Edward Marston - The Lions of the North

A burst of laughter drew Olaf’s attention back to Eric. The giant had rummaged through the clothing in the pack to pull out a woman’s gown. Holding it up against himself, he lowered his eyelids, struck what he thought was a feminine posture and treated them to a winsome smile. His fellows roared their approval and shouted their advice.

“Put it on, Eric!”

“Over your head!”

“It will hide your ugly face!”

“You could pass for a woman in that gown.”

“A bearded woman!”

Eric responded to the guffaws with a gap-toothed grin.

“You may laugh,” he said, “but this will buy me a night of pleasure.

I know a woman who will be so glad to have this that she will let me lie with her.”

The boast produced a fresh crop of jeers but they were cut short by Olaf. Crossing to his friend, he took the gown from his hands and folded it neatly.

“Find another way to rub thighs with a woman,” he said.

“Why?” asked Eric, bemused.

“Because this gown would only betray us. Give this to some peasant girl and she will be the envy of her friends. They are bound to ask where such a fine garment came from. Word will reach York and they will come looking for her. What woman will not break under torture?”

Eric scratched his head. “I never thought of that.”

“Pick her some flowers instead.”

“The gown would be a finer present.”

“Only if you want to get her locked in a dungeon.”

“You are right,” said the other, slowly working it out. “It would be foolhardy. I see that now.”

“Think with your brain instead of with your pizzle.”

“Yes, Olaf.”

Eric gave a sheepish smile as the others ridiculed him. Having folded the gown, Olaf put it carefully back with the rest of the wardrobe. He knew what he would do with it.

Aubrey Maminot was determined to erase the bad memories of the long journey made by his guests. The banquet that he set before them that evening, and the entertainment with which it was garnished, were both so lavish that they drove all other thoughts from the mind. Ralph Delchard, Gervase Bret, Tanchelm of Ghent and Golde were treated like visiting dignitaries and they succumbed willingly to the situation.

Brother Simon was too terrified to accept his invitation to the feast, and Canon Hubert, weighing the interests of his stomach against the care of his soul, opted for the latter and sampled more moderate fare with the archdeacon at the minster.

The hall had been swept, strewn with fresh rushes, hung with aromatic herbs and lighted with a veritable host of candles. When Ralph first led Golde into the glittering magnificence of the room, they were astounded. He had now exchanged his hauberk for a tunic, mantle and cap while she was wearing a chemise, gown and wimple borrowed from Aubrey’s wife and altered to fit her by a seamstress. Knowing how primitive some castle interiors could be, Ralph was duly impressed by the lengths to which his friend had gone to make the hall both attractive and comfortable.

Golde’s nostrils twitched slightly.

“What’s that strange odour?” she whispered.

“Herbs.”

“There’s something else. More acrid.”

Ralph sniffed. “I can’t smell it.”

Before she could pursue the matter, Aubrey fell on them and introduced them to the other guests before clapping his hands for the musicians. Harp, lute and vielle combined in a pleasing melody that flew around the room like a flock of small birds. Bodin the Steward emerged from the shadows to conduct everyone to a seat at the long table. Twenty of them in all took their places for a sumptuous repast, presided over by Aubrey and his wife, Herleve.

Inches taller than her husband, she was an elegant woman with a fading beauty that was held in check by the subtle use of cosmetics. A polite smile was painted on her lips and her manner was effortlessly gracious but Ralph sensed a coldness in her that he did not like.

Golde, anxious to thank her hostess for the loan of the apparel, made a number of attempts to engage Herleve in conversation but the latter could not be drawn. There was one moment, as Golde plucked gently at the woman’s sleeve, when the mask of hospitality slipped slightly and Herleve shot her a look of mute disapproval.

Served with style, the food was rich and delicious. Bodin made sure that each course followed the other smoothly without delay.

He also supervised the entertainment so that there was always something fresh to watch or to hear. Minstrels sang, dancers disported themselves, jugglers displayed their skills, tumblers whirled through the air and a conjurer performed tricks that baffled his spectators.

The most sensational performers were reserved until the end. On the command of his master, Bodin slipped quietly out of the hall to fetch them. Aubrey Maminot banged the table for quiet before turning to Ralph.

“You were not the only ones to be troubled by intruders in the night,”

he said. “We, too, had unwanted guests.”

“When?” asked Ralph.

“A few days ago. Two men scaled the castle walls. Fortunately, my guards were more alert than yours.”

“You captured the intruders?”

“One of them escaped, the other was dealt with in the way that he deserved.”

“And what was that?”

“He was eaten alive.”

The guests reacted with horror. Herleve turned away.

Aubrey beamed. “No man could sneak past my pets.”

“Pets?” echoed Gervase.

“Yes. It is time for you to meet them.”

A sweep of his arm directed their gaze to the end of the room, where the huge oak door suddenly swung back on its hinges. There was a gasp of fear from the guests. Some of the women screamed and even the bravest of the men felt a shiver of apprehension. Ludovico brought them in. Straining on their leashes, two full-grown lions bared their fangs and ripped at the air with their claws, emitting such terrifying roars that the whole room reverberated.

Golde clung to Ralph’s arm in trepidation but he was more fascinated than afraid. While others shrank back from the roaring animals, he noticed how great a control Ludovico had over them. The keeper of the beasts was not just exhibiting his charges, he was jerking on their chains alternately to prompt their snarls. When Ludovico used his strength to turn their fearsome heads towards him, he grinned at the lions and shouted something in Italian.

The roars stopped immediately. Instead of threatening with their claws, they lay on the floor and rolled over on their backs like a pair of playful kittens. Ludovico let go of their leashes and crouched down to stroke them. Aubrey skipped down the hall to join him.

“I had them as cubs,” he explained. “When I journeyed to Rome, they were a gift to me from a friend. That is why I called them Romulus and Remus. The founders of the Eternal City grew up with wolves but I prefer to consort with lions.”

To the amazement of his guests, Aubrey Maminot sat on the floor between the lions and put an arm around each of their necks. After rolling their heads and emitting a token snarl, they closed their eyes and purred with contentment.

“My pride and joy,” said Aubrey. “The lions of York!”

Their first full day in York was largely taken up with administrative duties. The list of cases to be examined was dauntingly long and the commissioners faced the prospect of endless sessions in the shire hall. Gervase Bret suggested a means of speeding up legal process without significant threat to justice. Since many of the cases involved relatively small amounts of land, contested in each instance by only two claimants, he argued that they could be resolved summarily. If, therefore, the commissioners divided into two separate groups, one could deal with these minor disputes and leave the other free to handle the more complex cases.