Edward Marston - The Elephants of Norwich

‘Hold here a little longer,’ said Gervase, restraining him gently.

‘It’s a needless delay,’ Ralph complained.

‘Yes,’ said Jocelyn. ‘Starculf could be getting away.’

‘Not unless he has a horse hidden in that wheat field as well,’ said Gervase, using a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘I can see movement.’

‘Where?’ said Ralph, tensing at the promise of action. ‘Where is he?’

‘Over to the left. Do you see him?’

Ralph let his gaze drift across to the left of the field and realised that Gervase had seen something that had eluded both him and the anchorite. No head had been lifted above the top of the stalks but a thin dark line was gradually snaking through the wheat. They were too far away to be certain of what they were witnessing. The parting of the wheat might have been caused by a dog or another animal making its way along but Ralph felt otherwise. He sensed that Starculf was about to make an appearance at last.

The fugitive was circumspect. When he had crawled all the way to the edge of the field, he did not break cover at once. Instead, he waited and watched until he was satisfied that there was nobody in sight. With a suddenness that took them all by surprise, he then rose up and loped off.

‘We’ve got him!’ said Ralph.

‘He’s mine!’ declared Vavasour.

‘There’s no hurry,’ said Gervase. ‘He can’t possibly get away.’

But his companions were not listening. Engaged in a private race, they mounted their horses and kicked them into a gallop. Ralph’s men were not far behind, spreading out in a semicircle to eliminate any hope of escape for the fugitive. When he saw them coming, Starculf changed the angle of his run, increasing his speed and aiming for the marshland off to his right, but it was a futile exercise. He was trapped. All that remained to be decided was who got to him first. Determined that he would have the pleasure of arresting the man, Ralph spurred his destrier on, but the weight of his hauberk slowed the animal slightly. It was the lighter figure of Jocelyn Vavasour, wearing no mailcoat and carrying no weapon, who surged ahead on his borrowed horse.

Reaching the edge of the marshes, Starculf zigzagged between the pools until he heard the splash of hooves in water. His flight was soon over. As he turned to see how far behind him they were, he was caught by a well-aimed foot that sent him tumbling to the ground. Vavasour was on him in a flash. Bringing his horse to an abrupt halt, he leaped down from the saddle and ran across to the man who was now struggling to get up, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him vigorously.

‘Where are the elephants?’

‘First things first,’ said Ralph, dismounting to hurry over. ‘My name is Ralph Delchard,’ he announced, taking hold of the prisoner, ‘and it’s my duty to arrest you on behalf of Roger Bigot, sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk.’

Starculf was still too dazed to reply. Ralph misunderstood his silence. ‘Would you rather I used your language?’ he said in English.

‘No, my lord,’ answered the other, slowly recovering. ‘Given the circumstances, I think I’d prefer to be arrested in French.’

‘Then that’s how it’ll be,’ agreed Ralph, reverting to his own tongue.

‘Ask him about the elephants, my lord,’ urged Vavasour, impatiently.

‘All in good time, Jocelyn.’

‘But I want them now. That’s the whole purpose of my mission.’

‘There’s the small matter of a homicide to discuss first.’

‘I caught him, my lord. I want those holy treasures.’

‘You’ll get them,’ said Ralph, firmly, ‘when I’m ready and not before.’

‘Search him!’

‘I’ll not be rushed,’ warned the other. ‘Starculf is my prisoner.’

Vavasour glared mutinously. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’

Gervase had now arrived and dismounted to join them on the ground. He took a close look at Starculf and matched him to the description they had been given of Richard de Fontenel’s former servant. There could be no question of the prisoner’s identity. He was a tall, handsome, well-built young man. Even in his dishevelled state, Starculf was a striking figure, his features smooth, his beard well trimmed and his eyes glistening with a quiet pride. Gervase discerned another cause for the enmity between him and the steward with whom he worked. The short, stocky Hermer, who had to secure his pleasures by force, was bound to resent a man to whom sexual favours would be freely offered.

Ralph returned to his interrogation. ‘I’m arresting you on a charge of murder,’ he said, solemnly, ‘in that you did wilfully and maliciously kill one Hermer, steward to the lord Richard.’

‘No, my lord!’ protested the other.

‘Don’t lie to me!’

‘On my oath, I didn’t kill Hermer.’

‘Then why are you running away?’

‘Because I don’t wish to pay for a crime I didn’t commit.’

‘Tell the truth, man!’ ordered Ralph.

‘That is the truth, my lord,’ said Starculf, earnestly. ‘I’ll swear on the Holy Bible that I didn’t lay hands on Hermer. The first that I heard about his death was when the lord sheriff’s men started hunting for me.’

‘Innocent men don’t need to flee.’

‘They do if they have little chance of proving their innocence.’

‘What about the elephants?’ demanded Vavasour.

‘Let them wait!’ said Ralph, irritably. ‘Pinion him!’

Two of his men moved in swiftly to tie Starculf’s hands behind his back and to remove his dagger from its sheath. The fugitive had no other weapon on him. Gervase was impressed with the man’s bearing. Starculf was no cringing felon, begging for mercy or hissing defiance. Nor was there anything of a trapped animal about him. Upright and unafraid, he exuded a strange honesty.

‘You claim that you’re innocent?’ said Gervase.

‘I didn’t murder the lord Richard’s steward,’ Starculf replied.

‘Yet you vowed to get revenge on him and his master.’

‘I confess it readily.’

‘Now we’re getting somewhere,’ said Ralph.

‘Let him finish,’ suggested Gervase, touching his friend’s arm. ‘Go on, Starculf.’

‘Hermer was a brutal man,’ said Starculf, bitterly, ‘and a lustful one at that. I tried to shut my eyes to his behaviour at first but it became too gross to ignore. So I spoke out against him. After what he did, Hermer didn’t deserve to live.’

‘So you wanted to kill him?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you planned to do so?’

Starculf hesitated. ‘It was always at the back of my mind,’ he said.

‘I think it was at the forefront,’ argued Ralph. ‘If you didn’t have designs on the man’s life, why go to the trouble of getting duplicate keys to the lord Richard’s house?’ The prisoner was startled. ‘Yes, my friend. A locksmith in Wymondham gave the lord sheriff a good description of you. On that occasion, you didn’t use your own name. You called yourself Alstan.’

‘That was the name of a slave on the estate, wasn’t it?’ said Gervase.

‘You know more than I feared,’ admitted the other. ‘Yes, I did have duplicate keys made and I did use Alstan’s name because I knew the man when I worked on the lord Richard’s estate. Alstan was shamefully treated by Hermer.’

‘Yet he didn’t return in order to murder him.’

‘Neither did I.’

‘Then why did you have those keys made?’

‘We’re going round in circles here,’ complained Vavasour, stepping forward. ‘Ask him all you wish but first let me have the elephants so that I can return them to the abbey at once. You owe me that, my lord,’ he said, looking at Ralph. ‘I led you here.’

‘That’s so,’ conceded Ralph. ‘Take your treasures, Jocelyn. You’ve earned them.’