“’Twas your choice to deal with a poacher and lay blows across my head. And you will have a companion soon enough.”
Uctred dropped the beams through the iron fittings and across the door. A shadowed nose and eye pressed against the hole as we turned and climbed the steps to sunlight and fresh air.
I sent the porter’s assistant to Alvescot with a message for Gerard that I wished to see him and his sons immediately. No one wishes to receive such a notice from a lord’s bailiff. Gerard, whose conscience, so far as I knew, was unmarred, would be concerned. Walter would worry with each step which brought him to Bampton Castle. If he had a conscience. A little worry can be a good thing. Although in Walter’s case worry before he poached Lord Gilbert’s deer would have served better than worry after.
Gerard and his sons arrived just before dinner. I decided to let them wait while I took my meal, so directed the porter’s assistant to assign them to an anteroom off the gatehouse until I should call for them. Another hour or so of apprehension would do Walter no harm.
Dinner this day was the usual three removes, and more elaborate than many. The cook, I think, was practicing for Lord Gilbert’s return to Bampton now little more than a fortnight away.
For the first remove there was Vyaund cyprys, boiled duck, and currant tarts. The second remove featured a roasted kid, stuffed partridge, and a custard. Grooms, of course, received of the second course only the custard. Since the Sumptuary Laws of 1363 they are permitted but one meal of meat or fish each day.
For the third remove there was fried pigeon and coney and for the subtlety a Lombardy custard. My belly was well filled and I was content with the world. Perhaps my interrogation of Walter Forester would have been sharper and more effective had I been hungry.
I found Richard and Walter yawning and scratching themselves on a bench in the gatehouse anteroom. Vermin, no doubt. Their father snored peacefully, propped against the opposite wall of the small room, on the other bench.
The verderer’s sons leaped to their feet as I entered. Their bench banged off the wall behind them and awakened Gerard. The old man snorted, blinked, and stood also when his rheumy eyes fixed on my shadow in the doorway.
I stared silently from Gerard to his sons for several heartbeats. I wished them to know from the outset that their presence at the castle was about no ordinary business. I would allow them time to imagine what business it might be.
Gerard was puzzled. But his face betrayed no guilt. I was relieved. Had he seemed defensive or addressed me quickly on some trivial matter I would have suspected otherwise.
“You summoned us, an’ ’ere we are,” the old forester said. He was tottery from his nap, and swayed on his feet as he spoke. “Somethin’ amiss w’ the timbers?”
That explained the verderer’s brow, which was beginning to fold into worry lines.
“Nay. They serve well. Lord Gilbert’s new stables are nearly ready for his return. ’Tis another matter we must speak of.”
But I did not speak of this other matter immediately. I waited, looking from father to sons. ’Twas Walter who looked away first. When he did so I felt ready to broach the matter at hand.
“Two days past a man of the Weald was found with a joint of venison in his sack.”
“A poacher!” Gerard cried. “In my…I mean, Lord Gilbert’s forest?”
“Aye. So ’twould seem.”
“Who is the fellow?” Richard asked.
“He is called Thomas atte Bridge…but he claims he is not a poacher.”
“How then did ’e come by venison?” Gerard fumed. Walter remained silent, looking from his father to me and back again.
“Blackmail. Claims he learned of the poacher’s work and threatened to expose the man did he not share the spoil.”
“Is this poacher known?” Gerard seethed.
“Aye, to me…and to you.”
“Nay,” the old man protested.
“Oh, he is not known to you as a poacher, but you do know of him.”
“Who is’t?” Richard demanded.
I was not required to answer. Walter bolted past me through the door and disappeared into the gatehouse. Gerard and Richard were too stunned to do anything but blink wide-eyed at me and each other, but I recovered my wits and shouted through the door for Wilfred to stop the fleeing Walter.
I was too late. I flung myself to the door but Richard arrived there first. Wilfred stood agape as we scrambled from the anteroom. I ran under the portcullis just in time to see Walter dodging through the castle forecourt and those who had business there.
I hesitated, but Richard did not. His flying feet raised puffs of dust as he pursued his brother. Gerard stumbled up beside me and we watched as Walter fled west on Mill Street toward the forest and Alvescot. I recovered my wits and shouted for Wilfred and his assistant to give chase also. Soon four men were pounding down Mill Street between meadow and plowland toward the wood. Walter disappeared into the forest with Richard but a few strides behind.
Gerard set off across the forecourt as rapidly as he could. His limp was pronounced when he hurried. Before Gerard reached Mill Street the sound of distant shouting and conflict came from the forest. At that moment Wilfred and his assistant vanished into the trees. And then the sound of struggle ceased. Silence filled the forecourt as those who had business there and at the castle looked from me to the forest and back. The only sound was Gerard’s dragging left foot as he hobbled toward Mill Street.
As the verderer reached the street four figures emerged on the road from the wood. Richard had a firm grasp on his brother’s right arm, which even from 300 or so paces I could see he had twisted high behind Walter’s back. Wilfred marched along on Walter’s left, one hand at the malefactor’s collar, the other grasping his left arm. Wilfred’s assistant strode behind the three. In his hands he carried a downed limb which he waved threateningly over Walter’s bowed head.
Gerard approached his son and as I watched, without breaking his halting stride, he swung his right fist firmly against Walter’s jaw. I could not hear the blow strike, but saw its result clear enough. The old verderer might have a weakness in his left arm, but there was no fault in his right hand. And many years of swinging axe and adze had toughened the man. Walter dropped to his knees like a poleaxed ox. Had not Wilfred and Richard held him aright I think the blow would have laid Walter face down in the road.
Richard released Walter’s arm, leaving Wilfred to help Walter regain his feet. I was too far away to hear, but wild gesticulation indicated that Richard and his father were in animate conversation. I think Gerard would have thumped Walter again had not Richard placed himself between the two.
This lively discourse seemed eventually to cool. Gerard stomped off toward the castle and Richard once again took his brother’s arm. Walter seemed sufficiently recovered to put a foot in front of another. Slowly the party set off for the castle in Gerard’s wake. As they drew near I saw a trickle of blood at the corner of Walter’s mouth. I wondered if the punishment meted to him at hallmote would equal that he would receive from his father.
Gerard was surely frantic that, because of his son, he would lose his place as Lord Gilbert’s verderer. And perhaps he should have given better oversight to forest and family. But he had, so far as I knew, always done faithful service to Lord Gilbert. That would surely weigh in his favor. Lord Gilbert would return to Bampton in a fortnight. Gerard’s future would be his decision, not mine.
Uctred and the porter’s assistant dragged Walter off to join Thomas in his cell, while Gerard apologized noisily for his son’s behavior. I thought the man might throw himself on the ground and kiss my feet, so voluble were his protests of innocence and regret.
I was eventually able to convince the verderer that I held no grudge against him or Richard. With somewhat dazed expressions on their faces, they went home.