The Stallions of Woodstock

by Edward Marston

  ‘Had something upset her recently?’

  ‘Helene was very happy,’ insisted her brother. ‘My wife will tell you the same. Helene was part of a loving family here. She had no cause to be troubled or upset.’

  ‘No broken friendship, perhaps?’ said Baldwin, fishing with a delicate line. ‘Helene was beautiful. She must have had many admirers. Was there a special friend among them? Someone with whom she may have been involved in a romance?’

  ‘There is no question of that.’

  ‘Are you quite sure, my lord?’

  ‘Completely. I would have known about it.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘She was my sister, Baldwin,’ the other reminded him. ‘She lived under my roof. I know everything that Helene did and said. There was no romance with anyone. I would have forbidden such a thing. She would not have dared even to consider it.’

  ‘I fear that you are mistaken.’

  ‘That is impossible.’

  Baldwin took a deep breath and steeled himself.

  ‘You will have to know it sooner or later, my lord.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Helene deceived you.’

  ‘My sister was an obedient girl. She would never do that.’

  ‘The proof is undeniable.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘There was a romance of some sort, my lord. I examined her with great care. There is no room for doubt.’ He gulped in some more air before delivering the blow. ‘Helene was with child. When she swallowed that poison, she did not just take her own life. Mother and baby quit this world together.’

  During the brief exchange with him in the courtroom, Ralph Delchard had taken an immediate dislike to Bertrand Gamberell and the man did not improve on acquaintance. When he cornered Ralph in the bailey of Oxford Castle the following morning, Gamberell was almost aggressive.

  ‘What did you say to Robert d'Oilly?’ he demanded.

  ‘That is none of your business.’

  ‘I wish to know.’

  ‘You are wasting your breath by even asking,’ said Ralph. ‘The sheriff and I had a private conversation yesterday. We felt no obligation to include you in it.’

  ‘I am deeply involved here.’

  ‘From what I hear, Bertrand Gamberell is deeply involved with himself. Do not flaunt your vanity in my face for I'll not endure it.’

  Ralph had been on his way to the stables when he was accosted by Gamberell. The latter's debonair appearance was at odds with his belligerent manner but he was nothing if not flexible. Realising that he could not harass Ralph to any effect, he tried another approach, producing the dazzling smile which had won him so many friends and conquests among the ladies of the county. Hands on hips, he appraised his companion.

  ‘I like you, my lord,’ he decided.

  ‘You have a strange way of showing your affection.’

  ‘Forgive my rash conduct,’ said Gamberell easily. ‘I have been sorely tried these past few days. First, one of my knights is slain at Woodstock, then my finest horse is stolen.’

  ‘I committed neither of these crimes.’

  ‘That is very true. Indeed, you have gone out of your way to help us solve one of them. That calls for thanks rather than condemnation.’ He touched Ralph familiarly on the arm. ‘Let us be friends, my lord. I have a strong feeling that we are cut from the same cloth.’

  Ralph had an equally strong feeling that they had very little in common but he said nothing. Gamberell was a key figure in the murder inquiry. It would be foolish to spurn his help when he was in a mood to co-operate. Ralph offered him a non-committal smile which the other was quick to misinterpret.

  ‘That is better,’ said Gamberell happily. ‘We both want the arrest and conviction of this assassin so we may as well work together. All I wish to know is why Ebbi was released.’

  ‘Did you put that question to my lord sheriff?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘That your evidence had been very persuasive.’

  ‘Then there is an end to it.’

  ‘But I do not know exactly what that evidence was.’

  ‘Suffice it to say that it proved Ebbi's innocence beyond any shadow of doubt. Did you really believe that a skinny old man like that could plot and carry out so cunning a murder?’

  ‘Well, no, my lord,’ lied Gamberell. ‘To be candid, I always had grave reservations. Ebbi was totally unknown to me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was the target of that attack. Whoever killed Walter Payne was really striking at me. Ebbi had no motive to do that. I thought at first he might have been hired by someone who had a grudge against me but such a person would surely engage a more reliable assassin.’

  ‘Someone able to kill then elude arrest.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And to show some ingenuity in the process.’

  ‘Ingenuity?’

  Ralph told him about the hiding place in the copse which he and Gervase had discovered at Woodstock. Gamberell was duly astonished and impressed. He was also puzzled.

  ‘Why have you become embroiled in this?’ he said. ‘You are here simply to decide who owns what land and how much tax should be paid on it. Tiresome work that should keep you immured in the shire hall. Why ride all the way to Woodstock to look into a crime that can surely hold no personal interest for you?’

  ‘But it does, my friend.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘The major dispute which we have come to Oxford to settle concerns, as you well know, three claimants to the same property.’

  ‘Milo, Wymarc and myself.’

  ‘Is it not strange that exactly the same men are involved in a horse race during which a murder is committed? That is too much of a coincidence to ignore.’

  ‘There was a fourth party involved, my lord. Ordgar.’

  ‘His name only thickens the stew. Much of the land which Milo Crispin now holds was once in Ordgar's possession. You, too, have appropriated some of Ordgar's former manors. Can you see now why I am so curious about this whole matter?’ said Ralph, eyeing him shrewdly. ‘Four people engaged in a tenurial battle also take part in another kind of race.’

  ‘And I was the loser!’ sighed Gamberell.

  ‘Suspicion must therefore fall on your three rivals.’

  I accused them to their faces.’

  ‘And how did they respond?’

  ‘Milo was a block of ice and denied the charge. Wymarc screamed his innocence and swore he'd take out an action for slander against me. Needless to say, he did not. Wymarc is all bark and no bite.’

  ‘What of Ordgar?’

  ‘He has neither bark nor bite,’ sneered Gamberell. ‘And none of the guile needed to plan such a crime. Besides, he expected his colt to win. Why set up a murder which is bound to render the contest void?’

  ‘Apart from these three, do you have any other enemies?’

  ‘Several, my lord.’

  Ralph grinned. ‘Vengeful husbands, perhaps?’

  ‘Who knows? My concern is that the man is apprehended quickly. He has already killed one of my men and stolen my horse. The next outrage may be a direct attack on me.’

  ‘I think that unlikely.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To begin with, you have no proof that the assassin and the horse thief are one and the same man.’

  ‘He feels like the same man.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  ‘He is hell-bent on hurting me, my lord.’

  ‘Then ask yourself this,’ said Ralph, watching a horse as it was led out of the stables. ‘Would someone who is ready to kill your man in broad daylight be content merely to take your stallion? He would be much more likely to slaughter the animal and send him back to you in pieces.’

  Gamberell saw the logic in his argument and nodded. But the new perspective on the crimes brought him no comfort.

  ‘It seems that I now have two enemies instead of one.�
��

  Ralph shook his head. ‘I am not entirely persuaded that you have any who would go to such lengths.’

  ‘I must have. An assassin killed my man.’

  ‘Then we should be looking at Walter Payne's enemies. It will be a blow to your self-esteem but you may have to accept the fact that Bertrand Gamberell is in no way involved in this murder.’

  ‘I am bound to be. Walter was one of my knights.’

  ‘He was the intended victim.’

  ‘As a means of getting at me.’

  ‘No,’ said Ralph, feeling his way through the argument. ‘As a means of getting at Walter Payne. The race was seen by the killer as both an opportunity and a decoy.’

  ‘Decoy?’

  ‘It made you look in the wrong direction. Our assassin is more guileful than I thought. He has led you by the nose. All this time, you have wondered who is striving to get at Bertrand Gamberell instead of asking yourself who had a motive to kill Walter Payne.’

  ‘Nobody.’

  ‘We all have enemies of some sort.’

  Gamberell was perplexed. He was so convinced that he had been the indirect target of the murder that he could not easily accommodate a theory about the crime which relegated him to a peripheral role. He felt obscurely cheated.

  Ralph pursued his new line of thought relentlessly.

  ‘Your stallion, I hear, was previously invincible.’

  ‘Hyperion won all three races.’

  ‘And who was in the saddle each time?’

  ‘Walter Payne.’

  ‘So he was your preferred rider?’

  ‘My best horseman. And the only person, apart from myself, who could handle such a fiery animal as Hyperion.’

  ‘The assassin knew that he would be in the race that day,’ said Ralph. ‘All that careful planning would not be wasted.’

  ‘Everyone liked Walter.’

  ‘Everyone but the killer.’

  ‘Walter Payne was a good man. Loyal to a fault.’

  ‘Had he always been in your service?’

  ‘No,’ said Gamberell. ‘He came to me a couple of years ago. Before that, he was in the employ of Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances. Walter fought under the bishop's banner many a time and talked fondly of those years. That is why his death is such a tragedy. Walter was looking forward to the banquet with real excitement.’

  ‘Banquet? Here at the castle?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. On Saturday. The honoured guest is none other than Bishop Geoffrey himself. I promised to take Walter along with me as my guest so that he could be reunited with his old master. Fate can be so treacherous.’

  Ralph said nothing. His mind was racing with Hyperion.

  Having come to church to pray, Gervase Bret stayed to listen to the choir rehearsal. He sat at the rear of the nave as their voices soared up to heaven under the direction of Arnulf the Chaplain. The eight members of the choir looked vaguely incongruous when they first arrived but their voices blended perfectly. Gervase was enchanted. He found himself singing the Kyrie eleison with them.

  The door opened and a figure slipped quietly into the church. Gervase guessed who he was. When Bristeva sang her solo, the newcomer's face was a study in pride and pleasure. Gervase waited until the rehearsal was over before intruding on the old man's joy.

  ‘You are Bristeva's father, I believe,’ he said.

  ‘That is so. My name is Ordgar.’

  ‘The chaplain talked about you. He has a high opinion of your daughter. Having heard her sing, I share that opinion.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Gervase introduced himself and the two fell easily into conversation. The old man watched his daughter with a smile but there was a wealth of sadness in his eyes.

  ‘Bristeva has a gift,’ observed Gervase.

  ‘It comes from her mother. She, too, could sing.’

  ‘But not in any church choir, I suspect.’

  ‘No, sir. That would have been out of the question.’

  ‘Arnulf has wrought many changes here.’

  ‘He is a good man,’ said Ordgar readily. ‘We did not have to come to him. He went out into the town and beyond, looking for choristers and making no distinctions. He would take anyone who was willing to learn.’

  ‘It was a wise policy. Bristeva is proof of that.’

  ‘I refused to let her come at first,’ admitted Ordgar. ‘This is a garrison. I know how crude soldiers can be. I did not want my daughter exposed to ribald comments and worse.’

  ‘What changed your mind?’

  ‘Arnulf the Chaplain. He promised me faithfully that no harm would come to the girl and none has. Arnulf has shielded her from any unpleasantness. Here in the church, she and the others are perfectly safe.’

  ‘It has been a delight to listen to them,’ said Gervase. ‘And I look to hear more of Bristeva when she sings at the banquet on Saturday.’

  ‘If indeed she does so.’

  ‘But it is all arranged. The chaplain has already chosen the two songs which she is to sing. You have heard her, Ordgar. Your daughter is more than ready for such a test.’

  ‘It is not my daughter who is the problem, sir,’ sighed the old man. ‘It is my son, Amalric.’

  ‘Your son?’

  ‘I have tried to overrule him but he is too headstrong. Amalric hates the idea of his sister performing in front of revellers at a banquet in a Norman castle. He has sworn to me that somehow or other he will stop Bristeva from singing here on Saturday night.’

  Chapter Ten

  His horse was saddled and his men ready to depart from the castle with him but he first had to take his leave of his wife. Golde had come down into the bailey to wave Ralph Delchard off. He strode swiftly across to her to collect a farewell kiss.

  ‘I thought you might have gone by now,’ she said.

  ‘Bertrand Gamberell detained me.’

  ‘I have heard that name a lot in the last day or two.’

  ‘So have I, alas!’

  ‘He is very popular with all the ladies in the castle.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ralph, ‘and he knows how to trade on his popularity. A backstairs man, if ever I saw one. A smiling, soft-voiced predator of the bedchamber. A sly, dangerous, devious satyr with the fiendish good looks to seduce a holy nun and turn her into a rampant harlot. No woman is safe while Bertrand is on the loose.’

  ‘Are you warning me?’ she teased.

  ‘Only if you feel in need of a warning,’ he said with a grin. ‘And I doubt that. No, you would be more than a match for Bertrand Gamberell. You are too strong and self-possessed to fall for his tricks. He finds his victims among the weak and unprotected. You are neither.’

  ‘I am still interested to meet this man.’

  ‘You will, Golde. He will be back in time. He is leading the hunt for his missing horse again. A black stallion named Hyperion. One stallion is searching for another.’ He stole a second kiss. ‘But I must away.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To Wallingford.’

  ‘As far as that?’

  ‘I want to speak with Milo Crispin,’ explained Ralph. ‘He was another witness of the race at Woodstock. He may furnish me with details which others forgot or were too distracted to notice. Milo is a shrewd man. I met him briefly yesterday but we had no time for conversation.’

  ‘My lady Edith adores him.’

  ‘She would. He is her son-in-law.’

  ‘She says that he is a cool and capable man.’

  ‘I saw something of his coolness in the courtroom,’ said Ralph. ‘It is certainly not shared by Bertrand Gamberell. Still less by Milo's fatherin-law. Robert d'Oilly is a peppery sheriff when he is crossed. I am glad that I am not one of his underlings. A man with such a vile temper can be vicious.’

  ‘We both saw evidence of that.’

  The two of them looked involuntarily at the dungeons.

  ‘No more brooding on that,’ said Ralph, trying to depart on a more cheery note. ‘What will you do wh
ile I am gone?’

  ‘Pine for your return.’

  He laughed. ‘I'm sure you have other plans.’

  ‘I do, Ralph,’ she said. ‘There are still many decisions to be made about the banquet. My lady Edith wants me to help her. Last evening, we went down to the kitchen and discussed the fare to be served. Today, we finalise the entertainment.’

  ‘You are entertainment enough for me, my love.’

  ‘I am talking about public performance,’ she scolded. ‘It is going to be the most wondrous feast. Almost everybody of consequence in the shire will be there. I am glad that our stay in Oxford has been extended so that we will be here for the occasion. My lord Maurice deserves our thanks for that.’

  ‘If for nothing else!’ said Ralph seriously. ‘Maurice Pagnal has much to answer for, I fear.’

  ‘My lady Edith tried to sound me out about him.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever.’

  ‘Good. Her husband obviously set her on to you.’

  ‘Surely not. She was simply being curious.’

  ‘He ordered her to question you, to see if she could find out from you what I would not divulge to him. Say nothing, Golde. Trust nobody.’

  ‘Would he really use his own wife as a spy?’ she said, mildly shocked by the notion. ‘Would he drag her down to that level?’

  Ralph glanced around to make sure they were not overheard.

  ‘Robert d'Oilly would stop at nothing,’ he said bluntly. ‘And that includes having a man murdered during a horse race at Woodstock. I am almost coming to believe that our host may be the one who instigated this crime. What better way to cover his own tracks than to lead the inquiry into a murder which he himself set up?’

  Bristeva was so full of girlish excitement that her father did not have the heart to mention the cloud on the horizon. On the ride back to their home, he let her talk about the rehearsal at the church and rhapsodise about Arnulf the Chaplain.

  ‘He is the kindest man in creation, father.’

  ‘A true Christian.’

  ‘Some of the boys snigger at him,’ she said, ‘but they don't know him as well as I do. And they are jealous because he has chosen me to take over from Helene.’ She giggled with delight. ‘They were so angry when Father Arnulf told them that I was going to sing at the banquet in front of the Bishop of Coutances. Father Arnulf said such wonderful things about me. I know it is a sin to be vain but I could not help enjoying his praise. Out of the whole choir, I am the only one who will go to the banquet.’