“I am here before you. State your business.”
“Only when you sit down again.” Hamo remained on his feet to show his defiance. Ralph was peremptory. “Very well. We will adjourn this session, if you wish, and call you again tomorrow. On that occasion, the sheriff himself will be sent to fetch you. Show him the contempt you are showing us and you will not find him so lenient. Peter de Valognes would be only too happy for an excuse to place you under arrest.”
Hamo put a hand on the hilt of his sword but Jocelyn and Fulk quickly restrained him. They had a whispered conference with him and held up the documents that they carried. It was madness to institute a brawl when they had come to take part in a legal dispute that they were bound to win. Ralph Delchard was deliberately goading Hamo to bring out his choleric streak and throw him off guard. The most effective reply was to subject the commissioners to a crushing defeat in front of the whole town.
“Will you take your seat again, my lord?” said Ralph. “He will,” said Jocelyn, tugging at his father’s arm.
“We wish to begin the proceedings.”
Smouldering with anger, Hamo finally resumed his seat.
Ralph formally introduced each of his colleagues then called on Gervase Bret to read the list of charges. It was long and complex and it drew murmurs of approval from every part of the hall. The commissioners had been exhaustive in their researches. Hamo and Jocelyn listened with motionless expressions but Fulk could not resist a sly smile. The accusations were exactly those set down in one of the documents in his sheaf. Gilbert Champeney had done them a good service when he robbed his guests of their satchel. Blackwater Hall could be attacked with words but there were no writs and charters to lend them any bite.
“This concludes the list of charges,” said Gervase. “As you have heard, it affects a large number of people in the town. If we can substantiate all these claims against my lord, Hamo, there will be restitution and compensation of a high order.”
The promise drew a muffled cheer from the audience but Hamo cut through it with a snarled accusation of his own.
“You have no evidence!”
“Canon Hubert will take up that point,” said Gervase. “Where is your proof?” demanded Hamo.
“The burden of proof is upon you, my lord,” said Hubert at his most stern and fearless. “When charges are levelled against you by royal commissioners, it is incumbent on you to answer them. We are not on trial here-you are. I realise that you are not closely acquainted with the law, because you have broken it in a hundred different ways …” He paused to allow the general laughter free rein. “… but it does impose a strict code of behaviour on you. We ask the questions. You will answer. As and when directed.”
“This idiot will keep us here all day!” moaned Hamo. “Are you referring to me?” said the indignant Hubert.
“No,” said Jocelyn, seeing the chance he wanted. He had come to demonstrate his skills and not just to sit there with his father’s helmet on his lap. His voice rang out. “You must forgive my father. He is anxious to continue the search for my brother’s killer. Beside that outrage, these claims of yours are petty and absurd. They can be dealt with very quickly.”
“I beg leave to doubt that,” warned Hubert. “Let us take the first charge in your list.” “We intend to.”
“It concerns the annexation of three hides of land formerly owned by Robert of Verly,” said Jocelyn without even referring to his documents. “We can refute this insulting allegation at once. That property was not annexed at all. It was given to us by deed of gift.”
“It is still held by Robert of Verly’s subtenant.”
“Produce him and he will swear in our favour.”
“I am sure that he would,” agreed Hubert. “Under duress. Fear will make a man swear to anything and we have found a lot of fear in Maldon. But we do not need to rely upon the testimony of a subtenant when we have the charter that originally granted this land to Robert of Verly.”
“Show it to us,” challenged Jocelyn. “If you can!” said Hamo with a grin.
“Give us a sight of this famous document.”
“We will.”
Canon Hubert picked up the rolls of parchment that lay scattered before him and pretended to search through them. He nudged Brother Simon and the two of them hunted for the relevant charter with increasing dismay. Hamo was now chuckling aloud and Fulk sniggered but Jocelyn retained his poise. He was growing into his role with every second and determined to make his impact felt. Disappointment and discontent spread through the hall. They had come to see the ravens of Blackwater caged by the law, not to be set free with even more ravenous appetites. Obviously, the charter could not be found. The hunt became more frenetic.
Jocelyn leaned forward with a smile of polite mockery.
“Would you like us to help you in the search?”
“There is no need,” said Gervase Bret, bringing a sheet of parchment from the satchel that lay at his feet. “I have the appropriate charter here.”
“But that is impossible!” exclaimed Jocelyn. “Examine it if you doubt its authenticity.”
“It bears the royal seal,” indicated Canon Hubert. “We were given it by Robert of Verly himself.”
“Step forward and see it for yourselves,” said Gervase.
“Yes,” added Ralph with a smirk. “Compare it with the version that you carry in your own satchel. I think you will find that they match each other word for word. But we have the genuine charter and not the clever forgery.”
Hamo stirred, Jocelyn blanched, and Fulk began to stammer. All three of them swung round to search the ranks of faces behind them for the one that had so comprehensively betrayed them. Gilbert Champeney stood up obligingly and gave them a cheerful wave. Instead of stealing documents from the commissioners, he had been working in collusion with them. Hamo FitzCorbucion was caught in a trap from which even his son could not rescue him and it made him seethe with fury.
“Forgive the delay,” said Canon Hubert, taking control once more. “Here is the charter, as you may see. We have documentary proof of every illegality that has taken place and sworn statements to support
them. Twenty years of theft and fraud have been uncovered here and it will take time to go through each instance. Bear with us while we do so and a great oppression will be lifted from this town.” He used his pulpit voice. “Good always triumphs over evil in the end.”
A cheer went up and Canon Hubert acknowledged it with a lordly smile. He performed best before an audience and felt he had been right to allow the public into the session. Hamo was now impaled by the law in front of him. It was time to exact full and uncompromising punishment.
“To return to the first charge …”
“No!”
Hamo jumped to his feet, pulled out his sword, and used it to sweep all the charters from the table. He was not going to sit there quietly and listen to the catalogue of his crimes. He would do what he had always done and fight his way out of trouble. Turning on the audience, he swung his sword in a circle above his head.
“Out of my way!” he yelled. “I’ll kill the first man who dares to block my path!”
Panic ensued. Benches were knocked over, heads cracked, and bodies sent flying. Everyone fought to get out of his way. A gap opened up down the centre of the hall and Hamo stalked up it with his weapon still flailing. No man was brave enough to stand in his way.
“Stop!”
A boy of fifteen had all the courage that was needed. He dropped onto the floor from the rafters and held up his sword. Hamo halted in astonishment then let out a bellow of rage as he recognised the sturdy figure who confronted him.
“Wistan!”
“Yes,” said the boy proudly. “Son of Algar.” “Wistan!”
The swords clashed immediately. Hamo saw the killer of his son and Wistan saw his father’s persecutor. As the metal clanged and the bodies grappled, everyone else pushed away in blind terror. Ralph Delchard tried in vain to get to the combatants to separate them but even his strength could not force a path through the swirling crowd. The fight, in any case, was soon over. Wistan had youth on his side and a burning need for revenge but they were not enough to overcome the skills of a veteran soldier. Hamo held the boy in a grip of steel, spat in his face, twisted the sword from his hand, then flung him to the floor. The boy lay spread-eagled helplessly as Hamo lifted his sword in both hands in order to jab it down with full force into his chest. But the weapon never reached its target.