‘Not yet.’
‘I will come back another day. I promise.’
‘Not yet!’ she pleaded. ‘Do not leave me just yet.’
He gave her a parting hug and tried to pull away but she held him tenaciously. Rolling on top of him, she started to kiss him with such ardour that his own passion was soon ignited again. He caressed her body until she was writhing with delight then he eased her on to her back so that he could take both breasts in his hands to suck the nipples in turn. As their pleasure swiftly heightened, he parted her thighs and made her gasp with joy as he drove deep inside her.
‘Love me!’ she begged. ‘Love me, Bertrand!’
‘I do, my sweet.’
‘Show me how much.’
‘I will.’
He rode her hard until her desire built irresistibly to the moment of release and she flailed about in ecstasy.
‘My stallion!’ she purred.
It was all over in minutes. Gamberell did not allow himself the luxury of rest and reflection this time. He rose from the bed and began to put on his apparel, gloating over the naked body that still lay so invitingly on the sheets. The woman stretched and sighed with satisfaction.
‘When will I see you again?’ she whispered.
‘Soon.’
‘Do not keep me waiting, Bertrand.’
‘I will not.’
‘Pine for me.’
‘Send word when your husband is next away.’
‘I have no husband now. Only a lover.’
‘Your lover will return.’
She sighed again then drifted happily asleep for a short while. When she awoke, Bertrand Gamberell had gone and the bedchamber suddenly felt cold and empty. She went quickly to the window and was just in time to see him leaving by the back door of the house. He looked up, blew her a kiss of farewell, then headed for the stables. She was content.
Gamberell was making a swift departure. There was no point in taking unnecessary risks. Her husband was away and her servants had been diverted by their mistress with various chores but he was circumspect. He would not feel entirely safe until he was well away from the house. Only then could he relax and revel in his latest conquest.
Gamberell was still smiling to himself as he came round the angle of the stables. Everything had worked out well. There had been no problems. The smile suddenly froze on his lips and he stopped in his tracks. Hyperion was gone. He had tethered the horse to an iron ring in the wall of the stables but the animal was no longer there.
He looked around then darted into each of the stalls in a frantic search but all to no avail. He dashed into the bushes at the rear of the stables to widen his search but it still proved fruitless. Hyperion was simply not there. While one stallion had been rutting lustily in the bedchamber, another had completely vanished.
Ralph Delchard soon restored calm in the shire hall. When the shocking accusation was made by Brother Timothy, it was Maurice Pagnal who protested most vociferously but Azelina also made her disgust felt. Even Brother Columbanus joined in, calling upon his Benedictine brother to apologise for making such an unfounded charge. Gervase Bret alone held his peace. In the short time he had known him, he had come to respect Timothy's advocacy and doubted if the monk would make wild allegations out of pique at having lost the case.
When Ralph had persuaded Maurice to resume his seat, he asked Azelina to leave the room while the matter was sorted out. With a look of disdain at Brother Timothy, she rose to her feet and made a dignified exit. Controlling his own anger, Ralph turned to the lone figure on the front bench.
‘Would you care to repeat that accusation?’ he said.
‘If you wish, my lord.’
‘I do, Brother Timothy. Nobody can cast a slur on this tribunal with impunity. We are royal commissioners who have been sent to Oxford to look into a number of irregularities and disputed claims. The King appointed us because we are independent judges. None of us has holdings, ties of family, obligations of friendship or anything else in this shire which would influence our decisions. If we had,’ he continued with emphasis, ‘we would have been debarred from this commission.’
‘I understand that, my lord.’
‘Then why do you dare to denounce us?’
‘Because it was my bounden duty to do so.’
‘It is my bounden duty to stop this nonsense,’ growled Maurice. ‘Be grateful that you wear a cowl, sir, or I would ask you to back up this foul slander with your sword.’
‘The sword of truth is my weapon.’
‘We ought to use it to cut out your tongue!’
‘Peace!’ said Ralph. ‘We will get nowhere with intemperate language. A serious allegation has been made. I am still waiting for it to be substantiated.’
‘Do you censure all of us?’ asked Gervase.
‘No, Master Bret. There is only one culprit.’
‘Which one?’
‘He knows,’ said Timothy. ‘And his presence here makes the verdict of this tribunal invalid.’
‘This is outrageous!’ protested Maurice in a fit of indignation. ‘Are we to let this minnow from the backwaters of Westminster vilify us like this? It is a disgrace. Let us hear no more of this calumny. Send him back to his abbot with a flea in his ear.’
‘I will do much more than that if his charge proves groundless,’ warned Ralph. ‘Brother Timothy can look to be expelled from the Order at the very least.’
‘I stand by my accusation,’ said the other.
‘Then name the man you accuse.’
The monk stood up again and pointed at Maurice.
‘He sits beside you, my lord.’
‘Let me at him!’ roared Maurice, jumping up.
‘Stay!’ ordered Ralph, restraining him with a hand on his arm. ‘Hear him out, Maurice. We owe him that right.’
‘The only right he is owed is a rope around his neck!’
‘Sit down again. This must be resolved calmly.’
With a menacing glare at the monk, Maurice took his seat.
‘Speak your piece, sir,’ he challenged. ‘I am listening.’
‘Yesterday,’ began Brother Timothy, ‘I presented the evidence in favour of Westminster Abbey's claim to Islip. I did so in good faith, firmly believing that the case would receive just, equitable and impartial consideration. When I left the shire hall, I took the trouble to ride out to Islip to view the land under dispute. While I was there, I chanced to meet the parish priest and fell into conversation with him.’
‘Do we need to hear this gibberish?’ grumbled Maurice.
‘It is highly relevant, my lord.’
‘How?’
‘The priest was once chaplain to Hugh de Grandmesnil, sheriff of Leicestershire. He talked at length about that time and your name,’ he said to Maurice, ‘was mentioned more than once. I do not need to remind you why.’
Maurice glowered but there was no denial this time.
‘I do not understand,’ said Columbanus, baffled. ‘What place has the sheriff of Leicestershire in a dispute that concerns a village in Oxfordshire?’
‘Hugh de Grandmesnil is father to the lady Azelina,’ explained Timothy. ‘He would naturally support his daughter's claim to Islip as would anyone who had been in his household. My lord Maurice was once in that position. According to the priest, he might have looked to be deputy sheriff one day had he stayed in the county. At all events, he is a friend and confidant of the lady Azelina and thus not qualified to sit in judgement on this dispute.’ He turned to Ralph. ‘There is much more I can say on this subject, my lord. More evidence to support my charge. You will understand why I felt that our cause had been betrayed.’
‘We have heard enough from you for the moment, Brother Timothy,’ said Ralph through gritted teeth. ‘I think that it is time my lord Maurice had a chance to defend himself.’ He fixed him with a stare. ‘Were you so acquainted with Hugh de Grandmesnil?’
‘It was a long time ago,’ said Maurice evasively.
‘But you
did serve him?’
‘We fought together. It forged a friendship.’
‘Why did you conceal it from us?’
‘I did not think it had a bearing on our work.’
‘It had a most profound bearing!’ hissed Ralph before reining in his temper. He turned to Timothy. ‘We need to discuss this in private for a time. Bear with us until we send for you, Brother Timothy.’
‘Gladly, my lord.’
‘The same applies to you, Brother Columbanus.’
‘But I am your scribe.’
‘No record need be kept of this conversation,’ said Ralph pointedly. ‘Besides, the language may grow warm in here and offend more cloistered ears.’
Columbanus nodded and followed Brother Timothy out. On a signal from Ralph, the four guards also quit the hall. There was a strained silence. Elbows on the table, Maurice leaned forward with his head bowed. Ralph stood over him.
‘Can you deny this?’ he demanded. ‘Have you really been deceiving us all this while, Maurice? Working in collusion with the lady Azelina and her father?’
‘She has the stronger claim to Islip,’ retorted Maurice. ‘You believed that, Ralph. Your verdict favoured her.’
‘That is immaterial.’
‘We did not know of your personal interest here,’ said Gervase coldly. ‘Your action has tainted us, my lord.’
‘That was not my intention.’
‘Then what was that intention?’ yelled Ralph, quivering with rage. ‘To pull the wool over our eyes while you showed favour to your friends? To pervert the course of justice? We have built our reputation on fairness and integrity. In one flawed judgement, you have put that reputation under threat.’
‘Do not take this so personally, Ralph.’
‘Can you not see what you have done?’
‘Is it so serious a matter?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ affirmed Gervase. ‘Extremely serious.’
‘Awarding land to someone who legally owns it?’ Maurice gave a hollow laugh. ‘Where is the crime in that?’
‘You prejudged the case.’
‘When you had no right even to be a member of this tribunal,’ said Ralph. ‘Now I begin to see why you contrived to get yourself appointed. You pretended that the work was an imposition but you came to Oxford with a purpose. To help your friends at the expense of honesty and justice. Hell and damnation, man! This is rank corruption!’
‘Come,’ said Maurice, rising to his feet, ‘which of you would not help a friend in the same circumstances?’
‘Neither of us, my lord,’ said Gervase.
‘Do not be so pious.’
‘You must have known that this dispute would come before us or you would not have agreed to join the tribunal. Did the lady Azelina make contact with you?’
‘Or was it Hugh de Grandmesnil?’ added Ralph.
‘Roger d'Ivry, perhaps?’
‘How was it done, Maurice? We will find out in time.’
‘The King himself will wish to look into it.’
Maurice Pagnal was cornered. He could not wriggle or browbeat his way out of the situation. Only one possible escape remained and he seized on it with grinning desperation.
‘We three are men of the world,’ he said, reaching out to touch both of them. ‘Nobody else needs to know of this. I will find a way to silence that infernal Brother Timothy. Let us resolve the matter here behind closed doors. Between friends.’ He licked his lips before making his offer. ‘Someone did appeal to me for help. When the ownership of Islip was to be contested, I was asked to use what influence I might have with the commission. We bore arms together, Ralph, so I hoped that friendship might carry the weight of a favour.’
‘That hope was shipwrecked before it set sail.’
‘Chance contrived better than I could myself,’ continued Maurice. ‘Canon Hubert fell ill and a replacement was sought. I used what connections I had at Court to have the name of Maurice Pagnal pushed forward. Others, too, had influence which was used subtly to secure my appointment. Thus it stands, my friends.’ He looked from one to the other before blurting out his offer. ‘Handsome payment was made for my help. The money is meaningless to me. I was prompted only by old ties. Take the money and divide it between you. Let it buy your silence. I will excuse myself from this commission and it can then continue with its reputation untarnished.’
‘Untarnished!’ howled Ralph. ‘Untarnished! You offer us a bribe and tell us that our integrity will remain intact!’
‘In the eyes of everyone else.’
‘But not in our own, my lord,’ said Gervase sharply.
‘Do not be fools!’ urged Maurice. ‘You throw away a rich reward. Give yourselves some recompense for the tedium of sitting through this dispute. Share the spoils.’
Ralph's anger took over. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he hurled him to the floor with such force that Maurice slid for yards along the wooden boards. Ralph was on him at once. As Maurice pulled his dagger from its sheath, it was kicked away from his grasp. Fury was Ralph's weapon and Maurice knew that he had nothing to match it. He listened to his sentence.
Ralph was on fire. ‘By the power vested in me as leader of this tribunal,’ he said, looming over him, ‘I strip you of your rank as a commissioner. The King will hear a full report of your crimes. You will be duly arraigned.’ Taking him by the throat, he hauled Maurice upright. ‘You have caused enough damage in Oxford. Leave by sundown, Maurice. Or answer to me.’
After a show of defiance, Maurice Pagnal slunk away in disgrace. Ralph watched until the door was closed behind him, then his rage slowly ebbed. He looked at Gervase and gave a hopeless shrug.
‘Where do we go from here?’
‘We summon Brother Columbanus and dictate a letter to Canon Hubert,’ said Gervase. ‘A fast horse would reach him in Winchester some time tomorrow. Hubert may have recovered his health by now. And even if he has not,’ he added, ‘I am sure that he would respond to your call.’
‘Wise counsel. I'll act on it.’
‘The dispute over Islip can be left in abeyance. We will look at it afresh when Hubert gets here.’
‘And until then?’
‘We suspend our investigations, Ralph.’
‘We have to, I fear, though it will extend our stay here.’
‘Let us make virtue of a necessity.’
‘What do you mean, Gervase?’
‘Someone else is in desperate need of justice,’ said the other, ‘and there is no tribunal to mete it out to him. Will you ride with me to Woodstock?’
The warm sun encouraged them to leave the drab interior of the keep and descend to the bailey where they perambulated slowly around the perimeter by way of gentle exercise. Golde kept in step with Edith in every sense. A friendship which took root on the previous night was growing apace as they discovered a wealth of shared interests and common experience. As they strolled amiably along, Golde shed all her reservations about Oxford Castle. It was no longer a place of such menace and discomfort. Edith made it seem homely.
‘Do you have any children?’ asked Edith.
‘No, my lady.’
‘It is still not too late.’
‘I have no hopes in that direction.’
‘Oh?’
‘Ralph's first wife died in childbirth,’ explained Golde. ‘I would not put him through that suffering again. Such a tragedy is not certain to happen again, I know, but it is always at the back of my mind. We are happy in each other, my lady. Even without the blessing of children.’
‘They are not always a blessing,’ admitted the other with a sigh. ‘Childbirth is a trial enough but raising a family can also be something of an ordeal in itself. It is such a responsibility to educate the young. I am glad all that is behind me now.’
‘I'm sure that you were an excellent mother.’
‘I tried, Golde. Within my limitations.’
Arnulf the Chaplain came out of the great square tower of the church and waved a greeting to them before h
eading for the castle gates. Edith looked fondly after him.
‘Life is so ironic at times,’ she mused.
‘Ironic?’
‘Arnulf would have made an ideal parent. Kind, loving and endlessly patient. He would have been a perfect father and yet he will never have children of his own.’
‘It is the choice he made, my lady.’
‘Yes,’ said Edith. ‘When he became ordained, he committed himself to a vow of celibacy. I teased him once and he said that he did have children. In his choir. They are his family and he dotes on them like any father.’
‘I am looking forward to hearing them sing.’
‘They are a positive delight, Golde. Even though they have lost their young soloist.’
‘The chaplain told me about Helene.’
‘He lavished so much time and care on that girl.’
‘Perhaps he will find someone to take her place.’
Golde halted involuntarily as they came to the entry to the dungeons. An armed guard stood on sentry duty outside it. She remembered the prisoner who had been beaten to the ground by Edith's husband before being dragged down into the twilight of the dungeons. Golde wondered if the man was still alive down there.
Taking her by the elbow, Edith led her gently away. She seemed to know exactly what Golde was thinking. Neither of them spoke a word but they were at that moment closer than they had ever been, two compassionate women in a world that was dominated by the coarse brutality of men, one pretending not to notice while the other was denied that choice. They, too, Golde now saw, were trapped in a larger and more comfortable dungeon. The sweet sense of freedom which they had been enjoying was circumscribed by the high walls of the castle.
When they reached the gates, a sturdy figure came lumbering towards them. Maurice Pagnal was too preoccupied to greet them. His jaw was tight, his eyes staring, his head drooping with shame. Before they could detain him, he pushed roughly past them and went off towards the stables.
Edith was shocked by his blatant rudeness.
‘What is amiss with him?’ she wondered.
‘They cannot have finished at the shire hall so soon,’ said Golde. ‘Ralph told me that they would not possibly be back until this evening.’
‘Then why is my lord Maurice here?’
The Stallions of Woodstock Page 10