The Foxes of Warwick (Domesday Series Book 9)

by Edward Marston

  ‘Not Ursa,’ said the dwarf, coming out of the hollow to confront them. ‘He is a performing bear, trained to obey. He is completely tame. Ursa only does what I tell him.’

  ‘Did you tell him to crush that barrel of fish yesterday?’

  ‘Ah. Huna told you about that, did he?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘It is the reason we are here.’

  ‘Do not ask for that trick again. It is too expensive for us.’

  ‘We wonder if it is the first time that Ursa has done it.’

  ‘Broken open a barrel of salted herrings?’

  ‘Squeezed something to a pulp out of sheer devilry. Let me explain,’ said Ralph with one eye on the bear. ‘Earlier this week a man was killed in or near the Forest of Arden, possibly on the day when you chanced to pass through there. We saw the injuries. The man's ribs were cracked and his back broken as if someone had crushed him to death.’

  ‘It was not Ursa!’

  ‘Can you be sure?’

  ‘I would stake my life on it,’ said the dwarf, running back down the slope to take hold of the bear's chain. ‘He has to perform in front of women and children whom he could kill with one swing of his paw but he has never so much as breathed angrily upon them. Ursa is tame. I raised him from a cub. He would harm nobody.’

  ‘Not if they were cheering his tricks,’ said Gervase, ‘but suppose that someone had provoked him? Suppose that someone jabbed at him with a dagger or a sword.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘Because they saw a bear looming out of the darkness at them. If the lord Ralph and I met the animal like that, we would both reach for our weapons. How could we know the creature was harmless? Our first instinct would be to defend ourselves.’ He went into the hollow to take a closer look at Ursa. ‘That was why I asked about blood. If he had been wounded in some way, he might have struck back.’

  ‘He is more likely to have turned tail and run.’

  ‘There are certainly no wounds on him now.’

  Gervase peered at the animal then stepped back in disgust.

  ‘The fish,’ explained the dwarf. ‘That's what you smelled.’

  ‘He seems a friendly enough animal, I must say,’ observed Ralph.

  ‘He is friendly, my lord. Watch.’ He jerked the chain and the bear turned a few somersaults. ‘You see? He is like a big child.’

  ‘A big child who does not know his own strength.’

  ‘Ursa would not attack anybody! I swear it!’

  ‘With you there, I am sure that he would not,’ said Gervase, still catching the whiff of herrings. ‘But you were not there when he sneaked off. He may have got lost and scared. When he was disturbed by a stranger he struck out blindly.’

  ‘No!’ yelled the dwarf.

  ‘I am only suggesting what might have happened, not what did. Why not tell it the way you remember it?’ he invited. ‘Tell us how you came to be in the forest in the first place and why you chose that particular place to spend the night. Describe the search for Ursa. And one more thing,’ he emphasized. ‘Tell us if you saw someone on the edge of the forest that morning.’

  The dwarf looked from Gervase to Ralph and back again, trying to decide if it was better to lie to them or to tell the truth. Their manner was friendly but that might be a ruse. As he cogitated he rubbed the bear with absent-minded affection.

  ‘Well?’ said Ralph.

  ‘A man's life hangs in the balance,’ said Gervase. ‘He is wrongly accused of murder. What you tell us may help to save him. We are not saying that your bear is the killer but we need to know as much as we can about the time you both spent in the forest. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the dwarf. ‘And I can tell you one thing right away.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘I did see a man there that morning.’

  When Henry Beaumont and his men arrived at his manor house, Adam Reynard feigned surprise at the news of the prisoner's escape. The constable's posse had searched the forest without finding any trace of their quarry. Henry's rage was matched by his sense of frustration. He gazed around, from the vantage of his horse, with staring eyes.

  ‘He must be here somewhere!’ he growled.

  ‘I have seen no sign of him, my lord,’ said Reynard.

  ‘Have any of your tenants reported sightings?’

  ‘No, my lord. Boio is unlikely to come anywhere near my land. He and I were not friends. There would be no hope of shelter here.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it, Adam. Helping an escaped felon is a heinous crime. If anyone offers him refuge, torture and execution will follow.’

  ‘However did he escape?’

  ‘That does not matter now,’ said Henry rancorously. ‘The fact is that he is loose and we must recapture him as soon as possible. My men will need to search on your land.’

  ‘But the man is not here.’

  ‘We would like to make sure for ourselves.’

  He gave orders and his men split up into groups and dispersed. Adam Reynard was not happy about them tramping over his property but there was nothing he could do about it. He was grateful that Grimketel had forewarned him about the lord Henry's presence in the area. It had given him time to take precautions against a search. No matter where the men-at-arms looked in the vicinity of the house, he had nothing to fear.

  ‘What of Grimketel?’ asked Henry. ‘He has seen nothing?’

  ‘Nothing at all, my lord,’ said Reynard. ‘He was here a while ago and had no idea that Boio had even escaped.’

  ‘Someone should warn him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He is the vital witness against Boio. The blacksmith may wish to get his revenge. Grimketel could be in danger.’

  ‘Then he must be warned,’ volunteered Philippe Trouville. ‘I will do the office myself. Does the fellow live close?’

  ‘About a mile away.’

  ‘Tell me where and we will go there.’

  ‘Search the area thoroughly.’

  ‘We will, my lord.’

  ‘There is no need for you to trouble yourself,’ said Reynard with an oily smile. ‘I will send word to Grimketel. That will alert him.’

  ‘I insist on going,’ said Trouville.

  ‘Teach him the way, Adam,’ said Henry.

  ‘Grimketel is my man. I should be the one to warn him.’

  ‘Do as I tell you, man!’

  Henry's snarl made Reynard lick his lips and back away. With great reluctance he gave Trouville directions and the latter rode off towards Grimketel's house with his men. The constable was left alone with Adam Reynard. He heaved himself off his horse.

  ‘While I wait, I will take refreshment,’ he decided.

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘We must pick up his trail sooner or later.’

  ‘May I ride with you and offer my help?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But I am as eager for him to be captured as you are.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Boio is a murderer. He deserves to be hanged.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Henry through gritted teeth. ‘As soon as he is taken.’

  ‘Without a trial?’

  The constable's face darkened and his eyes narrowed.

  ‘Let us go inside,’ he said.

  The guards at the dungeons were extremely wary about allowing their prisoner to have any visitors. They had seen the cruel punishment meted out to the two men who had been on duty throughout the night and who had allowed Boio to escape. Both men had been whipped until their backs were running with blood. The guards who kept Brother Benedict in custody did not wish to risk offending their master in any way. When she first made her request, therefore, Golde was turned brusquely away but she did not give up. She soon returned to the dungeons with the lady Adela, who insisted that Golde be allowed to visit the monk and who took full responsibility on her own shoulders. In the presence of the lord Henry's wife the guards became more polite and amenable. They even apologised to Golde for
the fact that they would have to lock her inside the cell if she chose to enter it.

  Benedict was amazingly serene when she went in. The monk was kneeling in a corner, gazing up at the rectangle of light coming through the window as if it were a sign from God sent for his personal attention. It took him a moment to realise that he was not alone.

  ‘My lady!’ he said, rising to his feet.

  ‘I came to see how you were, Brother Benedict.’

  ‘That touches me more than I can say but you should not be in a place like this. This filth does not befit a fine lady like yourself.’

  ‘Do not worry about me,’ she said. ‘Think of yourself.’

  ‘That is the last thing I will do.’

  ‘You should not be locked away down here.’

  ‘I know,’ he said calmly, ‘but it is only a matter of time before the lord Henry repents of his folly and lets me out. In the meantime I have been enjoying the pleasures of contemplation.’

  ‘Pleasures? In a vile pit like this?’

  ‘This is my hermitage,’ said Benedict happily. ‘I am completely cut off from the world here. I can commune directly with God. He put me here for a purpose, my lady, that is what we must remember. The life of a holy anchorite is touched with nobility. Self-denial is goodness in action.’

  ‘You do not have to take it to these lengths.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But tell me the news.’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘Of the fugitive. Have they caught him yet?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘How many men rode after him?’

  ‘Virtually the whole garrison.’

  ‘Poor fellow! Boio has no chance.’ He looked around. ‘I can see why he was so keen to get out of this mean lodging. What suits a monk only unnerves another man. And even I might not find this cell quite so hospitable if I were put in chains as he was. It was an ordeal for him.’

  ‘He now faces another–fleeing from the lord Henry.’

  ‘The fear of the animal as the hunters close in on him.’ He gave her arm a light squeeze. ‘But it is so kind of you to think of me.’

  ‘Archdeacon Theobald tried to visit you as well but they turned him away. He has gone to the chapel to pray for your early release.’

  ‘What of the others?’

  ‘Gervase has gone to Coventry with my husband,’ she said. ‘They are hoping to find the man who may provide Boio with an alibi. The lord Philippe, it seems, has joined the search party.’

  ‘Anxious to be in at the kill,’ said Benedict with a grimace.

  ‘The whole castle is in turmoil.’

  ‘Then I am probably in the one quiet place here.’

  ‘Wrongfully.’

  ‘I hold no grudge.’

  ‘You should do, Brother Benedict.’

  ‘Forget about me, my lady. The only person of importance at the moment is Boio. The lord Ralph has gone to Coventry, you say? Did he tell you where else he and Gervase might go?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did he not mention Asmoth?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Asmoth. The blacksmith's friend.’

  ‘Was that the woman you met at the forge?’

  ‘Yes. Did the lord Ralph talk of calling on her?’

  ‘No,’ said Golde. ‘But then he told me very little before they galloped off to Coventry. Who exactly is the woman, Brother Benedict? Tell me a little more about this Asmoth.’

  Asmoth had to tell lies, plead and burst into tears before her neighbour finally relented and agreed to lend her the horse and cart. The loan was accompanied by all sorts of conditions and warnings and apologies for the state that the cart was in but Asmoth listened patiently to them and nodded solemnly. Everyone knew how sick her father was but his daughter had moved him even closer to death's door in order to work on her neighbour's conscience. When he watched her leave he firmly believed that she was going home to collect the old man before driving him to Warwick and seeking the help of a physician. It never occurred to him that she might need the transport for another reason.

  Asmoth waved her thanks and flicked the reins to make the old horse trot along the winding path. The rough-hewn cart was spattered with dirt and sheep droppings. It creaked as it moved and shuddered whenever its solid wooden wheels struck a stone or rolled into a dip. When Asmoth reached her home, she drove on past it.

  Her passenger was still hiding in the bushes.

  They made good speed on the return journey but halted when they came to a fork in the road. Ralph Delchard ordered two men to accompany Gervase Bret while the remainder stayed with him. Their visit to Coventry had been worthwhile but the evidence which it had yielded in favour of the blacksmith was not entirely conclusive. Expecting only to hear Huna's testimony, they had stumbled on a bonus in the shape of a dwarf and a performing bear. It was a productive encounter.

  ‘The man he saw in the forest was Grimketel,’ said Gervase.

  ‘It certainly sounded like him.’

  ‘The description fitted Grimketel perfectly.’

  ‘I'll tell him that when I see him, Gervase.’ Ralph tossed a glance over his shoulder. ‘I am in two minds about the bear.’

  ‘His master gave us his word that Ursa would not kill.’

  ‘He would. If the bear was found guilty, it would have to be destroyed and the dwarf would lose his occupation. What man would not tell lies in his position?’

  ‘The animal seemed docile. There were no wounds on him.’

  ‘He could have grabbed Martin Reynard before the man could draw a weapon. The lord Henry claimed that Boio was the only person strong enough to squeeze his victim to death. Ursa could squeeze the life out of the blacksmith himself. He must remain a suspect.’

  ‘I still think our killer was human,’ said Gervase.

  ‘I am not so sure.’

  ‘Ursa was not involved. Remember what you said. The victim was killed the day before. Not during the night when Ursa roamed off. That lifts suspicion from him completely.’

  ‘I hope I was right.’

  ‘The bearward told the truth.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘If he suspected for one moment that his animal had killed a man, do you think he would stay nearby for a few days? No, Ralph. He would have fled Warwickshire as fast as he could. Forget the bear. Call on Grimketel. I will try to find Asmoth. One of them, I am certain, holds the evidence that we seek.’

  ‘If it is Grimketel,’ vowed Ralph, ‘I'll squeeze it out of him. I'll turn bear myself and hug that weasel until his bones crack. Meet me back in Warwick. Farewell!’

  Ralph swung his horse in a semicircle and cantered off with the four men-at-arms. It was not long before he was on Adam Reynard's land but he did not head for the manor house this time. A swineherd gave them directions to Grimketel's abode and they pounded on their way. After hearing the dwarf's account of what he had seen in the forest, Ralph was convinced that Grimketel had lied to them. Without his master to support his word, the man would be easier to break and Ralph intended to do just that. They emerged from a stand of elms to see the house at the bottom of a slope, smoke curling through the hole in its thatched roof. It was a small cottage with a run of outbuildings behind it.

  Ralph led the way down the incline. When he got closer, he was surprised to see that Grimketel had other visitors. Philippe Trouville's men-at-arms were waiting in a group outside. Ralph rode up to them.

  ‘Where is the lord Philippe?’ he said.

  ‘Inside,’ said one, pointing to the cottage.

  ‘Why?’

  He dismounted and ran through the open door of the cottage before coming to a sudden halt. Grimketel would not be able to tell them anything now. He was lying on his back with blood oozing from a gash on his temple and obliterating most of his face. More blood had streamed from a wound at the back of his head and spread out across the earthen floor. Bending solicitously over him was Trouville. He looked up at Ralph.

  ‘He is beyond he
lp, I fear.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Trouville. ‘Lying here just as I found him.’

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Minutes before you, my lord.’ He stood up. ‘Do you still say that the blacksmith has no blood on his hands?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Grimketel is his second victim.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Look at the way he died. Someone hit him so hard that he was knocked to the floor and his skull split open. This is Boio's work, there can be no doubt. The lord Henry feared this would happen. That is why he sent me here.’

  ‘Sent you?’

  ‘To warn Grimketel of the blacksmith's escape. To tell him to be on his guard in case the fugitive came here in search of revenge. Grimketel gave evidence that led to Boio's arrest. It cost the poor fellow his life.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘I came too late.’

  ‘The blood is still fresh,’ noted Ralph.

  ‘I know, my lord,’ he said, guiding Ralph out. ‘That means the villain may still be nearby. I have sent one of my men to fetch the lord Henry. He is at Adam Reynard's house. If we hurry we may be able to pick up the blacksmith's scent.’

  ‘Why would he take such a risk in coming here?’

  ‘Risks mean nothing to him. What has he got to lose?’

  Ralph was shaken by the turn of events. He looked back into the house and tried to work out exactly what might have happened. Trouville was already back in the saddle.

  ‘Mount up, my lord,’ he urged. ‘You come in good time.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Riding down a murderer.’

  Before he could reply, Ralph heard the posse bearing down. Henry Beaumont and his men came galloping into view. When they reached the cottage Henry ordered the soldiers to begin a search of the immediate area and they set off at once. Trouville and his escort went with them. Ralph remained on his feet when the constable nudged his horse across.

  ‘What are you doing here, my lord?’ he demanded.

  ‘Hunting for the truth,’ said Ralph.

  ‘You should be back at the shire hall.’

  ‘We could not proceed without the services of our scribe and someone foolishly locked him up in a dungeon.’

  ‘Take care you do not end up in the same place!’