Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘That does not explain your enmity,’ said Ralph.

‘I offered the hand of friendship, he spurned it.’

‘How?’

‘It no longer matters. My anger was buried with him.’

‘So you were angry with Martin Reynard?’

‘From time to time.’

‘Angry enough to wish him dead?’

‘No, my lord,’ protested the other. ‘He was my kinsman.’

‘Yet you did not attend his funeral,’ Gervase reminded him.

‘Other affairs called me away.’

‘Does anything take precedence over the burial of a blood relation?’

‘I sent a man in my stead.’

‘Grimketel. I saw him there.’

‘It saved any embarrassment.’

‘Embarrassment?’ repeated Ralph.

‘With Martin’s wife and family,’ said Reynard. ‘They do not look kindly upon me and they have little reason to do so. But why court friction when it can be avoided? Had I been there myself there might have been awkwardness. Martin’s wife in particular might have been distressed. I wished to spare her.’

‘It sounds to me as if you merely wanted to spare yourself the trouble of riding into Warwick. What was the real cause of your absence?’ he pressed. ‘These other affairs of which you speak?

This embarrassment you strove to avoid? Or the fact that you hated your kinsman?’

‘Why do you put these questions?’ blustered the other.

‘Because they are relevant.’

‘To what?’

‘The death of Martin Reynard.’

‘I had nothing to do with that, my lord. I was not even here on the morning when it took place. Boio the Blacksmith was the killer. He lies at the castle, awaiting trial for his crime.’

‘And you believe him guilty?’

‘I am certain of it!’

‘Why?’

‘The evidence against him is clear.’

‘A little too clear.’

‘A witness saw him near the place where Martin was killed.’

‘Your own man, in fact. Grimketel.’

‘I can vouch for his honesty.’

‘We would prefer to test it ourselves. Is this fellow here?’

‘No, my lord. But he lives close by.’

‘Provide us with a servant to guide us there.’

‘Now?’

‘Without delay,’ said Ralph crisply. ‘We have not ridden all this way to be kept waiting. Grimketel’s evidence interests us. We wish to hear it from his own lips. Procure a guide or take us there yourself.’

‘I will do more than that, my lord,’ said Reynard, covering his dismay with a show of helpfulness. ‘There is no need for you to trudge across the mud when my servant can do the office. Stay here in the warm and I will have Grimketel brought to you.’ He raised his voice. ‘Ho, there! Come quickly!’

A slovenly young man with unkempt hair came shuffling in.

Adam Reynard took him aside to give him instructions, then opened the front door to hurry him on his way. When he turned back to his guests he contrived a nervous smile of welcome.

‘May I offer you refreshment while you wait?’

‘No, thank you,’ said Ralph.

‘Not even mulled wine?’

‘This is not a social visit. We come in search of evidence.’

‘Of what?’

‘We do not know until we find it.’

‘Have you been sent by the lord Henry?’

‘No,’ admitted Ralph.

‘Does he know that you are here?’

‘He will do so in time.’

‘In other words,’ said Reynard, seeing the chance to assert himself, ‘you are acting in defiance of the lord Henry. He is in charge of the murder investigation yet you set yourselves up in opposition to him. What right have you to do that?’

‘The right of free men with a belief in justice.’

‘Boio will get his justice at the end of a rope.’

‘Only if he is guilty.’

‘That has been established beyond doubt.’

‘We doubt his guilt,’ said Gervase. ‘He himself denies it. But let me come back to something you said a moment ago, if I may.

You claimed that you were not here on the morning when Martin Reynard was killed.’

‘That is true. I was visiting some friends in Kenilworth.’

‘It is probably true that you went on this visit and I am sure that you have witnesses to confirm it.’

‘I do,’ said Reynard with righteous indignation. ‘Several of them.’

‘Where were you the day before?’

‘What has that got to do with it, Master Bret?’

‘Only that Martin Reynard was not killed on the morning when his body was discovered. The murder took place some time on the previous day. The dead body was examined by someone who can read its signs with great skill.’

Reynard’s cheeks coloured. ‘Are you accusing me?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Then why try to catch me out?’

‘I was merely pointing out the danger of making assumptions,’

said Gervase. ‘You made two of them. The first was that the victim was killed on the morning when he was found. And the second, that the murder took place at that very spot. You said that Grimketel caught sight of the blacksmith near the place where Martin Reynard was killed.’

‘And he was not killed there?’

‘Not for certain.’

‘Boio must have carried the dead body there, then.’

‘That is possible. Our minds tend another way.’

‘You are only trying to confuse me,’ said Reynard, his jowls shaking and his flabby hands waving. ‘What does it matter where and when he met his death? The killer has been caught. That is the main thing.’

‘He is innocent until proven guilty.’

‘That is not what the lord Henry thinks.’

‘We beg to differ.’

‘He will be less than pleased to hear of this,’ warned Reynard, trying to drive a wedge between them and their host. ‘Be warned, sirs. The lord Henry is a mighty man in these parts. He and his brother, Robert, Count of Meulan, are the effective rulers of this county.’

‘Not while Thorkell of Warwick still lives,’ opined Gervase.

‘Thorkell is a mad old Saxon.’

‘With substantial holdings in the county.’

‘He has nothing like the influence of the lord Henry.’

‘The lord Henry’s influence depends on a show of force but Thorkell needs no soldiers to exert his control. He has influence over the hearts and minds of every Saxon in Warwickshire and they far outnumber the garrison at the castle.’

‘Do I spy a friend of Thorkell’s?’ said Reynard with a sneer.

‘You talk to someone who gives him due respect.’

‘But only respect,’ said Ralph firmly. ‘When you and Thorkell come to match your wits before us, Gervase will show no favour to the mad old Saxon, as you call him. He is a rock of impartiality.’

‘I begin to wonder, my lord.’

‘You raise an interesting point, however. The lord Henry’s writ does seem to run throughout Warwickshire. There must have been far more satisfaction for a Norman in serving him than in helping to manage Thorkell’s estate.’

‘There was, my lord.’

‘Then why did Martin Reynard leave?’

‘I do not know. It is said that he and his master fell out.’

‘Over what?’

‘Ask that question of the ladies in the castle.’

‘The ladies?’

‘My guess is that Martin was too popular among them.’

‘A chamberer, eh?’ said Ralph with interest. ‘A backstairs man with a weakness for the ladies. I can see that it would irk someone like Henry Beaumont. A stern soldier, perhaps, but I take him for a faithful husband and an upright Christian as well. Yet you say Martin was married?’

‘That would not have stopped him.’

‘We have a new motive for his murder, then?’

‘Do we, my lord?’

‘Revenge. A jealous husband may have done the deed.’

‘Or a discarded mistress,’ said Reynard with a smirk.