The Stallions of Woodstock

by Edward Marston

  ‘What is this new evidence?’ he said sceptically.

  ‘First, let me tell you how the murder was committed.’

  ‘I know that already. The assassin hurled a dagger at Walter Payne's back then made his escape into the forest.’

  ‘You are wrong, my lord sheriff.’

  ‘Every man present has vouched for those facts.’

  ‘Did any of them see the assassin run to the forest?’

  ‘No,’ conceded the other.

  ‘Let me tell you why.’

  Ralph gave a brief account of their search of the copse and discovery of the hiding place. The sheriff showed a grudging admiration for their pertinacity.

  ‘You and Master Bret have been very thorough.’

  ‘Gervase deserves the real credit,’ said Ralph. ‘He found the hole in the ground and lay hidden in it himself.’

  ‘You have learned how the assassin eluded capture but that does not absolve Ebbi from blame. He may still have committed that murder before concealing himself in the hiding place.’

  Ralph was scornful. ‘You have met the man, my lord sheriff. Would Ebbi really have the strength and skill to hurl a dagger with such accuracy? Never! Nor would he have the guile to devise such a cunning hiding place in the copse. And there is another telling detail. When he was taken, did your men find Ebbi coated with dirt?

  ‘They made no mention of it.’

  ‘Then there is further evidence in his favour. Wait until you see Gervase. He was only in that hole for a minute or two yet his face was besmirched and his attire was covered with filth. Had Ebbi been under the ground much longer, he would have come out in a far worse state before he raced to the cover of the forest.’

  ‘That is a fair point,’ admitted d'Oilly.

  ‘There is one final question to be asked.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘Why should he kill Walter Payne?’

  ‘A random act of violence.’

  ‘There was nothing random about this. It was planned with great care. The assassin chose his target and worked out his means of escape in advance. Ebbi has never met Bertrand Gamberell's knight.’ Ralph spread his arms. ‘Why go to such lengths to kill him?’

  Robert d'Oilly was forced to bow to the inexorable logic of the argument but he was reluctant to loosen his grasp on the prisoner. A lesser crime could be attributed to him.

  ‘What was Ebbi doing in the forest?’ he challenged.

  ‘I was coming to that, my lord sheriff.’

  ‘At the very least, my men caught a poacher. Forest law is there to be enforced. Ebbi may yet hang on to his life but we'll castrate him for that offence.’

  ‘Was he caught with game in his possession?’

  ‘No, but he may have hidden it so that he could retrieve it at a fitter time. When my men hunted him down, he made a run for it. If he committed no crime, why should he flee?’

  ‘Leofrun will explain that.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The witness we brought with us, my lord sheriff. Leofrun may seem like an ill-favoured old woman to us but Ebbi sees her through different eyes. That is why he ran from your men. To divert their attention and spare the blushes of a lady.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘An assignation,’ said Ralph with a grin. ‘Ebbi and Leofrun had a secret tryst. He is single, she is a widow. They lack the marriage vows which would make their love valid so they have to resort to stolen moments of pleasure.’ He gave a confiding chuckle. ‘Come, my lord sheriff. Which of us has never dallied with a lady in the greenwood? We might not choose such an unsightly lover as this Leofrun but that does not alter the case. If we were surprised in the long grass with a lady, would not our first instinct be to protect her from discovery and shame?’

  ‘This is some ruse,’ decided the sheriff.

  ‘It is God's own truth.’

  ‘The woman is lying. She will say anything to save his balls from the knife.’

  ‘She has a vested interest in those balls, I grant you. But ask yourself this. Would any woman admit in open court that she was copulating in the forest with a man to whom she is not wed unless she knew that he was completely innocent and that her confession could save him from a death sentence?’

  Robert d'Oilly took time to consider Ralph's argument.

  ‘Where is the woman?’ he said at length.

  ‘Here at the castle.’

  ‘I will need to hear the story from her own lips.’

  ‘Gervase will be a ready interpreter.’

  ‘Fetch her in at once.’

  ‘I will,’ said Ralph. ‘But first brace yourself.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Leofrun is a most unlikely enchantress.’

  When Arnulf came back up the steps from the dungeons, he saw Ordgar crossing the bailey and moved to intercept him. It was important to secure a father's approval.

  ‘Has your daughter spoken to you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ordgar. ‘Bristeva is thrilled.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I am pleased with your decision, if somewhat surprised.’

  ‘Surprised?’

  ‘Can my daughter really deserve this honour?’

  ‘She has a fine voice, Ordgar.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed her father, ‘and I love to listen to her. But I have also heard the other girls in your choir, Father Arnulf. Much as I love my daughter, I must admit that Bristeva will never compare with my lord Wymarc's sister.’

  ‘Helene did have an exceptional talent, it is true. But her brother has, alas, taken her from us. We miss her dreadfully. However, there is no point in dwelling on the past. We must look to the future and find a replacement for Helene.’

  ‘And can Bristeva be that replacement?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘She will need much help from you.’

  ‘That is why I am glad of this chance to speak to you,’ said Arnulf politely. ‘I want your permission before we go any further. Bristeva will have to spend more time here at the castle from now on. Are you happy for her to do that?’

  ‘Very happy. I will not hold her back.’

  ‘You have no reservations about this?’

  ‘None at all, Father Arnulf. You have surely seen that?’

  ‘What I have seen is a loving father doing all he can to encourage his daughter. That is as it should be. But you have not always been the one to escort Bristeva to and from the church. When your son has brought her, I have sensed a strong disapproval.’

  Ordgar stiffened. ‘Has Amalric been disrespectful?’

  ‘He has expressed a low opinion of the choir.’

  ‘Let me speak to him. I'll chide him for his rudeness.’

  ‘You might also have a word with your steward.’

  ‘Edric?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Arnulf with mild embarrassment. ‘I am sorry to have to report this to you. Your son has shown disapproval but it is your steward who has been openly hostile. On the few occasions when he has come to collect Bristeva from a choir rehearsal, Edric has been very resentful of the time she spends here. When I asked him why, he told me that your daughter had no place in the choir of a garrison church.’

  ‘Then he spoke wildly out of turn.’

  ‘It is a relief to hear you say that.’

  ‘From now on, I will escort Bristeva to the castle. I will not have my son or my steward causing any upset. I am proud of my daughter's talent and will do all I can to let you develop it.’

  ‘That brings me to the banquet.’

  ‘Banquet?’

  ‘I did not dare to mention this to Bristeva herself until I had first discussed it with you.’ Arnulf glanced across at the keep. ‘A banquet is to be held in the hall on Saturday in honour of an illustrious visitor. Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances is to stay here as a guest and a lavish entertainment has been planned.’

  ‘How does this affect me?’

  ‘I want Bristeva to take part in that entertai
nment.’

  Ordgar had immediate doubts. ‘To sing before such a large gathering? My daughter is surely not ready for that.’

  ‘She would be with careful rehearsal.’

  ‘My lord Wymarc's sister would be a more suitable choice.’

  ‘Helene is no longer available to us,’ said Arnulf sadly. ‘And I would hate to miss such an opportunity to display one of my choristers. Bristeva would only have to sing two songs. The bishop is known for his generosity.’

  ‘The occasion might overwhelm her.’

  ‘Not with me there to guide her and you to support her.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘You would be invited to the banquet. When such an honour is bestowed on Bristeva, her father must be there to enjoy the moment. Will this persuade you?’

  Ordgar required only a minute to reach his decision. By singing at the banquet, his daughter would not only achieve some personal glory. There would be a tangible reward at a time when the family was sorely in need of money. A further inducement was the fact that Ordgar would for once be on equal terms with the Norman aristocracy as a guest at the banquet.

  ‘Bristeva will sing for you.’

  Arnulf the Chaplain gave a benevolent smile.

  Apology was anathema to Bertrand Gamberell. It was an article of faith with him that he did what he wished and never had to explain or excuse his actions. The need for apology was something which only lesser mortals encountered. Gamberell had always been above it until now but the time had finally come when he himself was obliged to say that he was sorry. He was so unaccustomed to the process that he did not know where to begin. It made his discomfort even more intense.

  ‘A word in your ear, Milo,’ he said.

  ‘I have heard enough from you for one day.’

  ‘That is what I wish to discuss with you.’

  ‘Save it until another time,’ said Milo Crispin with a foot in the stirrup. ‘I have to ride back to Wallingford.’

  ‘This will not wait.’

  ‘It will have to, Bertrand.’

  Milo hauled himself up into the saddle but he was not allowed to leave. Gamberell held on to the horse's bridle. He searched desperately for the words which would assuage his rival without involving his own loss of face.

  ‘Are you turned ostler now?’ taunted Milo.

  ‘I spoke too hastily at the funeral.’

  ‘That is ever your fault, Bertrand. One of them, I should say, for you have many defects. Your words outrun your sense.’

  Gamberell cleared his throat and shifted his feet awkwardly. His smile of apology was more like a grimace of pain.

  ‘I was vexed beyond endurance,’ he explained.

  ‘That was plain.’

  ‘Hyperion was stolen from me today. That was a terrible shock. It put me in a choleric mood. When I arrived at the funeral, I was still pulsing with anger.’

  ‘We all saw that.’

  Gamberell clenched his teeth. There was more shifting of his feet and negotiation with his pride before he finally blurted it out.

  ‘I was wrong to direct my anger at you, Milo. I was under great strain at Walter's funeral. Losing him in such a tragic way was a vicious blow. When Hyperion was taken from me as well, I could not at first handle my despair. Now I can.’ He released the bridle and lowered his head. ‘I am sorry to have accused you like that.’

  ‘I would prefer to forget it, Bertrand.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘On one condition.’

  Gamberell looked up. ‘What is that?’

  ‘When you have found Hyperion again,’ said Milo, ‘and realised that I had no part in his disappearance, you must let me pit my own horse against your black stallion for double the original stake.’

  ‘Gladly!’

  ‘Wymarc, too, will be invited to take part.’

  ‘What of Ordgar?’

  ‘He will be unable to compete again, I fancy.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  Milo was impassive. ‘It does not matter,’ he said evenly. ‘The first priority is to find Hyperion. Such a distinctive horse will be difficult to hide. I am sure that your men are already conducting a search. If you need help, I will put some of my own retinue at your disposal.’

  ‘You take an uncommon interest in Hyperion.’

  ‘I want him returned so that I may beat him.’

  ‘You have no hope of doing that,’ said Gamberell with a touch of his old bravado. ‘Nor does Wymarc. You will both be throwing your money away yet again.’

  ‘We shall see, Bertrand.’

  ‘Do not delude yourself. You do not have a horse in your stables to touch Hyperion. Wymarc's stables are even less equipped to compete with my stallion.’ He gave a callous laugh. ‘The only thing Wymarc has worth riding is that comely sister of his. Helene. I would be happy to saddle her myself.’

  He was still laughing as Milo Crispin rode away.

  Leofrun shook like a leaf throughout the entire interview. She was terrified of the sheriff and humiliated by the position in which she found herself but she knew that she held the key that might unlock Ebbi and she tried desperately hard not to drop it. Robert d'Oilly questioned her closely and Gervase Bret was a deft interpreter. It seemed incredible that such an unprepossessing woman could arouse such ardent love in any man but Leofrun gave a clear testimony.

  ‘We met in the forest every week,’ she explained in a quavering voice. ‘Always the same place, always the same time. Nobody suspected for a moment. What harm were we doing? In the sight of God, we may not have been man and wife. In our own hearts, we were. And always will be.’

  It was a touching act of devotion. Even the sheriff came to accept that she was giving an honest account of what happened. Leofrun had no reason to lie. Her evidence and the discovery of the hiding place in the copse had complicated the murder inquiry. Suspicion was slowly lifting from Ebbi.

  ‘It is a case of wrongful arrest,’ argued Ralph.

  ‘He should not have fled from my men,’ said d'Oilly.

  ‘Ebbi feared being mistaken for a poacher.’

  ‘He should have stood his ground and explained.’

  ‘A lady's honour was at stake.’

  The sheriff wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  ‘That is not what I would have called it,’ he said. ‘She stinks to high heaven. If I had been rolling in the grass with this revolting old Saxon sow, I would have run a mile sooner than own up to such bestiality!’

  Although the insult was not translated for her, Leofrun gathered something of its import and looked deeply hurt. Gervase leapt swiftly to her defence.

  ‘That remark was uncalled for, my lord sheriff,’ he said with controlled anger. ‘Leofrun has shown courage in coming here today and no little dignity. Before you sneer at her again for being what she is, you might remember that both you and my lord Ralph have chosen Saxon ladies as your wives.’

  ‘And I could not have chosen better!’ attested Ralph.

  ‘Leave my wife out of this,’ said d'Oilly. ‘There is a world of difference between a gracious lady and a foul slut like this one before us. If she is Ebbi's woman, his five senses must be sadly lacking for nobody in his right mind would willingly touch, taste, smell, look at or listen to this creature with any hope of pleasure.’

  ‘That is not the point at issue,’ Gervase reminded him.

  ‘No,’ added Ralph. ‘Whatever her shortcomings, she has spoken with great sincerity and her evidence clears Ebbi.’

  ‘I am not so sure,’ said the sheriff.

  ‘You have examined her at length,’ said Gervase.

  ‘True. But I am not entirely satisfied with her answers.’

  ‘Then press her even more on the subject.’

  ‘What else can she tell us?’

  ‘The situation is plain,’ said Ralph, trying to nudge the sheriff towards a decision. ‘Leofrun's evidence has changed everything. She has provided Ebbi with an alibi. You can either exercise your right to act upon her testi
mony and release the prisoner forthwith, or reconvene the court tomorrow and call her as a witness. Then we will have to go through the whole thing again.’

  Robert d'Oilly contemplated the idea without enthusiasm. Ralph pressed home the advantage he felt that they had gained. He first nodded to Gervase and the latter took Leofrun out of the room. Then Ralph moved in close to his host.

  ‘Well, my lord sheriff,’ he asked, ‘which is it to be? A quick decision in private or a long and tedious trial in public that will end in an acquittal? Set the prisoner free. Then we can join forces to hunt down the real killer.’

  Ebbi was more confused than ever. Resigned to his fate, he had fully expected the trial to end in his conviction. Ralph Delchard's intervention had delayed the proceedings and even raised the faint possibility of a reprieve. According to the chaplain, there were definite grounds for hope. Yet Ebbi was still shut away in a reeking cell, denied food, daylight and companionship, and treated in every way like a condemned man. The hope which had stirred in the courtroom was soon supplanted by his earlier despair.

  When he heard the sound of voices, he did not even look up. Guards might be coming to mock him again, or Robert d'Oilly to interrogate him with even more ferocity. His body would not be able to withstand further torture. If confession would spare him, he was now ready to offer it without resistance. A key scraped in the lock and the door swung open. Footsteps rustled in the straw. The prisoner shrank defensively into a corner.

  ‘Do not be afraid, Ebbi,’ said Arnulf softly. ‘It is over.

  ‘Over?’

  ‘Your ordeal. The sheriff has signed your release.’

  ‘Can this be true?’ cried Ebbi, clutching at him.

  ‘God has answered our prayers.’

  ‘But what has changed the sheriff's mind?’

  Arnulf helped him to his feet and guided him out.

  ‘Her name is Leofrun. She is waiting for you.’

  Chapter Nine

  With four of his knights at his heels, Wymarc rode north-west out of Oxford towards his manor. He had much to occupy his mind on the seven miles home. Ralph Delchard's sudden arrival in the courtroom had been at once annoying and pleasing to Wymarc. He was irritated that the trial had been extended beyond the short time he had expected it to last, but he was gratified at the way in which Ralph had allowed him to secure a momentary advantage over Bertrand Gamberell by indicating that Wymarc had assisted the commissioner during the latter's visit to Woodstock. In his long battle of attrition with Gamberell, every successful blow which Wymarc landed on his enemy was to be relished.