Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘Let me go, my lord,’ he offered. ‘Where is he?’

‘I sent him to call on my brother at Brinklow Castle. He has been anxious to make Robert’s acquaintance ever since he arrived in the county and I hoped that the ride out there would give the lord Philippe a chance to cool down.’

‘Cool down?’

‘He was all for reducing the abbey to ashes.’

Ralph pulled a face. ‘Leave him to me,’ he said.

Robert de Limesey’s irritation was rapidly approaching the point of outright frenzy and he did not want to let himself down in front of Brother Reginald. The bishop was making another doomed attempt to interrogate Huna and to break down the old man’s resistance until he readily confessed to witchcraft. Instead of that, Huna’s mind and tongue seemed to have been sharpened by his time in the gaol, a place from which he brought aromatic memories which assaulted the sensitive nostrils of the bishop so much that he had incense sprinkled in his chamber before the examination began.

‘Why do you lie to us?’ asked the bishop.

‘If you describe a truthful answer as a falsehood then we will get nowhere,’ said Huna. ‘I am what I am, as you well see.’

‘A sorcerer.’

‘Wherein does my sorcery lie, my lord bishop? I cured a sick boy. Doctors are curing their patients every day in this town.

Will you arrest them all and burn them at the stake?’

‘They are trained to use proper medicines.’

‘Why, so was I. My mother trained me. Proper medicines, as you call them, are made up of herbal compounds. So are my potions.’

‘You did not cure that boy with a potion.’

‘But I did,’ said Huna. ‘I used the most powerful medicine of all. Belief in God. You have seen as well as anyone what wonders it brings about. The whole of Christendom is a tribute to that belief. That was the only potion I used. A compound of faith and love.’

‘Saints preserve us! Will this fellow never stop?’

‘You charged me yesterday with aspiring to be like Jesus Christ,’

recalled Huna. ‘But I could never aspire to such goodness. Jesus could turn water to wine, walk on water and raise a man from the dead. I can do none of these things. My miracles are of a much lower order but they have a true Christian purpose. The man who came to me had faith, that is why he brought his son to be cured. He had faith in me and faith in God’s power to work through me.’ He beamed at them. ‘That is why his son was carried here from his home but was able to walk away, sound in body and mind.’

‘We have examined both father and son.’

‘Do they lay charges against me?’

‘No.’

‘Did they tell you that I used sorcery?’

‘They are too ignorant to know.’

‘Do you think I practise black arts?’

‘What Brother Reginald and I think is that you are either a clever trickster or a cunning sorcerer and we want neither of them in this town.’ Reginald nodded his agreement as his master’s vituperation poured out. ‘You are to leave Coventry by dawn tomorrow. If you are ever caught in this town again — or anywhere in my diocese of Lichfield — you will be tried for witchcraft without compunction. Is that clear? We will tie you to a stake and burn the evil out of you with holy flames.’ He rose to his feet and pointed to the door. ‘Now take yourself and your disgusting stink out of the abbey and leave Brother Reginald and me to deal with the much more important matter which occupies us at the moment.’

‘It occupies me as well,’ said Huna happily.

‘You?’

‘May I have permission to bid farewell to Boio?’

A storm was brewing and an already overcast sky began to darken.

When Thorkell and his men reached the abbey it took them a moment to pick Henry Beaumont out in the gathering gloom. The newcomers were not given a cordial welcome.

‘Whatever are you doing here?’ demanded Henry.

‘I came to see that Boio’s best interests are served.’

‘That can only be at the end of a rope.’

‘But he is no murderer,’ explained Thorkell. ‘Gervase Bret called at my house with valuable new evidence in Boio’s defence, garnered from one of your own foresters.’

‘I have heard it,’ said Henry peevishly.

‘Then why do you still stand vigil here, my lord?’

‘Because your blacksmith still has much to answer for.’

‘Such as?’

‘Wait until his trial.’

‘That may be a very long wait if he stays here for the full term of sanctuary,’ said Thorkell. ‘Are you prepared to stand out here in all weathers for the whole duration?’

‘We will drag him out of there soon.’

‘That is why I came, my lord. To safeguard his life.’

‘You are not wanted here.’

‘But I needed to speak with you on a related matter.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Martin Reynard.’

‘The poor man lies dead and buried,’ said Henry sadly.

‘I am not surprised that you speak so kindly of him, my lord,’

said Thorkell with a knowing glint. ‘Though he was dismissed in apparent disgrace from your household, he never really left it, did he? I have reliable information to the effect that he paid regular visits to your castle while he was supposed to be working for me.’

‘Whoever told you that is lying!’ howled Henry.

‘I had it indirectly from your own wife, the lady Adela. You will surely not tell me that you are married to a liar.’

Henry bit his lip and turned away. Thorkell continued to bait him and his victim could do nothing but wince and bluster. A shout brought an end to their exchange. Both men looked towards the soldier who had called them but the man was already waving them back.

‘I was deceived, my lord!’ he shouted. ‘A false alarm!’

Henry looked past him and saw what he meant. Two figures had emerged from a side door to the abbey and were being gathered up by the darkness as they walked away. Henry was just in time to recognise the dwarf, leading his bear by a chain along the street. The sound of the bolts being drawn distracted him and he turned to see the abbey gate swinging open. Hoping to be offered an abject apology by the bishop and to have the fugitive delivered up to him, he was disappointed to see a shabby old man coming out of the building. The gate was shut behind the departing visitor and the bolts were put in place. Neither Henry nor Thorkell took any notice of the old man and they were unaware that he lurked nearby to watch them with curiosity.

Henry turned back without relish to face Thorkell’s questions again. Throbbing with indignation, the thegn would not let him off the hook.

‘Why did you do it, my lord?’ he asked. ‘It was not the action of a decent man. I know that you are not capable of graciousness but I thought you reasonably just until now. I took Martin Reynard into my service in good faith as my reeve. Why did you set him to spy on me?’ He jabbed a finger. ‘What did you get him to steal ?’

Henry Beaumont was soon wallowing in embarrassment. He shifted uneasily in his saddle as the full extent of his reckoning was ruthlessly exposed by Thorkell.

Rain was beginning to spit as Ralph Delchard and his men rode towards Brinklow Castle. They did not have to make the full journey. Having established his credentials with the Count of Meulan, the eager Trouville wanted to get back to the abbey so that he did not miss out on any of the action.

Ralph saw the commissioner and his escort being conjured out of the darkness ahead of him. His own escort, swelled by the additional men whom Henry had sent, outnumbered the approaching riders. Ralph called a halt and they fanned out in a line.

Trouville was twenty yards away before he recognised them.