Edward Marston - The Wildcats of Exeter

When they had finished their repast, the commissioners resumed their seats and looked through the documents relating to their next case. A great weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Each of them was enjoying a new sense of freedom.

‘Baldwin is delighted by our work,’ said Ralph.

‘That is a surprise,’ remarked Hubert. ‘I had the distinct impression that the lord sheriff was not pleased to have us in his county. His welcome, as I recall, was short on warmth and sincerity.’

‘All that has changed, Hubert.’

‘Has it, my lord?’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘Now that we have helped solve the crimes and clean up the city for him, Baldwin cannot do enough for us.

He is to hold another banquet in our honour tomorrow as a mark of his favour. You are both cordially invited, Hubert. You and Simon.’

‘In that case,’ said the canon, recalling the excellence of the food that was served at the castle, ‘I take back my strictures. We would be happy to accept the invitation.’

‘I would rather decline it, Canon Hubert,’ said Simon sheepishly.

‘Why?’

‘Banquets hold no appeal for me.’

‘Think of it as the Last Supper,’ Ralph teased him.

‘I would rather eat humbler fare at the cathedral.’

‘Then so you shall, Brother Simon,’ said Hubert.

‘Though you may find yourself short of company,’ warned Ralph.

‘I know that Bishop Osbern is coming to the banquet. So is Dean Jerome and others from the cathedral. You may well be the only person who does not attend the feast.’

‘That will content me,’ said Simon.

‘What about the abbot of Tavistock?’ asked Gervase. ‘Will he be there?’

Ralph grinned. ‘I doubt it. My guess is that he has ridden off in a fit of pique. Saewin tells me that he was outraged when he heard that he would not be called before us again because we felt his claim did not merit further attention. He used some very unmonastic language.’

‘I refuse to believe that,’ said Hubert.

‘I do not,’ said Ralph. ‘The chances are that he complained of us to the bishop, then sent off letters of condemnation to the King and to the archbishop of Canterbury, calling for our instant removal. Geoffrey, abbot of Tavistock has not mastered the art of been a gracious loser.’

‘I have some sympathy for him,’ said Hubert. ‘There is nothing gracious about the seizure of one’s land.’

‘Engelric endured it with more dignity,’ Gervase pointed out.

‘Yes,’ added Ralph. ‘Of the five claims, I have to confess that I thought his was the weakest at first glance. I have learned better.’

Hubert gave a complacent smile. ‘We all have, my lord.’

‘Where are they!’ yelled an angry voice.

The mood of calm was shattered by the appearance of a figure at the rear of the hall. Flinging open the door, Bishop Osbern stood there in his vestments and raised a finger of doom. He shook with indignation.

‘How dare you insult Geoffrey, Abbot of Tavistock!’ he howled.

‘I have come to speak on his behalf and censure you most strongly for your appalling treatment of him. His claim has been disregarded when it should have been upheld. I demand that you restore the property to the abbey and apologise to the abbot for your gross mistake.’

Simon was rigid with fear, Hubert was momentarily dumb-founded and even Gervase was taken aback at first, but Ralph’s rich laughter soon made all three of them take a closer look at the bishop of Exeter. Taking off his mitre, he bowed low then strode towards them with a wide grin. Berold the Jester bestowed a friendly wave upon the table.

‘I came to give you my blessing,’ he said airily.

‘Take off those vestments at once!’ ordered Hubert.

‘Would you have a naked man standing before you?’ said Berold.

‘No!’ cried Simon.

The jester nudged him. ‘Then I will bring a naked woman instead.’

‘Peace, good Berold!’ said Ralph, controlling his mirth. ‘We appreciate this episcopal visitation but we have serious work to do here.’

‘I came with news that you may not have heard, my lord.’

‘I spy another jest.’

‘No, my lord,’ said the other solemnly. ‘This concerns the man you killed, Eldred. As strangers to the city, you may not know his history.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He was not born mute. He was a soldier here during the siege and earned himself a place in the records for his bravery. When King William and his men surrounded the city, Eldred stood on the battlements and lowered his breeches to tell them what he thought of them.’

‘Saints preserve us!’ said Simon in horror.

‘Hervey de Marigny told us this tale,’ recalled Ralph. ‘But he could not remember what happened to the man.’

‘He was caught,’ said Berold, ‘and taken before the King. His life was spared but King William exacted a just punishment.

Because Eldred preferred to speak through his nether regions, the King ordered his tongue to be cut out. That is how he came by his name.’

‘What name?’ asked Hubert.

‘Eldred the Fart.’

Hubert spluttered and Simon hid himself in his cowl. Only Ralph and Gervase realised that Berold was once again jesting.

Had he been the soldier in question, Eldred would never have been so devoted to a Norman lady like Loretta. They were sorry that Hervey de Marigny was not there because he would have appreciated the jest more than any of them. When they had calmed Hubert down, they thanked Berold for bringing some amusement to the shire hall, then sent him on his way.

‘That fool should be whipped for his insolence!’ said Hubert.

‘Berold is an important man in his own way,’ said Ralph. ‘He puts a smile on the face of the castle and that is a major achievement. I do not think that Bishop Osbern would have been offended. It was a flattering portrait of him.’

‘Flattering!’ echoed Hubert. ‘It was demeaning!’

Ralph became brisk. ‘Whatever it was,’ he said, ‘let us put it aside and address ourselves to the task in hand. It is high time we remembered what we are doing in the county of Devon.’

‘Climbing our way up a mountain of disputes,’ sighed Gervase.

‘Suffering all kinds of blasphemy,’ complained Simon.

‘Bringing the sword of justice to this part of the kingdom,’ said Hubert with more than his usual pomposity. ‘Rewarding honesty, weeding out corruption and punishing any irregularities that we uncover. We are the privileged scribes of the Domesday Book.

That is our main purpose here.’

‘No, it is not,’ said Ralph.

‘Then what is, my lord?’

‘Making sure that Gervase gets to the altar in time,’ he said with an arm round his friend’s shoulders. ‘His lovely young bride must not be disappointed or Gervase may have another wildcat on his hands.’