Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

Henry glanced at the gaoler. ‘Do you hear that? Innocent?’

The man lifted a cynical eyebrow but said nothing.

‘We have brought something to show you,’ continued Gervase.

‘When I asked Brother Benedict how he found the prisoner, he mentioned a stranger who might be able to provide the blacksmith with an alibi. This man, it seems, called at the forge at the very time when Boio is alleged to have been seen in the forest. Boio shoed his donkey for him but, since the stranger had no money to pay, he gave the blacksmith a bottle of medicine instead.’ He held up the object. ‘Here it is, my lord.’

‘Where did you get that?’

‘At his forge.’

Henry flushed angrily. ‘You rode out there?’

‘I felt that it was important.’

‘How do you know that bottle was left by this stranger?’

‘There was a woman at the forge, a friend who calls there often.

She swore that it was not there when she came at the start of the week and when ,’ he emphasized, ‘Martin Reynard was still alive. It must have been left in the way that Boio described.’

‘Must it?’ said Henry with disgust. ‘I am disappointed in you, Master Bret. This is feeble advocacy from a lawyer like you. All you have to go on is the word of a woman and the lie of a murderer.

They are in collusion here. How do you know that the bottle has not lain at the forge for weeks, even months?’

‘The woman was certain that it had not.’

‘Did she see this stranger give it to Boio?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Did anyone else?’

‘It appears not.’

‘Do you have any proof — beyond a stone bottle — that this man with the donkey ever existed?’

‘We have the blacksmith’s own testimony,’ said Ralph.

‘He invented the whole tale.’

‘From what I hear of him, my lord, he is not capable of that.

The poor man has difficulty stringing two or three words together.

His skill lies in his muscles not his mind. How could he make up such a story?’

Henry Beaumont flicked another glance at the gaoler, then held out his hand towards Gervase. When the bottle was passed to him, he studied it with patent misgivings.

‘This is no evidence at all,’ he said.

‘In itself, perhaps not,’ agreed Gervase. ‘But it may serve as a signpost to proof of a more secure nature. I speak of this stranger.

If he is travelling by donkey he will not have ridden by so far that he is beyond the reach of your men. Send out a posse, my lord.

Bring back this traveller and he will supply an alibi for Boio.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I sense it.’

‘Well, I sense deception.’

‘Search for the man.’

‘Where?’

‘In the neighbouring counties.’

‘Can you tell me in which direction he was riding?’

‘Unhappily, no.’

‘Then leave off. Even if this stranger exists — and I beg leave to doubt it — he may be several miles away by now. I cannot spare men to go searching for this phantom. In any case, what trust could I place in the word of an itinerant who tricks people out of money by giving them fake medicine?’ His hand closed tightly around the bottle. ‘There is something which you do not seem to have considered.’

‘What is that?’ asked Ralph.

‘If the blacksmith did not kill Martin Reynard — who did?’

‘Someone who stood to profit from his death.’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘That is my argument as well, though you dismissed it earlier, my lord. Murder requires motive. Boio had none. Others did, it seems.’

‘Name one,’ challenged Henry.

‘Thorkell had suspicions about Adam Reynard.’

‘He would! If your judgement goes in his favour, Adam is set to deprive Thorkell of some prime holdings. No wonder the old man wants us to hound Adam. It would remove one of his rivals. No,’

he asserted, ‘we already have the culprit locked up and you will need a bigger key than this bottle to open the door. Here,’ he said, tossing the object to the gaoler. ‘Give this to the prisoner.

If it really is medicine, it may help to soothe his wounds.’

‘At least question this Adam Reynard,’ urged Gervase.

‘We have already done so. He is not implicated.’

‘His man is the chief witness against Boio.’

‘What does that signify?’

‘Do you not find it a coincidence, my lord?’

‘Indeed. A happy one at that.’

‘Adam Reynard profits by the death of his kinsman and by the arrest of an innocent man on the charge of murder. Look more closely at him, I beg you,’ said Gervase. ‘He is Thorkell’s enemy.’

‘He is not the only one,’ retorted Henry. ‘You forget that another man is embroiled in the dispute over that property. Robert de Limesey.’ Mockery intruded. ‘Am I to arrest the Bishop of Lichfield as well?’

Robert de Limesey, Bishop of Lichfield, pored over the document which lay before him on the table and emitted a gentle wheeze of pleasure. With the candlelight directly behind it, the crucifix which stood before him threw its shadow on to the parchment as if conferring approval from heaven. It did not go unnoticed by the bishop. A slim man with a sensitive face and pale blue eyes, he had an aura of religiosity about him which was almost tangible.

It was difficult to believe that such a saintly man began life in so common a way as lawful copulation between a husband and wife.

Anyone viewing him now would imagine that he had dispensed with the ignominies of conception altogether and emerged full-grown from the pages of a Holy Bible in order to take up his mission among ordinary mortals and inspire them with his example.

Brother Reginald, his chosen companion, was still inspired by his master even though he was privy to the bishop’s human failings and aware of his occasional mistakes. When the monk had tapped at the door and let himself into the chamber, he stood there in quiet awe until the bishop deigned to look up from his work. Reginald was a round-shouldered man of middle height with a black cowl which seemed too large for him and an intelligent face which always lit up when he was alone with his master. The bishop’s voice was soft and caressing.

‘What news, Reginald?’ he enquired.

‘The royal commissioners have taken up residence at Warwick Castle, my lord bishop,’ said the other. ‘It may be a day or two before the dispute in which we are involved comes before them.’

‘Does it not take precedence?’

‘I fear not.’

‘But it is their main reason for coming to Warwickshire?’

‘That is so.’

‘Then why this delay?’

‘It is occasioned by this unfortunate crime, my lord bishop.’

‘Ah, yes. I was forgetting. Foul murder in the Forest of Arden.’

‘Since the victim was to have been involved in the dispute, the commissioners want the crime to be solved to see if it has any direct bearing upon the dispute itself.’

‘And does it?’

‘I do not know.’

Robert de Limesey sighed. ‘Then we will have to brook this delay,’ he said. ‘As long as it does not in any way imperil our own position.’

‘It does not,’ Reginald assured him. ‘If anything, our position is enhanced by this crime. One should never seek to profit by the death of another man — especially when it is such a violent death — but we are the unwitting beneficiaries of his demise.’

‘God may be sending us a sign here.’

‘Only a man as pious as you could discern it, my lord bishop.’

‘I believe that I do discern it, Reginald.’

The monk bowed. ‘I accept your word.’

The bishop sat back in his chair and surveyed the document on the table with a contented smile before picking it up between delicate fingers and offering it to his companion.