoyed that he was being reprimanded in front of the commissioner and reluctant to yield up the apology that was being asked of him. Cold facts had to be accepted, however. In the county of Norfolk, the power of the sheriff was paramount. It was backed by the King’s own writ and it was fatal to violate that.
    ‘I crave your forgiveness, my lord sheriff,’ he said at length.
    Bigot was brusque. ‘Some things are unpardonable.’
    ‘I was crazed by the news about my steward.’
    ‘That’s not how my deputy viewed your response. Olivier tells me that you seemed more concerned about the loss of your gold elephants than you did about the murder of your steward. Have you no loyalty to the men you employ?’
    ‘I’m their master,’ retorted the other. ‘It’s they who owe loyalty to me.’
    ‘What sort of man was Hermer?’ asked Ralph.
    ‘A good one until he was corrupted by Mauger.’
    ‘You’ve firm proof of that, my lord?’
    ‘I will have,’ vowed de Fontenel. ‘When I shake the truth out of him.’
    ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,’ said Bigot, peremptorily. ‘The lord Mauger is under my protection. I’ll conduct any interrogation that is called for and I’ll do so at my own discretion. I’ll not be stampeded into action by you.’
    ‘Besides,’ said Ralph, mischievously, ‘if memory serves me aright, the lord Mauger has more knights at his beck and call than you. If you try to threaten him, he’ll beat you all the way back to your manor house.’
    ‘There’ll be no violence between the two of them,’ continued the sheriff. ‘This county is subject to the rule of law and I’m charged with the duty of enforcing that law.’ He gave de Fontenel a meaningful look. ‘Do you still intend to go your own way?’
    ‘Not if you apprehend Mauger.’
    ‘That’s not the answer I look for, my lord. You warmed the ears of my deputy with a blunt message for me. You swore to take the law into your own hands. Are you still of the same mind? If you are,’ Bigot said, unequivocally, ‘I’ll give you time to reflect on your stupidity in one of the dungeons. Is that what you want?’
    ‘No, my lord sheriff.’
    ‘Then repudiate your boast.’
    There was a long pause. ‘Perhaps I spoke in haste,’ conceded the other at length.
    ‘Spoke in haste and acted in fury.’
    ‘I’m sorry about that.’
    ‘Rein in your temper,’ ordered Bigot, ‘and say no more about the lord Mauger. He’ll not escape close questioning. Other lines of inquiry must also be explored.’
    ‘That’s why I asked about your steward,’ said Ralph, seriously. ‘Did the fellow have many enemies?’
    ‘None at all, as far as I know,’ grunted de Fontenel.
    ‘Was he married, my lord?’
    ‘Hermer lived alone.’
    ‘He must have had family or friends of some sort.’
    ‘His parents came from Falaise but they died years ago. As for friends,’ he said with a slight smirk, ‘Hermer took his pleasures where he could find them. He liked the girls to be young and pretty.’
    ‘Why do you think he was murdered?’ asked Ralph.
    ‘Because he knew too much. Hermer was bribed to steal the elephants from me. When he handed them over to his paymaster – and I know who
that
was – his tongue was silenced in the most brutal way.’
    ‘It’s the brutality that worries me, my lord.’
    ‘For what reason?’
    ‘Put yourself in the position of this alleged paymaster,’ suggested Ralph. ‘For the sake of argument, imagine that you bribe someone to steal precious items from a rival. When that’s done, you decide to have your hireling killed.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘Wouldn’t you take care to hide your tracks? Wouldn’t you bury the body some distance away instead of leaving it under the nose of the lord sheriff?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘I certainly would,’ opined Bigot.
    ‘There’s another point,’ continued Ralph. ‘Your steward looks to have been sturdy enough but he was no soldier. It wouldn’t have been difficult for someone to take him unawares with a sly dagger.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘Why stab him a dozen times or more when one well-placed thrust would’ve done the task? Your steward was defenceless, he wore no armour. Why was his body so cruelly abused? If you had seen his ankles, you’d have noticed the ugly weals left by a piece of rope. Your steward was dragged on his back over rough ground, my lord. Who’d wish to do that?’
    ‘Mauger.’
    ‘Keep his name out of it,’ ordered the sheriff.
    ‘I agree,’ said Ralph. ‘The man who murdered your steward had a personal score to settle. It was a vengeful death. That rules out the lord Mauger. From what I hear, he’s no saint but neither is he a coldblooded killer. Remember those missing hands, my lord. Why were they cut off? There has to be a meaning in that brutality.’
    ‘The lord Ralph is right,’ concluded Bigot. ‘The man we seek didn’t bribe your steward into stealing those elephants. He slaughtered Hermer for a purpose.’
    ‘To strike at me,’ said de Fontenel.
    ‘No,’ argued Ralph. ‘To get revenge. I come back to my original question, my lord. This is an intensely personal crime. Who were Hermer’s enemies?’
    ‘I told you. He had none.’
    ‘Think hard.’
    ‘There’s no need. Hermer was a conscientious steward who carried out my orders to the letter. Nobody could have any cause to dislike him, let alone hate him enough to carry out such a barbaric attack.’
    ‘What about Alstan?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘An old man we met along the way,’ said Ralph. ‘One of your bordars.’
    ‘There are dozens of such men on my estates,’ said the other, dismissively. ‘I can’t be expected to remember the name of every churl.’
    ‘You should remember Alstan. Old age didn’t deprive him of his spirit. You reduced him to slavery. When he had the gall to complain, you had the fellow whipped and chased off your land.’
    ‘It was no more than the wretch deserved.’
    ‘That’s a matter of opinion, my lord. I saw Alstan’s scars. They’ll remain till his dying day. I was reminded of them when I went into the morgue earlier and looked at the wounds on your steward’s back. As a matter of interest,’ Ralph went on, ‘who actually administered that beating?’
    ‘I don’t know. I left the matter to Hermer.’
    ‘Could he have wielded the whip himself?’
    ‘Possibly.’
    ‘Then it seems he did have an enemy, after all. Who’d have a better reason to drag him at the tail of a horse than a man whose back had been lashed to shreds? I’m not saying that Alstan is the culprit here,’ Ralph emphasised, ‘because I’m certain that he’s not. The old man can barely walk, leave alone commit murder. But others might want revenge on his behalf. Others might want to cut off the hand that used that whip on Alstan. Do you see what I’m telling you, my lord?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Forget the lord Mauger. Look nearer home for the killer.’

Gervase Bret lay on the bed and cradled his wife lovingly in his arms. Moonlight slanted in through the gaps in the shutters to create a striped pattern on the bare floor. He kissed Alys softly on the forehead.
    ‘I’m sorry, my love,’ he whispered.
    ‘It’s not your fault, Gervase.’
    ‘I should never have brought you with us.’
    ‘You weren’t to know that a terrible murder would be committed. Besides,’ she said, squeezing his hand, ‘I’d rather be with you whatever may befall us.’
    ‘The ride was too exhausting for you. I should have realised that.’
    ‘I’d be well enough after a night’s sleep.’
    ‘You’ll be able to rest all day tomorrow, Alys.’
    ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Golde and I want to see something of Norwich.’
    ‘Take some of Ralph’s men as an escort.’
    ‘Don’t fuss over me,’ she teased. ‘I can manage, especially with Golde at my side. You just worry about the work that brought you here in the first place. The sooner that’s done, the sooner we can head back home to Winchester again.’
    ‘There may be some delay, I’m afraid,’ he sighed.
    ‘Why is that?’
    ‘This murder has complicated matters, my love. It has a direct bearing on the major dispute that we came to settle. Ralph has decided that we can’t even begin our deliberations until the crime has been solved.’
    ‘Surely, that can be left to the lord sheriff.’
    ‘We feel obliged to help him.’
    ‘No, Gervase,’ she objected with sudden alarm, ‘it’s far too dangerous.’
    ‘We’ll move with caution, I promise you.’
    ‘But you’re dealing with a brutal killer. I overheard some of the remarks made at the banquet. The victim was not merely killed. He was butchered to death.’
    ‘Don’t believe all the gossip,’ he warned, keen to allay her fears. ‘At times like this, people always exaggerate. The murderer was callous, it’s true, but he’ll soon be caught and punished.’
    ‘Why must you and Ralph join in the hunt?’
    ‘Because we need to, my love. No more questions.’
    He kissed her softly on the lips to terminate the conversation. A long pause ensued. Hearing the change in her breathing, he thought that his wife had drifted off to sleep and he began to doze off himself. Alys brought him awake again.
    ‘Gervase?’ she murmured.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Who was that dreadful man?’
    ‘Which one?’
    ‘The one who stormed into the hall in the middle of the banquet.’
    ‘That’s Richard de Fontenel. He has extensive holdings in the county. Ralph and I will have to see rather a lot of him, unfortunately. He’ll have to show better manners in the shire hall or we’ll have him removed.’
    ‘He was so rude and frightening.’
    ‘That’s typical of the man, I’m told.’
    ‘Could she really be thinking of taking such a brute as her husband?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The lady Adelaide,’ she explained. ‘You must have seen her. She was that beautiful creature who sat beside Ralph.’
    Gervase grinned. ‘I thought that was Golde.’
    ‘The
other
side of him. You know full well the lady I mean. Every eye in the room was on her at some point. Her name is Adelaide. She’s a rich widow and someone told me that she was considering a marriage proposal from the lord Richard.’
    ‘He’s a rough wooer, if tonight is anything to judge by.’
    ‘She didn’t appear to be surprised by his behaviour.’
    ‘Perhaps she expected him, then,’ he speculated. ‘It may even be that his performance in the hall was put on largely for her benefit. Perhaps he wanted to impress his future bride by showing her that he was a law unto himself.’
    Alys was firm. ‘That certainly wasn’t the case,’ she said. ‘What woman in her right mind would be impressed with that crude behaviour? Besides, the lord Richard obviously didn’t know that she’d even be at the table. His manner changed at once when he noticed her. He even had the grace to look apologetic.’
    ‘You obviously watched him carefully.’
    ‘I watched
her
, Gervase. The lady Adelaide was the person who interested me.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because she held every man in thrall.’
    ‘Not me, my love.’
    ‘I saw you sneaking a look at her,’ she said, nudging him with an elbow.
    ‘Idle curiosity.’
    ‘Well, my curiosity wasn’t idle. I made a point of speaking to her as we left.’
    ‘What did she say?’
    ‘That banquets at the castle didn’t always end so prematurely. She’s clearly someone who’s in her element on such occasions. I have to admit that she made me feel rather awkward and out of place.’
    ‘Nonsense!’
    ‘It’s the truth, Gervase.’ She snuggled into his shoulder. ‘But I’m glad that I went. I was enjoying it until the lord Richard burst in. That was why her comment was so odd.’
    ‘Odd?’
    ‘Yes. The lady Adelaide could see that I was dismayed by the commotion. She told me to make allowances for the intruder because he was the victim of a crime. The odd thing was the way that she said it.’
    ‘I don’t follow.’
    ‘Everyone else was shocked and angry,’ recalled Alys. ‘But not the lady Adelaide. Instead of being appalled at the bad behaviour of a friend, she sounded like a loyal wife apologising for an erring husband.’
    Gervase propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her in the half-dark. ‘What else did the lady Adelaide tell you?’ he asked.