Edward Marston - The Wildcats of Exeter

‘I believe you,’ said Gervase. ‘When you visited the lord Nicholas, I wonder if you saw him with a large wooden box?’

Saewin’s face was motionless. ‘A box?’

‘One in which he kept business documents.’

‘I do not recall seeing such a thing.’

‘But you would recall it had you done so.’

‘Naturally.’

They set off again. Gervase waited until they turned a corner before he sprang the next question on him, watching closely for a reaction.

‘Do you live alone, Saewin?’

‘Yes, Master Bret. My wife died some years ago.’

‘I am sorry to hear that. No children, then?’

‘None, alas.’

‘Do you have nobody to keep you company?’

‘A servant.’

‘Nobody else?’

‘Only my dog.’

Gervase’s interest sharpened. ‘Your dog?’

‘Yes,’ said the reeve. ‘I have always loved dogs.’

Berold was almost surly when Ralph Delchard sought him out.

The jester was eating a meal in the kitchen and was not at all pleased to be hauled away from his food. When they reached the stables, Ralph made sure that he took the horse which his wife had been riding when she was thrown. Berold led him along the route which he and Golde had taken on that occasion. The jester was uncommunicative.

‘Where is the sheriff?’ asked Ralph.

‘Who knows?’

‘I was hoping that you did, Berold.’

‘No.’

‘Is he still at the castle?’

‘He may be.’

‘You are usually at his side wherever he is.’

‘Am I?’

‘Have any arrests been made in connection with the murders?’

‘Ask him.’

‘I have no idea where the sheriff is,’ said Ralph in exasperation,

‘but I suspect that you do, Berold. Am I right?’

‘Right to suspect me, wrong to harry me.’

‘What has been going on here in Exeter?’

‘Turmoil.’

‘Why are you so infuriating today?’

‘I try to be infuriating on most days, my lord.’

‘Be warned,’ said Ralph. ‘I am in no mood for prevarication.’

‘Good. That means you will not prevaricate.’

Ralph stifled a protest as the East Gate came in view. He recalled what Golde had told him about her own visit to the siege tunnel.

‘My wife tells me that you were not eager to show her the tunnel.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can think of much more interesting things to show a beautiful woman than an ugly hole in the ground.’

‘You did not go near the tunnel, she told me.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Were you afraid of something?’

‘I am always afraid.’

‘Of what?’

‘Life. Death. Benedictine monks. The sheriff’s rage. Forked lightning. Being forced to listen to a sermon from Bishop Osbern.

Marriage. The smell of lavender. Poisoned food. Bad ale. Jesting before an assembly which does not laugh. I am afraid of everything.’

‘Then you would do well to fear my temper,’ said Ralph, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, ‘for it has been shortened by a ride to Tavistock and back. I am looking into the murder of my friend, Berold. Turn that into a jest and I will crack your head open.’

‘You will find it empty, my lord.’

‘Why were you so reluctant to visit the siege tunnel?’

‘Because I am superstitious.’

Ralph released him. ‘Go on.’

‘The place is believed to be haunted.’

‘By whom?’

‘Men who fought and fell during the siege.’

‘Norman soldiers?’

‘Saxons. There were incidents.’

‘What kind of incidents?’

‘The kind that mean nothing in themselves, my lord, but which build to a pattern when taken together. Some boys were frightened away when they tried to play in the tunnel.’

‘By what?’

‘A weird noise, they claimed. One man was found lying unconscious there. A second was thrown from his horse, as your good lady was. A third swears he saw a ghostly figure at night. A fourth claims that he saw a flame coming from the entrance. And so it goes on.’

‘Why did you not warn my wife?’ said Ralph angrily.

‘Nothing would have stopped her wanting to see the tunnel.’

‘But it might have saved her from an accident.’

‘She saw my reluctance.’

They came out through East Gate and approached the siege tunnel. Berold hung back once again, but Ralph nudged his horse forward until it was close to the mouth of the tunnel. The animal did not shy or back away. Ralph dismounted and peered into the cave. It was almost three feet in height and wide enough for a man to scurry along underground in a crouched position.

‘How far does it go?’ he asked.

‘It went all the way to the city wall at one time,’ said Berold,

‘but they filled much of it in.’

‘Did nobody search the place after the incidents of which you speak?’

‘Yes, my lord. Nothing was found.’

Ralph took out his sword and ducked low to enter the tunnel.

It was dark and dank. His shoulders brushed the walls and dislodged dust from the rock. He struggled on, using his sword to tap the ground in front of him. When it met an obstruction, he came to a halt and reached out a hand to feel a large boulder which had been rolled into the tunnel. It stopped him going any further but he had no wish to do so. The stench which hit his nostrils was foul. It made him hold his breath and back hurriedly away. Coming quickly out of the tunnel, he grimaced violently and inhaled fresh air as if his life depended on it.

Berold was highly amused by his expression of utter disgust.

‘With a face like that,’ he said, ‘you could have been a jester.’

Troubled and embarrassed, Golde went in search of the lady Albreda. She found her walking around the perimeter of the courtyard for exercise with a gentlewoman in attendance. When she saw the urgency with which Golde was hobbling towards her, she came to a halt and dismissed her companion immediately.

‘What ails you, Golde?’

‘We must talk again about that letter, my lady.’

‘I have been doing my best to put it out of my mind.’

‘You must show it to your husband,’ said Golde, ‘as soon as possible. It is the only way to stave off the threat of blackmail and it will also spare my blushes.’

‘I do not understand.’

‘In taking me into your confidence, you oblige me to lie to my own husband. When Ralph asked me if I had seen you while he was away, I was forced to hold back the truth from him. He sensed it at once and taxed me with dishonesty. That has never happened before.’

‘I am sorry I put you in such a position, Golde.’

‘Your problem is mine writ large, my lady. Conceal something of importance from your husband and he will surely catch wind of it in time. His fury will be all the greater. Tell him now.’

‘I dare not, Golde.’

‘Then let me tell him on your behalf.’

‘That would make the situation even worse,’ said Albreda, wringing her hands. ‘Baldwin would be enraged if he thought I had discussed with someone else an intimate matter between husband and wife.’

‘Would you rather submit to blackmail?’

‘I must.’

‘Is it worth the cost?’

‘I would give everything I have to get those letters back again.’

‘But how do you know that you would get them?’ said Golde. ‘A person who can enjoy making you suffer in this way can hardly be trusted to honour his side of the bargain. You may end up paying a large amount of money and being betrayed in return.’

‘That is a risk I will have to take.’

‘It is not necessary.’

A roar of anger interrupted them. Their gaze drifted to the other side of the courtyard where the sheriff was berating one of his men. His voice echoed round the whole castle. When the man tried to argue back, Baldwin struck him to the ground, kicked him hard, then marched away. Mounting his horse, he led a posse swiftly out through the gates. Golde was appalled by the sudden violence she had witnessed. When she turned back to Albreda, she was met by a wan smile.