Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

‘Then you have not studied the cases carefully enough,’ Hubert reproved him, slipping the last honey cake into his mouth. ‘We will soon be dealing with disputants who have the backing of Earl Hugh and it is an open question whether they accept our authority without protest or simply ignore our judgements and appeal to their master.’

‘We speak for the King,’ said Ralph firmly. ‘Our decisions must be accepted without complaint or resistance.’

‘Nobody will surrender land without complaint, my lord.’

‘Or pay taxes without resistance,’ said Gervase.

‘The status of royal commissioners must be respected,’ resumed Ralph. ‘So far, it has been. Most importantly, by Earl Hugh himself.

We must never forget that he is the King’s nephew and trusted vassal. Even our headstrong host will surely do nothing to offend his uncle.’

‘I would question that presumption,’ said Hubert.

‘You question everything.’

‘I have learned to take nothing for granted, my lord.’

‘We have noticed.’

‘Someone has to safeguard our interests.’

‘That is my task,’ said Ralph, stung by the criticism, ‘and I perform it with diligence. But I do not make a fetish of suspicion. You spy danger on every side, Hubert. You see peril where none exists. I know how to distinguish petty inconvenience from real threat.’

‘We will have our share of both before we are done.’

‘Let us not rush to meet adversity,’ suggested Gervase, trying to terminate the latest argument between two men whose relationship was uneasy at the best of times. ‘Today has seen definite progress. We should be heartened by that.’

‘I am, Gervase,’ said Brother Simon. ‘We have had a most effective and profitable session. I am deeply sorry that we have suspended our work for the day.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it means that Canon Hubert and I must return to the cathedral to face further torment.’

‘Torment?’

‘From that turbulent archdeacon from Wales.’

‘Do not remind me!’ groaned Hubert.

‘You could always stay at the castle,’ taunted Ralph.

Simon shuddered. ‘That would be even worse!’

‘Yes,’ said Hubert gloomily. ‘We are caught between a tyrant and a torturer. Archdeacon Idwal is the lesser of two evils. His oppression is only verbal.’

‘And spiritual,’ corrected Simon. ‘Whenever that madman is near me, my soul shrinks into oblivion.’

‘I have the urge to reach for my sword,’ said Ralph.

‘And I to flee on my donkey,’ said Hubert.

Gervase Bret was the only apostate among them. ‘Strange!’ he remarked. ‘Why do you shun him so? I have always rather enjoyed Idwal’s company. I like the man.’

Ralph was aghast. ‘You like him?’

‘Incredible!’ said Simon.

‘Unnatural!’ boomed Hubert. ‘That voluble Welshman is the human equivalent of the seven plagues of Egypt. How can anyone welcome such suffering?’

‘You wrong him,’ said Gervase stoutly. ‘Idwal has many fine qualities and I saw them on display in Herefordshire. He is a true Christian with a profound knowledge of the scriptures. You must not condemn a man because he has a lively mind.’

‘It is the lively tongue that we fear,’ said Simon. ‘It never stops, does it, Canon Hubert?’

‘No, Brother Simon. It ripples like the River Dee.’

He led the way through the door and out into the street. It was still afternoon and the bright sunlight made them squint. After a day in the musty shire hall, they found the fresh air bracing.

Taking their leave, Hubert and Simon trudged off in the direction of the cathedral, discussing ways in which to avoid the Welsh threat which loomed over them. Ralph dismissed his men then strolled amiably with Gervase towards the castle.

They did not get far. Commotion erupted behind them and they turned to see Earl Hugh, bristling with fury, riding at a canter through the crowd with the hunting party at his back. When he recognised the commissioners, he brought his horse to a halt beside them. They could see the black rage in his eyes.

‘What is amiss, my lord?’ asked Ralph.

‘I was attacked in the forest.’

‘By whom?’

‘We do not yet know. The assassin eluded us.’

‘Assassin?’

‘Yes, Ralph,’ said the earl, lifting up the arrow that he held in 48

The Hawks of Delamere

his grasp. ‘He aimed this at me. By the grace of God, it missed its target and struck another instead.’

He moved aside to reveal the dead body of the huntsman, slumped across the saddle of the horse behind him and tied into position. Accustomed to return from the Delamere Forest with a plentiful supply of venison, Earl Hugh was livid that all he brought back this time was the corpse of a friend.

‘Did you find no trace of the assassin?’ said Ralph.

‘None. We have searched for the best part of the day.’

‘He cannot have vanished into thin air.’

‘That is exactly what he did, Ralph,’ said Hugh ruefully. ‘We hunted high and low. The only signs of life we found were at a cottage some distance away. Two women were weaving baskets.

They could not help us. They had seen nothing.’

‘Do you have any clues at all, my lord?’

‘Only this.’ He held up the arrow again. ‘It came from a Welsh bow and matches the one that killed my hawk yesterday.’

‘Then you hanged the wrong men,’ Gervase pointed out.

‘What do you mean?’

‘If the archer is still at liberty, neither of the men you captured yesterday could have fired the arrow which killed your hawk. They were innocent of the crime.’

‘So it appears,’ said Ralph.

‘Both men carried bows,’ argued Hugh.

‘Were their quivers full of arrows like that?’

‘No,’ he grunted. ‘But that makes no difference.’

‘It does, my lord. They must have paid for a crime they did not actually commit,’ concluded Gervase. ‘While you were arresting them, the true culprit was making his escape.’

‘They deserved to die,’ said Hugh angrily. ‘What were they doing in Tarvin Hollow, if not poaching my game? Forest law is rigidly enforced. I was right to hang them without wasting time on a trial.’

‘Were they Saxon or Welsh?’ pressed Gervase.

‘Does it matter?’

‘A great deal, my lord.’

‘In what way?’

‘Saxon poachers would not use Welsh arrows in their bows.’

‘And honest men would not need to run away as they did,’

retorted Hugh, annoyed at being cross-examined in the street.

‘Their flight was an admission of guilt and they were rightly hanged.

They were lucky. I was lenient.’

‘Lenient?’

‘Yes, Gervase. Death was mercifully swift. That will not be the case for this Welsh assassin when we finally catch him. As we will,’ he vowed. ‘He will suffer all the rigours of torture before we burn him alive. Stand back.’

Ralph and Gervase moved aside as Earl Hugh kicked his horse into a trot. The column moved off after him, the dead man hanging limp across his mount, which was towed along by a lead rein.

Ralph turned to grin at his companion.

‘I think you upset him, Gervase.’

‘There was no other choice.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I wanted information about those two men he hanged.’

‘Why? What is your interest in them?’

Gervase remembered the tears running down Gytha’s face. ‘I believe I know who they might be.’

Brother Gerold was alone in the chapel, standing before the lectern and reading in silence a passage from the Gospel according to St Matthew. He meditated for a long time on what he had read, searching for a new meaning in words which had become comfortingly familiar over the years but whose depths he had never yet fully plumbed. Gerold was so completely submerged in his study that he did not hear the latch being lifted on the door or see the figure who stepped quietly into the chapel.