The Stallions of Woodstock

by Edward Marston

  ‘You were justly praised in the sermon,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ralph drily. ‘I have always wanted to lay rough hands on a bishop, but when I finally get the chance he ends up thanking me from the pulpit.’

  ‘You saved his life,’ reminded Golde.

  ‘No, my love. Edric's crutch did that.’

  ‘His crutch?’

  ‘Yes. When Gervase and I searched the copse at Woodstock, we puzzled over these circular indentations in the ground. A staff? An implement of some kind? I could not work it out. Then I saw Edric the Cripple at the banquet.’

  ‘With his crutch.’

  ‘And there was my answer.’

  ‘You needed more evidence than that,’ said Columbanus. ‘What else drew your attention to the steward?’

  ‘His service to the Earl of Hereford.’ He turned to Golde. ‘My wife garnered that crucial piece of information. It gave me a motive for Edric. If someone cuts off your leg as an act of wanton violence, you tend to nurse a grievance.’

  Golde grimaced. ‘Is that what happened?’

  ‘The bishop sounded holy enough in that church this morning but there was not much Christian spirit about him when he helped to put down the revolt of the earls. Edric was not the only prisoner crippled that day. By the time the bishop rode away, a lot of crutches were needed.’

  The monk crossed himself. ‘The horrors of war know no limit. Blessed are the peacemakers.’

  ‘What else convinced you, Ralph?’ asked Gervase.

  ‘His absence from the race at Woodstock,’ said Ralph. ‘Edric raised that colt and trained its rider. Would he really miss a chance to see them compete against such fine horses?’ He shook his head. ‘Not unless he had a good reason. That reason was the murder of Walter Payne.’

  ‘Was he certain the man would be in the race?’

  ‘Completely, Gervase. He watched him in the earlier races, remember, and noted his line of running. Then Edric and the boy practised for many hours over that course.’

  ‘So he could pick exactly the right place for the attack.’

  ‘He proved that in the hall last night,’ said Golde.

  Ralph grinned. ‘Almost proved it.’

  ‘You were the bishop's guardian angel,’ said Columbanus.

  ‘There is nothing angelic about me!’ he denied hotly.

  ‘Yes, there is,’ teased his wife.

  They strolled across the bailey towards the keep. Oxford Castle seemed oddly silent and deserted after the dramatic events of the previous day. Gervase recalled that Hyperion was still stabled there.

  ‘How do you know that Edric was the horse thief?’

  ‘I don't, Gervase.’

  ‘Then why suggest it?’

  Ralph shrugged. ‘A guess. Hyperion is a spirited animal. Only a very experienced horseman could ride him. Ordgar told me how expert Edric was even with his disability.’

  ‘It does not seem to have been a disability,’ said Golde. ‘In some ways, it spurred him on.’

  ‘It did, my love.’

  ‘We all have disabilities,’ confessed Columbanus.

  ‘Yours robs you of both legs,’ noted Ralph.

  Puce with embarrassment, the monk came to a sudden halt. The others stopped to laugh at him but there was great affection in their mirth. Brother Columbanus was quick to point out that his fondness for strong drink was not without an incidental benefit.

  ‘Arnulf the Chaplain had noted my weakness,’ he said.

  Ralph chuckled. ‘You are the patron saint of every brewer and vintner in England.’

  ‘We are all fallible, my lord Ralph.’

  ‘Tell us about Arnulf,’ encouraged Gervase.

  ‘That was what confirmed my suspicions about him,’ said Columbanus. ‘When I saw him with Bristeva, I felt this faint shiver. Something was not quite right in that relationship.’

  ‘A masterly understatement,’ said Ralph.

  ‘During the banquet, he came across to pour my wine.’

  ‘A friendly enough gesture.’

  ‘That's what I thought, my lord,’ said the monk. ‘Then I asked myself why he had made it. I have a chamber close to his. He wanted to make sure that I would hear nothing in the night and be in no position to interrupt him. The way to do that was to tempt me with wine. As you have seen, I cannot hold my drink. Arnulf knew that. If I'd sipped wine all evening, I would not have heard the end of the world, let alone the cries of a young girl being molested. So I held back.’

  ‘You turned your weakness into a strength,’ said Gervase.

  ‘Yes,’ added Golde. ‘Were she here, Bristeva would preach a sermon of thanks to you, Brother Columbanus.’

  ‘And to Gervase. He wrested the chaplain from her.’

  ‘I am just grateful that you alerted me in time,’ said Gervase. ‘In all the commotion, nobody saw Arnulf slip out of the hall with the girl.’

  Columbanus straightened. ‘I did.’

  ‘Poor girl!’ sighed Golde. ‘Bristeva has had to do a lot of growing up in the last twenty-four hours. It must have been a profound shock to learn that the chaplain lured her into the choir in order to take advantage of her.’

  ‘He did the same with Helene,’ Gervase reminded her.

  ‘Innocent girls, both,’ said Columbanus.

  ‘Bristeva is the lucky one. She survived.’ Gervase was rueful. ‘Helene was his real victim. The chaplain exercised complete power over her. She was so flattered by his attentions that she could refuse him nothing. But there were dread consequences for Helene. An unwanted child.’

  ‘She must have been demented with fear,’ said Golde. ‘I cannot find it in my heart to condemn her. Arnulf the Chaplain is the one I condemn. Thanks to him, Helene will be buried in unconsecrated ground, a shameful outcast with nobody to mourn her passing.’

  ‘The bishop was right in his sermon,’ said Columbanus. ‘He called Arnulf a holy devil. How many other girls would have fallen under his spell if that devil had not been stopped?’

  A clack of hooves directed their attention to the stables. Milo Crispin was about to depart with his wife and his escort. Hyperion was leaving with them, towed along by Milo himself on a lead-rein. Golde was astonished.

  ‘That black stallion is being stolen again,’ she said.

  ‘No, my love,’ explained Ralph. ‘Bertrand Gamberell came to his senses.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Milo told me this morning. One way or another, Hyperion has landed Gamberell in a vast amount of trouble. He is so disenchanted with the horse that he has given him to Milo Crispin. In return, Milo has agreed to drop his claim to that disputed land near Wallingford. It is formally ceded to Bertrand Gamberell.’

  ‘But Wymarc also has a claim,’ Gervase reminded him.

  ‘Not any more,’ said Ralph. ‘Recent events have left him with no stomach for a fight over a piece of land. He, too, is willing to let Gamberell's claim take precedence. In other words,’ he added, ‘the problem has been solved amicably and we will not have to deal with the dispute in the shire hall.’

  ‘That is a relief,’ said Gervase. ‘We all gain by this.’

  ‘Including Ordgar.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘With Hyperion in his stable, Milo will not need to take the chestnut colt away from Ordgar's son. A pleasing solution for everyone. It all stems from that beating Gamberell took.’

  ‘We still don't know who administered that.’

  ‘We never will, Gervase.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What man will admit that he was caught in a bedchamber by an angry husband? Bertrand Gamberell has his pride. He will be more careful in his choice of mistresses from now on. And there is some compensation for him.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘He gains that disputed property without having to fight over it in the shire hall. That means we can move on to deal with the smaller disputes which brought us here.’

  ‘Leave those to Canon Hubert.’

/>   ‘When will he arrive?’ asked a worried Columbanus.

  ‘He will be here some time today on that long-suffering donkey of his,’ said Ralph. ‘For once in my life, I will be glad to see him. Hubert will ride in through the castle gates as if he is entering Jerusalem. And I, for one, will be there to scatter palms in his way and to sing hosannas.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘His donkey will win no races but I'll wager that it causes us far less trouble than the stallions of Woodstock.’