Edward Marston - The Wildcats of Exeter

As well as producing a regular harvest, the holdings under discussion also support sheep, cattle, pigs and a large herd of unbroken mares.’

‘What would your monks want with unbroken mares?’ asked Ralph mischievously. ‘A herd of unbroken nuns would be more appropriate livestock, would it not?’

There was uproar. The prior leapt to his feet to remonstrate, Canon Hubert added his condemnation, Brother Simon gave a squeal of horror and the abbot of Tavistock howled with righteous fury, pointing a finger of doom at Ralph as if trying to excommunicate him on the spot. Hervey de Marigny burst out laughing but quickly controlled his lapse. The soldiers at the rear of the hall took longer to suppress their mirth. It was fully five minutes before peace returned to the shire hall. Ralph apologised profusely and stroked the ruffled feathers of the monks back into place.

‘Now,’ he said quietly. ‘Let us look more deeply into this claim.’

Gervase Bret left the funeral service with a number of images jostling in his mind. Nicholas Picard’s composed widow and her attentive steward, Tetbald, fought for his attention with the poised Loretta and her Saxon companion, Eldred. Bishop Osbern remained a vivid memory, as did Dean Jerome and Saewin, but it was Asa who finally put her rivals to flight and became sole occupant of the disputed territory. Gervase could not stop thinking about her. The look which they exchanged across the grave had been compound of hope, curiosity and admiration. As he recalled the breathtaking shock of her loveliness, Gervase had to remind himself that someone equally beautiful and very trusting was waiting in Winchester for him to take her as his bride. Nothing and everything had happened during his silent communion with Asa. The encounter left him feeling guiltily exhilarated.

A figure swooped down on him as he was coming out of the cemetery. Baldwin the Sheriff moved from mourning to revenge with chilling speed.

‘One moment, Gervase,’ he said.

‘Yes, my lord sheriff?’

‘I did not expect to see you here, but I am glad that I have done so. It saves me having to enlist the services of the town reeve.’

‘Saewin?’

‘Only a Saxon can understand another Saxon,’ he said peevishly. ‘I have a man in my dungeon who will yield up nothing but gibberish even under torture. May I employ you as an interpreter?’

‘Is this man one of the robbers?’

‘Yes, Gervase. The only one to survive. I want the full story of how and why they murdered Nicholas Picard. I owe it to his widow and his family to beat the truth out of the prisoner’s carcass.

Will you help us?’

‘I am at your service, my lord sheriff.’

‘Let us return to the castle at once.’

It was not an assignment which Gervase accepted with any alacrity and it would keep him away from his duties in the shire hall even longer, but it was an opportunity which could not be refused. He and Ralph were not convinced that the robbers had killed Nicholas Picard before making off with their booty. Gervase hoped to learn if their doubts were justified. Baldwin’s wife had already returned to the castle with an escort, and six soldiers from the garrison accompanied the sheriff and his guest there.

Surrounded by the armed guard, Gervase felt as if he were under arrest.

The dungeons were situated below ground in the outer bailey.

Stone steps led down to a narrow passageway with damp walls.

Torches were placed in holders to throw a jagged light and further illumination came from the glowing coals in the brazier. Pokers and tongs were being heated in the fire. Gervase gulped at the realisation that his host would use the most barbaric methods of torture without compunction. When the gaoler saw them coming, he took one of the torches from its holder and used it to conduct them to a heavy oak door with an iron grille in it. Through the bars, Gervase could see a man curled up in the fetid straw.

When the door was unlocked, Baldwin pulled it open, then snatched the torch from the gaoler and went into the cell. Kicking the prisoner awake, he held the flames close to the man’s face and made him recoil with horror. Gervase noted that he was fettered and that his naked torso already bore the hideous marks of whip and fire.

‘Tell the truth!’ ordered the sheriff, kicking the man again.

‘Let him be, my lord sheriff,’ said Gervase.

‘Ask him why they slaughtered Nicholas Picard.’

‘I could do so more easily alone.’

‘I will stay here and watch.’

‘He will speak more freely if you quit the cell,’ said Gervase.

‘He is in abject terror. I will not get a word out of him while you stand over the fellow like that. Wait outside and you will easily overhear us.’

Baldwin was unhappy with the suggestion but he agreed to it.

Thrusting the torch into Gervase’s hand, he lumbered out and stood in the passageway with the gaoler. The cell was small, low and noisome. No natural light penetrated. The straw was clotted with excrement and it took Gervase a moment to accustom himself to the stink. The smell of fear was also overpowering. He knelt down and spoke softly to the man.

‘I need to ask you some questions,’ he said.

The prisoner was surprised to hear his own language. They were the first words addressed to him in the dungeon which were not followed by a blow. He turned a wary eye on his visitor.

‘Who are you?’ he said gruffly.

‘My name is Gervase Bret and I am in the King’s service. Some days ago, a man was ambushed in a wood not far from the city. It is very important for us to find out who murdered him and why.’

He held the torch nearer his own face so that the man could see he posed no threat. ‘Did you and your accomplice kill him?’

‘No!’

‘Is that the truth?’

‘Yes!’ said the other with a note of pleading. ‘We are robbers and not murderers. Masterless men who live by stealing. Or did live,’ he added ruefully. ‘They have already slain my brother Alnoth, and they will soon send me after him.’

‘The lord sheriff tells me that you were found with money and rings upon you. They were taken from the dead man, Nicholas Picard.’

‘I confess it freely.’

‘How did they come into your possession?’

‘By chance.’

‘Go on.’

‘Alnoth and I were heading for the wood that evening. When darkness falls, it is an ideal place for an ambush and we have found more than one fool riding home alone.’ He ran a tongue over parched lips to moisten them. ‘As we approached, a horse came galloping out of the wood. We knew that something amiss had happened.’

‘What did you do?’

‘We rode into the wood with caution. We soon found him.’

‘Where?’

‘Beside the track and beneath an overhanging beech,’ said the other, grimacing at the memory. ‘His face was cut to ribbons and his throat cut. Alnoth and I could not bear to look on him.’

‘Yet you stole his purse.’

‘Yes.’

‘And his rings?’

‘He had no more use for them,’ said the man truculently. ‘They were pure gold. We planned to sell them but they caught us.

Yes,’ he said with a touch of defiance. ‘We are robbers and we stole from a dead man but we did not kill him. I swear it!’

‘Who did?’

‘I do not know.’

‘Did you see anybody else in the wood?’

‘No,’ said the man. ‘All we heard were the hooves of a horse.

When we reached the body, someone was galloping away in the direction of the city.’

‘Only one horse?’ asked Gervase.

‘Only one.’

‘Can you be certain of that?’

‘My brother and I are robbers,’ said the other. ‘Sharp ears are a necessary part of our trade. We are used to keeping out of sight and listening. We saw the dead man’s stallion leaving the wood and we heard only one other horse.’