The Owls of Gloucester (Domesday Series Book 10) Read online

  ‘So what did you glean from the wretches?’

  Gervase told him in as much detail as he could remember. Ralph was a restive listener, constantly throwing in additional questions or asking for fuller explanations. When his friend came to the end of his litany, Ralph thought about the pale, hairless body stretched out on the mortuary slab. Brother Nicholas was an enigma.

  ‘They didn't like the way he looked at them?’

  ‘That's what they said, Ralph.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They were too embarrassed to explain.’

  ‘Could the Precentor throw no light on the subject?’

  ‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘He spoke fondly of the deceased.’

  ‘So did Abbot Serlo, yet we know for a fact that everyone else seems to have disliked Brother Nicholas. Why? Did he look at them in a strange way as well? What was so unsettling about him?’

  ‘I don't know.’

  ‘It seems he was an excellent rent collector,’ said Ralph. ‘It was not just a case of someone not wishing to speak ill of the dead. Abbot Serlo could not praise him enough for his efficiency in bringing money into the abbey coffers. A fair amount of money at that,’ he recalled, ‘when you think how many sub-tenants inhabit abbey land.’

  ‘Brother Nicholas must have been trusted. His satchel would have been bulging with money when he returned to the abbey. A robber would have made off with an appreciable haul.’

  ‘Yet nothing was stolen from him, apparently.’

  ‘Was the abbot certain of that?’

  ‘Yes, Gervase. As soon as he got back to the abbey, Brother Nicholas would hand the day's takings over so that they could be entered into the account book then locked away.’

  ‘So he could not have been killed for gain?’

  ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘What, then, was the motive? Anger? Enmity?’

  ‘I will know more when I speak to the people he visited on his rounds. That is where the real clues lie, Gervase, outside the abbey.’

  ‘There is still much more within those walls to be dug out,’ said Gervase. ‘I would like to speak to Kenelm and Elaf alone at some stage and I would value another talk with Brother Frewine. He is a sage old man who has been here longer than anyone else. Nobody is so aware of the undercurrents of monastic life as the Precentor.’

  ‘Will you take Hubert with you next time?’

  Gervase smiled. ‘I will omit to remember to do so.’

  Their conversation had taken them as far as the castle but Ralph called a halt before they entered it. He had been keeping his most telling find until the last moment.

  ‘When I climbed up that ladder, I chanced on something else.’

  ‘Another dead monk?’

  ‘Nothing quite as dramatic as that, Gervase. No,’ he said, opening a palm and stretching it out to his friend, ‘I found this.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Directly below those two hooks I mentioned.’

  ‘May I see it?’ Gervase picked up the strip of leather and turned it over. ‘Where could this have come from?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Look at that frayed edge. It was torn off something.’

  ‘Yes, but what?’

  Gervase handed it back. ‘This could be a vital clue.’

  ‘That's why I'll treasure it.’

  ‘What about the sheriff?’

  ‘Durand? There's no way I'll treasure that rogue. Oh,’ he added with a grin, realising what Gervase had meant. ‘Will I tell our host about this little strip of leather?’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘No, Gervase.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it was up to him to find it for himself.’

  ‘What about those hooks?’

  ‘Those, too. They are our clues. He has enough of his own.’

  ‘But we're withholding evidence, Ralph.’

  ‘So we are.’

  ‘Durand will be livid if he finds out.’

  ‘He'll turn purple with rage if he discovers that we've been snooping around at the abbey and he's bound to do that if we tell him about the hooks and the strip of leather. Serlo won't betray us, neither will Canon Hubert. There's no need for the sheriff to learn about this.’

  ‘It's inevitable at some stage.’

  ‘By that time, we'll have handed the killer over to him.’

  ‘Can we keep him in the dark that long?’

  ‘We'll have to, Gervase.’

  ‘Our time is limited, remember. We sit in judgement on the major dispute tomorrow. Once that starts to unfurl, we'll not be able to pay any more visits to the abbey or to its holdings outside the city.’

  ‘We'll find the time somehow.’

  ‘I foresee difficulties.’

  Ralph gave him a hearty slap on the back. ‘Be more positive, Gervase,’ he said, nudging his horse forward again. ‘If we wish something to happen, it will. I have picked up the trail. I'll not lose the scent now.’

  ‘Nor will I,’ vowed Gervase.

  As soon as they entered the bailey, they were spotted by one of Ralph's men awaiting their return. He ran across to them.

  ‘The lord sheriff is anxious to see you, my lord,’ he said.

  ‘Did he tell you why?’

  ‘No, but he impressed the urgency of the summons upon me.’

  Ralph was worried. ‘Did you tell him where we were?’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I led him to believe that you were still at the shire hall.’

  ‘Good man!’

  He and Gervase dismounted, left their horses with an ostler and set off towards the keep. Ralph had no qualms but Gervase did not share his confidence.

  ‘What if he knows, Ralph?’ he asked.

  ‘How can he?’

  ‘He may have sent someone to follow us.’

  ‘Then he would have known we were at the abbey and jumped to the obvious conclusion. Some of his men would have hauled us out of there before we could ask our first questions.’

  ‘I hope that you are right.’

  ‘Trust me, Gervase.’

  ‘It's the urgency of the summons that alarms me.’

  ‘Sheriffs like people to dance to their command.’

  ‘There's more to it than that.’

  Durand the Sheriff was in the hall, issuing instructions to his steward who was nodding seriously. When the newcomers entered, the steward was sent on his way. Ralph and Gervase stood before their host, not knowing whether they would be given glad tidings or berated for their audacity for interfering in a murder investigation. The grim expression on Durand's face seemed to exclude the first possibility. Ralph continued to smile blandly but Gervase braced himself for a searing attack. The sheriff walked right up to them.

  ‘What I tell you is in strictest confidence,’ he affirmed.

  ‘Of course, my lord sheriff,’ said Ralph.

  ‘Nothing will go outside this room,’ added Gervase.

  ‘It will have to, I fear,’ confided Durand, ‘but we must do our best to keep it within the castle. A letter was delivered to me earlier. From Winchester. Nothing is certain but I have been ordered to make the necessary preparations.’

  ‘For what?’ said Ralph.

  ‘A royal visit.’

  Gervase was astonished. ‘Here?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the sheriff uneasily. ‘I may soon have another guest under my roof. The King himself.’

  Chapter Five

  On the following morning, work began in earnest at the shire hall. As the commissioners assembled to sit in judgement on the most complex case which confronted them, they put aside all thought of a murder at the abbey and gave their full attention to the matter in hand. Ralph Delchard was relieved to be able to do so because it rescued him, temporarily, from the moral dilemma of whether or not to tell Golde about the possible visit of King William. Ordinarily, he concealed very little from his wife and she, in turn, was refreshingly open with him.
He decided that the latest tidings should be kept from her, because he had given his word to that effect. Besides, there was some doubt about the King's arrival in Gloucester and thus no point in alerting Golde to an event which might not even take place.

  Gervase Bret was untroubled by any qualms on the subject. In his opinion, a vow was a solemn undertaking. Having been sworn to secrecy, he did not consider for a moment the notion of divulging the news to anyone else, not even to Canon Hubert and Brother Simon, both as trustworthy as himself. Like Ralph, he did speculate in private on the motives for the King's rumoured visit but he put none of his conclusions into words. Once inside the shire hall, he forgot all about the warning imparted to them by Durand as he tried to assess the irascible man who first came before them.

  Strang the Dane had a loud voice and forthright manner.

  ‘The land has been mine since I received it from King Edward's own hand,’ he asserted. ‘I have the charter which proves my incontestable right to it. For some reason, your predecessors chose to question that right and I am now put in the invidious position of having to defend my claim once again. I hope that you have sufficient intelligence to see what is before your noses.’

  ‘Do you dare to malign our intelligence?’ snarled Ralph.

  ‘The first commissioners were found lacking in that respect.’

  ‘On the contrary, they were remarkably astute men which is why they identified so clearly the many irregularities and corrupt practices which have been going on in this county. Your name is linked to them.’

  ‘Wrongfully.’

  ‘That remains to be seen.’

  ‘I demand justice.’

  ‘We will give you no less.’

  ‘Your predecessors did. They were purblind.’

  Ralph was trenchant. ‘By insulting them, you insult us and – by extension – the King who initiated this Great Survey. We speak for him. Do you wish to rid yourself of any more jibes before we begin?’

  ‘All I wish for is what is legally mine.’

  ‘That is what we are here to determine.’

  Ralph's glare silenced him at last. Strang the Dane was a hefty man in his fifties with long grey hair and a full grey beard. His attire suggested a degree of wealth and his bearing was that of a soldier. Gervase wondered why someone who was bristling with defiance before his Norman conquerors had taken the trouble to learn their language so well, unless to be able to abuse them roundly in their own tongue. He glanced down at the document in front of him and saw that Strang had scattered holdings throughout Gloucestershire as well as in one of the Welsh commotes attached to it. The invaders had deprived him of far less land than most other thegns. Strang was determined not to yield up another acre. He was accompanied by his reeve, Balki, a slightly younger and much quieter individual with a long, thin face to which a ragged red beard clung like so much ivy.

  After a muttered conversation with his master, Balki took over. His smile was ingratiating as he approached the table where Ralph sat with the other commissioners and their watchful scribe. The red-haired Balki, too, spoke Norman French almost fluently.

  ‘We appreciate the difficulties involved here,’ he began.

  ‘Do you?’ said Ralph gruffly.

  ‘Yes, my lord. We have lived in the county for many years and know how complicated the pattern of land-holding is. We would be the first to admit that there have been many irregularities – downright acts of theft in some cases – because we have been the victims of them. The property under discussion is a perfect instance. It was granted to my master, Strang the Dane,’ he said, producing a charter from his satchel, ‘in recognition of services rendered. Here is proof.’ Handing the document to Ralph, he smirked helpfully. ‘Would you like me to translate it for you, my lord?’

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ said Ralph, passing the charter to Gervase. ‘We have our own interpreter.’

  ‘Then I hope his translation is sound.’

  ‘It had better be,’ rumbled Strang, stroking his beard.

  After a glance through it, Gervase rendered the wording carefully into language that his colleagues could understand.

  ‘“I, King Edward, greet Bishop Aldred and all my thegns in Worcestershire and Gloucestershire. And I give you to know that Strang my housecarl has been granted a certain piece of land, namely eight hides in the manor called Westbury to be held and enjoyed for three lives, and after that time the estate is to return to the disposal of whoever is in control of the bishopric of Worcester …”’

  Hunched in concentration, Balki nodded in approval at the accuracy of the translation. Strang stood proudly with hands on his hips as if the mere recitation of the charter's contents would be enough to secure the property under discussion. When he realised that the Dane had been one of the royal housecarls, Ralph viewed him with slightly more respect. Housecarls were elite soldiers, members of a standing bodyguard who had been selected for their courage, loyalty and military skills. Strang must have given good service to be repaid so handsomely with various grants of land. Qualities which aroused Ralph's admiration only served to increase Canon Hubert's antipathy towards the first claimant. He resented his insolent manner and his total lack of deference before them. Nor did Hubert warm to the oleaginous reeve whom he suspected of being far too devious to be trusted. He decided to wipe the irritating grin off Balki's face.

  ‘How do we know that the charter is genuine?’ he asked.

  ‘Because you have my word that it is,’ roared Strang.

  ‘Why else should it be presented to you?’ said Balki, hurt by the very suggestion. ‘That property was acquired by fair means and lost by foul ones. I swear that the document is authentic.’

  ‘It has every appearance of being so,’ admitted Gervase, subjecting it to close scrutiny, ‘but I would value more time to examine it.’

  ‘You shall have it,’ announced Ralph. ‘And if it is found to be a clever forgery, those who perpetrated it will be duly arraigned. We have already uncovered one grotesque attempt at deception.’

  ‘There is no deception here,’ said Strang, simmering with anger.

  ‘We speak before you under oath, my lord,’ added Balki.

  ‘Find in my favour and let us away.’

  ‘Before we have even questioned the others?’ asked Ralph. ‘What kind of justice is that? All four of you will be given a fair hearing.’

  ‘Four?’ repeated Strang. ‘Four? We know of only two rivals. The first is Hamelin of Lisieux who unjustly seized the land from me and the second is Querengar the Breton.’

  ‘They still contest your claim.’

  ‘Then where does this fourth person come from?’

  ‘Wales.’

  Strang was derisive. ‘Do you jest with me, my lord?’

  ‘Not on the subject of a Welshman, I do assure you.’

  ‘What is the man's name?’

  ‘Abraham the Priest.’

  Strang let out a long hiss of disgust and Balki turned an anxious eye towards his master. Ralph found their different reactions interesting. Evidently, they knew and disliked the Archdeacon of Gwent. While Strang dismissed him with contempt, however, Balki was quietly alarmed by the mention of his name. His master rebuked him with a long stare then turned his ire upon the commissioners again.

  ‘Are you not capable of making a decision?’ he demanded.

  ‘Of course,’ said Ralph sternly, ‘and we have already decided that your manner is too bold and your words too ill-chosen. Whatever the merits of your claim, you will not advance your cause by unseemly behaviour.’

  ‘No offence was intended,’ said Balki with an apologetic smirk.

  ‘I'll speak for myself,’ contradicted Strang. ‘And I do so honestly and fearlessly. If some are offended by what I say, it is of no account to me. I'll not be muzzled.’

  ‘Remember who we are,’ warned Hubert.

  ‘I can see all too well!’ sneered the other.

  ‘We'll brook no disrespect.’

  �
��Nor will you have to,’ said Balki, trying to calm his master. ‘Simply ask the questions you have no doubt prepared and we will answer each and every one of them to your satisfaction.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ said Ralph.

  ‘Those hides in Westbury belong to me!’ insisted Strang.

  ‘Then how do they happen to be in the possession of Hamelin of Lisieux?’ asked Gervase quietly, introducing a more moderate note. ‘You have one charter, he, it seems, another. Which should we accept?’

  ‘Mine!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Read it, man.’

  ‘I have already done so.’

  ‘It bears the King's seal.’

  ‘That of King Edward,’ agreed Gervase, glancing at the charter, ‘but Hamelin of Lisieux has a document which bears the seal of King William. I do not need to remind you which of the two now occupies the throne.’

  ‘Hamelin took my land by force.’

  ‘Do you have any proof of that?’ said Ralph.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Strang, rolling up his sleeve to display a long, livid scar on his forearm. ‘Here is one piece of evidence. I have others on my body. I fought to protect what is rightly mine but I was outnumbered. Hamelin of Lisieux is a barefaced robber.’

  ‘That is slander!’ said Hubert.

  ‘It is the truth.’

  ‘I can vouch for that,’ said Balki. ‘You have two witnesses here.’

  Strang glowered. ‘I have not been the only person in this county to suffer. Consult the returns from the first commissioners. The name of Hamelin appeared many times regarding land which he did not acquire by legal means. He is a master of unjust seizure. Because he is rich and powerful, most people are too frightened to resist him, let alone challenge him openly. I am not.’

  ‘Nor,’ observed Ralph, ‘is Abraham the Priest.’

  ‘Not to mention Querengar the Breton,’ Gervase reminded them. ‘Both of them are prepared to stand up against Hamelin of Lisieux and, of course, against you.’

  Strang was about to issue a tart rejoinder but Balki put a hand on his arm to restrain him. He contrived his most obsequious smile yet.