The Wildcats of Exeter d-8

by Edward Marston

  Our cause is just.’

  ‘I never doubted that, my lord abbot.

  ‘Then speak to the commisioners on my behalf. Canon Hubert resides here with you,’ he said, ‘though I have somehow been prevented from meeting him within these walls. I am sure that both you and Bishop Osbern wish to see the property restored to my abbey. Help to bring that desired end about.’

  ‘It might be looked upon as interference.’

  ‘Not by me.’

  ‘By the commissioners.’

  ‘With whom does your loyalty lie, Jerome?’

  The dean was saved from the embarrassment of having to answer the question. A novice brought news that the abbot had a visitor.

  When he was told who it was, Geoffrey excused himself and scurried off at once. Ralph Delchard was waiting for him in the parlour. The abbot’s urgency swept pleasantries aside.

  ‘Have you arrived at a judgement?’ he demanded.

  ‘Not yet, my lord abbot.’

  ‘But my case is unanswerable.’

  ‘That is a matter of opinion.’

  ‘What is holding you up?’

  ‘A number of things,’ said Ralph. ‘One of which has brought me here this morning. We are beset by a serious problem.’

  ‘The only problem you have is an inability to make up your minds.

  The abbey of Tavistock held those holdings in Upton Pyne until they were taken from us. Restore them and the matter is settled.’

  ‘Only to your satisfaction.’

  ‘And to yours if you value justice.’

  ‘What I value is the safety of my fellows,’ said Ralph with asperity. ‘One of them may be imperilled and just now his fate concerns me far more than some land to the north of here. I need to speak with one of your knights.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I have reason to believe that he may be able to help me.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘That remains to be seen, my lord abbot.’

  ‘Who is the man?’

  ‘Walter Baderon.’

  ‘Ah!’

  ‘He was the captain of the guard at the North Gate last night.’

  ‘I am aware of that, my lord, but I still have no idea whatsoever why you have come bursting in here in search of him. What is this all about? Which of your fellows may be imperilled?’

  ‘Hervey de Marigny.’

  ‘I remember him.’

  ‘He is missing.’

  ‘How does that concern Walter Baderon?’

  ‘The lord Hervey spoke with him the other evening.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the other sharply. ‘I know. And I would like to register the strongest objection. I will not have my men interrogated behind my back. It was a shabby device, my lord.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘Then you set yourself a low standard of conduct.’

  Ralph held back a tart reply. ‘All that interests me at the moment is finding the lord Hervey,’ he said. ‘He talked of speaking with Walter Baderon again and left the castle to do so. I need to know what passed between the two of them.’

  ‘Nothing, my lord.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because I warned all my men to be wary of the lord Hervey.

  They were ordered to say as little as possible to him. I reprimanded Walter Baderon for being so careless when he was first questioned. He would not have been deceived by the lord Hervey again.’

  ‘I still have to speak to Baderon.’

  ‘Then you will have a long ride, my lord.’

  ‘Why?’

  The abbot looked him in the eye and gave an enigmatic smile.

  ‘I sent him back to Tavistock at first light.’

  Brother Simon’s suggested compromise was willingly accepted.

  Gervase Bret and Canon Hubert accompanied him to the shire hall and began their examination of the last claimant. Tetbald was a clever advocate. Having scrutinised the relevant documents with care, he was able to argue cogently on behalf of the lady Catherine. A note of ingratiation sometimes crept in, but it was offset by an occasional lapse into arrogance. He held up under even the most hostile questioning.

  ‘Was the lord Nicholas prone to seize land illegally?’ asked Hubert.

  ‘No,’ said the steward.

  ‘Our evidence suggests otherwise.’

  ‘Then your evidence is wrong.’

  ‘Our predecessors found several irregularities relating to the lord Nicholas’s estate. Why was that, do you think?’

  ‘You will have to ask them.’

  ‘The returns for this county make sorry reading,’ said Hubert.

  ‘We studied them at the Exchequer in Winchester. The name of Nicholas Picard occurs time and again.’

  ‘The lord Nicholas is dead, alas,’ said Tetbald smoothly. ‘He cannot be called to account for any supposed irregularities. I am here to represent his widow, the lady Catherine, and shield her from further distress. The will lies before you. As you can see, all property and worldly goods of the lord Nicholas have been bequeathed to his widow.’ He became almost cocky. ‘That document, along with all the others I have produced, surely seals the dispute in our favour.’

  ‘No,’ said Gervase.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because those holdings may not have been his to give. Our task is to establish whether or not the lord Nicholas acquired that land by just means or by seizure. If the latter is the case,’

  he cautioned, ‘then the portion of the will relating to Upton Pyne is rendered invalid.’

  Tetbald protested and the argument rumbled on for another hour. The commissioners dismissed him but told him that he would be summoned before them again. The steward stalked out.

  Hoping for a final decision, he was disappointed to be sent away without one and he was now regretting the boasts with which he had left the manor house. On his return to the lady Catherine, he would be forced to show more humility.

  Hubert was at once impressed and vexed by the man.

  ‘He spoke well enough,’ he said, ‘and knows every detail of the lord Nicholas’s tenure, but I found his manner irritating at times.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Gervase. ‘He was far too unctuous for my liking.’

  ‘It was that proprietorial tone which irked me. The fellow is only the steward yet there were moments when he sounded like the beneficiary.’

  ‘Perhaps he is.’

  The thought was intriguing. Not for the first time, Hubert provided an insight which set up a whole train of new possibilities.

  Gervase’s mind was racing. One of the images which kept returning was that of Nicholas Picard’s funeral where Tetbald escorted the widow of the deceased as if he were one of the chief mourners.

  It was time to break for refreshment before recalling one of the other witnesses for the second time. Gervase was about to rise from his seat when one of the sentries came into the hall. He bore a small packet in his hand and offered it to Gervase.

  ‘This bears your name, Master Bret,’ he said.

  ‘Who gave it to you?’

  ‘I do not know. It was tossed out of the crowd at us as we stood outside the hall. We have no idea who threw it or what it contains.’

  Gervase thanked him, sent him on his way, then inspected the package. It was a bundle of letters, bound together by a ribbon.

  His name had been scrawled across the back of one missive.

  Watched by the others, he undid the ribbon and spread the letters out on the table. Then he opened one of them. Gervase read no more than a few lines before his jaw dropped.

  Chapter Ten

  Golde became increasingly restive. When she heard about the mysterious disappearance of Hervey de Marigny, her first instinct was to join the search, but she heaved herself off the bed only to find that her ankle would not support her weight. Confined to her chamber, all that she could do was wait, pray and ponder. It was frustrating. The longer she lay there, the more anxious she became about the commissioner’s safet
y and the more she chafed at her isolation.

  When she heard footsteps ascending the stairs outside, she hoped that it would be her husband with reassuring news about their missing friend, but the man who knocked on the door before putting his head round it was Joscelin the Steward. He gave her an apologetic smile.

  ‘I am sorry to disturb you, my lady,’ he said.

  ‘Is there any news of the lord Hervey?’

  ‘Not yet, I fear.’

  ‘When there is,’ she asked, ‘please bring it to me.’

  ‘I will, my lady. But I have brought something else now.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You have a visitor.’

  Golde was pleased. ‘That will break the tedium. Who is it?’

  ‘Bishop Osbern.’

  Pleasure turned to consternation and Golde plucked at her chemise, worrying that she was not properly dressed to receive such an illustrious visitor and feeling at a severe disadvantage.

  Osbern immediately put her at ease. Stepping into the room, he thanked Joscelin with a smile, then turned his attention to Golde, who was struggling to rise.

  ‘Rest, my lady,’ he said softly. ‘Do not get up for me.’

  ‘This is an honour, your Grace.’

  ‘For me also.’

  ‘Your arrival has caught me rather unawares.’

  ‘It is good to know that the Church can still spring an occasional surprise.’ He dismissed Joscelin with a nod, then moved to the stool. ‘May I sit down, my lady?’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘The stairs are steep and my legs are no longer young.’ He lowered himself on to the stool and appraised her with sympathy.

  ‘How do you feel now?’

  ‘Much better, your Grace.’

  ‘You were thrown from your horse, I hear. They are unreliable animals at times. I can see why Canon Hubert prefers a donkey,’

  he said with a wry grin. ‘A small creature like that would be quite unable to dislodge such a portly rider. But I am pleased to see you looking so well, my lady. You have colour in your cheeks and are patently in good spirits.’

  ‘I was until I heard the sad tidings.’

  His face clouded. ‘Ah, yes. The missing commissioner. It is very disturbing. I have only just heard,’ he explained. ‘I came to the castle for an appointment with the sheriff but discovered that he was out leading a search party. It was his wife who told me of your accident. When the lady Albreda mentioned that you hailed from Hereford, I felt that I had to make your acquaintance and enquire after your health.’

  ‘That was very kind of you, your Grace.’

  ‘I was happy to turn my visit into an errand of mercy.’

  ‘I feel overwhelmed.’

  Golde was touched by his concern for her. Though she was still in awe of her visitor, she found his a gentle presence and was able to relax to the point where she could begin to enjoy their conversation. Bishop Osbern smiled benignly and seemed completely at home in the chamber.

  ‘Tell me about Hereford,’ he said.

  ‘I have not lived there for some time, your Grace.’

  ‘When did you last visit the town?’

  ‘Some months ago,’ she said. ‘When my husband travelled to Chester with the other commissioners, I took the opportunity to stop at Hereford on the way in order to see my sister. It was good to be back there again. The town holds happy memories for me.’

  ‘It does for me as well, my lady. If you spent your childhood there, you will no doubt remember my brother, who was earl of Hereford.’

  ‘Oh, yes, your Grace. We all knew Earl William.’

  ‘It was always a delight to visit him in such a beautiful town.

  He was so proud to be given the responsibility of mounting guard on the Welsh border. I am a man of God myself and abhor violence in all its forms, but we do, unfortunately, need brave warriors like my brother to maintain the peace and make our mission possible.’ He heaved a sigh of regret. ‘His son, alas, was cut from different cloth. His rashness made me ashamed to call him nephew. It has left a stain on our family.’

  ‘The people of Hereford were shocked.’

  ‘As well they might be, my lady. My nephew inherited an earldom from his father, then promptly joined a rebellion against the King.

  It was a disastrous escapade and not without its embarrassment for me. The rebellion was easily quashed but it made the King understandably wary of creating another earl of Hereford.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But let us put all that behind us. I did not come here to bore you with a sermon on the political ills of your town. What do you think of Exeter?’

  ‘It is a charming city.’

  ‘How much of it have you seen?’

  ‘A great deal,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘The lady Albreda conducted me around it yesterday with Berold the Jester.’

  ‘A lively companion.’

  ‘He made me laugh.’

  ‘That is his art, my lady, though his fooling sometimes has a sharp edge. Canon Hubert was shaken when Berold appeared before him in a Benedictine cowl.’

  ‘Canon Hubert is very sensitive to any ridicule.’

  ‘I know. He urged me to complain to the sheriff but it would have been pointless.’ He smiled tolerantly. ‘You cannot have a disciplined jester. It is a contradiction in terms. But tell me about yourself.’

  Golde was flattered by his attention. Osbern was genuinely interested in what she had to say and it encouraged her to talk freely about her life and work in Hereford. He was fascinated to hear that she had been a brewer of some distinction in the town and listened attentively to her account of how she met Ralph Delchard.

  ‘It is good to know that someone in Hereford drew benefit from the visit of the royal commissioners,’ he observed. ‘Your husband’s work will never make him popular, important as it is.

  He must meet with a great deal of resentment.’

  ‘Ralph has grown accustomed to that.’

  ‘Taxes always arouse hostility and sometimes, I fear, it can spill over into violence. I dearly hope that is not the case here.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘The lord Hervey’s disappearance.’

  ‘You think he may have been attacked?’ she said in alarm.

  ‘It is, alas, a possibility,’ said Osbern sadly, ‘and one that the sheriff has evidently considered. Hence the size and urgency of this search party. This city has a long history of resistance to authority. The lord Hervey would not be the first man to suffer because of the office he holds.’ He saw the anxiety in her face.

  ‘Will you join me in a prayer for his safety?’

  ‘Yes, your Grace,’ she said. ‘Gladly.’

  Gervase Bret was in a quandary. The letters which had been delivered to the shire hall by an anonymous hand caused him great discomfort and forced him into the anomalous position of having to deceive Canon Hubert and Brother Simon. When he glanced through them, he could see that the letters had a bearing on the dispute before them, but they were of so intimate a nature that he felt he was intruding into someone’s privacy and he drew back from divulging their contents to his colleagues, deciding instead to act independently even though he saw the danger involved. Gervase knew why the letters had been addressed to him. Of the commissioners, he was the only one who could understand the language in which they were written.

  Noting his embarrassment, Hubert became intensely curious.

  ‘Are we to know what those letters contain?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Canon Hubert,’ said Gervase, putting them into his satchel.

  ‘They concern a personal matter.’

  ‘Why were they delivered in such a strange manner?’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘It seems odd that they were brought to the shire hall.’

  ‘Odd?’

  ‘If it is personal correspondence, it would surely have been sent to you at the castle. Since they came here, I am bound to wonder if they pertain in any way to our deliberations.’

&nb
sp; ‘No, Canon Hubert.’

  Gervase’s denial was firm enough to convince but it left him feeling profoundly guilty. He was glad when they recalled the first claimant to the hall. The verbal tempest created by the abbot of Tavistock diverted attention from him and gave Hubert the chance to take a leading role in the debate, responding vigorously to the prelate’s wilder accusations and making it clear that his own black cowl should not be taken as an indication of prejudice in favour of the abbey. Brother Simon watched in open-mouthed wonder, alternately cowed by the abbot’s vituperation and inspired by Hubert’s authoritative rebuttals. Gervase asked a few pertinent questions about the wording of the documents which were offered in support of the abbey, but the real battle lay between the claimant and the canon.

  When the session finally ended, the abbot of Tavistock crept away to lick his wounds like an injured lion. Encouraged by what he perceived as Hubert’s sympathetic treatment of him at their first encounter, he had come with high hopes, but he went away feeling battered and betrayed. Gervase was the first to congratulate his colleague on his steadfast performance.

  ‘That was masterly, Canon Hubert.’

  ‘I had to defend the integrity of this commission.’

  ‘You did so superbly.’

  ‘Thank you, Gervase,’ said the other, preening himself. ‘You might mention it to the lord Ralph.’

  ‘Most certainly.’

  ‘We have been able to manage perfectly well without him.’

  ‘And without the lord Hervey,’ added Simon.

  All three of them were brought to a sharp halt. In the cut and thrust of debate, they had forgotten all about the missing commissioner. No news had been brought of Hervey de Marigny, which meant that he had still not been found. Their apprehension grew. Much as he had relished his position of command, Hubert would willingly have sacrificed it for the safe return of a respected colleague. They were in a more subdued mood when the last witness of the day was shown into the hall.

  Loretta looked as poised and elegant as ever. She was accompanied by Eldred as before though he did no more than sit there in melancholy silence. Loretta expressed surprise that only two commissioners were there to examine her but Hubert assured her that he and Gervase were fully authorised to put her claim under scrutiny again.