Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘This castle is one of them,’ said Golde without rancour. ‘When King Edward sat on the throne, he held his Witenagemot — his Great Council — at the Palace of Kingsholm.’

‘Those days are over.’

‘So it seems.’

‘This castle is now the most important building in the county.’

She gave a smile. ‘The abbot would dispute that, of course, and rightly so, but this is where affairs of state are decided. A castle can never be an ideal home for a woman but one has to make the best of it. I suspect that the lord Ralph’s manor house is a far more comfortable place to live.’

‘It is, my lady.’

‘Where are his estates?’

‘In Hampshire. A beautiful county.’

‘Gloucestershire, too, has its charms.’

Maud’s manner was pleasant and Golde detected none of the resentment she had felt during the meal on the previous evening.

What impressed her hostess was Golde’s easy mastery of Norman French, a language which she had learned from her husband while simultaneously instructing him in her own. Neither Durand the Sheriff nor his wife made the slightest effort to understand the native tongue of their citizens, still less their culture and customs.

Assisted into the saddle, the two ladies were about to ride off when the sheriff came striding across to bid them farewell.

Durand’s grin was restored along with the flirtatious glint in his eye.

‘Are you deserting me?’ he asked with mock distress.

‘We are going to see the sights,’ said his wife.

‘Am I myself not one of them?’

‘Do not fish for compliments, Durand.’

‘How else will I get them?’

‘They are yours by right, my lord,’ said Golde.

‘That is what I tell Maud but my virtues stale with time.’

His wife gave a shrug. ‘That is the way of the world.’

‘Then why do I see your beauty afresh every morning?’

She accepted the compliment with a smile, extended a hand for him to kiss then said something under her breath to Durand.

His quiet laugh made Golde feel that she was intruding on a private moment between man and wife. Approaching hoofbeats were heard and all three of them turned towards the gate. The drumming on the drawbridge timbers suggested a rider who was in a hurry. Entering the bailey at a steady canter, he reined in his horse when he recognised the sheriff. Judging by the sweat on his brow and the lather on his mount, the messenger had ridden far and fast. He pulled a letter from his belt and handed it to Durand. The seal indicated the urgency of the missive.

Opening the letter, Durand read it quickly then registered great surprise. The messenger dismounted to await his response. The sheriff signalled for him to follow then strode off swiftly towards the keep.

‘What is it, Durand?’ asked his wife.

But her beauty was no longer enough to detain him. Spurred on by some unexpected news, he was blind to anything but his duty. Golde could see how peeved her companion was at being so rudely ignored and she wisely restrained herself from attempting conversation with Maud when they set off. As they rode along, Golde wondered about the contents of a letter which could turn an amorous husband into an indifferent one.

Ralph Delchard stepped inside the abbot’s lodging and took a quick inventory of its contents while exchanging niceties. Serlo kept him standing while he appraised him, knowing that a man chosen to lead the second team of commissioners must rank high in the King’s estimation. Ralph withstood his scrutiny without flinching under the searching gaze.

‘Canon Hubert tells me that you wish to speak to me,’ said Serlo.

‘That is true.’

‘Everything about you indicates a soldier so I can hardly suppose you wish to join the Benedictine Order. That leaves two possibilities. Either you have come here to endow the abbey, or, as I suspect, you are curious to learn more about this fearful crime which afflicts us.’

‘Your suspicion is well-founded, my lord abbot.’

‘Has the sheriff requested your assistance?’

‘Not in so many words.’

‘I thought not.’

‘But I am sure he would give this visit tacit approval.’

‘And I am equally certain that he would not,’ said the abbot levelly. ‘Durand has many good qualities but tolerance is not among them. He is, by nature, unduly possessive. My guess is that he would make no bones about the fact that he does not want your interference.’

‘Help is not interference.’

‘Our sheriff would identify them as one and the same thing.’

‘And you, my lord abbot?’

‘What about me?’

‘You want this killer caught as soon as possible?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then you need additional assistance.’

‘Why should it come from you, my lord?’

Ralph spread his arms. ‘Why not?’

‘I can think of a number of reasons,’ said Serlo, lowering himself into his seat. ‘First, you have important business here in the city which should preclude anything else. Second, you are a complete stranger and cannot possibly expect me to place the confidence in you that I place in the sheriff. Third, you are profoundly ignorant of the way that this abbey is run and fourth, if I am to believe Canon Hubert, your general attitude towards religious houses falls far short of respect.’

‘I plead guilty to that last charge,’ said Ralph with a grin, ‘but, then, I am not alone in wanting to mount an investigation. My dear friend and colleague, Gervase Bret, is at my side and, as Hubert can tell you, Gervase has enough respect for both of us.

He cannot pass an abbey without genuflecting. Until wiser counsels prevailed, he all but took the cowl himself. In short, my lord abbot, his instincts are sufficiently sacred to offset my leanings towards profanity.’

‘You are an honest sinner, I’ll say that for you.’

‘Honest and cheerful.’

‘And altogether too glib, my lord.’

‘I stand rebuked. Talking of which, may I sit down?’

‘When I decide if you are staying,’ said the abbot, raising a hand to check his movement. ‘State your business, please.’

‘I want to solve a murder.’

‘Why?’

‘All just men abhor violent crime.’

‘They do not all seek to catch an offender.’

‘I cannot rest while a killer is on the loose.’

‘Durand the Sheriff has sworn to track him down.’

‘We may move at a swifter pace.’

‘Your host would not thank you for saying that.’

‘No,’ said Ralph happily. ‘Nor will he raise a cheer when we do his job for him more successfully than he himself but that thought will not hinder us. Bringing a murderer to justice takes priority over anxieties about ruffling the feathers of a sheriff.’

‘From the way you say that, I deduce that he would not be the first sheriff on whose toes you have unwittingly trodden?’ Ralph beamed at him. ‘Your position differs from ours, my lord. Durand’s word is law in these parts. When you have thoroughly upset him, you can ride away and forget all about him. It is those of us who stay here who will suffer the consequences of his wrath.’

‘You will easily cope with Durand,’ said Ralph. ‘Hubert has been talking about you all the way from Winchester. He reveres you. No aspect of your good work here has been obscured from us. To do so much in such a short time indicates a man of true Christian purpose and with enough guile to lead a sheriff by the nose.’

‘I doubt if Canon Hubert used the word guile.’

‘He called you a supreme diplomat.’

‘It is not a phrase I can apply to you, my lord.’

‘I’m delighted to hear it. Politicians have their place but so do men of action. I am one of them. That is why I cannot resist getting involved in a murder inquiry. It is not mere curiosity, believe me.’