Edward Marston - The Wolves of Savernake

“Heregod moved his family here and occupied the mill, but his charter went astray when King Edward died. There was bitter conflict over the holding. Two of those hides came into the hands of Wulfgeat by courtesy of King Harold, but they were taken away again after the Conquest. Heregod lost four hides; Wulfgeat had two of them, then lost both. Where did they go?”

He looked first at Prior Baldwin and then at Hugh de Brionne. Both began to squirm slightly. Gervase struck home.

“The abbey seized Heregod’s land by means of a forged charter,” he decreed. “Hugh de Brionne took the two hides of Wulfgeat with no charter at all beyond the use of force.”

Uproar ensued. The accused parties jumped to their feet to plead their innocence while the rest of the hall chanted their guilt. Ralph Delchard bellowed for silence, Canon Hubert delivered an impromptu sermon on the merits of restraint, and Brother Simon waved his quill ineffectually in the air. The four men-at-arms were quite unable to stifle the chaos. It seemed as if the commission’s business would have to be suspended. Then the pandemonium ceased abruptly. Nobody seemed to know why at first and they stared at each other open-mouthed. Then they realised what had altered the whole atmosphere inside the hall. Abbot Serlo had entered.

He stood in the doorway with quiet dignity and waited while a path hastily cleared itself in front of him. Then he made a stately progress towards the table and held out a magisterial hand. Gervase gave him the charter which had come from the miller’s chest and the abbot studied it with glaucous eyes. Prescience had brought him to the hall and conscience made him ready to face his accusers. Only he could truly speak for his abbey. In delegating the task to his subordinates, he was shirking a sacred duty. It was still not too late to make amends.

He could not tarnish his hopes of sainthood at the eleventh hour.

Abbot Serlo finished reading the document, then turned to address the hushed gathering. There was no hint of complaint, self-pity, or evasion.

“We have sinned,” he said honestly. “For almost twenty years, the abbey has taken rent from land that belongs by right to the heirs of Heregod of Longdon. We have sinned against them and we will pay full recompense. Bedwyn Abbey will restore those two hides to its lawful holder and repay every penny that was harvested from them.”

The simplicity of his public confession added to its force. He swung round to face the four commissioners.

“Bear with me,” he requested. “How this has come about, I do not yet know, but I have my suspicions. Let me enquire further into the matter. You have uncovered one forgery. There may be others. I will work swiftly to rid my abbey of every whisper of evil.”

One baleful stare was enough to jerk Baldwin and Matthew to their feet. Abbot Serlo left with the same ethereal tread with which he had entered, but his two companions crept out apprehensively behind him. There would be long and painful discussions within the abbey confines and further tremors would shake its ordered calm.

There was a general murmur of admiration for Abbot Serlo’s performance and even the mocking Hugh de Brionne was for once impressed.

The prelate had been dignified in defeat. He had also set a precedent, and Gervase Bret was quick to seize on it.

“The abbey has admitted its error and offered to pay for it in full,”

he said to Hugh. “Will you follow where they lead? Will you restore those two hides and offer recompense to the injured party?”

Hugh snarled and looked for a way out of his plight, but Ralph Delchard cut off his retreat. He threw a smile of gratitude to Ediva before he rounded on his opponent.

“If you wish to contest the matter,” he threatened, “we will have to call witnesses. The town reeve will be first. He knows better than anyone how that land was obtained.”

Hugh and Saewold coloured as they traded a look. A partnership which had brought mutual benefit to them over two decades had just fallen apart. Ralph somehow knew about the acquisition of two hides from Wulfgeat and he would prosecute his case vigorously. In admitting one abuse of property rights, Hugh might be able to conceal all the others. He stretched himself to his full height and strove for a gallantry that rang quite hollow.

“There is error on our side, too,” he conceded, “and we offer the most humble apologies for the oversight. I give my word as a soldier that it will be put right at once.”

The commissioners were satisfied. Details had yet to be worked out and new documents drawn up, but that could wait. They had carried the day. When Ralph Delchard dismissed the assembly, he was actually given a cheer. Feared and resented when they came to Bedwyn, they had won a better opinion from the town. It would be a happier place for their visit. Hugh de Brionne made straight for Saewold and dragged him out. Ediva lingered to steal a last glance from Ralph.

Canon Hubert congratulated himself on his crucial role in the afternoon’s proceedings and Brother Simon reinforced that illusion by his unctuous flattery.

Leofgifu and Hilda descended on Gervase. They were both overwhelmed by the turn of events. Hilda sobbed with joy.

“It is all mine?” she said in disbelief.

“Yes,” he promised. “You inherit from your husband.”

“Four hides of land?”

“With all the arrears due to you, Hilda. Bedwyn Abbey and the lord of the manor of Chisbury will make you a rich woman between them.”

“What will I do with such wealth?” she wondered.

“Enjoy it,” said Leofgifu. “You deserve it.”

Hilda took her hands and squeezed them hard.

“We will share this good fortune together.”

Before Leofgifu could protest, there was a disturbance at the rear of the hall as someone tried to push in past the guards. Hot words were exchanged and a dog barked. Ralph saw the newcomer and snapped a command.

“Let her pass!”

Emma was released by two of the men-at-arms and she curled her lip at them before proceeding down the hall. Ralph knew that she would venture into the town only on an errand of the greatest importance and so he took her aside at once.

“How is your arm?” he asked considerately.

“It is better, my lord.”

“No more threats from the town bullies?”

“They leave me alone now.”

“Yes,” said Ralph. “They needed a killer and Hugh de Brionne gave them one. That lifted suspicion from you. They no longer believe that your dog was the wolf of Savernake.”

“He is not, my lord. The wolf is still in the forest.”

“You have seen him?”

“I have come to take you to the place.”

Bedwyn Abbey felt the chill wind of ignominy blowing through its cloisters. Abbot Serlo was closeted in his lodging with Prior Baldwin and Subprior Matthew as he tried to assess the extent of their perfidy.

The absence of all three from Vespers made the singing flat and the obedientiaries dispirited. When their saint was angry, they all felt the weight of his displeasure. Brother Thaddeus was anxious.

“What has happened, Peter?” he asked.

“We will know in good time.”

“Father Abbot went into the town with good humour and came back in disarray. What can have upset him?”

“He will tell us when he chooses.”

“Someone will pay for this,” said Thaddeus, spying a personal angle in it. “Should I lay in a supply of fresh birch twigs, do you think?”

“It will not be necessary.”

“Father Abbot relies on my arm.”

“Save it to guide the plough,” said Peter.

They were walking across the cloister garth and talking in muted tones. Thaddeus wanted to probe deeper into the mystery of the abbot’s wrath, but Peter saw something which made him excuse himself and hurry away. Brother Luke was in conversation with Gervase Bret.