The Owls of Gloucester d-10

by Edward Marston

  ‘I had it from Wulfstan himself. He told me how Canon Hubert ridiculed my efforts and bragged about your own. Apparently, you have discovered clues which I am too bone-headed to find. Is this so, my lord?’ he demanded, eyes alight. ‘Must we address you as Ralph the Sheriff from now on? Am I to quit the castle and let you be constable in my stead?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then why do you presume to interfere?’

  ‘Help, my lord. We are only trying to help.’

  ‘Well, it is the strangest kind of help I have ever received and it is neither wanted nor tolerated. How dare you! If anyone else tried to “help” me in this way, I’d cut him in two. If anyone else concealed evidence from me in a murder investigation, I’d throw him in my dungeon. This is unworthy of you, my lord!’ he railed.

  ‘You’re a guest here and deserve the consideration due to a guest.

  But there are courtesies due to a host and you have completely failed to show them.’

  ‘Will you at least let me explain?’ asked Ralph.

  ‘Your behaviour explains itself.’

  ‘We are not your competitors, my lord, but your auxiliaries.’

  ‘Auxiliaries obey their master! You maim his reputation.’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘Be warned,’ shouted Durand, his temples throbbing. ‘I rule here. Life and death are at my command. Only the King has more power in this county. If there is any more interference from you, I will be forced to bring the full weight of the law down upon you.’

  ‘We simply wish to solve a crime!’

  But his plea went unheard. Turning on his heel, Durand charged off to the hall and left his guest alone. Ralph was dazed by the force of the assault. His first impulse was to retreat to the privacy of his room but there was no solace there. He was more likely to walk into another ambush. Upstairs and downstairs, there was no escape. Caught between an irate wife and an enraged sheriff, Ralph did the only thing he felt able to do. He sat down on the step and occupied a position between the two. It was lonely but there was at least a measure of safety.

  The daily routine at the abbey left the novices little opportunity to be on their own, and the few moments that Kenelm was able to steal never seemed to last long. Elaf was always prowling in his wake, seeking to reassure him, fearing that his friend might do something impetuous, hardly daring to let him out of his sight.

  Kenelm was pleased, therefore, when he finally shook off his shadow. Instead of going to his usual refuge in the garden, he found a quiet spot near the Infirmary and lurked unseen beside a holly bush. Precious minutes alone were devoted to more recrimination. Kenelm was convinced that his only means of escape lay in quitting the abbey completely.

  A quiet voice interrupted him with an almost deafening impact.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Owen, crouching by the bush.

  ‘Go away!’ snarled the other.

  ‘I followed you, Kenelm.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to be followed.’

  ‘I know. I saw you dodge over here to shake off Elaf.’

  ‘Have you been spying on me, Owen?’

  ‘No, no!’ replied the other, backing away from the brandished fist. ‘I’ll go, if you wish. I just thought you might want to talk about Brother Nicholas, that’s all.’

  ‘Not to you.’

  Owen sagged. ‘No, I suppose not. You never liked him.’

  ‘He was loathsome.’

  ‘Brother Nicholas was murdered,’ said the smaller boy with wild passion. ‘Can’t you find any sympathy in your heart?’

  Kenelm was immediately chastened. ‘Yes, I can,’ he said, chin falling to his chest. ‘I never liked him but I regret what happened to him. I could not regret it more, Owen. His death has ruined my life.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘That’s no business of yours.’

  ‘But it is, Kenelm. We are taught to help each other.’

  ‘Leaving me alone is the only way to help me.’

  ‘Very well.’ A studied pause. ‘Did he give you anything?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Brother Nicholas.’

  ‘Why should he give me anything?’

  ‘That means he didn’t.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Friendship. Brother Nicholas was my friend.’

  ‘He had no friends.’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ said the other staunchly. ‘Me.’

  Kenelm’s curiosity was stirred. ‘Is that what he told you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Whenever he saw me.’

  ‘But he was hardly ever in the abbey.’

  ‘That’s what you think. He slipped back sometimes when he was supposed to be out collecting rents. At night, usually. To see me.’

  ‘Why ever should he want to see you?’

  ‘We were friends.’

  ‘What sort of friends?’

  ‘Good ones.’

  Kenelm studied the innocent young face before him. Owen had neither the skill nor the experience to deceive him. It was much more likely that he had deceived himself.

  ‘And did Brother Nicholas ever give you anything, Owen?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘A token.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘Our friendship, of course.’

  An uneasy sensation coursed through Kenelm. He moved closer.

  ‘Did you have to do anything to get this token, Owen?’

  ‘Do anything?’

  ‘Yes, for Brother Nicholas. Did you?’

  Owen nodded. ‘I had to promise to tell nobody.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘What happened. What we talked about. What we did.’

  ‘Go on,’ pressed Kenelm, desperate to hear more.

  But Owen’s face suddenly clouded as he remembered the taunts and beatings he had suffered at Kenelm’s hands in the past. He drew away at once. There was nobody with whom he could share his secret, least of all a novice who disliked Owen’s one true friend.

  ‘Tell me,’ urged Kenelm. ‘What did you and Brother Nicholas do?’

  Owen gave an enigmatic smile.

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he said.

  Chapter Nine

  Gervase Bret was so tired on his return from their ride that he took a short nap in his chamber. Awaking refreshed, he went out to see what arrangements had been made for a meal that evening and was alarmed to find Ralph Delchard sitting motionless higher up on the staircase with his head in his hands.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he said anxiously, rushing up to him. ‘What happened, Ralph? Did you have an accident?’

  ‘Yes, Gervase.’

  ‘A fall down the steps?’

  ‘A bad collision with our host,’ said Ralph, waving him away and hoisting himself to his feet. ‘You won’t see the bruises.

  They’re all on the inside. The sheriff knows how to deliver a hard punch.’

  Gervase was astonished. ‘Durand actually struck you?’

  ‘Only with his tongue, though he would have been happy to use the flat of his sword against me. And against you, Gervase,’

  he added, ‘for you are as guilty as I am.’

  ‘Guilty of what?’

  ‘Trying to do the sheriff’s work for him at the abbey.’

  ‘Ah! He’s found out.’

  ‘Bishop Wulfstan told him, apparently. Not the first time the Church has landed us in trouble. Durand was beside himself and who can blame him? In his place, I’d have been just as furious.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘That we were to stop interfering with his duties.’

  ‘We are too far into this investigation to pull out now, Ralph.’

  ‘I know, but I felt it wise not to mention that.’

  ‘Is he aware of what we managed to find out?’

  ‘Yes,’ sighed Ralph. ‘We were accused of withholding evidence.

 
; But for our positions, that offence would land us in serious trouble. As it is, our punishment was no worse than having our ears chewed off. Well,’ he said on reflection, ‘my ears, anyway. Is there anything left of them?’

  Gervase nodded. ‘I’m sorry that you had to bear the brunt of his displeasure, Ralph. I’ll make a personal apology to him and see if I can calm him down a bit.’

  ‘Take your time. At the moment it would be like putting your head into a lion’s mouth. Wait until the sheriff has stopped roaring.

  But I’m glad you’ve appeared at last,’ he said, touching his friend’s arm. ‘The steward was here a while ago with a message for us.’

  ‘Are we to dine in the hall again?’

  ‘No, Gervase. A banquet is being prepared for the King and we are not bidden. The steward told us to order what we desired and it will be served in the anteroom.’

  ‘In the circumstances, that may be just as well.’

  ‘Yes, it will keep us clear of Durand.’

  ‘Have you placed an order yet?’

  ‘I’m still composing it in my mind, Gervase,’ said Ralph with a grin. ‘It’s a choice between sheriff’s head on a plate or bishop’s tongue in a rich sauce. It was Bishop Wulfstan who informed against us. He ought to be silenced in perpetuity.’

  ‘Who discussed our involvement in the case with him?’

  ‘Canon Hubert. He probably preached a sermon.’

  ‘But he is so discreet as a rule.’

  ‘Not when he has an abbot and a bishop to impress,’ noted Ralph. ‘All discretion goes out of the window then. Hubert seeks preferment. He’d strip naked and dance a jig for them if he thought it would gain their approval. Still,’ he said, shaking himself, ‘enough bleating. I got no more than I deserved. And I’m not unaccustomed to being shouted at by irate sheriffs. On to other matters.’

  ‘You haven’t told me what undertakings you gave.’

  ‘None, Gervase.’

  ‘Didn’t the sheriff demand a promise from you?’

  ‘He tried to put the fear of death into me and assumed that would be enough. Durand doesn’t believe that we would have the gall and the stupidity to continue with our enquiries into the murder.’

  ‘Do we?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I still have the gall.’

  ‘Well, I can provide the stupidity.’ They laughed quietly. ‘But we must proceed more cautiously than ever. Without the blabbing mouth of Canon Hubert to land us in the dung heap.’ He looked up the stairs with some trepidation. ‘I’d better tell Golde where we are to dine.’

  ‘Before you do, answer me this.’

  ‘Make the question simple. I am quite befuddled.’

  ‘Something has been preying on my mind since our journey this afternoon. It was that remark of the lord Hamelin’s about needing to get back to Gloucester.’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘How did he know of the King’s visit?’

  ‘From that pompous, puffed-up reeve, I expect.’

  ‘But how did Nigel himself find out? He is hardly an intimate of the sheriff’s. Nigel resents his power. My guess is that Durand told nobody apart from us. Not even the lady Maud, probably.’

  Ralph quailed. ‘Let’s not discuss the question of wives.’

  ‘But you take my point?’

  ‘I do, Gervase.’

  ‘The lord Hamelin is concealing something from us.’

  ‘While distracting our attention with the lady Emma. If a general meeting of the Council has been summoned, he might have a legitimate reason to come to the castle. But that does not seem to be the case. Apart from Bishop Wulfstan, I know of nobody else who has been called here. The lord Hamelin will repay careful watching.’ His eyes rolled. ‘So, of course, will his wife. On which rather sensitive topic,’ he said with another glance up the stairs, ‘you’ll have to excuse me.’

  ‘I will see you both in the anteroom.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  While his friend descended the stairs, Ralph went slowly up them, praying that the interval of time had helped to soothe Golde. Instead of entering the chamber, he knocked tentatively on the door and awaited her response. It was immediate.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called.

  ‘Me,’ he said with contrition.

  The door opened at once and she pulled him gently inside.

  ‘You’re my husband, Ralph. There’s no need to knock.’

  ‘I didn’t wish to intrude.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, brightening at her friendly manner.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Suffering at the hands of Durand, my love. And please don’t ask me why because it’s too painful to relate again.’ He shut the door and gave a shrug. ‘I came to say how sorry I was.’

  ‘I, too, am sorry, Ralph. I spoke out of turn.’

  ‘No, Golde. Your rebuke was well deserved.’

  ‘It gave me no pleasure to administer it.’

  A sheepish grin. ‘I certainly had none in receiving it, I can tell you.’

  ‘Can we put it behind us?’

  ‘Only if you forgive me.’

  ‘In time, perhaps.’

  ‘I’ll settle for that.’ He took her in his arms and sealed their reconciliation with a kiss. ‘It will not happen again,’ he said. ‘As proof of which, I can tell you that the King is not expected until after nightfall.’

  ‘Why so late?’

  ‘He wishes to slip into the city unobserved, Golde. Whatever business brings him needs to be cloaked in secrecy for some reason. When I say that, I have said all that I know myself.’

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘Beyond the fact that it affects us. A royal guest will naturally take precedence and a feast is being prepared in the hall. We three have been asked to eat separately in the anteroom.’ He indicated the door but Golde did not move. ‘Are you not hungry, my love?’

  ‘Yes, but I want proof of your penitence first.’

  ‘Must I don sackcloth and ashes?’

  ‘A simpler form of atonement will suffice,’

  ‘Name it, my love, and I will agree to it.’

  ‘Good,’ she said briskly. ‘Let us first eat with Gervase then visit them straight afterwards. They are half-expecting us.’

  ‘Who are?’

  ‘My sister and her betrothed. I want you to meet Forne.’

  Ralph stiffened. ‘The arrogant young fool who dares to have serious qualms about your marriage to me?’

  ‘I knew that you’d like him,’ said Golde with a laugh.

  Before the bell for Compline drew them to the abbey church for the last service of the day, Canon Hubert and Brother Simon walked side by side around the cloisters. Both were at peace.

  Unaware of the sheriff’s reaction to their search for the killer, Hubert was still preening himself after his performance in front of Abbot Serlo and Bishop Wulfstan. He had made a profound impression on both of them and it would stand him in good stead.

  Both men had influence. It would be used in his favour.

  Simon’s tranquillity had returned the moment he set foot back inside the comforting walls of the abbey and shook off the horrid memories of the archdeacon’s venture into midwifery, an escapade which had appalled Simon and made him glad that he did not live in the diocese of Gwent. Abbey life was all to him. There was no danger of meeting any young Welsh mothers shrieking in labour there.

  ‘What is your opinion, Brother Simon?’ asked Hubert.

  ‘Of what, pray?’

  ‘This dispute we have spent so much time trying to resolve.’

  ‘I am only your scribe, Canon Hubert. I have no opinion.’

  ‘In the shire hall, perhaps not. In the privacy of the cloister, it is a different matter. You heard all that we did. What is your conclusion?’

  ‘Hamelin of Lisieux has prior claim.’

  ‘That is what I have come to accept.’

  ‘Only the Breton can m
ount a serious challenge.’

  ‘Not the Welshman?’

  ‘I found it too distressing to listen to all his evidence.’

  ‘A pity, Brother Simon. His arguments were sound and forcefully put. They had a certain glibness but you expect that from the Welsh. Credit where it is due. Abraham the Priest gave a good account of himself.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Though I could have done without the lurid description of his journey here.’

  ‘So could I, Canon Hubert!’

  They turned a corner to perambulate along another side of the garth and found a diminutive figure waiting for them. Elaf stood there with a look of quiet apprehension. The monks stopped in front of him.

  ‘You wish to speak to me?’ said Hubert loftily.

  ‘If I may, Canon Hubert,’ replied the boy nervously. ‘You and Master Bret were asking me about Brother Nicholas.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I remembered something else about him.’

  ‘Is it significant?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Well? Be quick. Compline is at hand.’

  ‘A week before Brother Nicholas’s death, I saw him talking to someone outside the abbey. A well-dressed man. I have never seen him before. All that I remember is that they seemed to be having some kind of argument.’

  ‘What made you decide that?’

  ‘The way the man was waving his arms about.’

  ‘In anger, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. Brother Nicholas was trying to calm him down. When he turned to point at the abbey he caught sight of me by the gate and scowled. I ran back inside.’

  ‘And that was all?’

  ‘Yes, Canon Hubert.’

  ‘Brother Nicholas did not come after you to scold you?’

  ‘No, I hardly saw him after that. Then, with the shock of what we discovered in the church, it went out of my head, this meeting he had with the stranger.’

  ‘Did he appear to be a stranger to Brother Nicholas?’

  ‘Oh no. I think they knew each other.’

  ‘How could you tell?’

  ‘By the way they stood and talked.’

  ‘Can you describe this other man?’

  ‘Not really. They were some distance away.’

  ‘Was the fellow old or young?’

  ‘Old, I think. He had a beard.’

  ‘That tells us little. Almost every man in Gloucester seems to have a beard. Yet another deplorable habit of the Saxons. But you said earlier he was well dressed. A man of wealth?’