The Lions of the North d-4 Page 12

  Making virtue of a necessity, he paid a number of calls on friends in the city to exchange pleasantries and conduct business. That morning he was summoned before the commissioners again. As he rode through the streets with his men-at-arms, he caught sight of three figures emerging from their lodging. He could not resist accosting them.

  “Good morrow!” he said with a courteous wave.

  Sunnifa was startled to see him towering over her on his destrier.

  She stepped back and gave him a cautious nod. Brunn the Priest muttered a welcome. Inga merely stared up at him with defiance. He addressed his remarks to her.

  “It is a long journey home,” he observed. “You had best start out now to be sure of getting back before nightfall.”

  “We have to give evidence about the theft of our land.”

  “Hearsay evidence,” he mocked. “It counts for nothing.”

  “We will stay in York until we get justice.”

  “Then you may be here for eternity, Inga. You have no case to offer and the commissioners must find in my favour.” He pointed in the direction of Monkgate. “There lies your way. Take it while you may.

  You never know what perils may lurk beside it if you delay here.”

  “You are a brave man, my lord Nigel,” said Inga, glaring up at him, “to threaten two unarmed women and a priest. That takes the courage of a true soldier!”

  He smiled disarmingly. “What I give is no threat. It is sage advice. The countryside around York is infested with outlaws. The commissioners themselves were robbed on their way here.” He leaned in closer to her.

  “I will be pleased to offer you the protection of my men as you ride back.”

  “No, thank you!” she said with scorn.

  “You are tenants of mine. I wish to help you.”

  “Then restore the holdings you stole from my father.”

  “This argument belongs in front of the commissioners,” he said. “When they have made their decision, I hope that you and your mother have the grace to abide by it.” He flashed a grin. “And do not forget my offer.”

  “Offer?”

  “Yes, Inga. It still stands. You do not need to spend the rest of your days in that hovel where you live.” He gave her a polite leer. “There is always a place for you in my household.”

  “I would sooner die, my lord!”

  Laughing happily, he rode off down the street.

  Sunnifa was anxious. “Do not provoke him, Inga.”

  “I will not let any man insult me!”

  “My lord Nigel is a cruel enemy,” warned Brunn. “Fight him with legal argument, not with intemperate language. We have seen to what depths he will sink to achieve his ends.”

  “We need Toki here,” said Sunnifa. “He would advise us. Toki would know what to do.”

  “He would furnish us with the proof we require,” said the priest. “My lord Nigel holds the reins in this dispute. Our word alone is not strong enough to knock him from the saddle. Only Toki could do that. And we do not have him.”

  “No,” said Inga sadly. “We never will.”

  Ralph Delchard subjected him to far more robust questioning that morning. Something about Nigel Arbarbonel’s manner irritated him and he could not decide if it was the easy charm, the studied helpfulness or the deep complacence that lay behind both. Ralph worked hard to unsettle him, hurling a continuous stream of questions at him and wagging an admonitory finger for effect. Prompted by Gervase, he took the witness on a tour of his holdings, demanding to know how and when each came into his possession, and seizing on minor points in the title deeds to try to fluster him.

  Nigel Arbarbonel was unscathed by the assault. His smile remained intact and his voice calm and unhurried. He behaved with the subdued arrogance of someone who knows that his position is quite unas-sailable. When Ralph finally paused to get his breath back, the witness smirked.

  “How much longer must we play this game, my lord?”

  “Game?” said Ralph.

  “Asking me questions that are already answered by the documents that lie beside you and that are quite outside the scope of this inquiry.”

  “It is for us to say what is and what is not relevant.”

  “Of course,” conceded the other. “But when you summon me here to discuss some disputed land in the wapentakes of Bulmer, Halikeld and Manshowe, why waste time arguing about my property in Allerton and Langbargh?”

  “It all has a bearing on the case.”

  “Let us turn to the disputed holdings,” said Gervase Bret. “We are still concerned about the manner in which they were transferred to you.”

  “Deed of gift is a legal process, is it not?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Then what is the cause for concern?”

  “Thorbrand’s state of mind at the close of his life. Sunnifa and Brunn the Priest told us that he was very fevered and faded rapidly.”

  “That is true.”

  “He kept saying how anxious he was to safeguard the future of his wife and daughter.”

  “Any husband and father would feel the same.”

  “At the very end, when the fever tightened its grip on him, and the herbal compound no longer kept out the pain, Thorbrand could do little more than babble incoherently.”

  “I anticipate your question, Master Bret.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes,” said Nigel. “You wish to know how it was that a man who cared so much for his family, and who was racked by a terrible disease, nevertheless had the wisdom to revoke his will at the eleventh hour in favour of me.”

  “That is precisely what I wish to know, my lord.”

  “Ask of the witnesses at his deathbed.”

  “I prefer to hear your explanation,” said Gervase.

  “Then you shall. Fever is a capricious tormentor. It will bring a man to his knees, then allow him moments of calm and clarity before setting about him again with vicious intensity. It was during such a period of remission-when Thorbrand came briefly to his senses-that he voiced a decision he had long contemplated.”

  “To surrender his land to you.”

  “To ensure that his wife and daughter enjoyed my protection. That is why he willed his holdings to me. I am the trustee of their safety.”

  “That is not how they see it, my lord.”

  “They will. In time.” He became restless. “Need we sit here, speculating endlessly on the death of a good man? You are a lawyer, Master Bret, and I do not need to remind you of the legal position here. That land is in my possession. If someone wishes to wrest it from me, they have to provide conclusive proof of ownership. Am I correct?”

  “Yes,” admitted Gervase.

  “Can they provide such proof?”

  “They believe so.”

  “Then they are deluding themselves,” he said softly. “And so are you.”

  It was a long, tiring and singularly unrewarding day. Hours of questioning Nigel Arbarbonel ended in stalemate. Another extended session with Inga, Sunnifa and Brunn was equally depressing. All that they could do was to talk nostalgically about the time when Thorbrand was alive and to rehearse their grievances against their landlord. No documents were forthcoming to give their complaints any legal impetus.

  The commissioners had to turn them away yet again without the recompense they sought.

  “We need more time!” pleaded Inga.

  “I wish that we could offer it to you,” said Gervase. “But this dispute has already eaten up two days.”

  “Another twenty-four hours. That is all we ask.”

  “You ask in vain,” said Ralph peremptorily. “Enough is enough. My colleague and I will review this case and give our judgement first thing in the morning.”

  “Then we have lost!” sighed Sunnifa.

  “They could not be so heartless,” said Brunn.

  “Is there no way we can persuade you?” implored Inga.

  “This session has ended,” said Ralph, signalling to a guard to esco
rt them out. “Come back tomorrow to learn our decision. We will weigh all the evidence with scrupulous care. Be assured of that.”

  Sunnifa and Brunn went out with an air of resignation but Inga paused in the doorway to look back at Gervase. She searched his face for a hint of encouragement but she could not find it. Gervase writhed in discomfort. Desperate to help her and to relieve her sorrows, he was quite unable to do so. It made him feel weak and inadequate.

  Inga made a last attempt to win them over.

  “What of the reeve’s messenger?” she challenged. “The one who misled us so that we were unable to appear before the first commissioners. Did you not look closely into that?”

  “We did,” said Gervase. “The reeve swears that he sent his man days earlier to fetch you.”

  “Why did the summons take so long to reach us?”

  “We do not know.”

  “Then it is your duty to find out.”

  “We know full well what our duty is,” said Ralph, stung by her accusatory tone. “What happened in the past is of no account to us. If you were prevented from giving testimony before our predecessors, that is to be regretted, but nobody has stopped you from appearing before this tribunal. The evidence you would have presented to them, you have instead given to us. We will consider it with all due care.”

  Inga looked wounded. Disappointment clouded her eyes. When a soldier put a hand on her arm, she did not resist. He assisted her gently out through the door.

  “I am glad to see her go,” said Ralph, sighing with relief. “She does not help her mother’s case by showing contempt in that way. Inga is too headstrong.”

  “We must make allowances for youthful zeal.”

  “Not when it gets out of control.”

  “My concern is with Nigel Arbarbonel,” said Gervase. “Given his position, I am surprised that he has not been more assertive with us.

  All the advantages lie with him, yet he behaves with utmost civility.

  I wonder why.” He gathered up his papers. “And there is another thing that worries me.”

  “What is that?”

  “My lord Nigel parried your questions so adroitly.”

  “I tried hard to break him,” said Ralph, “but I failed. He always seemed to be one jump ahead of me.”

  “Yes, it was almost as if he knew what was coming.”

  The minster bell interrupted their conversation.

  “Vespers,” said Brother Francis, rising to his feet. “If you have finished with me for the day …”

  “We have,” said Ralph.

  “Thank you again for your help,” added Gervase.

  “I kept a record, as instructed,” said the monk, pointing to the papers on the table. “I think you will find it both accurate and legible. Pray excuse me,” he continued, moving to the door. “Another duty calls. I would not be late.”

  They waved him off, then made to leave themselves. Gervase glanced through the record of the proceedings before slipping it into his own satchel.

  “We are blessed in Brother Francis,” he said. “His mind is quick and his hand is sure. I did not think we would find as conscientious a scribe as Brother Simon.”

  “No,” agreed Ralph. “I never thought to hear myself speak well of a monk-for they are mostly sanctimonious eunuchs in flight from the world-but Brother Francis has been an asset to us. It is good to have a scribe who does not turn scarlet in the presence of a woman.”

  “Brother Simon has many virtues.”

  “That is my complaint against him, Gervase. Too many virtues but not a single vice to lend them some colour. Life is there to be lived.”

  They came out into the street to find the sentries waiting for them but there was no sign of Tanchelm’s men-at-arms. Ralph turned to one of his soldiers.

  “Have the other commissioners departed?” he said.

  “Yes, my lord,” replied the man. “Canon Hubert left with Brother Simon some minutes ago. They headed for the minster with a small escort. Their work is concluded for the day.”

  “What of my lord Tanchelm?”

  “He came out to dismiss his men and went back into the shire hall alone.”

  “He is still there?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good,” said Ralph. “I need to speak with him on several matters. He can ride back to the castle with us.”

  “I would appreciate a word with him myself,” said Gervase. “It concerns his visit to the Abbey of St. Mary.”

  He followed Ralph into the shire hall and entered a long room with a low ceiling and narrow windows. Tall candles were set at intervals on the table to give further illumination, but their flames had been extinguished and smoke was still curling up from their wicks. Ralph and Gervase stopped with surprise in the middle of the room. There was no sign of Tanchelm of Ghent.

  “Where can he be?” asked Ralph. “There is only one door and he could not have left without being seen by my men.”

  “Then he must still be here.”

  It did not take long to find him. When Gervase crossed to the table at which the commissioners had sat, he saw that one of the stools had been knocked over. Tanchelm of Ghent lay on his back in the shadows beyond it. His mouth was agape, his tongue protruding and his bulging eyes staring upwards. Gervase rushed to kneel beside him but found no signs of life. Tanchelm of Ghent would now have his name in-scribed in another Domesday Book.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ralph Delchard moved swiftly to join his friend beside the body.

  They examined it with care and soon found the cause of death.

  Tanchelm of Ghent had sat in judgement bareheaded. An ugly red weal encircled his unprotected neck. Someone had choked the life out of him with brute force.

  “He was attacked from behind,” decided Ralph. “He must have been sitting at the table when the assailant struck.”

  “It was the work of a powerful man,” noted Gervase. “My lord Tanchelm was fit and strong. He would have fought an attacker. Even with surprise on his side, the man would have needed strength to subdue him.”

  “Strength and skill, Gervase. He was proficient at his trade. Tanchelm was killed by a practised assassin.”

  “But how did he get into the room?”

  “And how leave it unseen?”

  They stood up and looked around. At the rear of the room, some yards behind the table, was a small window high up in the wall. Its shutters were closed but not bolted. When Ralph went to stare up at it, his foot kicked something on the floor. He picked up some fragments of plaster and held them in his palm. When he reached up with his other hand, he could just touch the sill of the window.

  “He came and went this way, Gervase,” he said.

  “Then he must have been very agile.”

  “One leap would have brought him within striking distance of the table. Tanchelm had no chance.” He grabbed the chair and set it against the wall. “Let’s see what is beyond.”

  Standing on the chair, he was able to peer out at the narrow alley that ran at the rear of the shire hall to connect two larger thorough-fares. A few people were hurrying along it with baskets over their arms. Ralph jumped down and bellowed for his men. Hearing the urgency in his voice, all ten of them came running at once with their hands on their swords. They fanned out in the middle of the room.

  “Foul murder,” said Ralph, pointing to the corpse. “My lord Tanchelm has been killed. The assassin, we believe, came and went by that window.”

  The men were shocked. Only five minutes earlier, they had seen Tanchelm alive and well. It seemed impossible that he could have been murdered while they stood outside in the street. Ralph whipped them into action with his commands. Two of them were sent to guard the door and to admit nobody without his express permission. Two more were dispatched in the direction of York Minster to alert Canon Hubert and Brother Simon. Four men were ordered to hasten around to the alley at the rear of the building to search for clues before looking for possible witnesses to the entry
or departure of the assassin. One man rode off to raise the alarm at the castle and to return with the members of Tanchelm’s escort who had been on duty outside the shire hall throughout the day.

  Only the captain of Ralph’s guard remained behind.

  “The North has not been friendly to us, Fulco.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “We are robbed on the way here, and now one of our number has been slain. What horror can we next expect?”

  “I do not know, my lord.”

  “When exactly did you last see my lord Tanchelm?”

  “When he came out of here to dismiss his men.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Shortly before you and Master Bret emerged.”

  “How close were you standing to him?”

  “I was no more than five yards away, my lord. I had been talking to one of his men-at-arms. When my lord Tanchelm appeared, I saw and heard him very clearly.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He sent four of his men to escort Canon Hubert and Brother Simon to the minster.”

  “And the remainder?”

  “They were told to return to the castle.”

  “Why?”

  “My lord Tanchelm had no further need of them. Somebody was meeting him at the shire hall, he said, and he would make his own way back in due course.”

  “Did he name the person he was meeting?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “What happened next?”

  “His men withdrew and he came back in here.”

  “And nobody came in after him?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Are you quite certain, Fulco? Could not someone have slipped in when you were chatting among yourselves?”

  Fulco was adamant. “Nobody entered through that door save my lord Tanchelm himself. We know better than to let our attention wander.

  We could see this building at all times. A mouse could not have got in without being observed.”

  “It is not mice that we are after,” said Ralph darkly, “but rats. Of the two-legged variety. This county seems to have a superfluity of them.