The Elephants of Norwich

by Edward Marston

  Bigot rolled his eyes. ‘That sounds like Richard de Fontenel.’

  ‘We offered to bring the man to Norwich,’ explained Gervase, ‘so that we could intercede on his behalf. But he was too terrified to come anywhere near the lord Richard. So we gave him food and directed him to a church we’d passed earlier. The priest will take him in and show him a kindness he never got from his master.’

  ‘Kindness is not one of the lord Richard’s virtues.’

  ‘Does he have any virtues?’ wondered Ralph.

  ‘You might well ask.’

  ‘I will, my lord sheriff. He’s due to come before us in a property dispute. I’ll tax him with his rudeness and beat an apology out of him. He had no cause to scatter us all over the street like that.’

  ‘The lord Richard will claim that he did,’ said Bigot, wearily. ‘What’s more, he’ll point an accusing finger at me.’

  ‘At you?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. A robbery occurred at his home. Something of great value was taken. When the crime was reported, I ordered my deputy to investigate but that only served to enrage the lord Richard. He accosted me here and demanded that I abandon all my other commitments to take charge of the inquiry myself. When I refused, my angry visitor leaped on his horse and galloped out of here. I’m sorry that you met him at such a bad time.’

  ‘I’m sorry that we met him at all,’ said Ralph.

  ‘What was stolen from his house?’ asked Gervase.

  ‘Two elephants.’

  ‘Elephants? Here in Norwich?’

  ‘They were not live animals, Master Bret, but gold miniatures.’

  He gave them a full account of the crime and explained its significance. Ralph had no sympathy for the victim, hoping that the theft would at least rescue the lady Adelaide from the fate of marrying him. Gervase’s ears pricked up at the mention of another person.

  ‘The lord Mauger is a suspect?’

  ‘Not in my estimation,’ said the sheriff. ‘But he and the lord Richard are arch-enemies so he takes the blame for everything that upsets his rival. The truth of the matter is that each man is as bad as the other.’

  ‘Which one will the lady Adelaide choose as a husband?’ said Ralph.

  ‘Neither, if she has any sense.’

  ‘And does she?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She’s a redoubtable woman.’

  ‘Then why does she let them court her?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask her that, my lord,’ said Bigot with a note of sadness. ‘Geoffrey Molyneux was her first husband, as decent and upright a man as you could wish to meet. Compared with him, her two suitors are arrant rogues.’

  ‘Rich ones, however,’ commented Gervase. ‘I went through the returns for this county with great interest. The names of Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot crop up time and again. They have substantial holdings.’

  Talk turned to the work that had brought the commissioners to Norwich. Roger Bigot could not have been more helpful. He gave them friendly advice and told them of arrangements he had already made on their behalf. Ralph and Gervase were grateful. Other sheriffs had been more grudging in their hospitality, trying to hurry their guests on their way and resenting what they saw as interference. Bigot seemed genuinely interested in the disputes that had come to light during the visit of the earlier commissioners. Unlike most people, he did not view the Great Survey as an odious imposition.

  ‘It helps to clarify the situation,’ he decided.

  Ralph chuckled. ‘That’s a polite way to describe it, my lord sheriff,’ he said. ‘Most people call it the Domesday Book, for it represents a Day of Judgement. Our job is to lift stones so that the truth can crawl out into the sunlight. I’m afraid that there’ll be a lot of stones to lift in the county of Norfolk. And I’m not only referring to men like Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot.’

  ‘No,’ said Gervase, taking a signal from Ralph. ‘The Church’s hands are not entirely clean in this county. Bishop Alymer set a bad example. When he succeeded his brother, Stigand, he seized manors such as Thornage, Hindringham, Hindolveston, North Elmham and Helmington in addition to outliers like Colkirk and Egmere. Other prelates followed suit with a vengeance.’

  Gervase rattled off a score of misappropriations and left the sheriff gaping in admiration at his mastery of detail. He had already been struck by Ralph’s air of authority. It was the lawyer’s turn to impress him now. Bigot could see that the two men would make a formidable team when they sat in judgement.

  ‘What manner of man is your colleague?’ he asked.

  ‘Eustace Coureton will make a fine commissioner,’ said Ralph. ‘He’s a shrewd man who’ll show neither fear nor favour. All we have to do is to ensure that he’s not allowed to quote Greek and Latin authors at us.’

  ‘Is he a scholar, then?’

  ‘His only fault.’

  ‘I see it more as a strength,’ argued Gervase.

  ‘You would.’

  ‘A Classical education is a source of joy.’

  ‘Not for the person on the receiving end of it, Gervase. For several miles, I had Eustace riding beside me. It was purgatory. How would you like to have someone called Horace poured relentlessly into your ears?’

  ‘I’d love it, Ralph.’

  ‘Well, it gave me a headache.’

  ‘Vos exemplaria Graeca, nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.’

  ‘Now you’re doing it!’ wailed Ralph.

  ‘Horace gives sage counsel.’

  ‘What’s the translation?’ asked Bigot. ‘My Latin is a trifle rusty.’

  ‘Our colleague, Eustace Coureton, has been doing what Horace urges. “For your own good, turn to the pages of your Greek exemplars by night and by day.” Do you hear that, Ralph?’

  ‘I hear it and I ignore it,’ said the other. ‘Keep your Greeks and your Romans. I’ll do my duty by day and turn to my wife at night.’

  ‘We must agree to differ. Concordia discors.’

  Ralph waved an arm in protest. ‘He’s at it again!’

  ‘Even I can translate that,’ said Bigot. ‘It means “harmony in discord”. Correct?’

  Gervase nodded. ‘Yes, my lord sheriff.’

  ‘You provide the harmony and the lord Ralph supplies the discord.’

  All three of them shared a laugh. The commissioners warmed to their host. He treated them as welcome guests rather than interlopers. It boded well for their stay.

  Roger Bigot became serious. ‘Will you hear the cases in strict order?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘Gervase has devised the plan. Minor cases will be dealt with first before we move on to more complicated disputes like the one involving that surly horseman, Richard de Fontenel.’

  ‘Couldn’t you deal with him and the lord Mauger first?’

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘It would get him off our back while we investigate this robbery. My deputy will be able to work more effectively if the lord Richard is entombed in the shire hall with you for a few days.’

  Ralph pondered. ‘We’ll consider that possibility,’ he said at length.

  ‘Thank you. Meanwhile, you might consider something else.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘An invitation to the banquet we’re giving in your honour this evening.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, my lord sheriff,’ said Gervase.

  Ralph was circumspect. ‘I take it that the lord Richard will not be there?’

  ‘No, my lord.’

  ‘Then we accept with gratitude.’

  When Golde called to see her in her chamber, Alys was just waking up from a short sleep. She rubbed her eyes with a white knuckle. Her visitor was contrite. ‘Did I wake you, Alys? I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to doze off.’

  ‘The long ride tired us all. To be honest, I had a nap myself.’

  ‘Gervase left me alone in here so that I could rest,’ said Alys. ‘The bed was too tempting to resist. I only intended to lie on it for a whi
le.’

  ‘It looks to me as if you needed the sleep,’ said Golde, studying her friend’s puckered features. ‘You’re pale and drawn, Alys. Do you feel unwell?’

  ‘No, no. I’m in good health.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d like a longer sleep?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said the other, detaining Golde with an outstretched hand when the latter moved to the door. ‘Don’t leave me. I’d value some company.’

  ‘You’ll have plenty of that this evening.’

  ‘Will I?’

  ‘Gervase hasn’t told you, obviously.’

  ‘Told me what?’

  ‘We’re bidden to a feast. The lord sheriff and his wife have prepared a banquet for us and invited a number of guests they wish us to meet. Ralph is delighted. We’ve not always had such warm hospitality on our travels.’

  ‘That’s what Gervase told me.’

  ‘You chose the right part of the country to visit.’

  Alys forced a smile. ‘So it seems.’

  ‘Put the rigours of the journey behind you,’ advised Golde. ‘We’ll not have to take refreshment in open country any more. You’ll be going to a banquet on your husband’s arm this evening.’

  ‘I look forward to it.’

  ‘You don’t sound very excited at the prospect.’

  ‘Oh, I am, Golde,’ said the other, trying to inject more interest into her voice. ‘When I’ve woken up properly, I’ll be as excited as you clearly are. It’s a wonderful surprise. I’ve never feasted in such august company before.’

  ‘Nor had I until I met and married Ralph. The life I lead now is a far cry from working as a brewer in Hereford.’

  ‘Do you have any regrets?’

  ‘None at all, Alys.’

  ‘I’m sure that Ralph would say the same.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I couldn’t be happier.’

  ‘Gervase is thrilled to have you at his side. He’s a changed man.’

  ‘I just hope that I don’t let him down.’

  ‘What a strange thought!’

  ‘This is all so new to me, Golde.’

  ‘You’ll have nothing to worry about, I promise you. Gervase will be even more proud of his lovely wife than he already is. Be yourself, Alys. That’s all you must do.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ Alys crossed to the window. The room was at the top of the keep, a timber structure that was perched on a huge mound of earth to make it easier to defend. Down below in the bailey, there was considerable activity. Soldiers were exercising, the guard was being changed and the armourer was busy in his forge, hammering on the blade of a new sword and producing a rhythmical noise that could be heard throughout the entire castle. Horses were being groomed. Servants ran to and fro. An elderly priest ambled towards the chapel. An unseen dog barked a slow lament. Alys was fascinated.

  ‘I’ve never stayed in a castle before,’ she confessed. ‘What is it like?’

  ‘Very draughty in the winter,’ said Golde, crossing to stand beside her. ‘These places are built for safety rather than comfort. We’re lucky to be here in the summer, Alys. We’ll be able to spend less time around a fire.’

  ‘What will we do all day?’

  ‘See something of Norwich, for a start.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘We may even do some shopping in the market.’

  ‘What will we buy?’

  ‘Things that we’re unlikely to see in Winchester,’ said Golde. ‘Norwich does a thriving trade with other countries. Goods are brought upriver from Yarmouth. We may well find silks and cloths that catch our eye, not to mention small items of jewellery.’

  ‘Gervase doesn’t like me to wear anything too gaudy.’

  Golde gave a subversive smile. ‘Please yourself, not your husband.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I’d dare. Doesn’t Ralph tell you what to buy?’

  ‘Of course, but I usually ignore him.’

  Alys laughed. ‘You’re so bold.’

  ‘I lived alone for some time after my first husband died. That taught me to stand on my own feet. And to follow my own instincts when I went to the market.’

  ‘Then I’ll do the same,’ said the other, conspiratorially.

  ‘There’s one way to ensure that Gervase doesn’t criticise what you buy.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Yes, Alys. Get something for him as well.’

  The younger woman laughed again and turned to face her companion. It was Golde’s presence on the expedition that had convinced her to join it. Eager as she was to be with her husband, Alys would never have left Winchester if she had been the only woman in the party, yet that hitherto had been Golde’s position. She marvelled afresh at her friend’s courage and independence. To be with her husband, Golde had ridden to places as far apart as Chester, York, Canterbury and Exeter. Bad weather and uncomfortable accommodation had been endured without complaint. It made Alys resolve to make light of any problems she encountered. The slight queasiness had passed off now. She would soon be able to respond to the notion of a banquet with real enthusiasm.

  Golde sensed that something was troubling her and stepped in closer.

  ‘What ails you?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘The life seems to have drained out of you.’

  ‘It will come back.’

  ‘Are you not in a mood for celebration this evening?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Alys lied.

  ‘Something’s on your mind, Alys. What is it?’

  Alys gave a shrug and moved back to the middle of the room to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts. She looked at Golde again. ‘It was that old man,’ she said. ‘The one we met on our way here.’

  ‘Poor wretch. I felt so sorry for him.’

  ‘How could anyone treat a human being like that? Ralph wouldn’t beat a dog the way that that old man was beaten. It was painful to look at him.’

  ‘I know. But his is not an isolated case, I fear.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Perhaps we should break off this conversation,’ suggested Golde tactfully. ‘I don’t want to say anything out of place.’

  ‘How could you possibly do that?’

  ‘I’m from Saxon stock and you’re not, Alys. You were born in Winchester, I know, but your father came from Normandy and fought at Hastings. That sets the two of us apart. I belong to the conquered and you to the conquerors.’

  ‘What does that have to do with the old man we met?’

  ‘I’ve seen him before a hundred times,’ explained Golde. ‘Sometimes he’s old, something young, sometimes neither. But he’s always badly treated by his master. He’s always a reminder that a Saxon peasant lives at the mercy of his Norman overlord. Not that all members of your nation are harsh,’ she added, quickly, ‘because they’re most certainly not. Some are much kinder than the thegns they replaced. But I can’t change what I am, Alys. Though I married a Norman soldier and love him to distraction, I never forget where my roots lie. That old man we saw today was a symbol to me.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘You’ll understand in time,’ Golde brightened. ‘But enough of such thoughts! A banquet is being prepared for us. That should raise our spirits.’

  ‘Are we all invited?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Including Brother Daniel.’

  ‘Is a monk allowed to eat rich food?’ asked Alys, innocently.

  ‘You wouldn’t pose that question if you’d ever seen Canon Hubert at table. He has the appetite of half a dozen men. My guess is that Brother Daniel will not restrict himself to bread and water either,’ said Golde cheerfully. ‘He’s not just a scribe to the commissioners. He’s a Benedictine who’s been released for a while from his abbey.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘He’s here to enjoy himself, Alys.’

  Brother Daniel was brimming with energy and filled with curiosity about his new abode. After he had been shown to the tiny room where he was to sleep, he found his w
ay to the chapel and knelt down to offer up a prayer of thanks for their safe arrival. He then befriended the ancient chaplain, pumped him for information about the castle, and went out into the town to take stock of his surroundings. A paradox confronted him. Though there were plenty of people about, Norwich seemed curiously empty. In a city of almost five thousand souls, the monk felt oddly alone, as if the crowds that were drifting away from the market were mere assemblies of ghosts. Daniel was puzzled. It was not so much a question of what he could see as what he felt. He sensed bitterness, neglect and a resignation that bordered on despair. The castle was casting a long shadow.

  As he walked down one of the side streets close to the fortress, he saw evidence of a destructive past. During the ill-fated revolt of the earl and his confederates, the castle had been besieged for three months. Many of the nearby dwellings were razed to the ground or simply abandoned by their panic-stricken owners. Those that remained were grim reminders of those troubled times. Daniel glanced into a few of them. The first was barely standing and the second boarded up with pieces of rough timber. Through the cracks in the shutters, he saw a small room with a sunken floor that was littered with rubbish. Something was crawling about in the gloom. Flies buzzed noisily. The stench made him hold his breath and move away.

  The third house was in a more dilapidated state. Its wooden walls were pitted, its thatch all but done and its shutters hanging off like torn limbs. Brother Daniel went up to the entrance, then stepped back in surprise as a cat suddenly darted out between his bare legs. He gave an indulgent smile. The front door was simply propped against the opening. When he took hold of it, he was able to lift it aside. The room into which he now gazed was long, low and covered in the charred remains of furniture. The stink was even more powerful but it did not dispatch him on his way. Something had captured his attention. Revealed by the light that came in through the open door and the broken shutters was a piece of sacking in the far corner. It was heavily stained and seemed to be covering a large uneven object. Picking his way through the ashes, the monk took hold of the corner of the rough material and drew it slowly away.

  Daniel was shocked. His stomach heaved and his temples pulsed. His legs went limp. Sweat broke out all over his body. He wanted to replace the sacking and hurry away to raise the alarm but he had no strength even to move. He was forced to stand there and gaze down in silent horror at the mutilated corpse.