The Owls of Gloucester (Domesday Series Book 10) Page 6

  Shafts of sunlight shone through the windows to pierce the gloomy interior of the church and illumine the way to the bell tower. Hubert was hovering at Ralph's elbow. Gervase could see that his friend was becoming increasingly annoyed by their colleague's presence and he moved in tactfully before Ralph resorted to language unfit to be heard on consecrated ground.

  ‘Since you know the abbey so well,’ said Gervase, taking Hubert gently by the arm, ‘perhaps you could track down those two novices, Kenelm and Elaf. We will talk with them anon.’

  ‘Am I not needed here?’ said Hubert.

  ‘No!’ Ralph was blunt.

  ‘But I could be of assistance.’

  ‘Do as Gervase bids and you will be.’

  Hubert's pride was hurt. Gathering his paunch in both hands, he plodded off on his errand without a backward glance.

  Ralph looked around the church to see what other exits it possessed, then he turned his attention to the ladder which led up to the loft, testing it for strength and reliability. Satisfied that it was robust enough, he turned to Gervase and took a firm grip on him.

  ‘What are you doing, Ralph?’ protested the other.

  ‘Proving something to myself.’

  ‘Does it involve assaulting me?’

  ‘Relax and have faith in your friend.’

  Having secured a hold, Ralph suddenly hoisted Gervase over his shoulder and held him there with one hand as he began to climb the ladder. It was a slow and perilous ascent, leaving Gervase to stare down at a slowly receding stone floor while having no control over his limbs. The rungs of the ladder creaked ominously under the combined weight and it bent and swayed from time to time, but Ralph went purposefully on, making light of the problems. When he reached the top, he eased Gervase carefully on to his back on the wooden platform then clambered up to join him.

  ‘There!’ he said triumphantly. ‘I knew it. It was possible for the killer to carry his victim up here.’

  ‘Only if he was as strong and wilful as you, Ralph,’ said Gervase, head still pounding from the ordeal. ‘I'll tell you this. You are certainly not going to carry me down again.’

  ‘It will not be necessary. I've proved my point.’

  ‘What about the dripping blood?’

  ‘Easily stemmed by wrapping a cloth around the victim's neck.’

  ‘I remain to be convinced.’

  ‘Then let's look around.’

  There was not much room for two adults in the confined area. The huge iron bell took up most of the available space, hanging silent and lifeless now but capable of rousing the whole city when rung in earnest. Light was poor but they could see far more than the two novices who had used the place as a nighttime refuge. Several bloodstains were visible on the timber and they examined them with care, noting their position and texture. For the rest, there was nothing else in the loft apart from a coil of rope, which would, in time, replace the existing bell rope, and a new stay, hewn out of ash and, judging by the one already in position to prevent the bell from turning full circle when it was rung, soon to be brought into use instead of its battered predecessor.

  ‘It's far too dark up here,’ said Ralph. ‘We should have thought to bring a candle with us.’

  ‘We have at least established one thing,’ observed Gervase.

  ‘Yes, you don't like to be carried up ladders.’

  ‘That, too, I grant you. No, sit down and you will see what I mean.’ Ralph lowered himself into a seated position beside Gervase. ‘It is a perfect hiding place. Even during the day it is impossible to see anyone up here if they are crouched down.’

  ‘Or lying full-length in their own blood.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘The killer knew exactly where to stow the body. Had it not been for those two boys, it might have lain undetected for much longer.’

  ‘Until the stink became too unbearable!’

  Ralph got up and kept a steadying hand on the bell as he manoeuvred his way around to the other side of it. Even more shadow obscured his view there so he relied on touch rather than sight, feeling his way gently along each timber. The oaken beams were thick and well-seasoned and he admired the skill with which they had been chiselled into shape and shorn of their roughness. When he came to the largest beam of all, he used both hands to explore it, finding nothing untoward until he slipped them under the timber to feel the other side. His fingers met something which caused him to stop in surprise.

  ‘Now that's interesting,’ he said, identifying his find.

  ‘What is it, Ralph?’

  ‘Something I didn't expect on the back of this beam.’

  ‘A bird's nest or a couple of bats?’

  ‘No, Gervase, these were put here by the hand of man, but for what possible purpose I can't rightly say. Nobody would fix them on the wrong side of the beam like this.’

  ‘Why? What is it that you've found?’

  ‘Hooks,’ said Ralph, still fingering his discovery. ‘Two large hooks.’

  Chapter Four

  Travelling with Ralph Delchard on royal business brought setbacks as well as benefits for Golde. Although she could enjoy the pleasure of her husband's company, she also endured the discomfort of watching him plunge regularly into situations that were fraught with danger. Nor had her journeys been entirely free from personal slights and humiliations. On her first outing with Ralph, to York, she had lacked the wedding ring that made her his legitimate bride and she was, accordingly, treated as his mistress by the disapproving wife of their host. It had caused Golde intense embarrassment and there were other places where her presence had not been wholly welcome. After her initial meeting with the critical lady Maud, her hostess, she feared that Gloucester might be another venue where her Saxon origins aroused muted hostility or covert derision.

  Golde was pleased, therefore, when Maud approached her with the offer of a guided tour of the city that afternoon. Maud was polite rather than friendly, and there was the faint sense of an effort being made, but that did not detract from the nature of the invitation. Golde willingly accepted. It would give her an opportunity both to re-acquaint herself with a city she had once visited with her father and to win over her hostess. When the two met in the bailey, horses had already been saddled for them, ostlers waited to help them mount and four soldiers were in attendance to escort them.

  ‘You have been here before, you say?’ recalled Maud.

  ‘Yes, my lady. Many years ago.’

  ‘You may notice some changes since then.’

  ‘This castle is one of them,’ said Golde without rancour. ‘When King Edward sat on the throne, he held his Witenagemot–his Great Council–at the Palace of Kingsholm.’

  ‘Those days are over.’

  ‘So it seems.’

  ‘This castle is now the most important building in the county.’ She gave a smile. ‘The abbot would dispute that, of course, and rightly so, but this is where affairs of state are decided. A castle can never be an ideal home for a woman but one has to make the best of it. I suspect that the lord Ralph's manor house is a far more comfortable place to live.’

  ‘It is, my lady.’

  ‘Where are his estates?’

  ‘In Hampshire. A beautiful county.’

  ‘Gloucestershire, too, has its charms.’

  Maud's manner was pleasant and Golde detected none of the resentment she had felt during the meal on the previous evening. What impressed her hostess was Golde's easy mastery of Norman French, a language which she had learned from her husband while simultaneously instructing him in her own. Neither Durand the Sheriff nor his wife made the slightest effort to understand the native tongue of their citizens, still less their culture and customs.

  Assisted into the saddle, the two ladies were about to ride off when the sheriff came striding across to bid them farewell. Durand's grin was restored along with the flirtatious glint in his eye.

  ‘Are you deserting me?’ he asked with mock distress.

  ‘We are going to see
the sights,’ said his wife.

  ‘Am I myself not one of them?’

  ‘Do not fish for compliments, Durand.’

  ‘How else will I get them?’

  ‘They are yours by right, my lord,’ said Golde.

  ‘That is what I tell Maud but my virtues stale with time.’

  His wife gave a shrug. ‘That is the way of the world.’

  ‘Then why do I see your beauty afresh every morning?’

  She accepted the compliment with a smile, extended a hand for him to kiss then said something under her breath to Durand. His quiet laugh made Golde feel that she was intruding on a private moment between man and wife. Approaching hoofbeats were heard and all three of them turned towards the gate. The drumming on the drawbridge timbers suggested a rider who was in a hurry. Entering the bailey at a steady canter, he reined in his horse when he recognised the sheriff. Judging by the sweat on his brow and the lather on his mount, the messenger had ridden far and fast. He pulled a letter from his belt and handed it to Durand. The seal indicated the urgency of the missive.

  Opening the letter, Durand read it quickly then registered great surprise. The messenger dismounted to await his response. The sheriff signalled for him to follow then strode off swiftly towards the keep.

  ‘What is it, Durand?’ asked his wife.

  But her beauty was no longer enough to detain him. Spurred on by some unexpected news, he was blind to anything but his duty. Golde could see how peeved her companion was at being so rudely ignored and she wisely restrained herself from attempting conversation with Maud when they set off. As they rode along, Golde wondered about the contents of a letter which could turn an amorous husband into an indifferent one.

  Ralph Delchard stepped inside the abbot's lodging and took a quick inventory of its contents while exchanging niceties. Serlo kept him standing while he appraised him, knowing that a man chosen to lead the second team of commissioners must rank high in the King's estimation. Ralph withstood his scrutiny without flinching under the searching gaze.

  ‘Canon Hubert tells me that you wish to speak to me,’ said Serlo.

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘Everything about you indicates a soldier so I can hardly suppose you wish to join the Benedictine Order. That leaves two possibilities. Either you have come here to endow the abbey, or, as I suspect, you are curious to learn more about this fearful crime which afflicts us.’

  ‘Your suspicion is well-founded, my lord abbot.’

  ‘Has the sheriff requested your assistance?’

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘I thought not.’

  ‘But I am sure he would give this visit tacit approval.’

  ‘And I am equally certain that he would not,’ said the abbot levelly. ‘Durand has many good qualities but tolerance is not among them. He is, by nature, unduly possessive. My guess is that he would make no bones about the fact that he does not want your interference.’

  ‘Help is not interference.’

  ‘Our sheriff would identify them as one and the same thing.’

  ‘And you, my lord abbot?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You want this killer caught as soon as possible?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then you need additional assistance.’

  ‘Why should it come from you, my lord?’

  Ralph spread his arms. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can think of a number of reasons,’ said Serlo, lowering himself into his seat. ‘First, you have important business here in the city which should preclude anything else. Second, you are a complete stranger and cannot possibly expect me to place the confidence in you that I place in the sheriff. Third, you are profoundly ignorant of the way that this abbey is run and fourth, if I am to believe Canon Hubert, your general attitude towards religious houses falls far short of respect.’

  ‘I plead guilty to that last charge,’ said Ralph with a grin, ‘but, then, I am not alone in wanting to mount an investigation. My dear friend and colleague, Gervase Bret, is at my side and, as Hubert can tell you, Gervase has enough respect for both of us. He cannot pass an abbey without genuflecting. Until wiser counsels prevailed, he all but took the cowl himself. In short, my lord abbot, his instincts are sufficiently sacred to offset my leanings towards profanity.’

  ‘You are an honest sinner, I'll say that for you.’

  ‘Honest and cheerful.’

  ‘And altogether too glib, my lord.’

  ‘I stand rebuked. Talking of which, may I sit down?’

  ‘When I decide if you are staying,’ said the abbot, raising a hand to check his movement. ‘State your business, please.’

  ‘I want to solve a murder.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘All just men abhor violent crime.’

  ‘They do not all seek to catch an offender.’

  ‘I cannot rest while a killer is on the loose.’

  ‘Durand the Sheriff has sworn to track him down.’

  ‘We may move at a swifter pace.’

  ‘Your host would not thank you for saying that.’

  ‘No,’ said Ralph happily. ‘Nor will he raise a cheer when we do his job for him more successfully than he himself but that thought will not hinder us. Bringing a murderer to justice takes priority over anxieties about ruffling the feathers of a sheriff.’

  ‘From the way you say that, I deduce that he would not be the first sheriff on whose toes you have unwittingly trodden?’ Ralph beamed at him. ‘Your position differs from ours, my lord. Durand's word is law in these parts. When you have thoroughly upset him, you can ride away and forget all about him. It is those of us who stay here who will suffer the consequences of his wrath.’

  ‘You will easily cope with Durand,’ said Ralph. ‘Hubert has been talking about you all the way from Winchester. He reveres you. No aspect of your good work here has been obscured from us. To do so much in such a short time indicates a man of true Christian purpose and with enough guile to lead a sheriff by the nose.’

  ‘I doubt if Canon Hubert used the word guile.’

  ‘He called you a supreme diplomat.’

  ‘It is not a phrase I can apply to you, my lord.’

  ‘I'm delighted to hear it. Politicians have their place but so do men of action. I am one of them. That is why I cannot resist getting involved in a murder inquiry. It is not mere curiosity, believe me.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  ‘Disgust at the nature of this particular crime.’

  ‘We all share that disgust.’

  ‘Let me help you, my lord abbot,’ said Ralph, taking a step towards him. ‘What can you lose? If I fail, the worst that I will have been is a nuisance. If I succeed–and I usually do in such cases–the whole abbey will sleep more soundly in its bed.’

  ‘That is certainly a desired end,’ admitted the other. ‘It has been a shattering experience. We feel invaded. The sanctity of our church has been vitiated. One of my greatest ambitions is to build a fine new abbey church and this outrage has reinforced the strength of that ambition. I want the murderer to be caught swiftly so that we can begin to put this whole hideous business behind us.’

  ‘That is why you need me and Gervase Bret.’

  ‘I remain unconvinced.’

  ‘We have sharper eyes than the doughty sheriff.’

  ‘Prove it.’

  ‘Easily,’ said Ralph. ‘Durand still believes that Brother Nicholas was killed by one of the other monks. We do not. No member of the Order would defile consecrated ground in this way.’

  ‘I am glad that you agree with me on that point.’

  ‘Brother Nicholas was the one member of the community who went outside the enclave on a regular basis. That is where we must look for his killer. Among the tenants whose rents he collected and among the other people he would normally meet in the course of his travels. Does that not set us apart from Durand?’ he said, showing his palms again. ‘While the sheriff's officers are causing havoc within the
abbey, we will be out hunting the murderer where he is likely to be.’

  Abbot Serlo pursed his lips as he studied Ralph afresh. After a full two minutes, he eventually reached a decision and indicated the bench.

  ‘Perhaps you had better sit down, after all,’ he said.

  The meeting took place in the Precentor's lodging, a room too small to accommodate all five of them with any comfort and obliging the novices to stand with their backs pressed up against the wall. Ranged against them were Canon Hubert, Gervase Bret and Brother Frewine, who looked less like an owl on this occasion, and more like a mother hen worried about the safety of her chicks. The boys were deeply grateful that the Precentor was there to support them. Gervase's manner was friendly but Canon Hubert's bulk and stern judicial gaze made him an intimidating figure in such a cramped area. Hubert conducted the interrogation with Gervase acting as his interpreter and turning to Frewine each time he translated a question to collect his approval of the wording. While he could have wished for a less menacing inquisitor, Brother Owl had no reservations about the skill of the interpreter.

  Kenelm and Elaf were tired and scared. They had already been subjected to close questioning by the abbot, the Master of the Novices, the Precentor and the sheriff. Hoping for some relief from the endless enquiries, they were disheartened to be hauled in front of Canon Hubert. Gervase did his best to gain their confidence by talking about his own time as a novice but the boys remained on guard and Kenelm, in particular, was difficult to draw out.

  ‘Ask them when they last saw Brother Nicholas,’ said Hubert.

  Gervase translated and the boys looked blankly at each other.

  ‘Three days ago,’ prompted Frewine.

  ‘Let them answer for themselves,’ said Hubert.

  ‘Well?’ encouraged Gervase.

  ‘Three days ago,’ agreed Elaf.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Here in the abbey.’

  ‘Where exactly?’

  ‘Crossing the cloister garth.’

  ‘Was he alone?’ asked Gervase.