Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘Dena did not hate it,’ said the Precentor. ‘He had a beautiful voice and loved singing. Dena was always the first to come to choir practice and the last to leave. He liked it here. It was his natural home.’

‘Then why did he want to escape?’

‘I have no idea, Elaf. Nor do his parents. It is baffling. And Siward’s disappearance was equally mysterious. He was more wayward, perhaps, more accustomed to feel the wrath of Brother Paul, but that would not have been enough to drive him away.’

The boy was apprehensive. His heart was starting to pound.

‘I am not sure what you are telling me,’ he said slowly.

‘We do not know if Siward or Dena fled the abbey.’

‘How else did they vanish?’

Brother Frewine winced. ‘They may have been taken.’

Abraham the Priest was a revelation. On the face of it, he had by far the weakest claim, and yet he advanced it most convincingly.

He needed no bullying manner like Strang the Dane and no beautiful wife like Hamelin of Lisieux. Nor did he trade on the unvarnished directness of Querengar the Breton. Advocacy was his weapon. Arguments were cleverly arranged before being presented in a lilting voice which seemed to lull his hearers into agreement. Resolved to dislike him, Ralph slowly warmed to the archdeacon. When the latter strayed briefly into the realms of canon law, he was challenged immediately by Hubert but he held his ground with equanimity and beat off the attack. Even Gervase’s probing questions could not find a chink. Abraham was confounding them all.

‘Let us end there,’ announced Ralph, slapping the table, ‘before we become entirely bemused. Thank you, Archdeacon. I am sorry to give you such a sour welcome. I had no idea that your delay was caused by your compassion for a young mother. If your skill in midwifery matches your ability in a courtroom, the lady was indeed fortunate.’

‘She came bravely through the ordeal.’

‘Do not put us through it again!’ implored Simon.

‘There is no time,’ said Ralph. ‘We have spent the whole morning listening to you. If nothing else, I hope that absolves me of the charge of prejudice. What we now need is a recess so that we may study your charter alongside the others in our possession.

We also need to weigh your arguments in the balance and decide if there is need for any further examination.’

‘I will await your summons, my lord,’ said Abraham.

‘Keep well away from pregnant women in the meantime.’

‘This is not my diocese.’

‘One last thing,’ said Ralph as the two men rose to go. ‘I expected to speak to you through an interpreter. How is it that you know our language so well?’

‘I took the trouble to learn it, my lord.’

‘Patently. But why?’

‘It is very useful to speak in the tongue of our neighbours. In my experience, it is the best way to avoid misunderstandings.

Also, my lord, simple necessity came into play.’ He gave a tolerant smile. ‘I learned your language because I had a strong feeling that you would never deign to learn mine. Am I right?’

‘Absolutely.’

They parted on good terms and the two visitors left the room.

Ralph turned first to Canon Hubert and invited his comment with a raised eyebrow. The latter needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

‘Our archdeacon has a beguiling tongue,’ he said at length,

‘but I was not entirely persuaded by it.’

‘What about you, Gervase?’ asked Ralph.

‘I found his arguments very cogent.’

‘More so than those of the other claimants?’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase, ‘but he did not resolve the basic contradiction. All four of them have shown us royal charters relating to land in the Westbury Hundred. The problem is that they may not all refer to the hides in question. All the charters lack definition. As things stand, we could do no worse than to quarter the whole property and parcel it out between them.’

‘That is a mischievous suggestion,’ said Hubert.

‘Then let me offer a better one. Why not see for ourselves?’

‘I do not follow, Gervase.’

‘It is simple, Canon Hubert. Let us suspend our work here and ride out to the Westbury Hundred. We may well find that the twenty hides claimed by the lord Hamelin are quite separate from the eight to which Strang would seem to have the right. And where do Querengar’s lie?’

‘In the control of Hamelin of Lisieux,’ said Ralph.

‘And his wife,’ added Hubert pointedly.

‘And, as you remind us, his charming wife.’

‘I was less charmed and more critical of him, my lord.’

‘Be that as it may, Hubert, I think that Gervase has a point.

There is confusion here. The only way to plumb the depth of this controversy is to visit the disputed property in person.’

‘Is that really necessary?’

‘I believe it is, though we do not all have to go.’

‘Thank goodness for that!’ said Brother Simon.

‘No, Hubert,’ taunted Ralph. ‘You and Simon can go alone. Who knows? On your way, you may come across a woman in labour and discover that you have the medical talents of Abraham the Priest.’

‘Never!’ exclaimed Simon.

Hubert shuddered. ‘The very thought makes me go numb.’

‘Ralph is only jesting,’ said Gervase, shooting his friend an admonitory glance. ‘I will volunteer to make the journey. Alone, if need be. You and Brother Simon will certainly be spared, Canon Hubert.’

The two of them nodded their gratitude in unison.

‘That only leaves me,’ said Ralph. ‘What can I say?’

‘That you will bear me company.’

‘If I must, Gervase.’

‘It is agreed. In the course of our travels, we may be able to kill two birds with one stone. Our journey should take us past other portions of abbey land. We can speak to the sub-tenants about their rent collector.’

‘I am glad you mention Brother Nicholas,’ said Hubert, ‘because we bring news from the abbey about him. Abbot Serlo divulged it to us only this morning and it casts the rent collector in a new light.’

‘Go on,’ urged Ralph.

He and Gervase listened to a description of what was found in Brother Nicholas’s cell. They were intrigued. Ralph scratched his head.

‘Who has the pouch with the coins in it?’ he asked.

‘Brother Frewine, the Precentor,’ said Hubert.

‘I will need to speak to him.’

‘Is there any message we can convey, my lord?’

‘Simply that we are one step closer to identifying the murderer,’

said Ralph confidently. ‘Come, Gervase. We have a long ride ahead of us. And a great deal to discuss as we go.’

Leaving their satchels with Brother Simon, the two of them set off at once. Outside the shire hall, Ralph gave instructions to the reeve’s deputy then asked him for directions to the Westbury Hundred. He and Gervase mounted, gathered their escort then kicked their horses into action. As they turned the first corner, they were confronted by a sight which made Ralph gurgle in despair. Riding towards them at the head of his own escort was a small, wizened figure in a black cowl over which was worn a lambskin cloak frayed by age and stained with filth.

‘He’s here after all!’ said Ralph, aghast. ‘It’s Archdeacon Idwal!’

Gervase laughed. ‘Look more carefully,’ he suggested. ‘Since when would Idwal have an armed escort of Norman soldiers?

And since when has he been promoted to the Bishopric of Worcester?’

‘Is that who it is?’ asked Ralph, giggling with relief.

‘Yes. It is Bishop Wulfstan. I recognise him clearly.’

‘This is excellent news, Gervase!’

‘I would not say that.’

‘Why?’

‘Wulfstan is a royal counsellor. My guess is that he is not only here because Gloucester is part of his diocese. He has come from Worcester on a more temporal errand.’