Edward Marston - The Wildcats of Exeter

‘I will not tell him that you said that.’

‘He would not be offended if you did. Do you miss Alys?’

‘Painfully.’

‘It will make your reunion all the sweeter.’

‘I hope so,’ said Gervase. ‘But I would sooner fret away the time before our wedding in Winchester than in Devon. I have a strange feeling that I will somehow be detained here against my will. Alys would be livid.’

‘At first, perhaps,’ said Golde. ‘Any bride would chafe in such trying circumstances. But I am sure that Alys would understand and make due allowance. She knows the importance of your work and appreciates the honour which is bestowed upon you by the King.’

‘I would prefer a little less honour and a little more time in Winchester,’ said Gervase. ‘No sooner do I return to the city than we are dispatched on a new assignment.’

‘That is a sign of the King’s faith in you.’

‘My absences put a strain on our betrothal.’

‘That strain will soon end, Gervase,’ she assured him. ‘In a month’s time, you and Alys will be living in wedded bliss with no thought of the frustrations which you endured beforehand.’

‘That is my dearest wish.’

‘There is only one decison you will have to make.’

‘What is that?’

‘The same decision which confronted Ralph and me. If the call comes once more from the King — as assuredly it will — do you leave your wife at home or take her with you? I was only too eager to come with Ralph. But what of Alys?’ she probed. ‘Would she put up with a long ride to Exeter in order to be close to her husband?’

‘Naturally!’

‘Have you discussed it with her?’

‘Not yet, Golde, but I know what her choice would be.’ Gervase fell silent, doubting the confidence in his own reply. A new anxiety assailed him. What if Alys refused to travel with him and the others to distant shires of the realm? She was not as robust a woman as Golde nor as seasoned a rider. It would galling if he finally married her, only to continue their regular periods of separation. It all served to increase his anxiety to return to Winchester as soon as possible.

Ralph and his companion were more concerned with the work which awaited them in Exeter than a marriage which lay beyond it. Hervey de Marigny was the oldest of the commissioners but the least experienced.

‘You will have to guide me, Ralph,’ he said.

‘There will be little need of that.’

‘You and the others are veterans. I am a novice. What must I do?’

‘Look and listen,’ advised Ralph. ‘You will soon pick up the rudiments of our trade. We are here to sit in judgement and to collect taxes. That means we shall be very unpopular.’

‘I am used to that. It is in the nature of conquest. After twenty years, the Saxons still do not accept us.’

‘It is not the Saxon population who cause the problems,’ warned Ralph with a faint grimace. ‘It is our fellow Normans. Devon has more than its share of robber barons, Hervey. We must call them to account.’

‘A final reckoning?’

‘Indeed. A Domesday Book.’

They skirted a copse and crested a rise to be given their best and most striking view of their destination. Exeter was a handsome, prosperous, compact city, encircled by a high wall above which the tower of its cathedral, the massive fortifications of its castle and the roofs of its taller buildings rose with evident pride. Situated on the River Exe, it occupied a strategic position and was easily defended from attack. Seeing it so close once more reminded de Marigny of his earlier visit.

‘There is something I did not mention,’ he said, keeping his voice low so that nobody but Ralph could hear him. ‘An aspect of the siege too indelicate to discuss in front of Golde and Canon Hubert.’

‘Go on,’ urged Ralph.

‘The reason they held out for so long was that they were emboldened by the presence of Gytha, mother of their late king, Harold.’

‘ Earl Harold. He was no king but a vile usurper.’

‘The Saxons recognised him as their monarch and his mother shared in the lustre of his name. They flocked to her banner accordingly.’

‘A forlorn enterprise.’

‘Give them their due, Ralph,’ said the other. ‘They held us at bay for eighteen days and might have done so even longer had we not come to composition. But what I felt too improper to recall earlier was this. One of those hairy Saxons was bolder than the rest.’

‘What did he do?’

‘Mounted the ramparts to show his defiance to our army.’

‘In what way?’

‘He lowered his breeches, bared his buttocks and let out such a fart of contempt that it was heard a mile away.’

Ralph was torn between anger at the insult and amusement at the sheer bravado of the man. He found it difficult not to laugh.

‘Was the rogue caught and punished?’

‘I do not know, Ralph.’

‘Farting at the King? He should have been soundly whipped for his effrontery.’ He began to shake with mirth. ‘Then given a second beating for his backsidery. It was a savage weapon to use against us.’

The two of them laughed all the way to Exeter.

Joscelin the Steward prided himself on his efficiency. Tall and slim, he cut an elegant figure as he glided around the castle to check on the preparations for the guests. He was relatively young to hold such a position — still in his late twenties — but he discharged his varied duties with a quiet industry that left no room for complaint. Baldwin de Moeles, sheriff of Devon, came to rely on his steward more and more, delegating tasks to him which would normally have been outside his remit. Joscelin coped admirably with all that was thrown at him. No matter how onerous the work that was piled upon him, he managed to retain his poise and good humour.

He was in the kitchen when the guests arrived. As soon as he caught a glimpse of them through the window, he abandoned his inspection and headed for the courtyard. Ralph and the others had dismounted. Relieved to be out of the saddle at last, they were stretching their legs and taking stock of their surroundings.

Joscelin sailed across to them, surveying the company as he did so and forming a favourable impression of them. There was a sense of order and discipline about them which was apparent even at a cursory glance.

‘Welcome to Exeter, my lord!’ he said, identifying Ralph Delchard as the obvious leader and heading for him. ‘I am Joscelin the Steward and I will see to all your needs while you are here in the city.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ralph. He introduced his wife, Gervase Bret and Hervey de Marigny before indicating the two monks. ‘Canon Hubert and Brother Simon will sit with us on the commission but they will not lay their heads beneath the same roof. They will be staying as guests of Bishop Osbern and would appreciate a guide to take them to their host.’

Joscelin flicked his fingers and a servant trotted across to him to receive his instructions. After bidding farewell, Hubert and Simon rode out of the castle on the heels of the servant. Another gesture from the steward brought a soldier to his side. The man was told to take charge of the escort, to see to the stabling of their horses and to show them to their lodging. In less than a minute, Joscelin had cleared the courtyard of all but Golde and the three commissioners. Ralph was struck by his easy authority and imperturbable manner.

‘I hope that we meet with the same willing co-operation from everyone in this county,’ he said with a grin.

‘Do not count on that, my lord,’ said Joscelin tactfully.

‘Commissioners from the King mean taxes on property. You may encounter resistance.’

‘That is nothing new, my friend. We are inured to it.’