‘I certainly can’t be idle. As for the abbey, I think that Brother Daniel would be a more useful companion for you. I’ll ride with Gervase,’ he said, turning to his young colleague. ‘If you have no objection, that is?’
‘None whatsoever, my lord,’ replied Gervase. ‘You’ll be most welcome.’
‘Then it’s settled.’
‘Where does this lady live?’ said Ralph, hauling himself up into the saddle. ‘It may be that we can all ride part of the way together.’
Gervase shook his head. ‘No, Ralph. You ride north-eastwards while we strike due south into the Henstead hundred. That’s where we’ll find her.’
‘Remind me of her name.’
‘Olova.’
‘And you really think that she’s worth questioning?’
‘We won’t know until we get there.’
‘What do you know about this Olova?’
‘Very little beyond the fact that her land was annexed by the lord Richard. She spoke up well in the shire hall in front of our predecessors but the dispute could not be brought to a resolution.’ Gervase mounted his own horse. ‘Olova is clearly a lady who’s prepared to fight for her rights.’
‘To the extent of theft and murder?’ said Coureton.
‘I don’t know. It’s highly unlikely.’
‘Nothing is unlikely in Norfolk,’ complained Ralph. ‘Gold elephants that disappear, a steward who gets himself hacked to death, an uninvited guest who ruins a banquet at the castle, human hands that arrive in a wooden box. These seem to be normal events here. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Abbot Alfwold stole those two elephants in person, killed Hermer in the process, then threw Olova over his shoulder and carried her off to Holme to celebrate.’
‘That’s a blasphemous suggestion,’ said Daniel, suppressing a smile.
Attended by their escort, the four men were in the bailey, making preparations for their departure. Gervase had been told about the discovery made by Ralph when he called on the goldsmith and he, in turn, had confided his suspicions about Olova. Two new lines of inquiry had suddenly opened up and both had to be explored.
‘Don’t forget Starculf,’ Coureton reminded them. ‘His name has rather slipped out of our minds, but when all’s said and done, he’s the man who swore to get revenge.’
Ralph was sceptical. ‘I doubt if he’s still in the county.’
‘Yet he has to be our chief suspect.’
‘If the lord sheriff and his men can’t locate Starculf, how can we hope to do so?’
‘The same way that you and Gervase have discovered other things that have eluded the lord sheriff’s officers,’ said Coureton. ‘By instinct and vigilance.’
‘Ask after Starculf at the abbey,’ said Gervase.
‘Yes,’ agreed Brother Daniel. ‘It’s surprising how many missing persons are tracked down that way. An abbey is not just a place of worship and self-denial.’
‘Self-indulgence, more like!’ said Ralph. ‘I’ve seen the belly on Canon Hubert.’
‘It’s a refuge for travellers,’ continued Daniel, ignoring the goodhumoured interruption, ‘and, as such, a gathering-place for news. It’s amazing how much you get to hear if you stay in one place. That’s the case in Winchester and, I dare say, in Holme. We’ll make a point of mentioning Starculf’s name to Abbot Alfwold.’
‘We’ll do the same when we meet Olova,’ said Gervase. ‘Meanwhile, the lord sheriff can devote his time to keeping Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot apart.’
Coureton raised a finger. ‘Another name we mustn’t forget. The lord Mauger.’
‘He’s not the killer,’ said Ralph, seriously. ‘Gervase and I were agreed on that.’
‘He could be involved in some other way.’
‘I know and we’re bearing that in mind, my lord. We rule nothing out.’
‘This case gets more complicated by the minute.’
‘That’s what makes it so interesting,’ said Gervase. ‘But I’m sorry that you have to endure such a distraction from our work, my lord. You were appointed as our fellow-commissioner. It’s unfair to entangle you in a murder inquiry.’
‘Not at all!’ said Coureton robustly. ‘I relish the challenge.’
‘Then let’s take it up!’ announced Ralph.
He and Brother Daniel set off with half a dozen armed men as their escort. Accompanied by their own six soldiers, Gervase and Coureton followed them out through the castle gates. The two parties soon split to go their separate ways, Gervase pleased to be riding alongside the new commissioner. Eustace Coureton was turning out to be a more than adequate replacement for Canon Hubert. He brought an experience and sagacity that only old age could bestow yet it was allied to a youthful zest.
‘I never anticipated this much excitement,’ said Coureton, happily.
‘The real excitement will come if we manage to unmask the killer.’
‘We’ve already unmasked a thief, Gervase. The lord Richard himself.’
‘I can’t say that I’m surprised,’ observed the other. ‘Having read between the lines of the returns for this county, I suspect that Richard de Fontenel acquired very little by legal means. Why buy something when he could get away with theft? How he got the gold elephants from the abbey I don’t know, but I’m certain that he was behind the crime somehow. Ralph will tease out the truth, have no fear.’
‘I’ve every confidence in the lord Ralph but I have to admit that I prefer to be riding with you at the moment, Gervase.’
‘Why is that?’
‘You’re more receptive to the wisdom of ancient Rome.’
Gervase grinned. ‘Do you hear another whisper from Quintus Horatius Flaccus?’
‘I do, and it concerns the lord Richard.’
‘Well?’
‘ Vis consili expers mole ruit sua.’
‘“Force, if unassisted by judgement, collapses under its own weight.”’
‘A good translation, Gervase.’
‘And an accurate comment on Richard de Fontenel.’
The burial service was so short that it was almost perfunctory. Like everyone else in the tiny church, the old priest was unnerved by the presence of Richard de Fontenel and gabbled the Latin at speed in a high, quavering voice. A mere handful of mourners had turned up, men from the household who came out of duty rather than out of any respect or affection for the dead man. Hermer had made few friends on the estate and none of them were there to see his remains laid in the bare earth. Conscious of the violent manner in which he died, the small congregation watched it all with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation. They shed no tears for the murdered steward. What worried them were the repercussions that might follow. In a space as confined as that of the church, they could feel the growing discontent of their master as if it were a fire slowly building up.
Richard de Fontenel saw little and heard nothing of the service. What occupied his thoughts was the sight of the corpse inside the coffin, trussed up in a shroud with a severed hand resting each side of him. Uncertainty chafed him. He could not decide if Hermer was a loyal steward who died in his lord’s service or a traitor in the pay of a loathed rival. Whichever he was, the man had paid a fearsome price. When the coffin was taken out into the churchyard, the congregation formed a ragged circle around the grave. Mass was sung by the priest, then the mutilated body of Hermer the Steward was lowered into its final resting place. A fresh spasm of doubt seized de Fontenel. While he watched the earth drumming down on to the coffin, he wondered yet again if he was looking at a hapless victim or a man who had foolishly betrayed him.
As his anger swelled, he decided that there was only one way to find out the truth and that was to confront the man he believed to be responsible for the crimes. Revenge was a matter of honour. The theft of the gold elephants and the loss of his steward were bitter blows to sustain. He simply had to strike back. No help could be expected from Roger Bigot or from the royal commissioners who were assisting him. They had all been taken in by Mauger Livarot. Unaware of his true character, they had accepted his lies as a convincing alibi. That, at least, was what de Fontenel thought. He knew the passion that his rival had conceived for the lady Adelaide, a feeling surpassed in intensity only by his own. Such passion drove a man to any limits. It was, he sensed, the impulse behind Livarot’s actions. It was time to respond. Brutality had to be met with brutality. A funeral that left everyone else numbed into immobility only served to provoke him into life.