Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘He was understandably annoyed.’

‘He was frantic, Ralph. If the castle were being attacked he would not have called his men to arms with more vigour. The whole garrison is out on Boio’s trail. Does that not tell you how desperate the lord Henry is to find him?’

‘His prisoner escaped. The lord Henry’s pride was hurt.’

‘More than his pride may be involved here.’

‘What else?’

‘His own sense of guilt.’

‘You are surely not saying that he was responsible for Martin Reynard’s death?’

‘He is implicated somehow.’

‘But the reeve was once a member of his own household.’

‘That is what confirms my suspicion.’

‘The lord Henry?’ mused Ralph. ‘It seems unlikely but it is not beyond the bounds of possibility, I suppose. We would have a better chance of judging if we knew the real reason that Reynard left his employ. I have asked Golde to see what she can learn on that score. Well,’ he said cheerfully, ‘at least we have some suspects now. Grimketel, that devious Adam Reynard and the lord Henry. None of them did the deed himself but he might hire someone for the purpose.’

‘So might our other suspect.’

‘There is another?’

‘There may be,’ said Gervase. ‘The lord Henry made a jest of it but the man might still warrant investigation. He is as resolute as Adam Reynard in pursuit of those disputed holdings. The loss of his reeve at such a critical moment will disadvantage Thorkell when he pleads his case in the shire hall, but it will greatly help his rivals.’

Ralph blinked. ‘Do I hear you aright, Gervase?’

‘We must examine every option here.’

‘Would such a man instigate a murder?’

‘If he stood to gain enough by it, Ralph. And if he was sufficiently ruthless. I do not know him and hesitate to malign him but there are rumours about the way that he acquired land to the north of Coventry. It is said that forgery was involved.’ He turned to his companion. ‘If a man will condone forgery, is it such a big step to approve of homicide?’

‘No, it is not.’

‘Let us make full use of our time in Coventry.’

‘Call on him to make his acquaintance?’

‘Yes, Ralph,’ said Gervase seriously. ‘It may pay us to take a shrewd look at the Bishop Robert of Lichfield.’

Robert de Limesey was at his most incisive when he assumed a judicial role. Brother Reginald, acting as scribe to the proceedings, was only a mute witness but he was nervous in the presence of the saintly bishop. What irritated the monk was that the old man before them showed no sign of apprehension. Arrested in the street and hauled roughly to the abbey, the man did not seem at all upset by the experience or troubled by the severity of the charge which he faced. He stood there calmly, flanked by the two armed men who had seized him, and answered every question with amiable willingness. No interpreter was needed. The prisoner had sufficient command of French to be able to understand, a fact which in itself was highly disturbing to Reginald, who believed that the Devil’s voice was talking to them through the agency of an ignorant old man. The chapter house was being used for the examination and the bishop’s voice explored every crevice of it as it rang out. Seated in the abbot’s chair and wearing full vestments, he pointed a bony finger down at the accused man.

‘You have been brought here on a charge of sorcery,’ he said.

‘Have I, my lord bishop?’

‘Do you know what the penalty is?’

‘It does not matter, for it does not apply to me.’

‘That is for me to decide.’

‘I am no sorcerer,’ said the old man.

‘Then what are you?’

‘A humble traveller who helps the sick with his gifts.’

‘What is your name?’

‘Huna.’

‘Where do you come from?’

‘I have no home but the place where I am at any moment.’

‘Where were you born?’

‘In London.’

‘Who were your parents?’

‘They were good Christians, my lord bishop.’

‘What was your father’s occupation?’

‘He was a carpenter.’

Bishop Robert gurgled and Reginald’s stylus slipped on the parchment.

‘That is to say, he helped to build houses,’ continued Huna.

‘My father was a strong man, used to hewing beams from the trunks of trees. I was far too puny for such work and spent more time with my mother.’

‘Your mother?’ echoed the bishop.

‘She was a herb-gatherer.’

‘Now we are getting somewhere.’

‘She took me out into the country and taught me which herbs would cure what diseases. That was how I discovered my gifts.’

‘Gifts?’

‘For making herbal compounds of my own. For devising stronger remedies than any which my mother knew. People came to us.

When she was not able to help them, I often could. They trusted me. That is one of my other gifts. To inspire trust.’ He gave a smile. ‘Though the skill seems to have deserted me in here.’

Robert’s frown deepened. ‘Do not be humorous with me.’

‘I was never more solemn, my lord bishop.’

‘You were watched.’

‘Watched?’

‘Evidence had been laid against you by a reliable witness. What he saw in the marketplace today was a display of witchcraft.’

‘I cured a sick boy, that is all.’

‘You cured someone beyond the reach of any physician.’

‘But not beyond the reach of God.’

‘God!’ repeated the other with proprietary anger. ‘Do you dare to link your devilish practices with the name of the Almighty?’

‘What else am I to do?’

‘Admit the truth. Your master dwells in hell itself.’

‘Then he has chosen the wrong servant in me,’ replied Huna.

‘For I will never do his bidding. I cure and save. That is God’s work. If I was in the Devil’s employ, I would be urged to maim and kill. There are herbs which are capable of doing both but I would not use them. Ask of the boy who was cured today. He and his father went straight off to church to give thanks. They do not believe I practised evil. I drove the demons out of the boy’s body and allowed the wonder of God to come in.’

‘This is blasphemy!’

‘It is my mission,’ said Huna simply.

‘A mission to corrupt by the use of black arts.’

‘I use my gifts on those in need.’

‘Only because nobody has tried to stop you before.’

‘Oh, they have, my lord bishop. They have, they have.’

‘Where?’

‘In a number of towns. Some have driven me out, others sought to put me on trial as you are doing right now. But God always spared me to continue His work.’

‘Stop hiding behind the name of God!’

‘I am not hiding. I am proud to be His servant.’

‘And is that the height of your pretence?’

‘My pretence?’

‘Yes,’ said the bishop sourly. ‘When you spoke in the marketplace yesterday you claimed to be more than a servant.

You compared yourself with the Lord Jesus. Do you deny it?’

‘No, my lord bishop.’

‘That was both a sin and a crime.’

‘Then every Christian is both sinful and criminal,’ replied Huna with a bland smile. ‘On whom else should we pattern our lives but on Jesus Christ? He was the Son of God who was sent down from heaven to earth to act as our guide. We all strive to follow His example. When I compared myself to Christ, it was only to show that I was trying to follow where He led, to help those most in need with whatever gifts we have. Mine are poor indeed beside those of which we hear in the scriptures but that does not stop me comparing myself with Jesus. I aspire to walk in His footsteps, that is all. Does not any God-fearing man? If that is blasphemy, then we are all guilty of it, even you and Brother Reginald.’