Edward Marston - The Wildcats of Exeter

‘Wait!’ said Catherine. ‘Has Tetbald returned yet?’

‘I believe that he has, my lady.’

‘Find out for me at once.’

‘I will.’

‘If he is here, ask him to come to me.’

The servant nodded obediently and withdrew. Catherine began to sew again but she swiftly lost interest and tossed the tapestry aside. Rising to her feet, she paced the room as she considered the options which now confronted her. She did not hear the tap on the door. When she turned back towards it, she saw the steward standing just inside the room.

‘You sent for me, my lady?’ he said.

‘Close the door.’

He did so then faced her again. ‘What is your wish?’

‘I need your advice, Tetbald.’

‘That is always at your command,’ he said with an oleaginous smile, moving in closer to her. ‘How may I help?’

‘First, tell me what has been going on. Have they searched?’

‘Throughout the day.’

‘What have they found?’

‘Very little, my lady. Darkness forced them to break off.’

‘Did you speak with the lord sheriff?’

‘I did,’ said the steward evenly. ‘He vowed that he would track down the murderer but admitted that the trail was cold. He returned to the castle to feast with the royal commissioners.’

‘How can he revel at a time like this,’ she said with asperity.

Tetbald said nothing but he smiled inwardly. He was a fleshy man in his late twenties with dark wavy hair framing a countenance that was slowly yielding its good looks to the encroaching fat of his cheeks. He stood in an attitude of deference, but there was a familiarity in his manner which Catherine seemed to accept rather than condemn.

‘What am I to do, Tetbald?’ she asked.

‘Wait until the funeral is over, my lady.’

‘But the commissioners begin their deliberations tomorrow.

My husband was to be among the first to be called before them.’

She bit her lip with indecision, ‘Should I go in his stead?’

‘That would not be seemly, my lady.’

‘I will not sit idly by while others fight over my land.’

‘Then let me go in your place,’ he volunteered. ‘The lord Nicholas would have had me at his side in the shire hall because I know all the particulars of his manors and the lands appertaining to them. Employ me as your ambassador, my lady. I will not let you down.’

‘That is true,’ she said with a faint smile. ‘I can rely on you, Tetbald. You have been very faithful to me. Faithful, conscientious and discreet.’

‘I only wish to please you.’

Their eyes locked for a moment then Catherine broke away to resume her seat. His presence had a soothing effect on her and her composure soon returned. She began to feel in control of the situation.

‘Represent me at the shire hall, Tetbald.’

‘I will do so gladly.’

‘Do not surrender one acre of land,’ she insisted. ‘It is all mine. I inherit directly from my husband. Nobody else must be allowed to steal the property from me. You must be a persuasive advocate.’

‘Right and title are on your side, my lady.’

‘My husband feared that they might not be enough.’

‘The lord Nicholas is no longer here,’ he whispered. ‘You do not have to accept his counsel any more. All of his manors now come into your hands, to be disposed of as you choose.’

‘I choose to keep them,’ she said with emphasis.

‘Then that is what will happen.’

‘Will you give me your word on that, Tetbald?’

The steward took a step towards her. His smile was at once inquisitive and complacent. ‘Do you really need to ask that, my lady?’

Their eyes met again and this time she did not look away.

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I trust you. I have to now.’

Since his marriage, Ralph Delchard slept soundly as a rule, but his first night at Exeter Castle was an unusually restless one.

He was wide awake long before the larks were heralding the dawn.

Knowing instinctively that something was troubling him, Golde roused herself from her own slumber and rolled over to face him.

‘What is the matter?’ she murmured.

‘Go back to sleep, my love.’

‘How can I when you are threshing about in the bed?’

‘I did not mean to disturb you. I have been trying to lie still.’

‘That is what convinced me that something was bothering you,’

she said with a tired smile. ‘After twisting and turning all night, you were unnaturally still. That is not like you. I sensed that you were awake. Why?’ she pressed. ‘What ails you?’

‘Nothing that need concern you.’

‘I want to know, Ralph.’

‘There is no point in the two of us losing our sleep.’

‘Tell me,’ she said with a playful punch. ‘I insist.’

‘Very well. I was thinking about that jester. Berold.’

‘And do not lie to me,’ added Golde, jabbing him harder. ‘This has nothing to do with the jester, amusing as he was. You are still perplexed by this murder. That is what gnaws away at your mind.’

Ralph grinned. ‘I have no secrets from you, Golde. You have learned to read your husband like a book.’

‘Then turn the page so that I may read more.’

‘You are right,’ he confessed. ‘I am sorely troubled by the murder of Nicholas Picard and by Baldwin’s reaction to it. Why is he so anxious to keep me out of the investigation? We are interested parties, Nicholas Picard was one of the main people we came all this way to see. I want to know what happened to him. Yet the lord sheriff will not even let me view the body.’

‘Why should you want to, Ralph?’

‘Because I may learn things from it that have eluded Baldwin’s eye. I have buried many friends in my life, Golde, brave soldiers who were cut down in battle. I can tell if a wound was inflicted by sword, dagger, lance or axe. I can unravel the story of a man’s death.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘But our host spurns my help.’

‘For what reason?’

‘That is what I have been trying to work out. Is he arrogant enough to believe that he alone can solve this crime? Does he fear that I might find something which has eluded him? Or is there a darker cause?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I begin to wonder if the lord sheriff is hiding something from me.’

‘Hiding something?’

‘You saw his behaviour at the banquet last night.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You did seem to arouse his choler, Ralph. On the other hand, you had more success in talking to him than I did in catching the attention of the lady Albreda. I was snubbed.

She obviously regards Saxon women as a lower form of life.’

‘So do I,’ teased Ralph, slipping an arm round her. ‘That’s what makes them so appealing. They are wild and untamed.’

‘How many of them have you known?’

‘Hundreds!’ he said airily. ‘But you are easily the best.’

She smiled at his empty boast and snuggled up to him. ‘I did not like it, Ralph,’ she admitted. ‘The lady Albreda hurt my pride.

I know that she is the King’s niece but I refuse to be put down like that. My father was a Saxon thegn who held several manors in Herefordshire. I am used to respect. I will not endure condescension.’

‘You will not have to, Golde,’ he promised.

‘If it continues, I prefer to leave here for more modest accommodation.’

‘That will not be necessary.’

‘I am not ashamed that I worked as a brewer,’ she said. ‘It was an honest trade and someone had to carry on the business when my husband died. But the lady Albreda all but sneered at me when she heard that I had actually worked for a living.’

‘It was my fault for raising the subject, Golde.’