Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

‘Hubert is in Chester on important business.’

‘So am I, believe me. So am I.’

Idwal flung back his cloak and went off towards the main door of the cathedral with an arrogant strut. Bishop Robert found an expletive rising to his lips and clapped a hand over his mouth.

The laws of Christian fellowship had to be obeyed.

The Welshman, meanwhile, walked slowly down the nave of the cathedral to make sure that he was quite alone. When he stopped under the chancel arch, he could hear and see nobody.

Evening shadows dappled the aisle behind him and darkened the outer corners of the building. Idwal smirked. He was on his own in the house of the Lord.

After genuflecting to the altar, he moved swiftly across to the door of the vestry and lifted the latch. A single candle burned within and cast an inviting glow over a large wooden casket which stood against the wall. Idwal rubbed his hands together and went over to the casket, stroking its weathered lid with an almost paternal affection. There was a key in the lock and he turned it firmly.

Before he could lift the lid, however, someone came out of the gloom behind him to subject him to an accusatory glare.

‘What are you looking for, archdeacon?’ asked Frodo.

Idwal was unperturbed. He patted the casket gently.

‘God,’ he said.

Brother Gerold was an accomplished horseman. As they rode back to Chester in the fading light, Gervase was highly impressed with the way that his companion handled his mount. Canon Hubert invariably travelled on his donkey, his bulk dwarfing the beast and his feet all but touching the ground. Brother Simon always rode his spindly horse with excessive nervousness as if it was the first time he had ever been near the animal. It was refreshing to find one Benedictine monk who was patently at ease in the saddle.

When they joined the main road to the city, they were riding at a steady canter. The great, dark, sprawling Forest of Delamere slowly receded behind them.

‘Thank you for taking me there,’ he said.

‘It was you who took me, Gervase.’

‘I would never have found my way without you.’

‘I was glad to help,’ said the other. ‘When two young people are in such distress as Gytha and Beollan, they need all the succour they can get.’

‘How will they manage?’

‘Who knows? But they will somehow.’

‘Will they?’

‘Yes, Gervase. They are forest dwellers. Survivors.

‘Their father and brother were forest dwellers as well. They did not survive. They were the victims of misfortune.’

‘So it seems.’

‘They violated forest law but they did not deserve the treatment which was handed out to them.’

‘No man deserves to suffer that butchery.’

Gervase forbore to point out that it was the chaplain’s master who had been responsible for the summary execution of the two men. Brother Gerald’s position at the castle made for a slight awkwardness between them. While he had shown great compassion to two young people in a dire situation, his loyalty was owed to Earl Hugh. In. the circumstances, Gervase found it 65

Edward Marston

very difficult to express himself as freely as he would have wished.

He chafed in silence.

Brother Gerald seemed to read his mind. Glancing across at Gervase, he nodded sadly.

‘Earl Hugh can be harsh at times,’ he admitted.

‘This went beyond the bounds of harshness.’

‘He realises that now.’

Gervase was surprised. ‘Does he?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Do you have any proof of that, Brother Gerald.’

‘Not in the sense that you would understand it,’ replied Brother Gerald. ‘But I am closer to the earl than anyone. I will not betray the secrets of the confessional but this I can tell you. Earl Hugh is no stranger to feelings of contrition.’

‘Such feelings come rather late in the day.’

‘Granted.’

‘Two men died because of his anger.’

‘He is learning to control it.’

‘How many others have been victims of his rage?’

‘I am his chaplain and not his keeper, Gervase. There are some areas of his life in which I have no right to interfere. Earl Hugh is a fearless soldier and brutal action is sometimes necessary in combat. He would not have established peace on the frontier if he had not been such a forceful commander.’

‘Are you trying to excuse him, Brother Gerold?’

‘No,’ said the other. ‘I merely point out that he has been forced to behave with a degree of savagery by the situation in which he finds himself. The same might be said of the King himself. What you call rage is often no more than a soldier’s bold response to danger.’

‘That was not the case yesterday.’

‘Perhaps not.’

‘You saw those bodies,’ Gervase reminded him. ‘Those men were not assassins who threatened his life. They were simple souls whose only concern was to provide food for their family.

Hanging them was a barbaric enough punishment. Why did they have to be mutilated in that way?’

‘It was reprehensible.’

‘Supposing that Gytha or her brother had found the bodies in that state? What effect would it have had on them?’

‘A disastrous one.’

‘Their lives have been shattered as it is,’ said Gervase. ‘Think how much worse it would be for them if they had to carry such gruesome memories inside their minds for the rest of their days.

It would be unbearable.’

‘You were right to cover the bodies, Gervase.’

‘I could not disguise the fact that they were dead.’

‘Or the cause of that death.’

‘Yet you claim that Earl Hugh is contrite?’

‘I say that he is not as uncaring as he may appear. Yes,’

Brother Gerold added with a wry smile, ‘I know I am trying to defend what you consider to be indefensible but there has been marked progress. Earl Hugh is a God-fearing man. That may not always be the face which he offers to the world but it is there.’

It was an extraordinary claim to make. Gervase suppressed the cynical comment which rose to mind and spoke instead in a judiciously neutral tone.

‘I will have to take your word for it.’

‘You may see direct evidence in time.’

‘I am bound to doubt that.’

‘In your position, I would feel the same.’

‘My position imposes certain limitations on me.’

‘Limitations?’

‘Earl Hugh is our host,’ said Gervase apologetically. ‘It is not really my place to accuse him.’

‘Those two dead bodies were an accusation in themselves. I sympathise with your feelings and admire your restraint. Do not worry, Gervase,’ said the chaplain, turning to look at him. ‘I will not carry tales back to the castle.’

‘I never thought that you would, Brother Gerold.’

They rode on in silence for a while. When the city finally came in sight, the chaplain was jerked out of his meditations, and fished gently for enlightenment.

‘What did he tell you?’ he asked.

‘Who?’

‘Beollan.’

‘Very little.’

‘I saw you take him behind that tree to talk in private. The boy knew far more than he pretended. Did you contrive to draw any of it out of him?’

‘I need more time to win his confidence.’

‘I think you did that extremely well, Gervase. Come,’ he said in an almost jocular tone. ‘There is no need for you to protect the boy. I will not harm him.’

‘I never thought that you would.’

‘Do you fear that I might betray him to Earl Hugh?’

‘No, Brother Gerold.’

‘Then why hide from me what I can already guess?’

‘And what is that?’

‘Beollan was involved,’ said the other. ‘When his father and brother went poaching, they probably took him along as their lookout. That is what the boy strove to conceal: the fact that he was there yesterday.’