Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘Wrongfully.’

‘That remains to be seen.’

‘I demand justice.’

‘We will give you no less.’

‘Your predecessors did. They were purblind.’

Ralph was trenchant. ‘By insulting them, you insult us and -

by extension — the King who initiated this Great Survey. We speak for him. Do you wish to rid yourself of any more jibes before we begin?’

‘All I wish for is what is legally mine.’

‘That is what we are here to determine.’

Ralph’s glare silenced him at last. Strang the Dane was a hefty man in his fifties with long grey hair and a full grey beard. His attire suggested a degree of wealth and his bearing was that of a soldier. Gervase wondered why someone who was bristling with defiance before his Norman conquerors had taken the trouble to learn their language so well, unless to be able to abuse them roundly in their own tongue. He glanced down at the document in front of him and saw that Strang had scattered holdings throughout Gloucestershire as well as in one of the Welsh commotes attached to it. The invaders had deprived him of far less land than most other thegns. Strang was determined not to yield up another acre. He was accompanied by his reeve, Balki, a slightly younger and much quieter individual with a long, thin face to which a ragged red beard clung like so much ivy.

After a muttered conversation with his master, Balki took over.

His smile was ingratiating as he approached the table where Ralph sat with the other commissioners and their watchful scribe.

The red-haired Balki, too, spoke Norman French almost fluently.

‘We appreciate the difficulties involved here,’ he began.

‘Do you?’ said Ralph gruffly.

‘Yes, my lord. We have lived in the county for many years and know how complicated the pattern of landholding is. We would be the first to admit that there have been many irregularities — downright acts of theft in some cases — because we have been the victims of them. The property under discussion is a perfect instance.

It was granted to my master, Strang the Dane,’ he said, producing a charter from his satchel, ‘in recognition of services rendered.

Here is proof.’ Handing the document to Ralph, he smirked helpfully.

‘Would you like me to translate it for you, my lord?’

‘That will not be necessary,’ said Ralph, passing the charter to Gervase. ‘We have our own interpreter.’

‘Then I hope his translation is sound.’

‘It had better be,’ rumbled Strang, stroking his beard.

After a glance through it, Gervase rendered the wording carefully into language that his colleagues could understand.

‘“I, King Edward, greet Bishop Aldred and all my thegns in Worcestershire and Gloucestershire. And I give you to know that Strang my housecarl has been granted a certain piece of land, namely eight hides in the manor called Westbury to be held and enjoyed for three lives, and after that time the estate is to return to the disposal of whoever is in control of the bishopric of Worcester …”’

Hunched in concentration, Balki nodded in approval at the accuracy of the translation. Strang stood proudly with hands on his hips as if the mere recitation of the charter’s contents would be enough to secure the property under discussion. When he realised that the Dane had been one of the royal housecarls, Ralph viewed him with slightly more respect. Housecarls were elite soldiers, members of a standing bodyguard who had been selected for their courage, loyalty and military skills. Strang must have given good service to be repaid so handsomely with various grants of land. Qualities which aroused Ralph’s admiration only served to increase Canon Hubert’s antipathy towards the first claimant. He resented his insolent manner and his total lack of deference before them. Nor did Hubert warm to the oleaginous reeve whom he suspected of being far too devious to be trusted.

He decided to wipe the irritating grin off Balki’s face.

‘How do we know that the charter is genuine?’ he asked.

‘Because you have my word that it is,’ roared Strang.

‘Why else should it be presented to you?’ said Balki, hurt by the very suggestion. ‘That property was acquired by fair means and lost by foul ones. I swear that the document is authentic.’

‘It has every appearance of being so,’ admitted Gervase, subjecting it to close scrutiny, ‘but I would value more time to examine it.’

‘You shall have it,’ announced Ralph. ‘And if it is found to be a clever forgery, those who perpetrated it will be duly arraigned.

We have already uncovered one grotesque attempt at deception.’

‘There is no deception here,’ said Strang, simmering with anger.

‘We speak before you under oath, my lord,’ added Balki.

‘Find in my favour and let us away.’

‘Before we have even questioned the others?’ asked Ralph.

‘What kind of justice is that? All four of you will be given a fair hearing.’

‘Four?’ repeated Strang. ‘Four? We know of only two rivals. The first is Hamelin of Lisieux who unjustly seized the land from me and the second is Querengar the Breton.’

‘They still contest your claim.’

‘Then where does this fourth person come from?’

‘Wales.’

Strang was derisive. ‘Do you jest with me, my lord?’

‘Not on the subject of a Welshman, I do assure you.’

‘What is the man’s name?’

‘Abraham the Priest.’

Strang let out a long hiss of disgust and Balki turned an anxious eye towards his master. Ralph found their different reactions interesting. Evidently, they knew and disliked the Archdeacon of Gwent. While Strang dismissed him with contempt, however, Balki was quietly alarmed by the mention of his name. His master rebuked him with a long stare then turned his ire upon the commissioners again.

‘Are you not capable of making a decision?’ he demanded.

‘Of course,’ said Ralph sternly, ‘and we have already decided that your manner is too bold and your words too ill-chosen.

Whatever the merits of your claim, you will not advance your cause by unseemly behaviour.’

‘No offence was intended,’ said Balki with an apologetic smirk.

‘I’ll speak for myself,’ contradicted Strang. ‘And I do so honestly and fearlessly. If some are offended by what I say, it is of no account to me. I’ll not be muzzled.’

‘Remember who we are,’ warned Hubert.

‘I can see all too well!’ sneered the other.

‘We’ll brook no disrespect.’

‘Nor will you have to,’ said Balki, trying to calm his master.

‘Simply ask the questions you have no doubt prepared and we will answer each and every one of them to your satisfaction.’

‘I doubt that,’ said Ralph.

‘Those hides in Westbury belong to me!’ insisted Strang.

‘Then how do they happen to be in the possession of Hamelin of Lisieux?’ asked Gervase quietly, introducing a more moderate note. ‘You have one charter, he, it seems, another. Which should we accept?’

‘Mine!’

‘Why?’

‘Read it, man.’

‘I have already done so.’

‘It bears the King’s seal.’

‘That of King Edward,’ agreed Gervase, glancing at the charter,

‘but Hamelin of Lisieux has a document which bears the seal of King William. I do not need to remind you which of the two now occupies the throne.’

‘Hamelin took my land by force.’

‘Do you have any proof of that?’ said Ralph.

‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Strang, rolling up his sleeve to display a long, livid scar on his forearm. ‘Here is one piece of evidence. I have others on my body. I fought to protect what is rightly mine but I was outnumbered. Hamelin of Lisieux is a barefaced robber.’