Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘I do not find it so, my lady,’ said Golde. ‘My second marriage is far happier than my first, not least because I chose my husband on my own this time. In Ralph I have the man I wanted. My father selected my first husband for me. It … led to problems.’

‘I have had nothing else,’ said Marguerite, resuming her seat.

Her face was bathed in an almost childlike innocence. ‘When I was a girl I knew exactly what kind of a man I wanted to marry.

Brave, handsome and devoted to pleasing me. I used to dream of him sometimes. He always had the same horse — a black stallion with prancing feet. Then one day …’ she had to gather her strength before continuing, ‘… one day my father came to me and told me I would marry someone called Philippe Trouville. I did not even know who he was.’

‘But you must have had so many suitors,’ said Adela.

‘Dozens of them but none acceptable to my father. He chose Philippe for me. I tried to pretend that he was what I wanted and imagined that he would be the handsome man on the black stallion. But he was not,’ she sighed. ‘When I finally met him he turned out to be a grey-haired old man on a bay mare. I was horrified. When he started to pay court to me I had no idea that he was already married.’

‘Did your father know?’ asked Golde.

‘Oh, yes. I think so.’

‘He must surely have objected?’

‘The first wife was sick with a wasting disease,’ remembered Marguerite sadly. ‘She was not expected to live long. His friends told me afterwards that she was very beautiful when she was young. Philippe adored her. He was desolate when she …’ She looked across at them. ‘I know that Heloise told you and I know what you must think but it was not like that. The first wife, Marguerite — she had the same name — could not face withering away in front of her husband. When he came home one day she had taken poison. The grief almost killed him. Then it turned to bitterness. I knew nothing of this until after we were married and it was too late. Philippe was rich and powerful enough to impress my father but he was an angry man inside, given to outbursts of violence. He did not love me. I was just a younger version of his first wife. He was simply trying to replace one Marguerite with another.’ A combative note sounded. ‘I have made him pay for it ever since.’

‘Yet you clearly love him,’ said Golde.

‘Yes,’ added Adela, ‘or you would not miss him so much.’

Marguerite spoke with a maliciousness that was chilling.

‘I would not care if I never saw him again!’

Philippe Trouville stood shoulder to shoulder with Henry Beaumont and gloried in the confrontation between Church and State. Bishop Robert positioned himself at the door of the abbey to rebut their demands, wearing full vestments to lend dignity and having Brother Reginald at his side to provide spiritual reinforcement.

‘Right of sanctuary has been granted, my lord,’ said the bishop.

‘Not by me,’ retorted Henry.

‘The power of the Church supersedes yours.’

‘You are harbouring a murderer.’

‘We are sheltering a fugitive in accord with tradition.’

‘Turn the skulking rogue out!’ shouted Trouville.

‘We will not be denied,’ warned Henry.

‘You have heard my pronouncement, my lord.’

‘Let me speak with the abbot.’

‘His view is in harmony with mine.’

‘The abbot will listen to reason.’

‘I will tell him that you came, my lord,’ said the bishop with a dismissive smile. ‘Like me, he knows the importance of upholding the right of sanctuary. While a fugitive is within these walls he is immune from arrest by the highest in the land. We will not hand this man over to you. He has sought the protection of Holy Church and that is what he is entitled to receive.’ He raised a hand. ‘Good day, my lords.’

Robert de Limesey stepped back into the abbey, and its great oaken door swung to with a thud. Thick bolts were heard being slotted into place. Henry Beaumont was incensed and fumed in silence but it was Trouville who was the more enraged. He was shaking with fury.

‘We must not endure this, my lord!’ he yelled. ‘They cannot shield a felon who has killed two men in cold blood! Do not bother to parley with that fool of a bishop. Give the command and we will beat down this door.’ He motioned his men-at-arms forward.

‘Let us do it, my lord!’ he urged. ‘I promise you that I will drag Boio out with a dagger in his heart!’

On the way back to the castle, Warin the Forester became more talkative. Aware of the dire predicament he was in and unable to deceive Ralph Delchard with a mixture of half-truths and lies, he fell back on complete honesty as a last resort. Ralph was quick to exploit the man’s change of attitude. By the time they reached Warwick, he had gleaned some new and important facts.

Any hopes which the forester had that his willing co-operation might help to extenuate his punishment were dashed as soon as they entered the castle. He was handed over to the guard and taken off to the dungeons to be kept in custody until the return of Henry Beaumont. Ralph had no sympathy for the man. In his view, Warin’s crime was unforgivable. When he found his wife, Ralph told her why.

‘The forester knew , Golde,’ he said.

‘Knew what?’

‘That Boio was not seen by Grimketel near the place where the dead body lay. Grimketel was nowhere near the spot himself at dawn. He and Warin were too busy poaching deer.’

‘Warin admitted that?’

‘With a little persuasion from me.’

‘But will he swear as much under oath?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Then Boio is saved.’

‘Not yet, my love.’

‘But you have two witnesses who will speak in his favour now,’

she argued. ‘The old man with the donkey and this forester.

Grimketel lied to incriminate the blacksmith. Who put him up to that?’

‘Adam Reynard.’

‘Why?’

‘It was another way to get at Thorkell. They are rival claimants for a large tract of land. Adam Reynard would do anything to upset the old Saxon. Boio was Thorkell’s man. If he was hanged for murder, Thorkell would bear the taint. Nor would his mind likely be wholly on the legal dispute.’ Ralph heaved a sigh. ‘To lose his reeve at such a time was a big enough blow. This second one must have sent Thorkell reeling. No overlord wants to have a murderer in his camp. Much less a man he had placed so much faith in.’

‘But the blacksmith is innocent.’

‘Few would believe that if he is convicted and hanged.’

‘Your new evidence will rescue him.’

‘That will depend on the lord Henry,’ said Ralph. ‘I will wait to hear Gervase’s news first before I ride hard to Coventry to intercede on Boio’s behalf. We will just have to pray that he is still alive.’

‘He has been granted right of sanctuary.’

‘The lord Henry may not choose to respect that right.’

Golde was disturbed. ‘Would he take the blacksmith by force?’

‘I think that he might stop short of that, Golde. But he is not alone, remember. The lord Philippe is at his elbow and hot blood runs in that man’s veins, as I have discovered. Our host might not violate sanctuary,’ said Ralph, ‘but our esteemed colleague certainly will.’

‘Storm an abbey? That would be sacrilege.’

‘When the lord Philippe wants something, he will let nothing stand in his way until he gets it. How do you imagine he got that wife?’

‘Too true!’ murmured Golde, recalling the earlier disclosures by Marguerite. ‘But to come back to Boio, his innocence means that someone else is guilty of the murder. Who is it?’