Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘To check that all was well, Master Bret.’

‘Could not your reeve have done that?’

‘Of course,’ said the other airily, ‘but I wanted to remind myself what beautiful land this is. Well worth fighting for in the shire hall.’

‘Is that the only place fighting has taken place?’ asked Ralph.

‘You tell me, my lord.’

‘Your armed escort speaks for itself.’

‘The roads are dangerous. I need protection.’

‘So do your sub-tenants.’

‘That is perilously close to an insult.’

‘No offence was intended, my lord,’ said Gervase, anxious to keep the exchange on a moderate note. ‘Our real purpose is to determine exactly which land you actually hold. Your charter would seem to suggest that Strang’s eight hides are contiguous with, but separate from, the twenty hides granted to you.

Querengar’s ten hides overlap with both of you but also seem to contain land which is distinct from yours and Strang’s. The only way for us to resolve the confusion was to rely on the evidence of our own eyes and ears.’

‘I admire your conscientiousness, Master Bret.’

‘Thoroughness is the only path to justice.’

‘Quite so.’

‘Then perhaps you will stand aside while we ride on,’ said Ralph.

‘With pleasure, my lord,’ said Hamelin obligingly. ‘I must get back to Gloucester. I want to be in the city well before the King arrives.’

Ralph was stung. ‘You know about his visit?’

‘Of course.’

‘How?’

‘I told you. I am well informed.’

‘Nigel the Reeve again?’

‘Excuse us. We must bid you farewell.’

‘Before you go, my lord,’ said Gervase, recalling what Caradoc had told them. ‘I believe that you know a Brother Nicholas?’

‘I know of him. The abbey’s rent collector.’

‘Is he a friend of yours?’

‘My taste does not turn to Benedictine monks, Master Bret.’

‘Then why is he granted privileges?’

‘Privileges?’

‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘Safe conduct across your land. Nobody can trespass here without impunity, that is clear. Yet Brother Nicholas, we hear, was able to traverse your holdings at will.

Why was that?’

‘He represented the abbey. I respected him.’

‘Even though you would spurn him as a friend?’

‘I do not persecute monks,’ said Hamelin suavely. ‘Why should I? They are not trying to seize lawful property from me. A black cowl will always guarantee a man safe passage across my land.’

‘Abraham the Priest wears a black cowl.’

Hamelin of Lisieux tried to force a smile but it refused to come.

He was an accomplished horseman. Being an archdeacon was no sedentary occupation; Abraham conducted services before many altars throughout Gwent and the peripatetic nature of his work obliged him to spend a fair amount of time in the saddle.

He made virtue of a necessity and learned to ride well. The copse was a few miles away but he covered the distance at a steady canter. There was no sign of habitation among the trees, no telltale column of smoke rising above them. Yet he knew they would be there. Leaving the winding track, he headed for the copse and plunged in between the trunks of some stout elms.

The men were on their feet, alerted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Hands rested on weapons. When they saw who it was, they relaxed and gave him a cheerful welcome. Abraham dismounted and went across to Madog who was holding a piece of half-eaten chicken.

‘We didn’t expect you so soon,’ said Madog.

‘I know.’

‘Is it settled already?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then why have you come?’

‘To warn you of the delay,’ said Abraham, lowering himself on to a fallen log. ‘After hearing my evidence, the commissioners decided to ride out to the Westbury Hundred to view the property for themselves. There will be no more work at the shire hall today. I will have to stay in the city for another night at least.’

Madog waited. ‘We will remain here.’

‘Have you enough to eat?’

‘More than enough. Thanks to a kind man who keeps chickens.’

‘You stole them?’ chided the archdeacon.

‘He had more than enough to spare. But what news of Gloucester? Are these commissioners honourable men? Is there any hope at all that you may carry the day?’

‘If justice exists, I will carry it but it is only a faint hope.’

‘Those hides are part of Wales!’

‘That argument did not impress in the shire hall.’

‘It’s not an argument but a fact of life.’

‘There are other facts of life which we must accept, Madog,’

said the other softly. ‘The main one is that power lies in the hands of the commissioners. Their verdict is final. They are decent men, more honest and reasonable than I dared to expect, but that does not mean they will find in our favour.’

‘They must!’

‘We shall see. Meanwhile, you’ll have to be patient.’ Madog gave a nod and took another bite from the chicken. ‘But there’s other news, my friend. The King is due to arrive in Gloucester.’

‘The King!’

Madog was so startled that he spat the chicken straight out.

His exclamation brought the rest of the band around them in a circle. They craned their necks to hear the tidings.

‘When?’ asked one of them.

‘Soon,’ said Abraham, ‘judging by the preparations. I saw them taking provisions to the castle. I stopped a butcher and asked him why he had just delivered so many carcasses to the gate.’

‘I know which carcass I’d like to deliver!’ said Madog and gained a patriotic cheer. ‘The King, is it? Well, he’s no King of ours.’

‘Why is he here?’ asked someone else.

‘I have no idea,’ admitted the archdeacon.

Madog was thoughtful. ‘Bring word as soon as he arrives.’

‘I will.’

‘This may be an accident that heaven provides. King William.

Coming to Gloucester.’ He gave a grim laugh. ‘Within reach at last.’

Canon Hubert was delighted when he was summoned by Abbot Serlo, and that delight increased when he saw that the latter already had a visitor. The venerable Bishop Wulfstan was waiting to greet him. Educated in a Norman abbey, Hubert took a lordly view of Saxon prelates and held them in low esteem. Wulfstan was the signal exception. Hubert admired him for his intellect and revered him for his spiritual commitment. He just wished that the Bishop of Worcester would divest himself of the filthy lambskin cloak which was already filling the room with a smell of decay.

‘Bishop Wulfstan brings interesting news,’ said Serlo.

Wulfstan hunched his shoulders. ‘Hubert may already know it.’

‘Know what?’

‘That the King is riding towards us.’

‘Coming to Gloucester?’ said Hubert in surprise.

‘There,’ said Serlo. ‘He is as astonished as I was.’

‘Was the fact of this visit kept from you, Hubert?’

‘It appears so, Bishop Wulfstan,’ said the latter, annoyed to learn something so important in this way. ‘What is the nature of the visit?’

‘Nobody knows until King William actually gets here.’

‘I would value time alone with him myself,’ said Serlo hopefully.

‘Do urge him to visit the abbey. We can discuss my plans for rebuilding the church. That will surely arouse his interest.’

‘I will speak up on your behalf, Abbot Serlo.’

‘Thank you.’

‘When the time calls.’ He turned to Hubert. ‘It is good to renew our acquaintance, Canon Hubert, if only by accident, so to speak.

I hear that you are doing valuable work as a royal commissioner.’

‘It is a responsibility I shoulder willingly.’

‘That is characteristic of you. But let us turn to the reason why I wished to see you,’ said Wulfstan, sucking air in noisily through his few remaining teeth. ‘This appalling crime in the abbey.’