‘We found him in the chapel, my lord,’ said one of the guards.
‘Yes!’ cried Benedict. ‘I was plucked rudely from my prayers. It is an act of sacrilege to lay rough hands upon a holy brother. Why did you send these ruffians in search of me, my lord?’
‘Because you are under suspicion.’
‘Of what?’
‘Aiding the escape of the blacksmith.’
Benedict gaped. ‘Boio has escaped?’
‘Do not pretend to be so surprised.’
‘I am utterly astonished. No man could get out of that dungeon.’
‘Boio did – thanks to your help.’
‘All that I offered him was spiritual solace.’
‘You gave him the file which he used to get rid of his shackles,’ said Henry. ‘You helped to set a murderer at liberty.’
‘I did not. I swear it, my lord.’
‘Take him away!’
‘Wait!’ said Gervase. ‘Brother Benedict is innocent.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
Henry's nod set the guards in motion. Ignoring the monk's wild protests and taking a firm grip on his flailing arms, they marched him unceremoniously off in the direction of the dungeons.
‘He can enjoy the comforts of a cell himself,’ said Henry with a callous unconcern. ‘It will make him more penitent.’
‘You are making a grievous mistake, my lord,’ said Gervase.
‘My mistake was to let him visit the prisoner on his own.’
‘Benedict is a monk, devout and honest.’
‘I do not care if he is the Abbot of Westminster,’ snarled Henry. ‘No man works against me and escapes my ire. Benedict is lucky that I do not have him put in chains.’
‘But he is our scribe, my lord. We need him at the shire hall.’
‘He will remain in custody.’
‘Without him we cannot continue our work.’
‘Then we will furnish you with another scribe,’ said Henry with irritation. ‘The escape of a dangerous prisoner is more important than who scribbles what on a piece of paper at the shire hall. Boio is on the loose – a savage killer. Who knows how many other people he will murder before we catch him?’
‘He is not a violent man, my lord.’
‘Tell that to the guard whom he attacked.’
‘And he is not guilty of killing Martin Reynard.’
‘Then why has he fled?’ demanded Henry with unanswerable assurance. ‘Innocent men have nothing to fear. Only the guilty flee the rope. Even you must see that, Master Bret. When he got out of this castle last night, Boio the Blacksmith was signing a confession of guilt.’
Gervase was speechless. He watched in despair as the constable mounted his destrier then moved to address the waiting soldiers, who had been divided into groups. His voice boomed across the bailey.
‘We do not know which way the prisoner went,’ he said, ‘so we must search east, west, north and south until we find him. Whoever first descries him will be richly rewarded. But mark this, all of you. I want Boio the Blacksmith back in this castle by nightfall. Dead or alive!’
By the time that Ralph Delchard had pulled on his tunic, the horses and hounds were streaming out of the castle. He watched them through the window with a mingled curiosity and foreboding.
‘What is going on?’ asked Golde, still half asleep.
‘The whole garrison seems to have been roused, my love.’
‘Why?’
‘I can think of only one reason.’
‘What is that?’
‘I will tell you when I get back.’
Ralph gave her a perfunctory kiss, then left. After pounding down the staircase he came out of the keep and headed for the bailey. Gervase was still standing there in a quandary. Certain that it must have been Asmoth who brought the file into the castle, he had withheld the information from Henry Beaumont and thereby effected the arrest of the innocent Brother Benedict. He did not know whether to save the monk from the indignity of imprisonment or to protect the woman from being hunted down. Instinct had made him shield Asmoth. If he suspected that she provided Boio with the means of escape, the constable of Warwick Castle would not let her gender restrain him from a merciless interrogation. Gervase was still agonising over the situation when Ralph rushed up.
‘Has the whole place gone mad?’ he demanded.
‘Boio has escaped, Ralph.’
‘I guessed that.’
‘There is bad news you will not have guessed.’
‘Oh?’
‘Brother Benedict has been placed under arrest.’
‘What!’
Ralph exploded with anger and it was not assuaged by Gervase's account of what had happened. The only thing which prevented Ralph from charging off to the dungeons to demand the release of his scribe was the disclosure that the monk was in custody for a crime which Asmoth had probably committed during her visit to the castle.
‘Except that I do not see it as a crime,’ added Gervase.
‘She aided the escape of a prisoner.’
‘No, Ralph. She saved an innocent man from his death.’
‘If, indeed, he was innocent,’ said the other, stroking his chin as he reflected on the turn of events. ‘I begin to wonder, Gervase. Attacking the guard and fleeing the castle. Are these the actions of an innocent man?’
‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘An innocent man pressed to the limit.’
‘Limit?’
‘Had he stayed in that dungeon, he would have been hanged later on today for a murder which he did not commit. Boio had no choice but to flee. It was his only option. As for the guard, why did Boio not kill him when he had the chance? A man with nothing to lose would not have stayed his hand. Yet the guard was only overpowered and tied up. That tells us much about the blacksmith.’
‘I prefer to keep an open mind on the subject.’
‘Would you rather he stood trial and was hanged?’
‘No, Gervase,’ said Ralph. ‘Not if he is innocent. But the prospect of a death sentence is stronger than ever now. When the lord Henry runs him to ground he may not even bother with the niceties of the law. The trial may take place on the spot and the nearest tree will act as a gallows.’
‘At least he now has a chance.’
‘Of what? Freedom?’
‘Of clearing his name.’
‘How can he do that?’
‘In the first instance, by finding the man with the donkey.’
‘Boio would not even know where to start looking for him. He told Benedict that he had no idea where the fellow was.’
‘Boio may not know – but Asmoth does.’
Ralph was about to reply when he saw Philippe Trouville bearing down on them. Their colleague brought additional details of the escape.
‘You have heard the news?’ he said. ‘I have just been talking to one of the guards. It seems that Boio was not as stupid as they all thought.’
‘How did he get out of the dungeon?’ asked Ralph.
‘By setting the straw alight. When the guard opened the door to put out the fire he was knocked senseless. Two men should have been on duty but one deserted his post to lie in the arms of his mistress. Ha!’ said Trouville with disgust. ‘The fellow will be lucky if the lord Henry does not castrate him.’
‘When was the escape discovered?’
‘Not long before dawn. When the second guard returned to his post. Unable to find his colleague, he sensed trouble and raised the alarm. They could not find the key to Boio's cell so they had to batter down the door to get in. Once he was released from his bonds, the man left alone on duty was able to explain how the prisoner got away.’
‘Did he say at what time the escape took place?’ asked Ralph.
Trouville nodded grimly. ‘Boio was gone for several hours before they realised he was no longer in the dungeon. The lord Henry was livid.’
‘I know,’ said Gervase. ‘I spoke with him.’
‘But how did the prisoner get out of the
castle itself?’ said Ralph. ‘They would hardly unlock the gate for him and let him walk out.’
‘That is precisely what they did do, my lord.’
‘I do not follow.’
‘The blacksmith outwitted the sentries,’ said Trouville. ‘When they heard a splash in the river, they thought someone had dived over the wall and into the water. So they opened the gate and went to investigate. While their backs were turned, Boio must have sneaked out.’
‘What caused the splash in the water?’
‘Some heavy rocks. When the castle was first built, they kept a supply of them on the ramparts to hurl down on any attackers. Boio used some to cause a diversion. The sentries checked the pile of rocks and found some missing.’
Ralph had to suppress a smile of admiration but Gervase was more heartened by the news that the fugitive had a good start on his pursuers. Even on foot, he would have been miles away before his absence was discovered. Trouville took a different attitude to the escape.
‘They should hunt him down like a wild boar and kill him!’
‘Every man deserves a fair trial, my lord,’ said Gervase.
‘Not this one,’ said Trouville. ‘He has surrendered that right.’
‘Boio the Blacksmith is not the only prisoner whose fate concerns us,’ noted Ralph. ‘Brother Benedict now stands accused as well.’
‘This is the first I have heard of it.’
‘The lord Henry suspects him of taking the file into the dungeon to give to the prisoner,’ explained Gervase. ‘It is an absurd charge but our host was too choleric to listen to reason. Benedict must wait until his rage has cooled.’
‘He would never even think of doing such a thing,’ said Trouville with sudden loyalty. ‘Benedict has a Christian purity. It is one of the things about him which irritates me the most,’ he added with a lift of his eyebrow. ‘He should not be locked up. I will plead for his immediate release when the lord Henry returns.’
‘So will I,’ said Ralph. ‘I will insist on it.’
‘We may have a long wait,’ said Gervase. ‘In the meantime, we have to sit in session at the shire hall without our scribe. The lord Henry talked of finding a substitute for us but he will not do that while he is charging around the countryside at the head of his pack.’
‘We must have a scribe,’ said Trouville. ‘It is vital.’
‘We already have one,’ announced Ralph, pointing towards the dungeons. ‘Brother Benedict. He would feel hurt to have his role usurped by another. Besides, there is too much of interest going on here for us to miss it all. We will suspend our work at the shire hall forthwith,’ he decided. ‘Ednoth the Reeve can inform all concerned.’
‘It is the wisest course of action,’ said Gervase.
‘Yes,’ agreed Trouville with a glint in his eye. ‘It means that I am free to join in the hunt. I just hope that the lord Henry does not catch his prey before I get there!’
Trouville bounded off towards the stables, yelling for his own men to saddle their horses. Ralph and Gervase watched him go. Suspending their work meant they were now able to take part in the search for Boio as well, though they wanted to find the fugitive in order to help him establish his innocence. They walked towards the keep to discuss their plans and to tell Archdeacon Theobald that he was being spared a tedious morning session with an intractable dispute.
‘What about Brother Benedict?’ said Gervase with concern.
‘He will not be going anywhere.’
‘Must he remain in that stinking dungeon?’
‘Benedict is an ascetic,’ observed Ralph with a smile. ‘He believes that suffering ennobles. He may not deserve to be locked up in that hole but there is one compensation.’
‘What is that?’
‘I have a feeling that he will enjoy it.’
The threat of imminent danger brought Asmoth abruptly awake. She jumped up from the chair in which she had spent the night and ran to open the door. There was no sign of anyone but she could hear a distant noise borne on the wind, faint at first but growing in volume and gathering definition. The sound of so many hoofbeats carried a warning of hostility. Asmoth fled at once, making for the trees, then lunging breathlessly on into the undergrowth until she felt safe enough to pause. She crouched in the shade of a sagging yew and listened. Shouts and banging sounds told her that the forge was being searched. Men were roaming eagerly all over the buildings, causing untold damage as they hacked away with their swords in pursuit of their quarry. It seemed an age before the tumult finally subsided. An order was given and the riders moved off. Asmoth heard them leaving the forge and continuing on the road.
She waited a long time before she dared to emerge from her hiding place. It would be folly to return to the forge because they might have left someone there. Her best plan was to return home, keeping well clear of the roads as she did so. It was only as she was trotting along in the shadow of a hedge that the full significance of the incident dawned on her. Soldiers from the castle garrison had come in search of Boio.
He was free. Asmoth let out a cry of joy.
When the lady Marguerite joined them she was strangely subdued. Surprised to see her again, Golde and Adela gave her a warm welcome and tried to draw her into the conversation but, for once, she had little to contribute. They were in Adela's private apartment and she worked quietly away at her tapestry as she spoke.
‘I hope that the commotion did not disturb you,’ she said. ‘I have never seen my husband so angry. He roused the entire castle.’
‘I know, my lady,’ said Marguerite.
‘You would have thought we were being attacked.’
‘No chance of that, my lady,’ said Golde. ‘The garrison was called to horse in order to chase a fugitive. I am not sure that they need a whole army to catch one man.’
‘Henry is taking no chances,’ said Adela. ‘The prisoner must have been very resourceful to escape from the dungeon. I still do not know how he did it. No matter. They will catch him and bring him back to be called to account for the murder of Martin Reynard.’
‘What sort of a man was he, my lady?’ asked Golde artlessly.
‘Martin? He gave good service here.’
‘Were you sorry to see him leave?’
‘Very sorry, Golde.’
‘Why?’
‘I liked him,’ said Adela with a soft smile. ‘We all did. Martin was very popular in the castle. He was not as well liked by the subtenants, I suspect, because he took his duties seriously and would stand no evasion when it was time to collect the rents. My husband always said that Martin Reynard had a ruthless streak and he meant it as a compliment.’
‘Yet he let him quit your service.’
Adela sighed. ‘That was a cause for much regret.’
‘Did he ever come back to the castle?’
‘From time to time. I could not quite understand why. He was reeve to Thorkell of Warwick and had no reason to be here.’ Another smile. ‘One or two of the ladies boasted that he returned to see them and that may have been the case. He was a handsome man who knew how to court a woman. Many tears were shed when Martin left.’
‘Why did he go?’ asked Marguerite, taking an interest.
‘My husband dismissed him.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘He said that Martin exceeded his authority.’
‘In what way?’
‘I am not sure. Henry never talked about it.’
‘He dismissed a man yet allowed him back in the castle?’
‘I think that my husband had second thoughts,’ said Adela as her needle dipped and pierced. ‘Men's anger is sometimes roused too easily. They act on impulse and live to regret it. What I do know is this: the man who followed Martin here in the office of the reeve is nowhere near as efficient.’
‘Is he as popular with the ladies?’ asked Golde.
‘Oh, no. That could never be.’
‘A sudden impulse should never be trusted,’ said Marguerite. ‘The worst time
to make a decision of any importance is when you are incensed about something. I know this to my cost.’
‘Do you, my lady?’ said Golde.
‘Yes. In a moment of exasperation I dismissed Heloise. I sent her on her way with her ears ringing. She served me faithfully for years and my mother before me. Heloise has been a godsend. Yet I foolishly let her go.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I miss her. She was more than just a companion. She was part of my family. Heloise was my one true friend.’
‘Apart from your husband, that is,’ commented Adela.
‘My lady?’
‘A wife's best friend is always her husband. Golde?’
‘Oh, I agree. It is so with Ralph.’
‘But not so with Philippe,’ said Marguerite wistfully. ‘That is why Heloise was so invaluable. She understood. When she was with us, my husband and I were happy together. We needed Heloise.’ Her hands came up in a gesture of hopelessness. ‘Yet I dismissed her.’
‘She can as easily be recalled, my lady,’ said Golde.
‘In time, perhaps, but not immediately. Heloise has her pride. She will need to be wooed. But enough of my troubles,’ she said, brightening. ‘All I wished to say was that I can sympathise with the lord Henry. Dispensing rashly with someone's services then wanting them back.’
‘I wish that we did have Martin back,’ murmured Adela. ‘Had he returned to our household, he would not have been murdered. I am sure that is one reason why my husband is so keen to bring his killer to justice. Henry was very fond of Martin. Catching the fugitive is a personal mission for him.’
‘They will soon run him down,’ said Marguerite. ‘Philippe has gone to join in the hunt for the villain.’
‘Yet I do feel slightly sorry for the man,’ admitted Golde.
‘Sorry!’ snorted the other.
‘Being pursued by such a huge posse.’
‘He is a murderer.’
‘He is also a frightened man with a troop of armed soldiers on his tail. The odds against him are overwhelming. What chance does he have?’
‘What chance should he have?’ asked Adela.
‘None whatsoever,’ said Marguerite harshly. ‘The man is evil and deserves all he gets. I hope that they slaughter him on the spot when they find him.’
The Foxes of Warwick (Domesday Series Book 9) Page 17