The Lions of the North d-4 Page 9

  “Riders!” he reported. “Heading for York.”

  “How many?”

  “Twenty or more.”

  “Did you recognise them?”

  “They were too far off. You told me to bring warning of any travellers on that road. I galloped straight here.”

  “You did well,” said Olaf, giving him a grateful pat. “Let us take a closer look at them. Mount up!”

  Within seconds, every man was in his saddle. Led by their scout, they set off in the direction from which he had just come. It was not a long journey. When they reached the top of a wooded slope, they dismounted and crept through the undergrowth. Hooves were soon clacking on the track below them. Olaf Evil Child was the first to push back a branch and take stock of the travellers.

  There were two dozen of them in all, Norman soldiers in their distinctive armour, riding their destriers at a steady canter over the last mile to York. At their head was a tall, slim man who sat upright in the saddle and exuded an air of authority. His face was hidden from the onlookers but Olaf knew his identity at once. He spat out the name with hatred.

  “Nigel Arbarbonel!”

  Romulus and Remus roared with anticipation as the key was inserted into the lock of their cage. It was feeding time and they were hungry.

  Ludovico made them wait, talking to them as he entered the cage and ordering them to lie down before he gave them any of the meat he was carrying in a large wooden bowl. The lions snarled in protest but their keeper would not yield up their meal until his orders were obeyed.

  Ludovico stood over them until both Romulus and Remus lay down on the floor, their ears pricked and their tails flicking to and fro.

  When the animals were quiescent, the Italian threw a glance at his master. Aubrey Maminot let himself into the cage and crossed to take the first hunk of meat from the bowl. When he placed it in front of Romulus, the lion pounced on it with eager teeth. Remus was also soon tearing apart the carcass of a lamb. Keeping them supplied with fresh meat on a daily basis was an expense that Aubrey was glad to meet. His beloved lions were a high priority in the account book of the castle. Since they were so dependent for their welfare on Ludovico, he made sure that the keeper of the beasts was well paid for his services.

  “Do you still miss Rome?” he asked.

  “Only in winter,” said Ludovico. “York is so much colder than Italy.”

  “We have ways to keep you warm.”

  The Italian grinned. “Your women are hot-blooded. They are lion-esses in bed. I enjoy taming them.”

  “You have a gift with wild animals, Ludovico.”

  “I simply teach them that I am their master.”

  Romulus and Remus were still eating noisily. The door of their cage had been locked as a precaution. Only Aubrey and Ludovico were allowed inside it when the lions were in residence. During the night, when the animals were let out to patrol the ditch at the base of the mound, servants cleaned their cage and strewed the floor with fresh rushes.

  Only Ludovico knew how to make his charges return to their prison each morning but Aubrey was working hard to increase his own power over his pets.

  “Leave me alone with them,” he said.

  “They are a little restless today.”

  “I am not afraid, Ludovico.”

  “Let me stand where they can see me.”

  “No,” said Aubrey. “I will be fine.”

  The Italian nodded and let himself out of the cage before locking it behind him. When he tried to linger, he was waved away by Aubrey.

  Alone at last with his lions, the castellan felt happy and confident.

  They would not harm him. He reached into the bowl and tossed more meat to each of them. Romulus and Remus gave lazy roars of gratitude.

  Aubrey chuckled as a sense of power coursed through him. They were his.

  Nigel Arbarbonel strode into the room with the assurance of a man about to meet old friends rather than with the caution of a witness about to be questioned by royal commissioners. He ducked beneath a low beam before drawing himself up again to smile at Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret. Having dealt with so many hostile witnesses in the past, they were caught off guard by his affability. His swarthy face was striking rather than handsome but there was no denying his charm.

  “Nigel Arbarbonel!” he announced. “Welcome to the dank city of York, gentlemen. How may I help you?”

  “By sitting down, for a start,” said Ralph. “Before you knock your head, as I have already done more than once. This room was not built for people as tall as you and me.”

  Nigel laughed as he tossed back his mantle and lowered himself to the bench. Ralph performed the introductions, then pointed to a leather satchel on the table.

  “Your reeve kindly delivered this to us.”

  “It contains all the documents you may need to see,” said Nigel helpfully. “I thought it best to send them in advance so that you would have time to study them before my arrival.”

  “That was most considerate.”

  “Did you find everything in order?”

  “You must ask that of Gervase. He alone has read them.”

  Nigel turned to him. “Were you satisfied, Master Bret?”

  “Up to a point, my lord.”

  “Oh?”

  “The documents submitted establish you without question as the legitimate holder of most of your property, but the land that forms the basis of this inquiry-in the wapentakes of Bulmer, Halikeld and Manshowe-have no title deeds attached to them.”

  “I explained that to your predecessors.”

  “We have a record of that explanation, my lord.”

  “Then you will know that countless witnesses came forward to swear that I was their overlord.” His smile broadened. “The name of Arbarbonel is well known in the North. My reputation stretches across the county.

  Aubrey Maminot is your host, is he not? Send for him and he will vouch for my integrity.”

  “That is precisely why we may not send for him,” said Ralph sternly.

  “My lord Aubrey is a personal friend. It was only because he is not a subject of investigation that I felt able to accept his hospitality. Because we must be strictly impartial at all times, we are only sent to places where we are not known so that bias or favouritism will not even arise.”

  “That is as it should be,” said Nigel easily. “It is the one sure way to guarantee a fair trial. When Aubrey Maminot had a banquet in your honour, he took care not to invite me lest that be seen as a means of courting you on my behalf. Had we met in such convivial circumstances, you might not now be able to exercise your impartiality quite so freely.”

  “I am glad that we understand each other on that.”

  “Completely, my lord.”

  Ralph was satisfied with his polite acceptance of the situation but Gervase was more wary. Having failed to use the name of Aubrey Maminot to his advantage, Nigel Arbarbonel had given the impression that he would never seek favour of any kind. A man who could contradict himself so smoothly and so convincingly needed to be watched.

  Nigel swung his attention back to Gervase.

  “Bulmer, Halikeld and Manshowe, you say?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Then I know who contests the property.”

  “Sunnifa appeared before us earlier today.”

  “Poor, distracted creature! If she were not such a nuisance to me, I could almost feel sorry for the woman.”

  “It was her daughter who presented the claim.”

  “Inga is an even greater nuisance,” said Nigel with a slow smile, “but I have more time for her. You have met the lady and will understand why. She is fighting for what she conceives to be the inheritance from her father. I respect her for that. But when Thorbrand died, she was young and unaware of what really happened to the property. Inga is too impetuous. With no real evidence at her disposal, she attacks me with claims based on distant memories of her father.”

  “Those memories are not so distant t
o Sunnifa,” noted Gervase. “Nor to Brunn the Priest.”

  “Brunn is a good man. But old. And very tired.”

  “He spoke fondly of Thorbrand.”

  “I would expect no less.”

  “Brunn was at his bedside when he died. He attested that Thorbrand bequeathed his property to his wife.”

  “That is how it may have seemed at the time.”

  “What do you mean, my lord?”

  “Only this,” said Nigel quietly. “To watch a loved one die is always painful. It plays cruelly on the emotions. Things get distorted. Sunnifa was grief-stricken when she lost her husband. She is still in mourn-ing. That clouds her judgement badly.”

  “What of Brunn the Priest? Is his judgement clouded?”

  “He is an honest man who has served his flock to the best of his abilities for many years. But time and the northern climate have taken their toll, as you have seen. Brunn wanders. His mind is no longer reliable.”

  “Inga did not wander. Her mind was crystal clear.”

  “But she takes her lead from Sunnifa and the priest.”

  “We are going around in circles,” said Ralph with impatience. “Instead of trying to discredit those who oppose you here, my lord, simply tell us how Thorbrand’s property came into your possession.”

  “With pleasure. It was by deed of gift.”

  “Gift?”

  “Thorbrand had cause to be deeply grateful to me.”

  “Why was that, my lord?” asked Gervase.

  “Because I protected him and his family.” He gave a tolerant smile.

  “You are no soldier, Master Bret, and you have no notion of the problems that beset us here. We are in constant danger of attack from the Scots. It is vital to have a strong bulwark against them. That is why the King granted such huge amounts of land in the north of the county to his two most trusted friends.”

  “It is true,” confirmed Ralph. “The King’s own half-brother, Robert, Count of Mortain, holds vast estates along with Alan the Red, of Brittany.

  Between them, they form a solid band across the north of the county.”

  “My land lies directly south of them,” said Nigel. “If they are a first line of defence, I am a palisade behind them. Thorbrand understood this only too well because his land was twice overrun before I drove out the raiders. They had cunningly penetrated the gaps. Thorbrand came to see that a second continuous line of defence was needed, and that could only be formed if he willed his land to me and enabled my holdings to be linked together in a wide strip.”

  Gervase was doubtful. “He willed the land to you?”

  “On his deathbed.”

  “Brunn heard no mention of this.”

  “Other witnesses sat in that room with him. They will support me to the letter.”

  “Is there no written proof of this?”

  “Unhappily, no,” said Nigel. “Thorbrand renounced his will in his last hours on earth and bequeathed most of his property to me. His family were not left unprovided for but their inheritance was somewhat reduced.”

  “It was cut to shreds, my lord.”

  “Of necessity.”

  “He consigned his own wife and daughter to a life of comparative poverty? That verges on the incredible.”

  “Not if you had undergone the rigours that he did,” said the other earnestly. “Thorbrand suffered badly at the hands of raiding parties because he had no means of defending himself. That is why he turned to me. And why he put the safety of his wife and daughter before anything else. He went to his grave knowing that they would be well protected even if their means were more modest.”

  “And are they well protected, my lord?”

  “Yes!” he said proudly. “They are shielded by the arm of Nigel Arbarbonel.”

  “They pay a high price for that honour,” observed Gervase as he glanced at the document before him. “Since the land came into your possession, the rent from it has risen appreciably.”

  “There has been a slight increase, I fear.”

  “Thorbrand was a less demanding landlord.”

  “He did not have to maintain any defences.”

  “The rent has more than doubled since he died.”

  “Is that relevant?” asked Nigel pleasantly. “You are here to determine who owns that land and not how much rent it yields. That amount is already on record and your predecessors raised no objection to it. Why should you?”

  Gervase traded a glance with Ralph. It took no more than a split second but a signal had passed between them.

  Nigel Arbarbonel was enjoying himself. Polite, plausible and supremely confident of his position, he answered every question with an obliging readiness. His word would always outweigh that of his detractors. The first commissioners were a more powerful and formidable team, yet he had survived their examination without any discomfort. He decided that their successors would be even less trouble-some. His policy of willing cooperation would confound them.

  Gervase Bret forced him to revise that opinion.

  “That is all,” he said dismissively. “I have no more questions.” He turned to Ralph. “My lord?”

  “I have nothing more to add,” said Ralph.

  Nigel smiled hopefully. “You have finished with me?”

  “For the moment,” said Gervase.

  “And it is all settled?”

  “Far from it, my lord.”

  “But you have heard my evidence.”

  “Indeed we have and it has been most interesting. But it does not resolve the matter. On the contrary, it directs our enquiries to a wider field than we foresaw.”

  “I want this whole business settled here and now.”

  “There is too much evidence still to collect.”

  “From whom?”

  “You will find that out when we next send for you.”

  “It is a long ride to York from my castle.”

  “Then stay in the city until we need you,” suggested Ralph with a grin. “We are as anxious as you to reach a verdict in this dispute but we cannot do so until we have considered every possible aspect.”

  Indignation stirred. “Do you doubt my word?”

  “Not in the least. What you have told us may well turn out to be the truth. We would just like to make sure that it is the whole truth.”

  “One last thing, my lord,” said Gervase casually.

  “Yes?”

  “Thorbrand, I believe, lived in the wapentake of Bulmer.”

  “That is so. Close to Dalby.”

  “How long would it take to get there from York?”

  “Four or five hours at most on a fast horse.”

  “The town reeve’s man rode hard, we are told.”

  “To Dalby?”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Gervase. “To summon Thorbrand’s widow to make her claim before our predecessors. The messenger did not arrive in time. He left here on the appointed day, he claims, yet the summons did not reach Dalby until over forty-eight hours later. Does that not strike you as odd?”

  Nigel shrugged. “Perhaps he went astray.”

  “He insists that he did not.”

  “Then I am as baffled as you by this mystery.”

  “Only one solution offers itself, my lord.”

  “And what is that?”

  “The man who took the summons from York was not the same person who arrived in Dalby over two days later. The reeve’s messenger handed over the duty to somebody else.”

  “Why on earth should he do that?”

  “To ensure that vital evidence never reached York.”

  “That same evidence has reached it now,” said Nigel as he rose to his feet. “Was it really so vital? Do the ramblings of a widow and an old priest really have any credence? You say that Inga presented the case against me but did she provide any documents to back it up? Unlike you, the first commissioners were not inclined to suffer fools gladly.

  They would have exposed this vital evidence as the tissue of lies that it was.”


  Nigel Arbarbonel turned away and headed for the door. Feeling that he had put the commissioners firmly in their place, he could not resist a parting shot.

  “Have you really come all this way to discuss the riding habits of the reeve’s man?” he said, swinging around. “There may yet be another explanation of why it took him so long to deliver his summons to Dalby. Perhaps he lost his way or fell among thieves. Perhaps he was chased off course by wild bears.” He grinned amiably. “Or perhaps his horse simply cast a shoe.”

  “Hogni the Blacksmith would have replaced it for him,” said Gervase.

  “He could see with both eyes then.”

  The grin remained on their visitor’s face as he went out. Gervase was disappointed. Though he and Ralph applied pressure on the witness, it did not have the desired effect. Nigel Arbarbonel was too composed and well-defended to give anything away. Frustration made Gervase click his tongue.

  “I am sure that he is lying,” he said.

  “So am I,” said Ralph, “but how do we prove it?”

  “By gathering more evidence.”

  “Where?”

  “In the land under dispute, if need be. It may be the only way to grapple with this case.”

  Ralph shook his head. “Time is against us, Gervase. This is only the first of a number of claims into which we must look. If we ride out to view the property in question each time, we will be stuck in Yorkshire for months!”

  “This dispute merits special attention.”

  “Because of Inga?”

  “No, Ralph.”

  “I think that you are falling in love with the girl.”

  “That is absurd.”

  “Is it? If I did not have my dear Golde beside me, I would be tempted myself. Inga certainly merits special attention.”

  “I am only concerned with her testimony,” said Gervase. “And with that of my lord Nigel. Why did he confront us in person when he might so easily have let his reeve speak on his behalf? Why did he wish to have the dispute resolved so quickly? Why try to woo us with a show of assistance?”

  “I do not know,” conceded Ralph. “I do not trust him, but no more do I trust Inga and her mother. They made some wild accusations. Nigel Arbarbonel does not resemble in any way the ugly portrait they drew of him.”

  “We shall see.”