“Is that what you call success?” said Ralph with scorn, thrusting the letter into his hands. “Getting himself throttled to death in the shire hall. Take sense, Gervase.”
“I will when you calm down enough to hear me.”
They were in Gervase's apartment at the castle and Ralph was pacing restlessly up and down like the lions in their cage. The contents of the letter had dealt a serious blow to his self-esteem. Dispatched from Winchester on the King's business, he now learned that he had been deliberately misled in a way that might have put the whole commission in jeopardy. If Tanchelm had been unmasked as a spy, the whole team could well have been suspected of being in league with him. Ralph dropped down onto the stool and punched a fist into the palm of his other hand.
“I deserved better than this!” he said. “I have done King William much good service. He owed me the truth. I should have known about Tanchelm.”
“But you did,” reminded Gervase.
“What?”
“You did—in your heart. Have you forgotten? You had doubts about my lord Tanchelm from the start. Canon Hubert was fooled by him, so was Brother Simon, so, I confess, was I at first. But not you, Ralph. You sensed that something was amiss.”
“Yes, yes, I did.”
“And that suspicion never fully left you.”
“True,” said Ralph, partially mollified. “I could never quite believe in him. I did know that he was beguiling us. But it would still have been a courtesy to have been told.”
“No, Ralph. We must be honest with ourselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“My lord Tanchelm was trained for this work. You and I are not. Think how well he played his part and how effective he was when he sat in commission with Canon Hubert. Gould we have carried the burden of a double life so easily?”
“I could, Gervase.”
“Well, I could not,” admitted the other, “and I am glad that King William did not lay it upon my shoulders by taking me into his confidence. We have problems enough to contend with in our work here without taking on the responsibilities that my lord Tanchelm had. And the grave danger that they incurred.”
Ralph sat brooding for a long time before rising again.
“You are right,” he said. “This was not for us.”
“Had all passed off smoothly, we would never have known the truth and never needed to know.”
“But it did not pass off smoothly, Gervase.”
“Alas, no.”
“That is why the word 'success' jarred on my ear.”
“Let me explain why I used it just now. I think that my lord Tanchelm was skilled at his profession. The King would not otherwise have chosen him for so difficult a mission.”
“I accept that.”
“You know this county far better than I, Ralph. It has always been highly volatile, has it not?”
“It still is. Look at my friend Aubrey. He has been here for years, yet he has to hide behind castle walls and protect himself with wild animals.”
“What does he fear?”
“Revolt from within or invasion from without, Gervase.”
“Then that is what my lord Tanchelm came in search of,” said Gervase. “Signs of stirring among the old nobility of the North. Or rustlings from the Scots or the Danes. I believe that he was successful enough to find out something of real importance. Why else would they have needed to kill him?”
Ralph became pensive. Moving to the window, he looked out over the city. He ran a hand slowly across his chin.
“What did he find out, Gervase?”
“I have no idea.”
“How, then, will we track down his killer?”
“By learning what he discovered.”
Ralph nodded firmly, then turned to face him once more.
“Where did you get that letter?” he asked.
“It was given to me.”
“By whom?”
“A friend.”
“Friends have names.”
“This one prefers to remain anonymous.”
“Secrets between us, Gervase?”
“I gave him my solemn word.”
A long pause. “So be it.”
“I must now ask you to give me your word, Ralph.”
“What about?”
“This letter,” said Gervase, holding it up between his fingers. “No- body must know its contents.”
“Nobody will—except Aubrey, of course.”
“Nobody. Including our host.”
“Why not?”
“Because the letter has already cost one life. The fewer people who know about it, the less chance there is of it causing another death.” He held the missive over the candle flame. “I need your promise, Ralph.”
“You have it.”
Gervase dropped the letter onto the floor and watched it burn. As the parchment curled in upon itself, the writing was blacked out and the seal began to melt. He waited until it was burned through before grinding it beneath his heel.
“It is gone,” he said. “There was no letter.”
“Would that Tanchelm had done the same with it!”
“He was not betrayed that way, Ralph. But by his own diligence. He got too close. That is what brought him down.”
“But why keep the letter at all?”
“For our benefit.”
Ralph started. “Tanchelm deceives us and it is for our benefit? What kind of logic is that?”
“The letter had a double purpose.”
“I cannot even see a single one.”
“You had your reservations about him,” said Gervase. “You found him too obliging. Supposing you had caught him out and demanded the truth from him. With his back to the wall—but only then, only as a last resort—he would have shown you his credentials.”
“The letter from the King.
” “Yes, Ralph.”
“You mentioned a double purpose.”
“Credentials and warning.”
“Of course,” said Ralph admiringly. “That letter was kept in case anything untoward happened to him. It would explain why and point us towards his killer.” He grinned at his friend. “You should have been a spy yourself, Gervase.”
“I have just become one. So have you.” The sound of approaching footsteps made them react swiftly. Ralph moved quickly to the door while Gervase obliterated the last of the charred remains with his foot. As the footsteps halted, Ralph pulled open the door to reveal a startled young servant.
“What do you want?” said Ralph sharply.
“I have a message for Master Bret.”
“He stands beside me. Deliver it.”
“Yes, my lord.” The boy swallowed hard before turning to Gervase. “A visitor waits for you at the gate.”
“A visitor?”
“A young woman. Most anxious to speak with you.”
“Did she give her name?”
“Inga.”
Gervase saw the twinkle of mischief in Ralph's eye.
“I will come at once,” he said.
Herleve was profoundly upset by the murder of their guest. Even after she saw the body sent home to Lincolnshire, she found it hard to accept that Tanchelm of Ghent had really been killed. It was an outrage too great to assimilate.
“I do not believe it,” she said quietly.
“My lady?”
“I do not believe that he is gone. I hear his voice, I see him sitting beside me. My lord Tanchelm is still here.”
In some sense, he always will be.”
Golde was perched on a chair in the solar, keeping Herleve company and trying to help her confront the horror of what had occurred. The latter spoke movingly.
“He was such a gentle person,” remembered Herleve. “He listened to me as no man has ever listened before. He was interested in me, Golde. We talked and talked.”
“I found him a most pleasant companion.”
“Soldierly in bearing, courteous in manner.”
“That sums him up
perfectly.”
“There have been few such men in my life.”
Herleve drifted off into a private reverie, which Golde did not try to interrupt. The older woman had a faraway smile on her face. Golde had a moment to consult her own memories of Tanchelm and to feel a deep pang of regret at his death. Her real sympathy went out to the wife and family who would be waiting at home for the return of his corpse. Theirs was the true grief.
Herleve gave a shudder and came out of her daydream.
“He is dead,” she said levelly. “I must not deny it.”
“No, my lady.”
“Who could have wanted to kill such a kind man?”
“I do not know.”
“Death is so indiscriminate.” The faraway smile came back. “I liked him. He took me seriously.”
“Everyone does that, my lady,” said Golde.
“No, Golde. They only pretend to do so. I can read it in their eyes. Most people only humour me. That is why I keep my own counsel most of the time, as I told you. But my lord Tanchelm was different. He cared.”
“What did you talk about with him?”
“Anything and everything. He wanted to know what kind of life I led here in the castle, who came, who went, what it was like in the depths of winter. And Yorkshire. He was intrigued by the countryside around here.” She pursed her lips. “Most men can only talk about themselves and their ambitions. Not him. He said so little about himself.”
“That was his hallmark, my lady.”
“Self-effacement.”
“We rode from Lincoln to York in his company but I cannot say that I knew him all that much better when we arrived. He never pushed himself forward.”
“Find me another man like that.”
“They are not plentiful, my lady.”
“I would settle for one.”
She put her head to one side and scrutinised Golde.
“Are you content to be here?”
“Now that we are friends, I am.”
“Good.”
“I did appreciate what you said to me.”
“Will you sit with me for a while?”
“As long as you wish, my lady.”
“Thank you. I feel the need to talk.”
“I am your audience.”
“You will find me ready to listen as well. Tell me about Ralph Delchard. Tell me how you came to meet.”
“It is a lengthy tale.”
Herleve smiled. “I insist on hearing it in full.”
The grave was no more than a mound of earth on which a raven was strutting as they walked up. The last remains of the nameless intruder had been buried in the churchyard closest to the castle. Aubrey Maminot had wanted to toss the body into the cesspit at first but his conscience guided him back towards a token Christianity. Romulus and Remus had already acted on their master's behalf. No further humiliation of the body was required.
The raven began pecking at the earth. When it saw them coming, it flapped its wings and took to the air.
“Is this it?” said Inga softly.
“I believe so.”
“Are you not sure?”
“It is exactly as Philip the Chaplain described,” said Gervase, looking around to check his bearings. “There is no mistake, Inga. Your friend lies here.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like me to leave you alone?”
“No. Please stay.”
“I never knew Toki. I feel out of place.”
“I will not keep you long.”
Inga knelt down beside the grave and smoothed the earth with her bare hands. Her eyes then closed as she offered up a silent prayer. After a few moments, she flung herself full length on the ground as if trying to embrace Toki. She made no sound and lay there quite motionless. When she finally began to get up, Gervase put out a hand to help her.
“Thank you, Master Bret.”
“I kept my word.”
“Yes.”
Holding back tears, she turned away and walked towards the gate. Gervase was glad when they were back in the lane at the side of the church. He did not wish to be seen at the graveside with Inga in case awkward questions were asked. Aubrey Maminot was still seeking the name of the intruder.
Inga was lost in her thoughts for several minutes. When she realised that he was still beside her, she reached out a hand to touch him with gratitude.
“Now you can understand,” she said.
“Understand?”
“What it is like to lose a friend. Toki has been snatched from me, and you, too, have suffered a loss.”
“Yes,” he said. “We will miss my lord Tanchelm. He died a harsh death. That makes it harder to bear.”
“I know. I think of Toki and those lions.”
“Do not dwell on it, Inga.”
“I will not. It hurts me so.” She straightened up and tried to master her emotions but there was still a deep sadness in her voice. “When will we hear the judgement in our dispute?”
“When the tribunal reconvenes.”
“Have you come to a decision yet?”
“You know that I cannot tell you that.”
“Is it worth waiting in York?”
“That is up to you.”
“My lord Nigel has already left,” she said bitterly. “He told me the argument has been settled in his favour and that he is done with your interference.”
“We may need to enlighten him on that score.”
“Is there nothing you can tell me, Master Bret?”
“No, Inga.”
“Must our suffering go on?”
“I am sorry,” he said gently, “but the murder of our companion has changed everything. Our work is in abeyance until that crime has been solved. My lord Tanchelm was here with us on the King's business. We will not rest until his killer has been brought to justice.”
“And what of Toki's killers?” she demanded. “Will they be brought to justice? He was murdered just as surely as your colleague but will there be any retribution?”
“I fear not.”
“Those lions should be destroyed.”
“Inga …”
“They are monsters!”
Torn between fury and despair, she began to sob fitfully. Gervase took her in his arms to comfort her and she slowly calmed. When she looked up at him, he saw the anguish in her face and realised for the first time the true hopelessness of her position. Inga's future was bleak. She had lost her beloved and her father's property. If her mother's claim was rejected by the commissioners, she and Inga might well face unpleasant repercussions. Gervase distrusted Nigel Arbarbonel. Behind the studied charm lay more sinister qualities. When the commissioners left, Inga and her mother would be at the mercy of their landlord.
Gervase was anxious to relieve her pain in some way. She broke away from him and looked back towards the grave.
“What was he doing in the castle that night?” he said.
“I wish I knew.”
“Have you made no effort to find out?”
“We have done little else since we have been in York.”
“There were two of them,” he recalled. “Toki climbed into the castle with an accomplice. The guards said that they saw someone running away. If we can trace that man, he may be able to tell you what really happened.”
“I have tried.”
“You know who he is?”
“I think so.”
“What is his name?”
Inga hesitated. “I cannot tell you.”
“Why not?”
“It does not concern you.”
“But I may be able to help you to find him.”
“How do I know you will not pass the name on?”
“Have I passed on the name of Toki?”
“No, you did not.”
“And did I keep my promise to bring you here?”
“Yes,” she said, casting her last doubts aside. “You have been true to your word. The accomplice was Ragnar Long-foot.”
&nbs
p; “Ragnar?”
“He was Toki's best friend. They went everywhere together. If someone else climbed into the castle, it must have been Ragnar Longfoot.”
“Have you learned nothing about him?”
“Only that he vanished the same night as Toki.”
“Does he not have a family?”
“They are as anxious to trace him as I am.”
“What sort of man is this Ragnar Longfoot?”
“Good, honest, reliable but weak-willed. He was older than Toki but let him take the lead. Ragnar will always follow a stronger man. That is why I believe that the rumours may be true.”
“Rumours?”
“They are all that I have been able to pick up.”
“And what do they tell you?”
“Ragnar has run off to join the strongest leader of all.”
“And who is that?”
“Olaf Evil Child.”
They had pitched camp in the Forest of Galtres. Ragnar Longfoot sat on the ground and stared into the embers of the fire. It had been almost a week now but the agony would not go away. His conscience was a scourge. As he gazed down, a breath of wind came to ignite the embers again. In their sudden glow, he saw the face of a dear friend, looking up at him with smouldering accusation. Ragnar shut his eyes to block out the sight. A consoling hand fell on his shoulder.
“You were not to blame,” said Olaf Evil Child.
“I was. I should have stayed.”
“No, Ragnar.”
“I ran away. I deserted Toki.”
“You had no choice. It was too late to save him.”
“I should have helped, Olaf.”
“How? By getting yourself captured? What purpose would that have served? Aubrey Maminot would only have fed you to the lions as well. You were right to flee.”
“I was a coward.”
“Climbing into that castle took a lot of courage.”
“I only followed Toki. I fed off his courage.”
“He would not have gone without you.”
“Yes,” said Ragnar, rallied by the thought. “That is true. Toki needed me. I did help.” His guilt returned. “But I betrayed him at the end.” “You did not,” argued Olaf. “He was betrayed by his own boldness. Toki did not look ahead. He was too hasty. Did he not realise the danger that lay in wait?”
“No.”
“You must have known about the lions.”
“We heard they were there—who has not?—but we did not expect them to be let out at night.” Ragnar trembled. “Toki learned the truth too late. I shall never forget the sound of his cries. And all I could do was run.”
The Lions of the North (Domesday Series Book 4) Page 15
