When he first heard the sound he thought it must have been made by an animal. It began as a light tapping then faded away.
Owen’s mind turned back to his plight. He was defenceless.
When Brother Nicholas was alive, he had someone to protect and care for him. It was ironic that he had been seized when trying to pay his respects once more to his friend. The grave which had become a shrine to him had lured him to disaster. It was heart-rending. Owen sobbed quietly to himself until the noise stopped him.
It was much clearer this time, more insistent and rhythmical.
Fear clutched at him. Only an animal of some size could make a noise as loud as that. What if the creature made its way into his part of the mill? Owen would stand no chance against it. He would be a sacrificial victim. But the regularity of the sound argued against a wild animal. Time and again, something was banging hard against wood. When Owen realised what it must be, he had his first moment of relief since being taken from the abbey. He was not a lone victim. Somebody else was being held at the mill, aware of his presence and trying to attract his attention. Owen rolled on to the floor so that his back was to the wall. He jabbed his feet back hard by way of reply. There was a pause, followed by even more frenetic banging. Owen answered it with a series of grateful kicks.
A flicker of hope came. He had a friend.
Bishop Wulfstan’s account was a revelation. When he left them to call on the abbot, Ralph and Gervase were very glad that they had returned to the abbey. They now had a much clearer idea of what they were up against and how much money was involved in the trade. Gervase had listened to the bishop’s impassioned speech with special interest. He took out the list which had been compiled for him earlier by Abbot Serlo. Running his eye down it, he came to an immediate conclusion.
‘That’s how it was done, Ralph!’ he declared.
‘What do you mean?’
‘That’s how the victims were selected. I thought that the names were familiar when Bishop Wulfstan first mentioned them. You see?’ he said, thrusting the scroll at Ralph. ‘This is the list of the abbey holdings which Brother Nicholas used to visit. Over the last couple of years, most of those who were abducted came from one of these places. Brother Nicholas was the scout for the slave traders. He not only provided them with an occasional novice from the abbey. In the course of his travels, he would be able to spot other likely targets.’
‘But some of the victims didn’t come from abbey properties at all.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Gervase, ‘but I’ll wager they lived on land that the rent collector passed through while discharging his duties.
He was in the perfect position, Ralph.’
‘Alone and unsupervised.’
‘Completely trusted because he was a monk.’
‘Though not always liked.’
‘He could be affable when he wanted to be,’ recalled Gervase.
‘Think of Caradoc whom we met in one of the abbey’s outliers.
He and his wife thought Nicholas a jolly fellow. So did his four sons.’
‘Yet that other sub-tenant, Osgot, had nothing but scorn for the rent collector. And we know why. Osgot feared for his son.’
‘He didn’t fear that the boy would be abducted, Ralph, because he could not have suspected for a moment that a monk would be involved in the slave trade. What he feared was that Brother Nicholas would befriend the lad and lead him astray in other ways.’
‘Who can blame him?’
‘As for Caradoc, I think we can guess why his sons were not at risk. If they were built like their father, they would be strong and lusty, too likely to resist an attempt to snatch them. Bishop Wulfstan pointed out how young the victims always were,’ said Gervase, taking the list back from him. ‘Young and unable to defend themselves. Like Owen.’
‘Quite so, Gervase. And their youth would increase their value.’
‘Value?’
‘When they were sold,’ explained Ralph. ‘The younger the victim, the longer the service a new master would get out of him. I think you have hit the mark, Gervase. The rent collector was the hub of the wheel. He told his accomplice when and where to strike.’
‘Carefully choosing his victims from a widespread area so that no link would be made between them.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And making sure that not all came from abbey lands for fear that a pattern would be detected.’ He held up the list. ‘But there is pattern enough here. Or, indeed, in this abbey itself. Note how he spaced his victims out over a period of time, Ralph.’
‘Yes. First, it was Siward. Then almost a year elapsed before the second boy was taken.’
‘And a further year before Owen.’
‘Brother Nicholas was as cautious as he was cunning.’
‘So why was he murdered?’
‘He must have fallen out with his accomplice.’
‘Yet he was the provider, Ralph. Why kill a man who is such a vital part of your trade? The next rent collector will not be as corrupt and unscrupulous. The accomplice will have to look elsewhere for help.’
‘Perhaps he did not need Brother Nicholas any more,’ said Ralph thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it was time to look further afield for victims, on land that had no connection with the abbey and which Nicholas had no cause to visit. In short, he’d outlived his usefulness.’
‘I wonder.’
‘The rent collector was murdered and some of the money he’d earned was stolen from the hiding place in the bell tower.
Unknown to the killer, Nicholas had a second horde in his cell.’
They speculated for some time before coming to agreement.
Gervase was just putting the list away again when an animated figure came bursting through the abbey gate. Abraham the Priest was in a hurry. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw them.
‘Thank heaven I found you!’
‘What is the trouble?’ asked Gervase.
‘They have gone.’
‘Who have?’
‘I took your advice, Master Bret, and sought to prevent the attempt on the King’s life. But the person I needed to see is no longer in the place where he was hiding.’
‘What’s this?’ said Ralph, angering. ‘Have you been riding off to see your confederates?’
‘Friends, my lord. Not confederates.’
‘They are one and the same.’
‘It was at my suggestion,’ explained Gervase. ‘But the archdeacon was too late. We cannot blame him for that.’
‘I rode back as fast as I could to warn you,’ said Abraham. ‘It means that the attempt will go ahead. Have you warned the King?’
‘Yes,’ said Ralph sharply, ‘and if he knew where the information came from, he’d have you hanging from the nearest tree. You gave enough information for a warning but none whatsoever for an arrest.’
‘I hoped to avert this crime by myself.’
‘And failed.’
‘Yes, my lord. I own it willingly.’
Abraham was contrite but Ralph continued to abuse him until Gervase came to the man’s rescue, pointing out that security at the castle was now so tight that fears of a successful assassination attempt could be discounted. Owen’s real predicament, he argued, was far more important than the rumoured danger to the King. The others quickly came to the same view. Gervase explained to the archdeacon what they had learned from Bishop Wulfstan. When he heard about Brother Nicholas’s role as the supplier of victims, the Welshman searched avidly through his own memory of abductions.
At long last, the name of a possible suspect emerged.
‘Strang the Dane!’ he murmured.
Ralph was taken aback. ‘Strang?’
‘I have had my suspicions for some time, my lord, but lacked the proof I needed. He is the man we want, I am certain of it.’
‘But he is wealthy enough without getting involved in this vile business. What could be the attraction to someone in his position?’
‘Rich men always want more and t
his trade is very lucrative.
Look at his circumstances,’ reasoned Abraham. ‘He has holdings scattered all over the county and in the Welsh commotes so he has a legitimate excuse to travel around. The iron mines in the Forest of Dean provide him with ore which he ships downriver so he has regular sailings to Bristol. But I believe he carries an additional cargo.’
‘I am not persuaded,’ said Ralph.
‘One moment,’ recalled Gervase. ‘Think back to their appearance in the shire hall, Ralph. When they first heard that the archdeacon was to challenge their claim to land in the Westbury Hundred, both of them were discomfited. Strang was irate and Balki was plainly worried.’ He turned to Abraham. ‘Were they aware of your suspicions?’
‘They were certainly aware of my campaign against the slave trade. I spoke freely and openly on the subject. Strang would have known that I was on the alert.’
‘Another factor comes in here. Strang is desperate to regain land which would give him direct access to the river. I thought he wanted to defray the cost of transporting his ore overland but his eagerness may be the result of a secondary motive. The river is his best way of moving any kidnap victims. Who can stop a boat when it is surging along in the middle of the Severn?’ Gervase pieced it together in his mind. ‘The most obvious clue passed us by. Strang the Dane. Who else would trade with the Irish Vikings but one who spoke their language? You have given us the name we needed, Archdeacon. Strang must be apprehended.’
‘But he has already sailed from Gloucester,’ said Ralph.
Abraham started. ‘Sailed? Today?’
‘Yes, we saw him off from the quayside ourselves.’
‘But he may have had the boy aboard his boat, my lord.’
‘No, he didn’t. Gervase searched it thoroughly.’
‘Balki helped me,’ confirmed Gervase. ‘Before they set sail.’
‘Balki?’ The archdeacon was puzzled. ‘He is the estate reeve, is he not? Why should Balki be sailing a boat when he should be looking after his master’s holdings? Strang surely employs sailors to take his vessel up and down the river.’
Ralph was impressed. ‘That is sound reasoning, Archdeacon.
We were blind not to see what was in front of our eyes. Not only was Balki hoisting the sail, Strang himself was at the tiller.’
‘A man in his position doing such a menial task?’
‘Ordinarily, he would not,’ decided Gervase, ‘but this time he will be carrying more than iron ore so he cannot entrust the cargo to anyone else. He has to supervise the transaction in Bristol himself. That is why he was so furious at the delay in our proceedings, Ralph. He was anxious to get Owen aboard a ship to Ireland and on his way to slavery.’
‘But you searched his boat,’ said Ralph. ‘Owen was not there.’
‘Not when it left Gloucester.’
‘They mean to pick him up on the way,’ said Abraham.
‘Where?’
‘There is only one way to find out, my lord.’
It was a strange way to make conversation but it brought Owen a mild sense of pleasure. When he kicked the wall, he heard a response from the other side of the mill. If someone was thumping the wall, it was likely that they, too, were bound and gagged and unable to communicate in any other way. Both were imprisoned in the abandoned mill but a shared fate was somehow easier to bear. Although his legs were aching, Owen kept up steady contact with his unseen friend. It stopped him from dwelling too much on what horrors might lie ahead.
Another sound intruded and it caused him to break off at once.
Owen tried to sit up so that he could listen more carefully. His fellow prisoner had also heard the noise because he, too, had stopped banging the wall. Too weak and tired to be able to get himself upright again, Owen abandoned the attempt and lay there on the rotting floor. The sounds grew louder until he was able to identify them. Someone was coming. A boat thudded into the bank outside. Voices could be heard. Owen’s hopes rose. His ordeal was over. Rescue was at hand.
Then the two men came into the mill. The older of the two, a thickset individual with a grey beard, ordered his companion to carry the boy aboard then went swiftly out. Owen squirmed and kicked as much as he could but his resistance was futile. The spare man with the straggly red beard cuffed him into obedience, lifted him bodily and flung him over his shoulder. Owen was taken out to the waiting boat and carried aboard before being lowered roughly to the deck. A second boy emerged from another part of the mill, trussed up like Owen and slung over the shoulder of the other man. He, too, was dumped aboard. The two victims lay side by side, unable to move. The man with the straggly red beard pulled a tarpaulin over them so that they could no longer see.
Fresh sounds penetrated the sudden darkness. They were muffled by the tarpaulin but were soon easy to identify. Horses were coming at a gallop. The thickset man was yelling and his companion was making frantic efforts to cast off and set sail.
The two boys were bewildered.
Ralph Delchard’s horse was galloping hell-for-leather along the bank with Gervase Bret and Abraham the Priest close behind.
Four of Ralph’s men formed an escort, their swords already out, their blood up at the promise of action. They had spotted the boat from two miles away. When its sail was seen turning into the tributary where the mill was located, they knew that they had their only chance to catch it. Once in midstream, it would be beyond their reach.
Strang the Dane was bellowing orders, but they only helped to confuse Balki, who was still struggling with the mooring rope when the horses thundered up. For once Ralph overcame his fear of water. As the boat pulled away from the bank, he leaped down from his horse and flung himself headfirst after the vessel, catching the bulwark and hauling himself aboard. Balki grabbed an oar to try to push him away but he was no match for Ralph.
Tearing the oar from the man’s hands, Ralph flung it overboard then hurled Balki after it into the water. Gervase did not hesitate.
Ralph’s men would fight shy of the river in their heavy hauberks, but he was not handicapped by armour. Diving into the water, he swam towards the steward and grappled with him.
Ralph, meanwhile, confronted a more formidable opponent.
Strang the Dane had a dagger in his hand and was circling him menacingly.
‘The game is up,’ said Ralph, one eye on the blade. ‘I’m arresting you for the murder of Brother Nicholas and the abduction of several boys. Put up your weapon. You have no chance.’
‘Nor do you, my lord,’ said Strang, advancing slowly.
Ralph backed away. The advantage lay with Strang. In the seconds it would take Ralph to pull his sword from its scabbard, his adversary’s dagger would be thrust into him. The boat was now drifting helplessly towards the other bank, too far away for his men to reach it without risking the deep water. Ralph decided that his wisest response was to keep both hands free in the hope of catching Strang’s wrist when the weapon flashed. Even then, he knew that his chances were slim.
Two things came to his aid. Hearing the sounds of the rescue attempt, Owen began to buck and twitch violently under the tarpaulin in order to attract attention. Strang was momentarily diverted. At exactly the same time, the prow of the boat thudded into the bank and caused both men to stumble forward. Ralph was the first to recover, throwing himself at Strang and seizing the hand which held the dagger. There was a violent struggle and both fell to the deck, rolling over, kicking and punching, using all their strength to subdue the other. Strang was a powerful man but Ralph was fired with anger and revulsion. It put extra strength into his arms and enabled him to twist the dagger free.
Pummelling his face, he beat Strang into submission then rose to his feet. Ralph drew his sword and held it at the Dane’s throat but there was no further resistance. The man was exhausted.
His face was covered in blood and his hand had been gashed when Ralph snatched away his weapon. Ralph looked across at the tarpaulin, still moving as if by its own volition. He used the poin
t of his sword to flip it back from its cargo. Owen and the other boy blinked as they saw daylight again.
Ralph grinned warmly. ‘You’re safe now, lads.’
Threshing sounds took his attention back to the river. Gervase had overpowered Balki but was having difficulty dragging him ashore. Help was at hand. Divesting himself of his Benedictine habit, Abraham the Priest jumped naked into the water and swam strongly across to lend his help. Gervase was grateful and Ralph hugely amused.
‘Delivering babies,’ he called, ‘and saving two drowning men.
Is there anything you can’t do, Archdeacon?’
Suddenly Ralph became aware that he was aboard a boat which was starting to drift into midstream again. His fear of the water returned at once. ‘What do I do now?’ he roared. ‘Help!’
Hamelin of Lisieux was talking to his wife when the visitor arrived.
They were staying not far from Gloucester in the manor house of a friend. Nigel the Reeve knew exactly where to find them. After a token exchange of civilities, he broke the news about the arrest and imprisonment of Strang the Dane. The lady Emma was horrified to learn that the man had been involved in the slave trade, but her husband immediately saw how it advantaged him.
‘This will speed things up at the shire hall,’ he said cheerily.
‘To be honest, Strang was the only person who might have ousted me from those holdings. I did, after all, take them from him in the first place.’
Nigel curled a lip. ‘He will have no need of land now.’
‘I will spare him enough for a burial plot.’
‘Does this mean that the commissioners will resume their work?’ asked the lady Emma. ‘Has any time been set?’
‘Yes, my lady,’ said Nigel. ‘Tomorrow morning. Soon after Prime.’
‘We will be there.’
‘Both of us,’ added Hamelin. ‘Unless there is a further delay.
No chance, I suppose, of Ralph Delchard being invited to the castle to take part in the King’s council?’
‘None, my lord.’
‘Good.’
‘From what I hear, their business is all but complete.’
The Owls of Gloucester d-10 Page 25
