Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘I watched you talking to the man,’ said Gervase.

‘I would as soon have struck the villain.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I do not believe that he saw Boio in the forest on the morning in question. It is a tale he invented. Grimketel is deliberately trying to throw suspicion on to him.’

‘For what reason?’

‘To embarrass me and to conceal the real killer.’

‘You think this Grimketel is in league with him?’

‘It would not surprise me.’

‘How can his evidence serve to embarrass you?’

‘Boio is my man. If he is convicted, I will be tainted.’

‘Why should this Grimketel work against you?’

‘To advantage his master.’

‘And who is that?’

‘Adam Reynard.’

Gervase was startled by the intelligence and it set his mind racing. Extensive land in the possession of Thorkell of Warwick was at the heart of the major dispute which the commissioners had come to resolve. Two claimants were contesting the ownership of the property and each seemed to have a legitimate cause for doing so. One of the claimants was Robert de Limesey, Bishop of Lichfield, currently domiciled in nearby Coventry, and the other was Adam Reynard, kinsman to Martin. In locking horns with Thorkell of Warwick’s reeve, Adam Reynard would have been fighting with his own blood relation. Gervase slowly began to realise the full implications of that situation.

‘Is he here today?’ he asked.

‘Who?’

‘Adam Reynard.’

‘No, Master Bret.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because he and Martin were hardly on speaking terms,’ said Thorkell gloomily. ‘They were only distant relations but Adam tried to use the blood tie for gain and urged Martin to give him covert help. When my reeve refused, he was roundly chastised, but he felt that his first duty was to his master.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Martin Reynard’s sense of duty to me may have proved fatal.’

‘You point a finger at his kinsman, then?’

‘He is a far more likely killer than Boio.’

‘Strong enough to crush his victim to death?’

‘No,’ admitted the other, ‘but rich enough to employ someone to do the office for him. I have no evidence to offer beyond my low opinion of Adam Reynard but I tell you this, Master Bret. Instead of torturing an innocent blacksmith, the lord Henry would be better employed asking stern questions of my reeve’s kinsman.’

‘What sort of kinsman fails to pay his respects at a family funeral?’

‘You may well ask.’

‘Yet he sent this Grimketel along?’

‘To act as his spy, the skulking devil!’

‘What exactly did you say to Grimketel?’

‘That is between me and his master.’

‘You sent a message to Adam Reynard?’

‘He knows my opinion of him and of that wretch he employs.’

Thorkell gestured to his men that it was time to leave and the four of them gathered around him. There was a bluntness about the thegn which convinced Gervase that he was telling the truth.

Thorkell was not one to dissemble. Though his manner with Gervase was polite, he made no effort to ingratiate himself with the young commissioner and that too weighed in his favour. As the old man turned to go, Gervase put out a hand to detain him briefly.

‘One last question, my lord.’

‘Ask it quickly. I have other business in hand.’

‘Why did your reeve quit his position at the castle?’

‘I begin to wish that he had not. It might have been his salvation.’

‘If the lord Henry held him in such high regard, why let him go?’

‘He did not, Master Bret.’

‘Oh?’

‘He expelled him from the castle.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘A personal matter,’ said Thorkell wearily. ‘I did not enquire into the details and Martin was too hurt to talk about the rift.’

‘Were you not curious?’

‘No. All that concerned me was that I was acquiring an able and experienced man. Martin Reynard may have left the castle under a cloud but he was beyond reproach in my service. The lord Henry was a fool to release such a man,’ he said sharply. ‘His loss was my gain.’

Pulling his cloak around him, he turned on his heel and led his men out of the churchyard, picking his way between the gravestones before disappearing around the angle of the church itself. A pensive Gervase watched him go. The few minutes in the company of Thorkell of Warwick had been a revelation. Before he could reflect on what he had learned, however, there was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to find himself under the disapproving gaze of Henry Beaumont.

‘What are you doing here, Master Bret?’ he asked.

‘Every death deserves the tribute of a passing sigh.’

‘The lord Philippe warned me that you would be coming.’

‘Does my presence require a warning, my lord?’

‘You never even met Martin Reynard.’

‘I have now.’

There was a long silence. While Henry searched his face and tried to divine his real purpose in attending the funeral, Gervase made a mental note to be more careful what he said in front of Philippe Trouville now that he knew the latter would report it to their host. Their profitable session together in the shire hall had not bonded the commissioners in the way Gervase assumed.

Trouville’s discretion could not be counted on. It was more important for him to befriend the lord Henry than to show loyalty towards his colleagues.

Most of the mourners had now departed and only the family members remained at the grave, paying their last respects and being comforted by their parish priest. Gervase glanced across at them.

‘Martin Reynard has left much suffering in his wake,’ he said.

‘He was loved and respected by all.’

‘Your household was well represented here, my lord.’

‘Martin was part of it for many years.’

‘Until you dismissed him.’

Henry winced slightly. ‘That is a matter for regret.’

‘There must have been a serious falling out,’ said Gervase artlessly.

‘Who told you that? Thorkell of Warwick?’

‘He was the beneficiary of your argument with Martin Reynard.’

‘Do not believe everything that Thorkell tells you,’ said Henry quietly. ‘He is very old, often confused. And he is embittered.’

‘By what, my lord?’

‘My refusal to let him visit the murderer.’

‘Thorkell does not believe that Boio is the murderer.’

‘That is the reason I forbade him access.’

‘And is it the same reason you turned down my request?’

‘No, Master Bret,’ said Henry. ‘I resented your interference in a matter where you can be of no help whatsoever. Thorkell at least does have a personal involvement here. Boio is a freeman on his land. He will be very sorry to lose his blacksmith.’

‘Especially if there is some doubt about the fellow’s guilt.’

‘Not in my mind.’

‘What did he stand to gain from Reynard’s death?’

‘Do not apply your lawyer’s dictum of cui bono? here,’ said Henry with impatience. ‘It is not relevant. Boio is a halfwit. He does not think in terms of gain. Anger was motive enough for him.

Martin argued with him and the blacksmith flared up. It is as simple as that.’

‘Is that what he has admitted?’

‘Not yet. But he will.’

‘Under duress, most men will admit to anything.’

‘I have given him a second chance.’

‘Second chance, my lord?’

‘Yes,’ said Henry, glancing in the direction of the castle. ‘When I interrogated him with the aid of his priest, Boio was stubborn and would confess nothing. I resolved to loosen his tongue by other means. But your scribe persuaded me to let him speak with the prisoner, to offer him solace and sound him out at the same time. Brother Benedict is a wise and plausible man. I have a feeling that he will get the truth from the blacksmith. You see, Master Bret?’ he added with a thin smile. ‘I am not the cold, heartless monster you take me for. I believe in giving every man a fair chance to clear his name.’