The shire hall occupied a prime position near the junction of Silver Street and High Street. Timber-framed and roofed with thatch, it was a large building with a murky interior that smelled in equal parts of dampness, decay, and some unspecified farm animal. A sparrow was hopping along the rafters and spiders had turned the whole of the ceiling into a continuous and interconnecting series of elaborate webs. The walls were roughly plastered and some attempt had been made to decorate them with simple patterns. There were several windows but they seemed to keep out more light than they admitted. The hall was built solely for communal use. Comfort and decoration were after-thoughts.
“I wonder if he will turn up,” mused Ralph Delchard. “Who?” said Gervase Bret.
‘‘Humphrey Goldenbollocks.” “Keep your voice down!”
“We could do with him in tins gloom,” observed Ralph with a glance around. “He can stand on the table here and shed light on the whole business by displaying his golden orbs. The meeting will be illumi-nated by bollock light. Yes, I do hope that Humphrey will come.”
“I am more interested in someone else,” confessed Gervase. “Sister Tecla, by any chance?”
“No, Ralph!”
“She liked you, I could tell.”
“I will probably never see her again.”
“She’ll contrive a tryst somehow,” teased the other. “Nuns do not place their affections lightly.” The musty atmosphere made him cough. “So who are you interested in meeting in this miserable cave of a hall?”
“Tovild.”
“Who?”
“Tovild,” said Gervase. “He is mentioned in the returns a number of times. Tovild the Haunted.”
“What is it that haunts the man?”
“I have no idea.”
“Could it be Humphrey Goldenbollocks?”
“He is too busy haunting Ralph Delchard!”
They traded a laugh and took their seats as Canon Hubert and Brother Simon made their way towards them. The town reeve had been busy. He had not only summoned all interested parties to the meeting, he had arranged for the shire hall to be prepared in readiness for the event. Trestle tables had been set up at one end of the room for the commissioners and chairs had been placed behind them. Ralph took up a central position to reflect his status as leader of the quartet. Gervase sat to one side of him and Hubert to the other. Simon was on the fringe of it all with parchment and writing materials in front of him. Acting as the scribe to the proceedings, he was trying to make himself as invisible as possible. Canon Hubert, by contrast, was more rotundly self-important than ever after another delicious meal at Champeney Hall. He bulked large.
The four of them arrived well before the meeting was due to start so that they could settle in and study once more the various documents relating to the ownership of property in the region. Ralph Delchard also took care with the disposition of his knights. Two of them were stationed outside the main door while the other six stood guard just inside it. Their chain mail had been cleaned, their helmets polished, and their swords freshly sharpened. They made an imposing sight and every visitor would be able to read the message that was implicit in their presence. The royal commissioners were there on serious business.
“Are we ready to receive them?” said Ralph, looking from one colleague to another and receiving affirmative nods from each. “Very well. Let us fight the Battle of Maldon.”
He gave a signal to the captain of his guard and the man stepped out into the street. The townspeople then began to drift in. A clerk had been positioned near the entrance so that he could record the name of everyone who attended. First came the burgesses, local men who owned a house, land, or both and thus had a recognised status in the borough. Only a proportionate number had been invited by the town reeve but others came along out of curiosity and apprehension. Royal commissioners were always bad news. The earlier team had caused immense upset in the town with the vigour of their enquiries and the threat of higher taxation. Saxon burgesses were justifiably resentful. Norman overlords had already seized their property and bled them dry. They wished to know what new impositions this second group of royal officials brought with them.
Benches had been set out and the burgesses took those near the rear of the hall, leaving the ones at the front for persons of greater rank. Many of the Norman magnates were absentee landlords and men like Ranulf Peverel, Hugh de Montfort, and Richard FitzGilbert were represented by their subtenants. Peter de Valognes also had
some holdings in the area but they were not under investigation by the commissioners. When the Sheriff of Essex finally came to Maldon, therefore, it would be to investigate the murder of a prominent Norman and not to quibble over property rights in the shire hall.
The major landowners who put in an appearance did so with a
show of defiance, sweeping into the hall with a clutch of manorial officials around them and lowering themselves onto the front benches with muted truculence. During the visit of the first commissioners, the shire hall had echoed with accusation and counteraccusation and the barons were clearly prepared for further acrimony. Gilbert Champeney was one of the few people present untouched by the prevailing mood of suspicion. Although not called before the commissioners, he nevertheless came to the meeting out of interest and tossed amiable greetings to all and sundry as he made his way to a seat. He was accompanied by his son, Miles, a young man who seemed to have inherited all his father’s good qualities while being spared some of his physical shortcomings. Miles Chanpeney was tall, slim, and poised with a quiet handsomeness that was enhanced by a shock of curly fair hair. His tunic and mantle were very much those of a Norman but, like his father, he seemed at ease among the largely Saxon gathering.
“That has to be Gilbert’s son,” whispered Ralph.
“He was away on business last night,” said Gervase.
“If I was that young and that good-looking, I would be away on business every night!” said the other with an envious chuckle. “So that is Miles Champeney, is it? He seems a fine, upstanding fellow. I judge him to be a fit companion for you, Gervase.”
“For me?”
“He can take you out wenching in the long evenings.” “Ralph!”
“I was like that once, you know. Young and lusty.”
“You still are,” said Gervase. “That is the trouble.”
Ralph let out a peal of laughter that gained everyone’s attention. He waved happily in acknowledgement then looked across at the doorway as a newcomer arrived. It was the man for whom they had all been waiting. Jocelyn FitzCorbucion was only the second son of the fearsome Hamo but he still sent a rustle through the entire hall when he stepped into it. With Fulk at his elbow, he stalked to the front of the hall and took a seat directly in front of the table. When Gilbert gave him a smile of welcome, he replied with a pleasant nod but his manner altered dramatically when he saw Miles Champeney. The two young men glared at each other for a second as if engaged in a private tussle, then Jocelyn turned his head away with the faint leer of someone who felt he had won the encounter. Gervase Bret took particular note of their open antipathy.
Ralph did not need to be told that a FitzCorbucion had answered their summons. It was time to begin. He slapped the table and the heavy murmur died instantly.
“Gentlemen,” he said in a voice at once friendly and admonitory, “let me thank you all for giving us your time this afternoon. We are royal commissioners who have been sent from Winchester on a most important errand. You have a right to know what that errand is and what manner of men have been dispatched to this pleasant town of yours. My name is Ralph Delchard,” he said, “and I am here to judge the fairness of all proceedings that take place. On my right is Canon Hubert of Winchester, a most learned scholar and a most just man. On my left is Gervase Bret, an astute lawyer who will guide us through any disputes with due respect for legality. And at the end of the table is Brother Simon who is our scribe and our touchstone of righteousness.” Gilbert Champeney laughed and Simon blinked in meek astonishment. “We are here to perform a vital task,” continued Ralph. “If you are honest in your answers and straight in your dealings with us, we will not need to remain here too long. Canon Hubert will explain.”