Edward Marston - The Foxes of Warwick

‘Boio is my friend,’ she said. ‘When others laughed at me, he was kind. That is why I came here so often to see him. Boio liked me. He wanted me here. We told each other secrets.’ She winced at a memory. ‘Everything was fine until this man came along.’

‘What man?’

‘Was it Martin Reynard?’ guessed Gervase.

Asmoth nodded. ‘He treated Boio like dirt. He thought he was so stupid that he would not understand anything. This man was reeve to Thorkell but he came to the forge to meet someone from the castle. One of the men-at-arms. Boio could see who he was.

They used the forge because it was halfway between Thorkell’s manor house and the castle. Boio was always thrown out while they talked but he was not stupid, my lady. He could not understand them when they spoke French but he guessed what they were doing and he saw the reeve giving things to the man from the castle.’

‘What sort of things?’ asked Golde.

‘Documents?’ suggested Gervase.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Boio did not know what to do. He was certain that the reeve was betraying Thorkell in some way but it was only his word against the other’s. And the man was clever. It upset Boio. It was not right, what the reeve was doing. Boio wanted to stop him but he did not know how. And then …’ She buried her face in both hands.

Golde slipped a consoling arm around her shoulders.

‘Take your time, Asmoth. There is no hurry.’

‘And then,’ resumed the girl through a sob, ‘something else happened with the man. The reeve was not very nice. He was cruel and hard. Everyone disliked him.’

‘Why was that? Did he bother them?’ Asmoth nodded. ‘Did he bother you as well?’ The woman nodded again and sobbed more loudly. ‘Did he do more than bother you?’

Asmoth could not look at them. Her eye remained on the fire.

‘I was bathing in the stream. The man came up behind me. He did not see my face or it would have turned him away as it turned away every other man but Boio. I know I am ugly; I have got used to it. But the reeve grabbed me from behind and dragged me into the bushes …’

They waited until she had cried her fill. Golde held her throughout and asked for no details. Gervase realised why the woman had been quite unable to confide in him earlier and felt uneasy at being there now. Golde helped her to dry her eyes.

‘Did you tell Boio?’

‘Not at first.’

‘But you did in the end?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He went to see the reeve. They had an argument. People overheard them. The man was angry because Boio had shown no respect. He got drunk that night and came to the forge to teach Boio a lesson. He brought a club. He hit Boio with it.’ She hunched her shoulders. ‘Boio had to defend himself. He struck out. The man taunted him about me and hit him harder. Boio took the club off him and they began to wrestle. The man was saying foul things and Boio just squeezed …’

There was a long pause. Golde glanced over at Gervase.

‘Did he carry the body to the forest that night?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Asmoth.

‘Did he go back again next morning at dawn?’

‘No. Grimketel was lying.’

‘Did you know any of this when I came to the forge with Brother Benedict and you swore to us that Boio was innocent?’

‘He is innocent. He did not intend to kill anyone. He was forced to it.’

‘Did you know, Asmoth?’

‘No!’

‘Would you have helped him escape if you had?’

‘Yes!’ she said defiantly. ‘The man was horrible to me. Boio cared. The reeve goaded him about me. That was why Boio got angry.’ There was another pause. ‘He did not go looking for the man. The reeve came here to attack him. He only defended himself.’ A sudden fear engulfed her and made her shake all over. ‘You will not turn him over to the lord Henry, will you?

Please! Please!’

‘No,’ said Gervase gently, ‘I think that he has already suffered enough for what he did. He was imprisoned and tortured before he escaped. Then he was hounded across the county like a wild animal before he threw himself on the mercy of the abbey.’ He stood up. ‘He is safe from us, Asmoth. Boio has suffered the worst punishment of all.’

‘What is that?’

‘Being forced to leave you.’

The girl smiled. In the half-light, she looked almost beautiful.

It was an incongruous gathering. An old man, a donkey, a dwarf, a performing bear and a Saxon thegn were there to wave their farewells. Boio mounted the horse which Thorkell had brought for him and took the letter which the latter handed over.

‘Show it to my kinsman,’ instructed the old man. ‘He will take care of you. Ride hard along the Fosse Way and you will reach him well before midnight. Rest there but leave before dawn tomorrow. My kinsman will teach you the next stage of your journey.’

‘Thank you, my lord. And thanks to all of you.’

‘Huna deserves most of the thanks,’ said the dwarf. ‘It was he who devised the way to get you out of the abbey. I am sorry that you had to pretend to be my bear. You made Ursa very jealous.’

‘Waste no more time!’ urged Thorkell. ‘Be off!’

He slapped the rump of the horse and it trotted off in the darkness. Boio was on his way to freedom. The men relaxed, the donkey brayed and the bear gave a yawn. Right of sanctuary was no longer needed.

‘The wonder of it is,’ said Thorkell, turning to Huna, ‘that you saw me when you came out of the abbey earlier.’

‘Boio had talked so much about you, my lord. I recognised you at once by his description. There are not many thegns of your standing left.’

‘Two of us in the whole realm.’

‘I wish there were more overlords like you.’

‘Yes,’ said the dwarf. ‘You came here to help Boio.’

‘That was why I was so delighted when Huna took me aside. I came to help Boio and you two had already contrived his escape.

There could not have been a happier coincidence.’

‘It was an accident which heaven provided,’ said Huna.

‘It was another miracle,’ declared the dwarf.

‘Yes,’ agreed the old man. ‘One day, I will tell you how I did it.’

The dispute which they had expected to take longest to resolve was settled in the shortest time. Events outside the shire hall simplified the decision taken within it. Instead of having to listen to the competing claims of three people, the commissioners only sat in judgement on two. Locked in a castle dungeon, Adam Reynard had to forego his participation in the legal battle over coveted holdings, preoccupied as he was with a legal battle to escape a hideous punishment for poaching. What also speeded up the process for the tribunal was that they were already well acquainted with the two contenders before them and were thus able to anticipate their lines of argument. Robert de Limesey was in direct contention with Thorkell of Warwick. It was another confrontation between Church and State as a Norman bishop tried to oust a Saxon thegn from land which he had owned and occupied for several decades.

There was another paradox. The man on whom the bishop relied to help him most gave him least assistance. Indeed, it was Archdeacon Theobald, chafing at the idleness imposed on him by the suspension of the commissioners’ work, who brought most passion to the shire hall when the sessions there resumed. He showed due respect for the bishop’s eminence but very little for his claim.

‘In essence it has almost no legal basis at all,’ he said.

‘That is not true, Archdeacon Theobald,’ replied Robert with condescension, as if cuffing an errant chorister. ‘Our charter lays before you to attest the legitimacy of our claim but it not only rests on a legal right. We also have a moral right to that land.’