Ralph backed off. ‘Accept my apologies,’ he said, penitently.
‘I’m not offended, my lord.’
‘You’ve every right to be. I should mind my own business.’
‘I’d agree with that,’ she said with a cold smile.’
‘You see? I did upset you.’
‘It will take a lot more than that to upset me.’
A servant came between them to refill her cup with wine. When the man stood back, Ralph saw that the lady Adelaide was talking deliberately to the man on her other side and he chided himself for being too inquisitive. He had learned something about her character but nothing at all about the competing claims of her two suitors. Ralph was still wondering which of the men would finally lure her into marriage when one of the contenders made a dramatic appearance.
Throwing open the door, a furious Richard de Fontenel came marching down the hall to stand accusingly in front of the sheriff. Servants froze in their positions and the buzz of conversation died instantly. Everyone turned to look at the enraged intruder. He gazed at the banquet with utter disgust before pointing directly at the host.
‘So this is where you are, my lord sheriff!’ he shouted. ‘My steward is savagely murdered and all you can do is fill your belly. Perform the office that’s required of you,’ he said, banging the table with a fist for emphasis. ‘Arrest the lord Mauger — now!’
The festivities were at an end.
Chapter Four
Covered with a shroud, the body lay on a stone slab in the morgue. Although it was a warm evening outside, there was an abiding chill in the air and Ralph Delchard gave a slight shiver as he followed the sheriff and his turbulent guest into the chamber. Richard de Fontenel was more restrained, cowed by a rebuke from Bigot and showing a respect for the dead now that he was on hallowed ground. Darkness was closing in on the castle and what little natural light penetrated the morgue was now spent. The dancing flame of a single large candle illumined the scene. Hermer somehow looked much smaller than when alive, a shapeless lump beneath the shroud. Herbs had been used to sweeten the smell of decay but it still invaded their nostrils. At the sheriff’s invitation, de Fontenel stepped forward to tug back the shroud. A gasp escaped his lips. The body had been washed and most of the wounds had been bound up, but the corpse was still repulsive to behold. After taking a quick inventory, de Fontenel covered his steward up again.
‘What happened to his hands?’ he asked.
‘They were not found with the body,’ said Bigot.
‘Hacked off?’
‘Presumably, my lord.’
‘But why?’
‘I was hoping that you might suggest an answer.’
‘It’s needless butchery.’
‘Can you think why someone would wish to commit it?’
‘You know what I think, my lord sheriff,’ growled the other.
He lifted the shroud again to take another look at Hermer’s face. Ralph studied his reaction. He and Gervase had visited the morgue earlier to scrutinise the body in the hope of finding that telltale evidence had been revealed by its tending. Neither of them had ever met the steward yet they treated his corpse with a reverence they felt appropriate. There was nothing reverent about de Fontenel’s perusal. As he gazed down at the bruised face for the second time, he might have been appraising some rotten food served up to him by mistake. Ralph saw no hint of grief, still less of affection. He was grateful that the sheriff had asked him to accompany them. It meant that he was able to lend support to his host and take the measure of a man whose extraordinary behaviour had interrupted the banquet in the hall. Richard de Fontenel did not endear himself to the commissioner.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ the visitor said, flicking the shroud back into place. ‘I’ve seen all that I need to of Hermer.’
‘What will you do with the body?’ said Bigot.
‘Take it back with us. My men have brought a cart for the purpose. Hermer will be buried in the local church. And soon,’ he added. ‘Before that stink grows worse.’
‘Death is never fragrant, my lord,’ observed Ralph.
Ignoring the remark, de Fontenel led the way out. When all three of them stepped back into the fresh air, they saw torches burning in the bailey. The last of the guests were leaving the castle. Roger Bigot now gave vent to his own anger.
‘I’ve indulged you far enough,’ he said, sharply. ‘It’s time for recompense.’
‘I owe you nothing, my lord sheriff.’
‘An apology is the least that you could offer,’ prompted Ralph.
The visitor rounded on him. ‘Who asked you for your opinion?’
‘Nobody. I offer it of my own free will.’
‘Then I treat your advice with the contempt it merits.’
‘Don’t insult my guest,’ warned Bigot. ‘I’ll have no more of that.’
‘Then tell the lord Ralph to hold his tongue.’
‘Tell me yourself,’ said Ralph, squaring up to him. ‘If you dare.’
‘I’d dare more than that,’ asserted de Fontenel, truculently.
‘Would you?’
Their eyes locked in a silent tussle. Richard de Fontenel was smouldering but caution slowly got the better of anger. Ralph’s stare was calm but steadfast, conveying a challenge that was too daunting for his adversary to take up. The fact that he was a royal commissioner also had to be weighed in the balance. If rough hands were laid upon his agent, the King himself would come in search of the malefactor. It was Richard de Fontenel who eventually gave way and averted his gaze. The sheriff issued a stinging reproach to his uninvited guest.
‘Take care, my lord,’ he said, confronting him. ‘Offend anyone else beneath my roof and you’ll pay dearly. The banquet you so rudely interrupted this evening was held in honour of important visitors. It was arranged days ago and could not be cancelled at the last moment because of a sad turn of events. No disrespect was being offered to your steward. As you saw, his body was treated with care and respect. Its very presence in the morgue ensured that little merriment took place in my hall this evening.’
‘I can vouch for that,’ Ralph confirmed.
‘There was no excuse at all for your boorish behaviour,’ continued Bigot, glaring at de Fontenel. ‘It disgusted me, upset my wife and outraged my guests. While I’m sheriff here, I’ll obey nobody’s wild demands. Mark that well, my lord. The next time you ride unbidden into my castle with a troop of men at your back, I’ll have each one of you clapped in irons. Is that understood?’
‘Yes,’ murmured the other.
‘Speak up, man!’
‘Yes, my lord sheriff. I was perhaps a little intemperate.’
‘Is that all you have to say?’
Richard de Fontenel shifted his feet and threw a hostile glance at Ralph, annoyed that he was being reprimanded in front of the commissioner and reluctant to yield up the apology that was being asked of him. Cold facts had to be accepted, however. In the county of Norfolk, the power of the sheriff was paramount. It was backed by the King’s own writ and it was fatal to violate that.
‘I crave your forgiveness, my lord sheriff,’ he said at length.
Bigot was brusque. ‘Some things are unpardonable.’
‘I was crazed by the news about my steward.’
‘That’s not how my deputy viewed your response. Olivier tells me that you seemed more concerned about the loss of your gold elephants than you did about the murder of your steward. Have you no loyalty to the men you employ?’
‘I’m their master,’ retorted the other. ‘It’s they who owe loyalty to me.’
‘What sort of man was Hermer?’ asked Ralph.
‘A good one until he was corrupted by Mauger.’
‘You’ve firm proof of that, my lord?’
‘I will have,’ vowed de Fontenel. ‘When I shake the truth out of him.’
‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,’ said Bigot, peremptorily. ‘The lord Mauger is under my protection. I’ll conduct any interrogation that is called for and I’ll do so at my own discretion. I’ll not be stampeded into action by you.’