‘My lord Wymarc will provide them willingly.’
‘Not for a while,’ said Edric, closing the account book. ‘His grief would not allow it.’
‘Grief?’
‘His young sister has died.’
He passed on the news. When he heard the details, Amalric was visibly shaken. Helene had been in the same choir as his own sister and close to Bristeva's age. He thought for a moment how they would feel if the tragedy had befallen her and not Wymarc's sister. The fear and the shame would be truly overwhelming.
‘You are right, Edric,’ he conceded at length. ‘It will be a long time before this race is held again. But I would still be sorry to see Hyperion released.’
‘He has served his purpose in both ways.’
‘Both ways?’
‘Yes,’ explained Edric. ‘By stealing him, I saved Cempan from being stolen. But I also found a hiding place for us if that need does arise. If Hyperion can be stabled in that mill without being discovered then so can Cempan.’
The boy rallied. ‘I never thought of that!’
‘Bear it in mind. The decision may fall to you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You will see, Amalric,’ he said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder to haul himself upright. ‘But let us take it one step at a time. First, I will return Hyperion.’
‘Where will you take him?’
‘To the place from which I stole him.’
‘And where was that, Edric?’
‘A house where Bertrand Gamberell had no right to be,’ said the other. ‘He dotes on that black stallion but he may not be so pleased to get him back from that particular house.’
Edric the Cripple shook with malicious glee.
Chapter Fourteen
Arnulf the Chaplain was confronted by an unforeseen problem. It was impossible for him to spend all his time with Bristeva and yet he was afraid to leave her entirely alone lest she somehow hear the loud whispers concerning Helene's suicide which were still blowing about the castle like a stiff breeze. The one person to whom he could entrust her was the discreet and kindly Brother Columbanus but the affable monk had completely vanished. Nobody had seen him and Arnulf's own hurried search through the fortress had proved futile. It was a worrying situation.
Bristeva was anxious not to be a nuisance to him.
‘I will stay in my chamber,’ she volunteered.
‘It is so cold and cheerless.’
‘I do not mind, Father Arnulf. I can practise my songs. When I am singing, I do not really care where I am.’
‘I promised your father I would look after you,’ said the chaplain, ‘and that does not mean abandoning you for the whole afternoon. But my lord sheriff has summoned me and I am not able to ignore his call. His needs are paramount.’
‘Go to him. Let me stay here.’
He heaved a sigh. ‘I may have no choice, Bristeva.’
‘I could always sit in the church,’ she offered.
‘No, no. You are safer here.’
‘Nobody will talk to me in there.’
‘I would rather not take that risk,’ he said quickly. ‘Besides, you need to rest and you will not do that with people coming to and from the church. Stay here. And do not stir from this chamber.’
‘I will not go anywhere.’
‘Close the door after me.’
‘Yes, Father Arnulf.’
‘I will return as soon as possible.’
‘Do not worry about me. I am used to being alone.’
Bristeva smiled bravely and he gave her arm a delicate squeeze. When he went out, she closed the door behind him. He waited long enough to hear her begin the first song before moving along the passage to peer into Columbanus's chamber in the vain hope that the monk may have returned. The room was still empty. As he headed for the bailey, Arnulf's lips were pursed in anxiety.
He was halfway up the steps to the keep when Golde emerged from the door to the tower and descended towards him. Her smile flowered immediately. He gave an answering nod of greeting to her.
‘I am so glad to meet you like this,’ she said.
‘Are you, my lady?’
‘Yes. You can solve the mystery that is puzzling me.’
‘Mystery?’
‘That beautiful voice I heard in the hall earlier on,’ she explained. ‘I was walking past when the divine sound came wafting out. My curiosity was roused at once but I did not dare to interrupt.’
‘I am grateful that you did not. We were practising.’
‘With your little songbird from the choir?’
‘Yes, my lady. Bristeva.’
‘Her voice is as clear as a bell.’
‘I have taught her how to project it.’
‘Then you have taught her well, Father Arnulf,’ said Golde with enthusiasm. ‘Girls are not usually allowed to develop their talents. We are expected to sit quietly and speak only when spoken to. That is how my father brought me up. Had I been a boy, my world would have been much larger.’
‘Unhappily, that is so.’
‘I can imagine the resistance you met when you first introduced girls into your choir.’
‘More derision than resistance,’ he recalled. ‘We still have much censure to withstand from those who cling blindly to tradition.’
‘It was a courageous thing to do. I hope that you feel vindicated now.’
‘I do, my lady.’
‘If Bristeva is an example of your choristers, you should be very proud. She was a joy to listen to in the hall. How many other Saxon girls would have such a wonderful chance as this? The girl must worship you.’
‘She trusts me. That is far more important.’
‘Is there any chance of my meeting her?’
‘You will see her at the banquet tomorrow.’
‘I wanted to talk to her properly,’ said Golde, ‘to find out more about her, perhaps even to help her. A castle as big as this must be an intimidating place for a young girl. It unsettles me and I have been here for days. Bristeva must be quite overawed by it.’
‘She is, my lady.’
‘The sight of all these soldiers will only increase her discomfort. She might welcome some female company. Where is the girl now?’
Arnulf did not hesitate. He had a deep admiration for Golde. She was a gentle, considerate, kind-hearted woman who would be a far more suitable companion for Bristeva than a Benedictine monk. Golde would offer a maternal warmth which would help to reassure the girl.
‘Bristeva is in her chamber, my lady,’ he said.
‘May I go to her?’
‘There is something you must understand before you do that. Bristeva knows nothing of Helene's tragedy. It would shatter her if she did. I have to guard her from the truth until after the banquet. You do appreciate that?’
‘She will hear nothing from me,’ promised Golde.
It was settled.
* * *
The church of St George's-in-the-Castle was not simply a place of worship. It was an integral part of the fortifications. Its square tower served both as a belfry and as a key part of the castle's defences, providing as it did a high point from which the town could be kept under surveillance and an almost impregnable base from which arrows, rocks and other missiles could be discharged by unseen soldiers at any attackers below. As he strolled towards the church, Gervase Bret glanced up at the massive stone structure and noted with sadness how religion was forced to go hand in hand with military might.
When he had said his prayers at the altar rail, he moved to a bench and sat for an hour or more in the dank interior, lost in thought. Meditation was impossible in any other part of the castle, where the sound of many voices and much activity blended with the movement of men and horses to produce a mild chaos which lasted throughout each day. Alone in the church, Gervase felt refreshingly isolated from the worst of the din outside. It was only when the bell tolled that he abandoned his contemplation.
Edith was walking towards the church
as Gervase emerged into the sunlight. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the glare.
‘You are a devout parishioner,’ she said with approval.
‘Only because I have time on my hands, my lady. When we came to Oxford, we expected to spend every daylight hour in the shire hall. It is highly unusual for our work to be suspended in this way.’
‘When will it resume?’
‘When Canon Hubert arrives,’ he said. ‘The messenger brought word back from Winchester this afternoon. In spite of his ailments, Canon Hubert has consented to answer our call but he is not able to set out until today.’
‘Will he reach us in time for the banquet?’ she asked. ‘He would be most welcome to take his place at the table.’
‘Nothing would please him more, my lady. However, I have grave doubts. Canon Hubert travels slowly. My guess is that we will see him some time on Sunday morning.’
‘I regret that his journey is necessary.’
‘So do we.’
‘My lord Maurice seemed like an upright man.’
‘He took great pains to appear so.’
‘Robert liked him and my husband is a sound judge of character. He was shocked by the revelations.’
‘Yes, my lady,’ said Gervase guardedly.
‘I see that you do not believe me.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I am not blind,’ she said. ‘You and my lord Ralph show my husband the respect that is due but you both harbour doubts about him. Why deny it? I've seen it in your eyes. I do not censure you for it. In your position, I would probably think the same. But you are wrong.’
‘Are we?’
‘Robert is a good man and a loving husband. It has not been easy to keep the peace in a county as unruly as this.’
‘My lord sheriff seems to have succeeded very well.’
‘Only because of his dedication. Take that into account before you pass judgement on him.’
‘We pass no judgement, my lady.’
‘You have not seen him at his best,’ she said defensively. She studied him with interest for a moment. ‘Golde tells me that you are betrothed.’
‘That is true.’
‘Her name is Alys, I understand.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘She is fortunate in her choice.’
‘Alys does not always think so,’ he admitted with a smile. ‘We long to be together, but as soon as I return to Winchester we are dispatched on some new investigation. She vexes during my absence.’
‘A sure sign of love.’
‘It is mutual.’
‘Her good fortune does not only lie in having such a handsome and able young man as her future husband,’ said Edith wistfully. ‘It resides in her freedom to choose you in the first place.’ There was a long pause. ‘I did not have that freedom of choice.’
‘You do not have to explain that, my lady.’
‘I think I do,’ she continued. ‘I know what all of you must think when you see me with my husband. We must look ill matched in some ways. Robert can be brutal but only when that brutality is essential. I have learned to live with that.’
Gervase was embarrassed. ‘This is a matter between you and your husband. You do not have to justify yourself to me, my lady. What I see is a gracious and loyal wife.’
‘But I had to learn that grace and loyalty. My situation was so different from yours. You and Alys have a love match. In my case,’ she confessed, ‘respect and duty came first. Love grew slowly out of them. It took some years. My husband has true nobility and I am honoured to share my life with him.’
Gervase was touched. Anxious to defend her husband, Edith was confiding details of her courtship. She was not merely a marital decoration on the arm of the sheriff of Oxfordshire. She was a concerned and faithful partner who had seen all of Robert d'Oilly's finer qualities and – while aware of his defects – had come to love him as a result.
‘It is my lord sheriff who is fortunate,’ he observed.
‘Thank you. But I will not hold you up,’ she said. ‘I came in search of Brother Columbanus.’
‘He is not in the church, my lady.’
‘I supposed him to be in his chamber nearby.’
‘You may find him there,’ he said, stepping aside to let her past. ‘But I doubt it. We have all been looking for Brother Columbanus. He is a Benedictine magician. He seems to have disappeared into thin air.’
When he came fully awake, Brother Columbanus put the empty flagon aside and started to make a more detailed survey of his surroundings. He felt warm, happy and strangely guiltless. As he groped around in the darkness, his hand touched nothing but bare earth. It was when he tried to rise that he had some indication of where he was. His tonsured head collided so hard with a wooden beam that he was momentarily dazed. The impact sobered him at once.
The low ceiling and the earthen floor told him that he must be in the undercroft and his brain was now functioning well enough for him to work out how he had got there. On his return from the hall the previous night, he had evidently been too inebriated to find his chamber and had strayed into the undercroft by mistake. He was reassured to learn that he was still on consecrated ground.
Taking care to avoid a second collision, he scrambled around in the gloom until he finally located the door. He was soon rejoining the world of the castle, padding across the bailey and dusting off his cowl with a vigorous palm. Ralph Delchard was talking to some of his men near the stables. He looked up as the monk approached.
‘There you are, Brother Columbanus!’ he said.
‘Did you want me, my lord?’
‘We have all wanted you. Where have you been?’
‘With the canons of St Frideswide's,’ said Columbanus.
The cheerful lie did not even prick his conscience.
It was early evening and Golde was still engrossed in her conversation with Bristeva. She found the girl delightful and an immediate friendship had formed. Bristeva reminded her so much of herself at that age that it was uncanny. On her side, the girl was thrilled to have such interest taken in her and she revelled in the rare pleasure of talking to the wife of a Norman baron in her own tongue. They were in Bristeva's chamber close by the church. Neither of them even noticed how cramped and uncomfortable it was.
‘Are you looking forward to the banquet?’ asked Golde.
‘I have thought about nothing else for days.’
‘Your songs will be a joy to hear.’
‘I hope so, my lady,’ said the girl. ‘Father Arnulf has rehearsed me so carefully. For his sake, I wish to do well.’
‘Will your family be there to hear you?’
‘Yes, they have been invited.’
‘You will make them feel very proud.’
‘I will try, my lady. My father will love me whatever I do. It is Amalric who will need persuading.’
‘Amalric?’
‘My brother. He does not want me to sing here.’
‘Why not?’
As soon as she asked it, Golde answered her own question and the girl's blush confirmed that the answer was correct. If Bristeva had to defy her brother in order to sing, it must take some of the pleasure out of the occasion for her. The girl remembered a compensation and her smile returned.
‘Father Arnulf told me that the guests would be very appreciative if I sang well enough,’ she said.
‘I am sure they will.’
‘They sometimes gave Helene money for her performance. It would be wonderful if they did that for me. Not that I would keep it for myself,’ she stressed with a serious frown. ‘I would give it to Father Arnulf for the alms box.’
‘But you will have earned the reward, Bristeva.’
‘Only because of him.’
‘That is a very noble gesture to make.’
‘It is the least I can do to show my thanks.’ The frown vanished. ‘Do you know how many will be there tomorrow?’
‘As many as a hundred, I am told.’
�
��All coming to hear me!’
‘There will be other entertainment, Bristeva,’ Golde reminded her with an indulgent smile, ‘but they will not compare with you, of course. You will have us all at your feet.’
‘My only disappointment is that she will not be there.’
‘She?’
‘Helene.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘I would so love her to watch me taking her place,’ said Bristeva, ‘but they say she is unlikely to come.’
Golde felt the pain of holding back the truth from her.
‘I'm sure that you will not notice her absence in such a large gathering,’ she said soothingly. ‘It will be late before the banquet ends. Will you ride home through the night with your father and brother?’
‘No, my lady. Father Arnulf wants me to spend a second night here so that I will be able to join the rest of the choir for Matins on Sunday.’
‘That will save you two journeys.’
‘Yes.’ Bristeva was quizzical. ‘May I ask you something?’
‘Please do.’
‘How did you meet your husband?’ Golde laughed in surprise and the girl was immediately contrite. ‘Oh, dear! I did not mean to pry,’ she said quickly. ‘Please do not take offence. I should not have asked. It is no business of mine.’
‘You took me unawares, Bristeva, that is all.’
‘Forget what I said.’
‘No,’ said Golde pleasantly. ‘I will give you an honest answer. I have nothing to hide. I met my husband by chance when he came to visit my home town.’
‘And where was that?’
‘Hereford.’
‘Edric used to live in Hereford.’
‘Edric?’
‘My father's steward,’ she said. ‘He never talks about it to me but Amalric told me that he was once in the service of the Earl of Hereford.’
‘Some time ago, then. The county has no earl now.’
‘The name I remember is Earl Roger.’
Golde nodded. ‘Roger of Breteuil. He disgraced himself, Bristeva. He joined with two other earls in a revolt against the King. The revolt was put down and Earl Roger was sent to prison. We have had no earl in Hereford since.’
‘According to my brother, Edric will say very little about his time there.’
‘That is understandable if he was Earl Roger's man.’
The Stallions of Woodstock Page 24