Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘It is not my decision. I must go where they go. I am simply part of the baggage.’ Golde gave a smile. ‘It always surprises me that Ralph does not strap me across one of the sumpter horses.’

Aelgar was shocked. ‘He would never do that to his wife.

Baggage, indeed! You set too low a value on yourself. Ralph would be lost without you. He more or less admitted that when he was here.’

‘I am sorry we did not see more of him,’ said Forne. ‘I fear that I was a little rude to him when we met.’

‘Extremely rude,’ scolded Aelgar.

‘With some cause.’

‘There is never any cause for abusing our guests, Forne.’

‘I did not abuse the lord Ralph.’

‘You are doing it now when you call him that,’ said Golde amiably. ‘I have told you before. If we are to be tied by family, no formalities will exist. I am plain Golde and he is plain Ralph.’

‘He’s too handsome to be plain,’ said her sister.

‘I would agree with that.’

‘What about me?’ asked Forne, angling for a compliment.

‘You are almost perfect.’

‘Why only almost?’

‘Because I have not trained you fully yet.’

‘Oh, I am to be trained, am I?’ he said coltishly. ‘I did not realise that I was to be your pet animal when we married. I expected that it was I who had to do the training.’

‘You will each school the other,’ observed Golde fondly. ‘It is called being in love and there is no better education.’

She had called at the house where they were staying to break the news of their departure and to apologise that Ralph could not make the visit with her. It was not simply a case of wanting to avoid any further friction with Forne. A final verdict needed to be given at the shire hall and he would be involved there until evening.

Besides, since his arm was still heavily bandaged, Ralph did not wish to be put to the trouble of lying about the way he had received the wound. Forne and Aelgar could be told about the crimes at the abbey but word of the assassination attempt was being kept strictly within the walls of the castle. It was too sensitive a subject to be delivered to the local gossips. It upset Golde that she was not able to talk about her husband’s courage in tackling the would-be assassin, but she appreciated the need for secrecy.

Aelgar came to a decision. She looked directly at Forne.

‘We will see them off tomorrow.’

‘That early?’

‘At midnight,’ she insisted, ‘if that is when they choose to leave.’

‘Dawn is challenge enough for me,’ said Golde, ‘but there is no need to haul you two out of your beds. That is why I came to take my leave of you now. Enjoy your sleep while you can.’

‘How can I when my only sister is riding away from me?’ said Aelgar with unusual vehemence. ‘I will be there to wave you all off and Forne will be with me.’

He grinned. ‘It is all part of my training.’

‘It would be lovely to see you,’ admitted Golde.

‘Then you shall,’ promised her sister. ‘It will give Forne a chance to make a better impression on Ralph. He has much ground to make up.’

‘Who does?’ asked her betrothed. ‘Ralph or me?’

‘Both,’ said Golde.

‘How long will this go on?’ wondered Aelgar.

‘What?’

‘This endless travelling you seem to do.’

‘I have no idea. If it were left to Ralph, it would end tomorrow and we would enjoy the simple pleasure of staying in our own home. But the King’s word must be obeyed.’

‘We know that!’ muttered Forne rebelliously.

‘We go where Ralph and Gervase are sent.’

‘Well, I hope you are sent in our direction again, Golde,’ said her sister, reaching out to squeeze her hands. ‘Short as it has been, this visit has brought us much joy. I am so glad that we made the effort to get to Gloucester while you were here.’

‘So am I, Aelgar.’

The two sisters embraced then looked expectantly towards Forne.

‘And so am I,’ he said willingly. He gave a vacuous grin. ‘You see, Aelgar? You have me trained already. I indulge your every whim.’

‘Good,’ she said sweetly. ‘For I have a lot of them.’

The final day at the shire hall was punctuated by the small irritations they had learned to take in their stride. One witness lied, another tried to pretend he had forgotten a vital document, and a third changed his evidence so many times that they had no idea which claimant he was really supporting. Under Ralph’s firm leadership, the last case was resolved and dispatched into history.

After thanking his colleagues, he gathered up his papers to put into his satchel.

‘A shorter visit than I anticipated,’ said Hubert airily. ‘Given the fact that we were distracted by other matters, I think that we showed exemplary efficiency.’

‘You always do that, Canon Hubert,’ said Brother Simon.

‘Thank you.’

‘Especially when leading a murder investigation,’ noted Ralph.

‘Do not mock,’ said Gervase. ‘Canon Hubert’s presence at the abbey was critical. We were the outsiders, Ralph. But for the fact that he and Brother Simon stayed there, we might never have been drawn into this whole business at all.’

‘I thank God that you were,’ said Simon. ‘The abbey was poisoned by those dreadful crimes. You and the lord Ralph helped to cleanse it.’ He saw Hubert’s grimace. ‘With the assistance of Canon Hubert, that is.’

‘Not to mention a little help from the Archdeacon of Gwent.’

‘True, Gervase,’ said Ralph, who had now come to appreciate to the full the Welshman’s contribution. ‘An extraordinary man.

Whether acting as a midwife or swimming to my rescue.’

‘He should restrict his activities to the pulpit,’ said Hubert sniffily.

‘You mean that all future babies should be delivered there?’

‘No, my lord!’

‘Can we leave this distressing subject?’ begged Simon.

‘Of course,’ said Gervase. ‘Ignore Ralph. He is being skittish now that our work is done here. But tell us this. How has the atmosphere been at the abbey since Strang and his accomplice were arrested?’

Simon smiled. ‘It is a different place altogether.’

‘It is as if a huge black cloud has been dispersed,’ said Hubert.

‘They know that you are leaving,’ said Ralph.

‘Abbot Serlo paid me the compliment of inviting me back at any time and Bishop Wulfstan was equally hospitable. Worcester Abbey is open to me whenever I happen to be in the county.’

‘They recognised your true worth,’ said Gervase without sarcasm. ‘It is a pity that they were not able to evaluate Brother Nicholas’s character more accurately. Had they done so, much pain and bloodshed would have been prevented.’

‘Abbot Serlo appreciates that, Gervase. He will scrutinise his monks with far more care from now on. He and Brother Frewine both.’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘The Precentor is worth his weight in gold. I liked him more than any of them. Kind, honest, decent, humble, but with a mind as sharp as the edge of my sword. No wonder the novices turn to him. He understands them.’

Hubert gave a flabby grin, forewarning them of a rare flight into humour. In a confidential whisper, he passed on information that caused none of them the slightest surprise.

‘They have a nickname for Brother Frewine,’ he said.

‘Do they?’ asked Simon obediently.

‘Brother Owl.’

Gervase gave a dutiful laugh. ‘Very appropriate.’

‘Wise, old and feathered.’

‘But not the only owl in Gloucester,’ observed Ralph. ‘Bishop Wulfstan could certainly lay claim to that nickname. So could Abbot Serlo. And there were moments when even Abraham the Priest showed the requisite wisdom. But there is only one owl of Gloucester for me.’