Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

His message would never reach Rhuddlan.

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They saw the change in him at once. As soon as Ralph Delchard walked into the shire hall, Canon Hubert and Brother Simon noted the spring in his step and the unassailable buoyancy in his manner. They understood its cause. Golde had arrived. Hubert was pleased. If his wife could lift his spirits so markedly, then she was a most welcome visitor to Chester because they would all benefit.

Simon was ready to enjoy that benefit without dwelling on its implications. Marriage was a terrifying mystery to him and he never dared even to imagine what strange practices took place between a man and his wife in the privacy of their bed. Celibacy was his chosen path and he thanked God daily for the protection it gave him from what he saw as the contaminating touch of a woman.

Ralph was in high humour. That was all that mattered. Simon was satisfied that his colleague would lead the commission with more gusto and efficiency than he had managed on their first day.

It was a testing session in the shire hall. Their work was beset by problems from the start. The death of Raoul Lambert made it impossible for them to proceed with the dispute in which he figured so largely. Witnesses who had been summoned to give evidence on his behalf or on that of the Church were turned away with apologies. The disputants in the case which replaced the one postponed were late arriving and unprepared for a legal confrontation which was forced upon them before they were ready.

They begged for more time to compose themselves.

Delay followed delay, setback ensued setback. But Ralph Delchard refused to be upset or even irritated. He carried out his duties with unruffled calm and his geniality helped to sustain his colleagues. Even Gervase Bret succumbed to pique when a disputant in one case blithely announced that she had decided not to bring a vital charter with her because she could remember exactly what it said. Ralph’s whispered comments soon had Gervase smiling tolerantly.

Attenuated by mishaps, their day nevertheless did yield some progress. Two minor disputes were settled and a third was in sight of completion when they adjourned. They could look back on their efforts with some satisfaction. Hubert took the opportunity to probe Ralph for information about the matter which was still at the forefront of his mind.

‘I was deeply alarmed to hear of the foul murder.’

‘So were we all,’ said Ralph.

‘Gervase and I discussed it last evening.’

‘Yes, Hubert. Your comments were very apt. Gervase passed them on to me over breakfast. You and I seem to have been thinking along the same lines.’ He smiled. ‘For a change.’

‘What does Earl Hugh say?’

‘He will not listen to any of our ideas. Nothing will shift him from the view that an attempt was made on his own life as a prelude to a Welsh uprising.’

‘That is my own secret fear, my lord!’

‘And mine!’ said Simon.

‘Your fears are groundless.’

‘I wish that I could believe that,’ said Hubert, ‘but my instinct rules against it. Bishop Robert and Archdeacon Frodo are equally unnerved. They know the Welsh.’

‘So do I,’ said Ralph airily. ‘I have fought against them enough times. They are hardy warriors but they will not go to war for the sake of fighting. The Welsh mind is crafty and calculating. Before they would even consider an attack on Chester, they would first introduce some men slyly into the city. Artful spies who could prepare the way for them.’

Hubert’s eyes bulged. ‘Archdeacon Idwal!’

‘He has too much integrity to be a spy,’ said Gervase.

‘Welsh integrity,’ said Hubert meaningfully.

‘Leave Idwal out of this,’ said Ralph. ‘Intelligencers are stealthy and no man has less stealth than our archdeacon. His idea of open warfare would be to talk us all to death. He is not the problem here.’

Simon trembled. ‘He is if you lodge under the same roof.’

‘No,’ said Ralph, warming to his subject, ‘the real source of interest is this Raoul Lambert.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Gervase. ‘I have been making a few inquiries about him. Everyone at the castle knew him. Honest, reliable, skilled at his trade. That is how most remember him.’

Ralph nodded. ‘That was Earl Hugh’s epitaph. According to him, Raoul Lambert was a man with no enemies.’

‘None within the city, perhaps,’ said Gervase, ‘but he may have been less popular on the Welsh border. It is a pity that he will not appear before us for examination. I would have pressed him to explain how his berewics increased steadily in size over the past couple of years.’

‘Unjust seizure!’ asserted Hubert. ‘This county has a deplorable record of it. And the worst culprit is Earl Hugh himself. Raoul Lambert was only following his example.’

‘There is certainly a curious bond between the two men,’ opined Ralph, ‘and it was not just a mutual interest in hunting. Did you discover what that bond was, Gervase?’

‘No, Ralph, but I did learn something else.’

‘From whom?’

‘The town reeve,’ said Gervase. ‘A most obliging fellow. I made a point of arriving here this morning early enough to talk at length with him. He is a fount of wisdom with regard to matters concerning Chester and its environs. He knew our huntsman and spoke well of him. Like everyone else, he was shocked to learn of the murder. Raoul Lambert will be mourned. But the reeve did recall certain events which may cast a slight shadow over Lambert’s reputation.’

‘Dark deeds in his past?’ said Ralph hopefully.

‘Not necessarily,’ warned Gervase. ‘He may be innocent of any involvement. The town reeve certainly thought so. This is what happened. Two of the berewics held by Raoul Lambert encroached on Welsh soil. In both instances, there was strong local resistance.’

‘What form did it take?’ asked Hubert.

‘Verbal abuse then threats of violence.’

‘How were the cases resolved?’

‘In the most abrupt way,’ explained Gervase. ‘One of the men who protested was drowned in mysterious circumstances in the River Gowy. There was talk of suicide.’

‘And the other case?’

‘The man whose land had been taken simply disappeared. He set off for Chester to register his protest with Earl Hugh and was never seen again. To this day, nobody quite knows what happened to him.’

‘Do you think that our huntsman did?’ said Ralph.

Gervase shrugged. ‘I am not sure. In both instances, he was the beneficiary. Protest was effectively stifled. There were vague rumours that he may have been implicated.’

‘Rumours prove nothing,’ Simon pointed out.

‘True,’ said Gervase. ‘At their best, they amount to hearsay evidence and that is notoriously unreliable. But I would say one thing. The elements which characterise the disputes in which Raoul Lambert was involved are repeated time and again in other cases that will come before us. It is almost as if he set a pattern for others to follow.’

‘Yet he was no baron of high rank,’ said Hubert, frankly bewildered. ‘How did he achieve such pre-eminence? What made this huntsman stand out above all others?’

‘Find that out,’ concluded Ralph, ‘and we will know why he was murdered in the Forest of Delamere.’

It was a simple funeral. Barely half a dozen people were gathered in the church to hear the white-haired Father Ernwin sing Mass for the souls of the departed. Most of the congregation were too stunned to listen to the words and none understood the melodious Latin. All that they knew was that two men were going into their grave before their time. The crude wooden coffins held mutilated bodies which bore vivid testimony to the ruthlessness of the Earl of Chester. That thought subdued all who were present.