Edward Marston - The Hawks of Delamere

That conviction was summarily shattered. The door of the room swung open to reveal another visitor to the cathedral. Hubert and Simon recoiled in horror. A small, wiry, wild-eyed and sprightly man in his late thirties stood before them, wearing a ragged lambskin cloak that was spattered with mud and reeking with decay. Indeed, since the cloak hid most of his diminutive body, he looked and smelled more like a dead sheep than a live churchman. Hubert and Simon were frankly appalled.

Here was the last man in the world they wished to meet again.

What added to their distress was the patent enthusiasm with which he greeted them. The wild eyes intensified, the animated body went into a spasm of joy and the inimitable face became one large grinning rictus. He let out a cackle of pleasure which chilled them to the bone.

‘This is Archdeacon Idwal,’ said Frodo.

Hubert and Simon gave their response in perfect unison. ‘We know,’ they groaned. ‘We know !’

Gervase Bret knelt at the altar rail for several minutes in private communion with his Maker. The chapel was dark and dank but its atmosphere had a spirituality which he found conducive to prayer and meditation. It was only when he rose to leave that he realised he was not alone.

Brother Gerold slipped out of the shadows at the rear of the little nave and greeted him with a smile of approval. ‘That was a long grace before a meal,’ he commented.

‘I was giving thanks for our safe arrival.’

‘God watched over your journey.’

‘Indeed,’ said Gervase. ‘It remains to be seen if He will be equally vigilant on our behalf during our stay here.’

‘Do you feel in need of divine assistance?’

‘It is always welcome. Will you show me round the chapel?’

‘With pleasure.’

Their inspection completed, the two men came out into the bailey and headed towards the keep. Gerold was an easy companion, quiet, unassuming and friendly. His questions were searching and yet remarkably inoffensive.

‘I believe that you were once destined for the cowl.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘The lord Ralph.’

‘It’s true,’ conceded Gervase. ‘I was a novice at Eltham Abbey but drew back at the last moment.’

‘Fear or lack of faith?’

‘Human frailty, Brother Gerold.’

‘A young woman?’

‘Her name is Alys. We are betrothed.’

‘I congratulate you, Gervase.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I am pleased to see that her presence in your life has not distracted you from your devotions.’

‘Quite the opposite,’ admitted Gervase. ‘Not a day passes but I thank God for bringing me Alys in the first place. My work as a commissioner means that we are perforce apart a great deal, and that causes much heartache. Prayer is not merely a way of dulling the pain. God is indulgent. I find that through Him I can keep in touch with Alys.’

‘And she with you, no doubt.’

‘Yes, Brother Gerold. She is a devout Christian.’

‘I expected no less.’

They began to ascend the steps set into the huge mound on which the keep was set. Gerold probed gently away.

‘Have you never had regrets about leaving the abbey?’

‘Frequently.’

‘What do you miss most?’

‘The comforting ritual of the Benedictine order.’

‘It is supposed to tax as well as comfort.’

‘I found it reassuring,’ said Gervase. ‘When I was at Eltham, my whole day was shaped in the service of God. I lived and worked alongside holy men and that is always instructive.’

‘I can see that you were an apt pupil.’

‘My modest gifts are employed elsewhere now.’

‘There is nothing modest about your talents, Gervase.’

‘I have been fortunate.’

‘Eltham Abbey was the loser when you departed.’

‘They would have gained nothing from having a discontented monk in their midst. I chose the right path.’

‘I am glad that it has crossed mine.’

Gervase was touched by the obvious sincerity of the remark.

Having heard so much about the excesses of the Earl of Chester, it was refreshing to discover that there was someone like Brother Gerold at his side to impose a degree of control over his master.

As they approached the hall, further conversation became impossible because the sound which came through the closed doors was deafening. Evidently, the banquet was already in full swing. When the doors swung open to admit the newcomers, the noise surged out like a tidal wave. A combination of music, clapping, singing, shouting and cheering washed over them. They plunged into the maelstrom with misgivings.

Long oak tables were set out in a horseshoe pattern. They were laden with every conceivable variety of rich food, and pitchers of wine stood everywhere. Almost a hundred guests were packed into the hall, laughing, joking and generally swelling the cacophony. In the flickering candlelight, it looked like a scene of wild abandon.

‘Over here, Gervase!’ called Ralph, waving to him. ‘I have been keeping a place for you beside me.’

‘Thank you,’ said Gervase, making his way towards him.

When he turned to bid farewell to Gerold, he saw that the chaplain had already been swallowed up in the crowd. Gervase dedicated all his energies to pushing past the jiggling bodies of the other guests to the table at the very centre of the horseshoe.

Ralph Delchard was in a chair beside the earl who was in turn seated beside his wife, Ermintrude, a woman of great poise and beauty who seemed out of place in such a gathering.

‘Where have you been?’ said Ralph as Gervase sat down.

‘In the chapel.’

‘You missed the start of the banquet.’

‘It looks as if it started days ago,’ observed Gervase, gazing around at the drunken guests. ‘How long can they keep this pandemonium up?’

‘They know how to enjoy themselves, that is all.’

‘Bear in mind that we have work to do in the morning.’

Ralph was peeved. ‘I can hold my wine.’

‘It looks as if you will have ample opportunity to prove it,’ said Gervase as a servant arrived to pour him some wine and to refill Ralph’s cup. ‘The King himself does not dine in such style as this.’

‘It is all in our honour!’

‘Is it?’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘That is why we must not hold back.’

Gervase grinned. ‘Nobody could accuse you of doing that.’

Ralph chuckled and slapped him on the back. Servants came to load Gervase’s plate with some spiced rabbit and he sampled the delicacy. When his ears became used to the din, he slowly began to enjoy the meal. It was superb, comprising ten courses, each of which was paraded round the room on huge pewter plates before it was served to the guests. Minstrels played but nobody listened.

Dancers whirled but few watched. There was so much revelry at the tables themselves that everything else was merely a garnishing.

Though his wife was beside him, Earl Hugh paid her little attention and let his eye rove libidinously over the many gorgeous young ladies whom he had invited to decorate his banquet. From the compliant smiles which they gave him, it was clear that most of them were more than casual acquaintances. Hugh was not possessive about his womenfolk.

‘Take your pick,’ he offered.

‘Not me, my lord,’ said Ralph.

‘Would you prefer me to choose for you?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Do you like a buxom wench with plenty to squeeze or some wild and willowy creature who will flail around beneath you like a giant eel? We have plenty of both here.’

‘I will take your word for it.’

‘What is wrong with you, man?’

‘Simple fatigue.’

‘One of these ladies will soon revive you.’

‘I am married, my lord.’