Josse let out a gusty sigh. ‘Aye, Gervase. I know that.’ He grinned grimly. ‘It was worth a try.’
De Gifford returned his smile. Then, kicking his horse to a canter, said, ‘Come on. Best to get this over with.’
They reached the Old Manor in advance of Fitzurse. Wilfrid came out into the courtyard to greet them and Josse introduced de Gifford and was on the point of explaining why they were there when the sheriff interrupted.
‘I must ask you, Wilfrid, whether you recall a visit from a stranger, round about the beginning of the month?’
Wilfrid’s calm expression did not alter. ‘No, sir,’ he replied. ‘I can’t say as how I do.’
‘A stunted, skinny sort of a man, rough-looking, gingery, unkempt?’ de Gifford persisted.
Wilfrid said, ‘No, sir.’
‘What of the other servants?’
‘There’s not many of us, sir, not who spend their days mostly up here at the Manor, leastways. There’s my lad who tends the yard and the stables and my wife who cooks and keeps house. There was a wet nurse but she was gone ages back, long afore the start of the month.’
‘Will you ask your wife and son to come and speak to me, please?’ de Gifford asked politely.
‘Certainly, sir. My lad’ll see to your horses.’
He strode off around the side of the house, returning a few moments later with his fair-haired wife and his young son, both of whom gave shy bows and greetings to Josse. Wilfrid said, ‘Now, Anna, now Simeon, just answer the question.’ Turning to de Gifford, he said, ‘Sir?’
De Gifford asked again. Both the woman and the boy solemnly shook their heads. Then the boy put out his hands for the horses’ reins and led them away. The woman, with a swift glance at her husband, bobbed a curtsy and hurried away, muttering something about fetching the visitors something to warm them up.
‘Will you come inside, my lords?’ Wilfrid asked. ‘I will light the fire for you.’
Josse, who was feeling increasingly awkward at what he felt to be an imposition on these courteous and welcoming people of Leofgar’s, spoke up. ‘We await another man, Wilfrid. We will remain out here, thank you, and please tell your wife that we do not need any refreshments.’
De Gifford apparently picked up his unease; he said with admirable brevity, ‘Wilfrid, the man about whom I’ve just been asking is missing and there has been a suggestion that he came here to see your master a while ago. We have come here to see if there is any trace of him. The fellow we’re expecting is a friend of the missing man and, indeed, it is he who is pressing us to search here for him.’
‘I see,’ Wilfrid said. ‘Please let me know what assistance I can give you, sir. I know the estate well, having lived here all my life.’ He glanced briefly from de Gifford to Josse and then back again. ‘I’ll be in the stables giving Simeon a hand. Call me when you are ready to begin your search.’ Then, with a bow, he turned away and walked off in the direction in which his son had led the horses.
It was cold. Josse was beginning to regret his embarrassed rejection of Wilfrid and his wife’s offers of hospitality and, from the way that de Gifford was shifting from foot to foot and wrapping his arms around himself, Josse guessed he probably felt the same. But then there came the sound of horse’s hooves on the hard ground and presently a man rode into view.
He was dressed in a heavy fur-trimmed cloak over a black tunic and his horse was a good one. He removed his hat to reveal a head of brown hair going grey. His eyes were dark in his sallow face and his mouth had a grim, discontented set to it as if he found it difficult to smile and perhaps, despite his apparent wealth and good health, considered that he had little to smile about. Taking all this in, one thing struck Josse more forcefully than any other detaiclass="underline" Arthur Fitzurse rode into the courtyard of the Old Manor staring around him with the proprietorial air of one returning to his own home.
De Gifford stepped forward to greet him. ‘I have brought with me Sir Josse d’Acquin,’ he added, turning to present Josse. ‘Josse, this man is Arthur Fitzurse.’
‘Sir Josse d’Acquin,’ Fitzurse repeated, with a twist of his mouth that seemed to suggest he knew very well who Josse was and why he was there. ‘Well, sheriff, shall we be about our search? You have questioned the servants, I imagine?’
‘I have.’ De Gifford watched Fitzurse dismount. ‘They have no recollection of any stranger visiting at the start of the month.’
‘I see.’ Fitzurse looked around haughtily, as if expecting someone to have appeared by now to take his horse. He yelled, ‘Groom! You are needed!’ and, after several moments, Wilfrid appeared and without a word took the reins from Fitzurse’s gloved hand.
Fitzurse stared after him as he led the horse away. ‘Feed and water him!’ he commanded.
There was a faint, ‘Aye, sir,’ then Wilfrid was gone.
‘Where do you propose we begin?’ de Gifford asked.
‘In the house.’ Fitzurse strode off to the steps and mounted them, opening the door into the main hall. It was empty and smelled faintly of the dried rushes on the floor.
‘There’s nobody here,’ Josse pointed out.
Fitzurse was staring around him, peering beneath the rushes, looking behind hangings, prodding at the shield that hung on the far wall, kicking at the charred logs in the great hearth and, picking up a kindling stick, poking through the mound of ashes. Then he turned his attention to the long table, running his hands over its surface and feeling underneath it.
‘What are you looking for there?’ de Gifford demanded curtly.
Fitzurse turned to him, his eyes bright in the dim light. ‘I told you that the Bell brothers had a dispute with Leofgar Warin,’ he said. ‘There may be some evidence of this concealed within the hall.’
‘Evidence?’ De Gifford sounded as incredulous as Josse was feeling. ‘What, do you speak of some written document, some incriminating manuscript? But good God, man, the Bells are surely illiterate! What could they possibly have to do with evidence?’
Fitzurse barely paused in his search. ‘I cannot answer that unless and until I find something,’ he replied smoothly. ‘In the meantime, let us proceed with our hunt.’
De Gifford gave an impatient sound. ‘We will look in the solar,’ he announced. ‘Josse?’
Together the two of them went up the stone stair to the solar and looked in the two sleeping chambers and the small chapel. Other than the family’s possessions — of good quality but few in number — there was nothing to be seen. Nor was there, Josse reflected, hating this imposition even more now that he was having to trespass into the private areas of the house, anywhere that a man could hide. Or — he tried not to think of it — where a body could be concealed.
De Gifford came out of the small chapel. ‘There’s nothing here,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Josse, I think we’re wasting our time. And I feel badly about doing this. Hunting through the house when its master and mistress are not here, for no better reason than because a man like Fitzurse has demanded it, does not feel right. Come, let’s go down again.’
They found Fitzurse on his back under the table. ‘Have you found your evidence?’ de Gifford asked coolly.
Fitzurse stood up, brushing down his tunic and arranging his cloak. Instead of answering, he said, ‘Anything amiss above?’
‘No,’ Josse said, just as de Gifford said, ‘Nothing.’
‘Then we must search outside,’ Fitzurse declared.
For a long time they did so. They kept together — at Fitzurse’s insistence — and searched kitchen, stables, storehouses, undercroft and even the room behind the kitchen where Wilfrid and his family lived. The blonde woman stood with eyes cast down as Fitzurse poked about in the blankets and covers on the narrow bed and raked through the piled ashes around the hearth; Wilfrid stared off into the distance as if his mind were far away. The child, after a scared glance, had disappeared in the direction of the stables.