The Wildcats of Exeter (Domesday Series Book 8)

by Edward Marston

  ‘Wait!’ said Catherine. ‘Has Tetbald returned yet?’

  ‘I believe that he has, my lady.’

  ‘Find out for me at once.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘If he is here, ask him to come to me.’

  The servant nodded obediently and withdrew. Catherine began to sew again but she swiftly lost interest and tossed the tapestry aside. Rising to her feet, she paced the room as she considered the options which now confronted her. She did not hear the tap on the door. When she turned back towards it, she saw the steward standing just inside the room.

  ‘You sent for me, my lady?’ he said.

  ‘Close the door.’

  He did so then faced her again. ‘What is your wish?’

  ‘I need your advice, Tetbald.’

  ‘That is always at your command,’ he said with an oleaginous smile, moving in closer to her. ‘How may I help?’

  ‘First, tell me what has been going on. Have they searched?’

  ‘Throughout the day.’

  ‘What have they found?’

  ‘Very little, my lady. Darkness forced them to break off.’

  ‘Did you speak with the lord sheriff?’

  ‘I did,’ said the steward evenly. ‘He vowed that he would track down the murderer but admitted that the trail was cold. He returned to the castle to feast with the royal commissioners.’

  ‘How can he revel at a time like this,’ she said with asperity.

  Tetbald said nothing but he smiled inwardly. He was a fleshy man in his late twenties with dark wavy hair framing a countenance that was slowly yielding its good looks to the encroaching fat of his cheeks. He stood in an attitude of deference, but there was a familiarity in his manner which Catherine seemed to accept rather than condemn.

  ‘What am I to do, Tetbald?’ she asked.

  ‘Wait until the funeral is over, my lady.’

  ‘But the commissioners begin their deliberations tomorrow. My husband was to be among the first to be called before them.’ She bit her lip with indecision, ‘Should I go in his stead?’

  ‘That would not be seemly, my lady.’

  ‘I will not sit idly by while others fight over my land.’

  ‘Then let me go in your place,’ he volunteered. ‘The lord Nicholas would have had me at his side in the shire hall because I know all the particulars of his manors and the lands appertaining to them. Employ me as your ambassador, my lady. I will not let you down.’

  ‘That is true,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘I can rely on you, Tetbald. You have been very faithful to me. Faithful, conscientious and discreet.’

  ‘I only wish to please you.’

  Their eyes locked for a moment then Catherine broke away to resume her seat. His presence had a soothing effect on her and her composure soon returned. She began to feel in control of the situation.

  ‘Represent me at the shire hall, Tetbald.’

  ‘I will do so gladly.’

  ‘Do not surrender one acre of land,’ she insisted. ‘It is all mine. I inherit directly from my husband. Nobody else must be allowed to steal the property from me. You must be a persuasive advocate.’

  ‘Right and title are on your side, my lady.’

  ‘My husband feared that they might not be enough.’

  ‘The lord Nicholas is no longer here,’ he whispered. ‘You do not have to accept his counsel any more. All of his manors now come into your hands, to be disposed of as you choose.’

  ‘I choose to keep them,’ she said with emphasis.

  ‘Then that is what will happen.’

  ‘Will you give me your word on that, Tetbald?’

  The steward took a step towards her. His smile was at once inquisitive and complacent. ‘Do you really need to ask that, my lady?’

  Their eyes met again and this time she did not look away.

  ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I trust you. I have to now.’

  Chapter Three

  Since his marriage, Ralph Delchard slept soundly as a rule, but his first night at Exeter Castle was an unusually restless one. He was wide awake long before the larks were heralding the dawn. Knowing instinctively that something was troubling him, Golde roused herself from her own slumber and rolled over to face him.

  ‘What is the matter?’ she murmured. .

  ‘Go back to sleep, my love.’ .

  ‘How can I when you are threshing about in the bed?’ .

  ‘I did not mean to disturb you. I have been trying to lie still.’ .

  ‘That is what convinced me that something was bothering you,’ she said with a tired smile. ‘After twisting and turning all night, you were unnaturally still. That is not like you. I sensed that you were awake. Why?’ she pressed. ‘What ails you?’ .

  ‘Nothing that need concern you.’ .

  ‘I want to know, Ralph.’ .

  ‘There is no point in the two of us losing our sleep.’ .

  ‘Tell me,’ she said with a playful punch. ‘I insist.’ .

  ‘Very well. I was thinking about that jester. Berold.’

  ‘And do not lie to me,’ added Golde, jabbing him harder. ‘This has nothing to do with the jester, amusing as he was. You are still perplexed by this murder. That is what gnaws away at your mind.’ .

  Ralph grinned. ‘I have no secrets from you, Golde. You have learned to read your husband like a book.’ .

  ‘Then turn the page so that I may read more.’ .

  ‘You are right,’ he confessed. ‘I am sorely troubled by the murder of Nicholas Picard and by Baldwin's reaction to it. Why is he so anxious to keep me out of the investigation? We are interested parties, Nicholas Picard was one of the main people we came all this way to see. I want to know what happened to him. Yet the lord sheriff will not even let me view the body.’ .

  ‘Why should you want to, Ralph?’ .

  ‘Because I may learn things from it that have eluded Baldwin's eye. I have buried many friends in my life, Golde, brave soldiers who were cut down in battle. I can tell if a wound was inflicted by sword, dagger, lance or axe. I can unravel the story of a man's death.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘But our host spurns my help.’ .

  ‘For what reason?’ .

  ‘That is what I have been trying to work out. Is he arrogant enough to believe that he alone can solve this crime? Does he fear that I might find something which has eluded him? Or is there a darker cause?’ .

  ‘What do you mean?’ .

  ‘I begin to wonder if the lord sheriff is hiding something from me.’ .

  ‘Hiding something?’ .

  ‘You saw his behaviour at the banquet last night.’ .

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You did seem to arouse his choler, Ralph. On the other hand, you had more success in talking to him than I did in catching the attention of the lady Albreda. I was snubbed. She obviously regards Saxon women as a lower form of life.’ .

  ‘So do I,’ teased Ralph, slipping an arm round her. ‘That's what makes them so appealing. They are wild and untamed.’

  ‘How many of them have you known?’ .

  ‘Hundreds!’ he said airily. ‘But you are easily the best.’ .

  She smiled at his empty boast and snuggled up to him. ‘I did not like it, Ralph,’ she admitted. ‘The lady Albreda hurt my pride. I know that she is the King's niece but I refuse to be put down like that. My father was a Saxon thegn who held several manors in Herefordshire. I am used to respect. I will not endure condescension.’ .

  ‘You will not have to, Golde,’ he promised. .

  ‘If it continues, I prefer to leave here for more modest accommodation.’ .

  ‘That will not be necessary.’ .

  ‘I am not ashamed that I worked as a brewer,’ she said. ‘It was an honest trade and someone had to carry on the business when my husband died. But the lady Albreda all but sneered at me when she heard that I had actually worked for a living.’ .

  ‘It was my fault for raising the subject, Golde.’ .

  ‘You were not t
o know how she would react.’ When he kissed her on the head and pulled her closer, she went on: ‘What puzzles me is why she was so meek with her husband yet so tart with me. I did nothing to offend her.’ .

  ‘But you did, Golde. You shone with happiness.’

  ‘How could that upset her?’ .

  ‘Simple envy,’ he decided. ‘I do not know her well, but my guess would be that the lady Albreda is a lonely and disappointed woman. Baldwin does not have the look of an ideal husband to me. His office takes him all over the shire and he is far too busy to pay much heed to the complaints of his wife. She is afraid of him, we both saw that. She is neglected whereas you are patently not, my love. I think she was consumed with envy.’ .

  ‘It went deeper than that, Ralph.’ .

  ‘You were the target for her anger.’ .

  ‘Anger? She seemed so mild and inoffensive at first.’ .

  ‘Only in her husband's presence,’ said Ralph, recalling her conduct at the table. ‘Baldwin keeps her subdued but there must be a lot of anger smouldering away inside her. Some of it was directed at you. That is human nature, alas. Albreda took out her irritation on you.’ .

  ‘She will not do so again.’ .

  ‘I will speak to Baldwin about it.’ .

  ‘No, no,’ she said, grasping his arm. ‘I will handle this my way, Ralph. I do not expect you to fight my battles for me. I have had my share of dealing with haughty Norman ladies before.’ She gave a laugh. ‘The irony is that I am sometimes mistaken for one myself now.’ .

  ‘That is one of the many virtues of marrying me.’ .

  ‘Virtues or defects?’ .

  Ralph grinned and rolled on top of her. He suddenly became serious. ‘Do you know what I am going to do?’ .

  ‘Make your wife glow with happiness again, I hope.’

  ‘After that,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I am going to ignore the wishes of our host and follow my own inclination. The body lies here in the castle. What is to stop me going to the mortuary to examine it?’ .

  ‘Another body which lies here in the castle – mine!’ .

  Ralph needed no further invitation. . Saewin the Reeve had a long day ahead of him. He rose early and ate a frugal breakfast before addressing himself to his work. He was poring over a document when his servant brought news that a visitor had arrived at the house. Surprised that anyone should call so soon after dawn, the reeve was even more surprised when the visitor was shown into the room. She was a tall, stately woman in her thirties who moved with grace and dressed with elegance. Saewin leapt to his feet at once. .

  ‘This is an unexpected pleasure, my lady,’ he said, noting her fragrance as she swept in. ‘Do be seated.’ .

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, settling down on a stool. ‘I am glad to find you at home, Saewin. I feared that you might already have left.’ .

  ‘I will do so before long. I am needed at the shire hall.’ .

  ‘That is what I have come to talk to you about.’ .

  Loretta had a poise and confidence which made him feel slightly uneasy. A wealthy widow, she lived in one of the finest houses in the city and had other property further afield. Saewin knew her by sight but rarely spoke to her. Loretta was an intensely private woman who was not often seen abroad. The reeve recalled that the last time he had caught a glimpse of her was at a service at the cathedral. .

  ‘How can I help you?’ he said. .

  ‘By giving me information,’ she explained. ‘I understand that the royal commissioners have arrived in the city.’ .

  ‘Yes, my lady. They came yesterday.’ .

  ‘You have no doubt spoken with them.’ .

  ‘It was my duty to do so. I had to take my instructions.’ .

  ‘So you will know the order in which cases come before them.’ .

  ‘Of course, my lady. I have to ensure that all the relevant witnesses attend. When the first commissioners came, many problems were brought to light and several people failed to appear in order to attest their claims to certain holdings. This second team from Winchester have come to look into the irregularities uncovered by their predecessors.’ .

  ‘Is the name of Nicholas Picard still on their list?’ .

  ‘Indeed, it is.’ .

  ‘Even though the poor man was cruelly murdered?’ .

  ‘The lord Nicholas may have died,’ he said quietly, ‘but his land remains and some of it is the subject of bitter controversy. Ordinarily, the holdings would be inherited by his wife but that is by no means certain. Two other claimants came forth at the first hearing and they are now joined by a third.’ .

  ‘Who is that?’ .

  ‘The abbot of Tavistock.’ .

  ‘His claim is of no account,’ she said with a dismissive flick of her hand. ‘Besides, the abbot has property enough to satisfy him.’ .

  ‘That does not appear to be the case.’ .

  ‘He is not a serious contender here. I am.’ .

  Saewin blinked in astonishment. ‘You, my lady?’ .

  ‘I wish to give formal notice of my interest in the holdings under review. Convey it to the commissioners at the earliest opportunity.’ .

  ‘Why, yes,’ he said politely, ‘but I am bound to wonder why you did not come forward when the first commissioners were in the country.’ .

  ‘That is my business.’ .

  ‘Of course, my lady.’ .

  ‘Make their successors aware of my claim.’ .

  ‘I will,’ he agreed, ‘but they are certain to ask what weight should be attached to it. What may I tell them?’ .

  ‘Advise them to look into the history of those holdings. They were once in the possession of William de Marmoutier, my late son. He bequeathed them to his mother.’ She stood up and moved to the door. ‘Tell them that, Saewin. And be sure that they send for me.’ .

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ .

  ‘I intend to fight for what is mine by right.’ .

  Without waiting for the servant to show her out, Loretta turned on her heel and made for the door, leaving the reeve to grapple in vain with a number of unanswered questions. Her intrusion into the dispute was far from welcome. It could only make the squabble over the dead body of Nicholas Picard even more acrimonious. .

  Gervase Bret was kneeling at the altar rail in the chapel when he heard the footsteps approaching. He broke off from his prayer. It was not the steady gait of the chaplain which caught his ear nor the respectful tread of another worshipper. The feet sounded slow and furtive. When the door opened, it did not swing back on its hinges. It inched open so that an eye could scrutinise the interior of the chapel. Gervase rose and stepped back into the shadows, wishing that he was wearing his dagger. It was the last place where he would have anticipated danger, but that is what he sensed now. .

  Only two small candles burned on the altar, leaving most of the chapel in relative darkness. Gervase flattened himself against a wall and waited. The door opened wide enough to admit a sturdy figure. The newcomer moved stealthily down the aisle. Gervase stepped out to accost him. .

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked firmly. .

  Ralph Delchard jumped back in alarm with a hand on his heart.

  ‘Heavens!’ he exclaimed. ‘You frightened the life out of me.’ .

  Gervase was astounded. ‘Is it you, Ralph?’ .

  ‘Yes. I thought the chapel would be empty at this time of day.’ .

  ‘I came in to pray.’ .

  Ralph smiled. ‘Well, there is no point in pretending that that is why I am here. Nobody would call me devout. Besides,’ he said, ‘it is not the chapel that I came to see but the morgue.’ .

  Gervase did not need to ask why. The moment he knew his friend's destination, he was a willing accomplice. Both of them were eager to view the corpse of a man who figured so largely in the irregularities which had brought them to Devon. Without any more ado, they crossed to the door in the side wall and went through it. Finding themselves in a gloomy vestry, they were about to withdraw when they
noticed a faint glow at floor level on the other side of the chamber. They groped their way to a small door. As soon as they opened it, they knew it led to the mortuary.

  The stench of death was sweetened by the presence of herbs but it still rose up to attack their nostrils. Gervase coughed and Ralph turned his face away for an instant. They then went down some steps towards the flickering candle which had cast the strip of light under the door. The corpse was laid out on a stone slab and covered with a shroud. A crucifix stood at its head and the candle burned in an alcove. Ralph exchanged a glance with Gervase, then held the candle over the corpse. They shivered in the dank atmosphere. After bracing himself, Gervase took hold of the shroud and peeled it back from the face. The shock was severe.

  ‘God preserve his soul!’ he murmured.

  ‘Poor wretch!’ said Ralph.

  ‘Was this Nicholas Picard?’

  The sight of such a grotesque visage made them take a step back. Blood had been stemmed, wounds had been bathed and some bandaging had been used but enough was visible to show them what a terrible end the murder victim had met. Skin had been torn from the face, lumps bitten out of it and deep lacerations left in it everywhere. The throat had been cut so viciously that it was surprising the head did not part from the body. Gervase could not bear the sight but Ralph took a more considered inventory. When he had finished, he replaced the shroud over the face.

  ‘This is the work of a fiend,’ he decided.

  ‘Who could want to disfigure him like that?’

  ‘I do not know, Gervase, but we now have even more reason to find the villain. That is not a human face. It is a piece of raw meat. The lord Nicholas looks as if he was attacked by a wild animal.’

  ‘An animal would not carry the knife which slit his throat like that.’

  ‘True. That is the work of a man's hand.’

  ‘Was there only one attacker?’

  ‘Saewin the Reeve felt that there had to be more than one. A trained soldier like Nicholas Picard would not easily be overpowered by a single adversary. Unless,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘he was disabled in some way. By drink, maybe, or by fatigue. Yet what could have tired such a healthy man? All he had done was to ride into Exeter on business.’