Gilbert frowned, as if what he was about to say pained him, and then repeated what he had said the previous day. ‘It would certainly seem, my dear Baudouin,’ he began pompously, ‘that the right of title to this precious object is yours, for nobody is disputing that it was found on the shore at Drakelow. I understand that there is some confusion over precisely where it was found, which raises the question of the ancient and inalienable right of the king to anything found between high and low water, but I do not think we need bother overmuch about that if you assure me it was found on Drakelow land.’
‘As I do,’ Baudouin said firmly. He did not even flinch as he spoke the lie.
‘However,’ Gilbert added, his voice dropping to a new level of portentousness, ‘unfortunately Drakelow is not at present in your hands, although we all hope that this will prove but a temporary state of affairs, as indeed it surely will if the king opts for leniency.’
He won’t opt for anything of the sort, Baudouin thought, unless I persuade him, and I can’t do that without my crown. He stared at Gilbert, fighting to keep his despair and his fury out of his eyes.
When he was reasonably sure that he could speak without his voice giving him away, he said, ‘And what of the boy?’
‘There again,’ Gilbert said regretfully, ‘although I do indeed sympathize most sincerely with your loss, I fear I cannot accede to your demand that he be immediately hanged.’ Some tiny portion of the emotions that seethed and boiled through Baudouin must have been visible, for Gilbert took a step back and said in a placatory tone, ‘Oh, I am sure that it will come to that in the end, for you have a witness who has given a clear statement that he saw Sibert attack your poor late nephew, and of course your word on this is more than enough.’
Then do it! Baudouin raged silently. Take the damned impudent youth out and string him up!
‘However,’ Gilbert went on — and Baudouin had reluctantly to admire his surprising refusal to be browbeaten — ‘I do feel that it is necessary that I instigate some further enquiries, both here and at Drakelow. I must-’ He broke off, frowning, and Baudouin guessed that he had little idea how to go about his self-appointed task. ‘I shall speak to the youth this morning,’ he said instead. ‘He was distraught last night when the guards put him in the lock-up but after a night’s sleep he may be more approachable. I shall-’
He was interrupted by voices coming from the courtyard; the male tones of a couple of grooms and the lighter but far more insistent voice of a girl. Gilbert strode over to the doorway and, from the top of the stone steps, looked down at the scene below; Baudouin hurried after him.
The grooms were remonstrating with a thin copper-haired girl who wore a shabby woollen tunic and, tied around her waist, a rather beautiful shawl. She was demanding admittance to the lord’s house and the two grooms were telling her to go away although, Baudouin observed, not in such polite terms.
‘I will see him!’ she insisted, wresting her arm out of the grip of the younger of the grooms and kicking out at his shins for good measure. He skipped neatly out of reach. ‘It’s my right,’ she added, ‘my father’s one of his tenants and he’s a good tenant, he fulfils all his obligations and what’s more he’s an eel-catcher and he sees to it that the lord gets the best of the catch!’
‘Ah,’ Gilbert murmured, and Baudouin saw him smile.
‘You know this girl?’ he demanded.
‘No, but I know her father.’ Gilbert was rubbing his round belly. ‘She’s right, he does bring me fine eels. His name’s Wymond and he lives with his family out at Aelf Fen.’ His eyes rounded. ‘Where your young man comes from!’ He turned to Baudouin, amazed.
So, Baudouin thought. This is the girl. He stared more closely and, as she edged closer, he realized that he had seen her before. She it was who had stared at him so belligerently over the heads of the crowd when he accused the boy of murder.
‘You should not allow her to push her way in,’ he said. ‘There is a proper procedure if a tenant has a matter to discuss with the lord of the manor, and bursting in on your privacy is not it.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ Gilbert said mildly. ‘She’s here now and what’s more she’s putting up quite a fight.’ He chuckled. ‘I like a bit of spirit in a girl.’ He beckoned to the grooms, calling out an order. ‘I may as well see what she wants now she’s here.’
Baudouin could have told him what she wanted. Filled with sudden apprehension — what, after all, could a slip of a girl do against a man like him? — he stepped back into the shadows and waited to hear what she would say.
I was glad that the grooms had been so offensive (especially the younger one, who had the cheek to call me a scrawny little cat and then told me to go away, only not in those terms) because they made me angry and being angry was a far better way to go up the steps and face Gilbert de Caudebec than being terrified, which was what I’d been before I encountered the grooms.
He led me across his enormous hall — it was awe-inspiring and my whole house could have fitted inside about three if not four times — and invited me to sit down on a wooden seat, long enough for about half a dozen people, with a straight back and carved dragons or something on its front legs. He waited till I had done so and then sat down in a huge chair opposite me. I stared wide-eyed — I couldn’t help it — and a succession of vivid images flooded my mind. A flagged floor — no damp beaten earth and smelly, soggy rushes here; a huge wooden chest, elaborately carved with an intertwining design of flowers and imaginary beasts; a huge pewter tray on which stood a jug and several goblets; and, as a softening, human touch, a baby’s silver rattle attached to a coral teat. Stop it, I commanded myself. You’re not here to make an inventory of Lord Gilbert’s hall.
As I entered the hall I’d had the strong sense that there was someone else there but, peering round as well as I could without making it too obvious, I could see nobody. There were some beautiful hangings embroidered in rich red, brown and gold wool at the end of the hall that I guessed concealed the door to the kitchens, so maybe whoever it was had gone out that way.
‘Now, who are you and why do you wish to see me?’ Lord Gilbert asked, kindly enough.
I studied him, trying to obtain a sense of him. I saw a fat man of perhaps twenty-five whose face smiled readily and, to judge from the lines around his hazel eyes, frequently. He slumped rather than sat in his chair and his rich velvet tunic had small greasy stains down the front. He likes his food, I thought, and his girth suggests self-indulgence.
I was probably far too hasty in deciding that I could manage Gilbert de Caudebec, but the sudden confidence gave me the ability to speak.
‘I understand that my friend Sibert is imprisoned here,’ I began. I knew he was; Hrype had told us so last night. ‘He is charged with the theft of a gold crown from a place called Drakelow and the murder of a man called Romain de la Flèche.’ I had to press my lips together for a moment as I said his name. His loss was still very raw. ‘I have come,’ I hurried on, ‘to protest his innocence.’ I hoped that was the right phrase. ‘He did not kill Romain.’
‘Indeed?’ said Lord Gilbert. ‘And how can you be so sure?’
‘Because he was with me,’ I said firmly.
‘I see.’ Lord Gilbert went on looking at me, smiling vaguely, and I sensed he was playing for time while he thought how to respond.
‘He was!’ I insisted when he still did not speak. ‘We went to Drakelow together — well, Romain was the leader, I suppose, since it was all his idea, but we-’ I realized I was entering difficult territory. I had been about to say that Sibert and I had parted company from Romain after we’d found the crown, but since that was a lot to admit straight away and I’d very likely live to regret my frankness, I held back. ‘We came back together, just Sibert and me,’ I finished feebly. ‘But I know he didn’t kill Romain,’ I went on, trying to make my voice sound firm and confident, ‘because Romain was killed six days ago and Sibert was with me then. I will speak for him,’ I finished, in what I hoped was a dignified tone.