Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘I am still not sure,’ said Ralph. ‘When I met Warin, I thought that he might be the culprit. He is big and powerful as I know to my cost.’ He rubbed his back where a painful bruise was surely flowering even now.

‘Your cost?’

‘I wrestled with the man to test his strength. He threw me with ease. If he had no resistance, the forester might have broken Martin Reynard’s back. That is what I thought at first, anyhow.’

‘But not now?’

‘No, Golde.’

‘What changed your mind?’

‘Warin’s confession,’ he said. ‘No priest has ever shrived a man so thoroughly. The words poured out of him in a torrent. He and Grimketel poached together for years at Adam Reynard’s behest and the forester admitted to a dozen smaller crimes as well.’

‘But not the murder?’

‘He did not commit it.’

‘Then who did?’

‘I still have my suspicions about Ursa.’

‘The performing bear you told me about?’

‘It could have been him,’ said Ralph thoughtfully. ‘If Benedict is wrong about the time of death then it could easily have been Ursa who crushed the reeve to death in the forest. There is only one problem.’

‘What is that?’

‘I cannot imagine what Martin Reynard was doing at such an isolated spot at that time of the morning. Unless a tryst is involved here.’ He shook his head. ‘No, the cold would have frozen even his ardour.’ Ralph gave a chuckle, then hugged her. ‘But enough of my news. What has been happening here while I have gone?’

‘I too have been hearing a full confession.’

‘From the lady Adela?’ he teased. ‘Was she the woman who arranged to meet the reeve in the forest that morning?’

‘No, Ralph. It was not she who spoke but the lady Marguerite.’

‘Tell me more.’

They were in their chamber and moved to sit on the bed together.

When Golde told him what she had heard, he nodded with interest throughout. The revelations about Philippe Trouville only served to confirm his own judgement.

‘Is that what his wife actually said, Golde?’

‘Yes, Ralph. That he was given to outbursts of violence.’

‘The man has a blood lust. Look how eager he was to join in the hunt for Boio. Nothing would have pleased him more than to be able to spear the man to death like a wild boar.’

‘The lord Philippe is an ogre.’

‘Yet you say that his wife was pining for him?’

‘She was complaining about being neglected,’ said Golde, ‘but that is not the same thing. The lady Marguerite also told us that she missed her husband when he was not there yet found him very disagreeable when he was.’

‘And what about you, my love?’

‘Me?’

‘Did you feel neglected as well?’ he said, kissing her on the cheek.

‘I bore it with more patience.’

‘Patience brings its own reward.’

‘That is what I was hoping.’

‘I am here to prove it.’

He grinned broadly and pulled her into a warm embrace but it was short-lived. There was a tap on the door. Ralph got up to admit Gervase to the room. Fresh from his visit to Roundshill, he had little to tell and was more eager to hear their news. Golde repeated what she had learned from the lady Marguerite and Ralph told his friend about his visit to the forest. It was time to make plans.

‘We must ride to Coventry at once with this new intelligence,’

said Ralph. ‘And I have some pertinent questions to put to the lord Philippe.’

‘Put them alone,’ said Gervase. ‘I have other business.’

‘With whom?’

‘Thorkell of Warwick.’

‘Tell him what we suspect about his reeve.’

‘I will, Ralph, but he will also want to hear what has happened to Boio. The man may have sanctuary but I am sure that the lord Henry is beating at the abbey gate. Thorkell may well decide to go to Coventry himself to make certain that right of sanctuary is not violated.’

‘Will you come with him?’

‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘I must go back to Roundshill.’

‘But you told us that Asmoth would not say anything.’

‘She would not say anything to me but someone else might coax the truth out of her. Asmoth knows the blacksmith better than anyone. They talked at great length yesterday. What he told her may well help to save him if only she would realise it,’ said Gervase, ‘but she does not trust me enough. I frightened her.’

‘Is there any point in going back to her again?’ said Ralph.

‘That depends on you.’

‘Me?’

‘I need to ask a favour of you.’

‘It is granted before it is asked,’ said Ralph expansively.

‘Whatever I have is yours, Gervase. You know that. Just name it.’Gervase smiled and turned to look at Golde.

‘How would you like to take a ride into the country?’ he said.

Henry Beaumont always preferred action over restraint but even he found Philippe Trouville’s advice too wild to consider. It took him a long time to calm his guest down and to acquaint him with the dictates of reason. Trouville seemed to enjoy violence for its own sake. In his febrile mind, the gate of an abbey was no different from any of the castle gates in Normandy which he had stormed in younger days when enemies had been foolish enough to defy him. Henry had no doubt that his companion would set fire to the abbey sooner than let Boio escape his clutches.

‘This is my dispute and not yours,’ Henry said.

‘I am only trying to help, my lord.’

‘I know and I appreciate that help but it must be kept within the bounds of the law. Take the prisoner by force and the consequences would be horrendous.’

‘I care nothing for consequences,’ said Trouville.

‘Do you not fear excommunication?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘That is the least we would suffer,’ said Henry. ‘Bishop Robert and the abbot would run squealing to Canterbury and we would have the whole Church coming down on our necks. I have met Archbishop Lanfranc. He is not a man to offend.’

‘Neither am I,’ muttered Trouville.

‘You are too intemperate.’

‘I find that it gets results.’

Henry was beginning to doubt the wisdom of allowing Trouville to become involved in the pursuit of the fugitive. When the latter had made the offer to ride to Coventry the previous night in order to maintain a watch on the abbey, his host had been very grateful but that gratitude was now tinged with regret. Philippe Trouville was too accustomed to being in command himself to accept orders easily. He did not so much offer counsel as thrust it forcibly at Henry. In seeking to uphold the law, the man did not seem to feel the need to act wholly within it.

‘Send to Brinklow Castle, my lord,’ said Trouville. ‘Your brother, the sheriff, may well have returned home by now. Send to him.’

‘Why?’

‘Summon additional men from your brother.’

‘We have enough to put a ring of steel around the abbey.’

‘Faced with a whole army, the bishop might capitulate. Come, we are both well versed in the arts of siege warfare. The best way to bring an enemy to his knees is to frighten him with a display of strength. If they see that they have the Count of Meulan and the constable of Warwick Castle to deal with, the bishop and the abbot may come to their senses.’

‘My brother will not be called,’ said Henry firmly.

‘Why not?’

‘Because he and I are of the same mind.’

‘You would let this monkish rabble defy you?’

‘I will bide my time. My brother would do likewise.’

‘Do not let the abbey win this battle, my lord.’

‘It is not a battle. Merely a set of negotiations.’

‘Then negotiate from strength.’

‘The Church has moral right on its side.’