Edward Marston - The Elephants of Norwich

‘Removing his helm, he settled down on the grass and explained his remark about Norwich. Though it was ten years since he last visited the city, it remained a vivid memory. He talked with affection and regret, holding their interest and sparking off a flurry of questions. The two women wanted to know about the castle where they would be staying, Brother Daniel enquired about the spiritual life of the community and Gervase asked about the trade in the area. Ralph’s attention soon wandered. It was not from lack of curiosity. He was as eager as any of them to learn something of the city, but another development took priority. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the bushes and let a hand drift at once to his sword. Having drunk their fill in the stream, the horses had been tethered nearby. To give the animals a rest, packs and leather satchels had been removed from the backs of the sumpters who now grazed contentedly.

What alerted Ralph was the sight of a hand reaching out slowly from behind a bush to grab one of the satchels and drag it away. Hauling himself up, Ralph drew his sword and gave a signal to his men. Three of them immediately leaped to their feet to support him as he strode quickly towards the bushes. The rest of the escort also got up and drew their weapons. Coureton broke off his narrative and Gervase, fearing an attack, got up to stand protectively in front of the two women. There was, however, no danger. When Ralph and his men plunged into the undergrowth, they met with no opposition. All they saw was a bedraggled figure limping off into the copse with the satchel under his arm. Even in their hauberks, the soldiers had no difficulty in overhauling the man. He was old, grizzled and close to exhaustion. Tripping over the exposed roots of a tree, he fell full length and let out a cry of pain.

Ralph turned him over with a foot and held a swordpoint at his throat.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.

‘Spare me, my lord!’ pleaded the other.

‘Why should I spare a thief?’

‘I was only after food.’

‘You and who else?’ said Ralph, eyes combing the trees around them.

‘Nobody else, my lord.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I swear it.’

Ralph nodded to his men and they fanned out to search the copse. Eustace Coureton joined Ralph to see what quarry he had run down. The man at their feet was a pitiful sight, cadaverous, hollow-eyed and caked in filth. His tunic was badly torn, his gartered trousers ripped in several places to expose skeletal legs. He was trembling violently, fearing for his life and wondering how a Norman lord could speak his language so fluently. Coureton looked down with sympathy at the bearded captive.

‘Is this all you found?’ he said.

‘He stole one of our satchels,’ explained Ralph, reclaiming it from the ground. ‘The rogue claims that he was only searching for food.’

‘Then I’d say he was telling the truth, my lord. I’d also suggest that you take your weapon from his neck or he’ll die of fright. Let him be. He’s hardly likely to outrun mounted pursuit, and he’s not armed.’

Ralph relented and sheathed his sword. The remainder of the escort was now picking its way through the copse, searching in vain for any confederates. The old man was patently alone.

Golde had instructed her husband well. His mastery of the Saxon tongue enabled him to speak to the captive on his own terms.

‘What’s your name?’ he said.

‘Alstan, my lord.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Taverham hundred.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was driven out,’ whimpered the other. ‘When King Edward sat on the throne, I was a villein and happy to work the land for my master. Times have changed. Under the new king, I became a mere bordar, then my master treated me as a slave. When I tried to protest, he had me whipped and driven out.’

‘Whipped?’

‘Yes, my lord. I still bear the scars.’

Alstan struggled up into a kneeling position so that he could peel off his tunic. When he turned his bare back to them, they saw the livid wounds across the pale torso. It was surprising that the old man had survived the punishment. Coureton was shocked and Ralph felt a surge of sympathy.

‘We’ll give you food, then you can tell us the full story.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Alstan, weeping with gratitude.

‘That doesn’t mean I condone theft,’ warned Ralph. ‘On the other hand, I don’t condone savage punishment such as you’ve endured. Taverham hundred, you say?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Who is this cruel master of yours?’

‘The lord Richard.’

‘Richard de Fontenel?’

‘He drove me out to starve in the wilderness.’

‘For what offence?’

‘Old age.’

‘Do something!’ insisted Richard de Fontenel. ‘Summon your men and do something!’

‘My deputy is already looking into the matter.’

‘I don’t want a mere deputy. I want the sheriff himself in charge of the case.’

‘I have more important things to do than to go searching for missing trinkets.’

‘Trinkets!’

‘And you’ll not endear yourself to my deputy by insulting him. Why not calm down, Richard? Nothing will be gained by trying to browbeat me.’

De Fontenel held back a tart rejoinder. Roger Bigot, sheriff of Norfolk, was not a man to be intimidated by a loud voice and a threatening manner. While his visitor ranted at him, he remained icily calm. Bigot was a power in the land, a man who had the King’s trust and a place at his Council table. Constable of the castle, he had recently been elevated to the shrievalty of Norfolk and of its southern neighbour, Suffolk, two large counties with a healthy respect for the name and reputation of Roger Bigot. He was a tall, slim man of middle years with a sagacity and imperturbability rare in a soldier. When de Fontenel came riding angrily into the castle to harangue him, he was given short shrift.

‘Return home,’ advised Bigot. ‘Let justice take its course.’

‘How can it when you stand idle here, my lord sheriff?’

‘I’m never idle, Richard. In addition to affairs of state that require my attention, I have to welcome the commissioners who’ll soon arrive in Norwich.’

‘Not before time!’ grumbled the other. ‘They can oust Mauger from my land.’

Bigot was amused. ‘Mauger is hoping that they’ll shift you from what he claims is his property. Don’t expect too much from the commissioners. They’ll be quite impartial.’

‘In that case, I’m bound to win.’

‘Mauger feels the same.’

‘I don’t care what he feels. Mauger is a sly rogue. An unscrupulous cheat.’

They were standing in the bailey of the castle, a timber fortress that had been erected soon after the Conquest to attest Norman supremacy and to act as a bulwark against any Danish incursions along the eastern seaboard. The conversation between the two men could be clearly heard by the guards on the battlements. Richard de Fontenel was not a man to lower his voice in a public arena.

‘I’d not put it past him to be involved here,’ he declared.

‘Mauger?’

‘The crime has his mark upon it.’

‘You told me that the gold elephants were stolen by your steward.’

‘They were. Hermer made off with them.’

‘Then how does Mauger come into it?’

‘Hermer was acting at his behest,’ decided the other. ‘He must have been. My steward gave me very loyal service for years. Only someone like Mauger could corrupt him and turn him against me.’

‘Are you quite sure that your steward was the thief?’

‘Completely, my lord sheriff.’

‘How can you be so certain?’

‘Apart from myself, he was the only person with a key to the chest in which they were locked. Nobody else could even have got into the room where my valuables are stored. Or, indeed, into my house. Besides, the man has vanished into thin air. The facts are irrefutable. It has to be Hermer.’