‘If only that were true!’
‘It is true,’ he announced. ‘Hermer was murdered two days ago.’
Olova was stunned. The change in her manner was dramatic. All the anger seemed to drain out of her face and the cold eyes lit up with sudden hope. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she clutched her hands to her breast.
‘Thank God!’ she exclaimed, looking upward. ‘Our prayers have been answered.’
Chapter Seven
Progress was slower than Ralph Delchard expected. After riding at a steady pace from Norwich, he and his companions eventually came to broadland and were obliged to follow a tortuous track that snaked its way between the recurring expanses of water. Sheep held sway on the marshes, looking up with dull unconcern as the travellers passed before returning to the important task of foraging for grass. Salt pans appeared from time to time and the occasional windmill waved its sails at them in the stiff breeze. One of the lakes was so large that they wondered if they had reached the coast, but dry land stretched out on the far side of it. Men were busy in the freshwater fisheries. A lone thatcher was spotted, gathering a supply of reeds. Birds dipped, wheeled or waded in the shallows. Gilded by the sun, it was a tranquil scene but it merely served to irritate Ralph.
‘I’ve never seen so much water,’ he complained. ‘It would be quicker for us to swim there than ride on horseback.’
‘The site was chosen with a purpose, my lord,’ said Brother Daniel.
‘Yes — to annoy me.’
‘The abbey was founded long before you were born. King Cnut deliberately had it built in a remote spot so that the monks would be free from interruption and isolated from the temptations of the world.’
‘There aren’t many temptations here,’ said Ralph, looking around. ‘Unless you want to chase sheep or catch one of those wading birds. Why should anyone want to live in such a place? What do the monks do all day, Brother Daniel?’
‘Serve God, my lord.’
‘In this wilderness?’
‘An ideal place for contemplation.’
‘All that I wish to contemplate is the abbey itself. This ride has left me hungry. I hope that the abbot’s larder is well stocked. I’m in need of refreshment.’
Ralph and Brother Daniel were riding beside each other. The monk was an indifferent horseman but he clung on bravely and ignored the pounding on his buttocks. Behind them, the six knights rode in pairs, their harness jingling as they trotted briskly along, their profiles mirrored in the water that stretched out all around them.
‘How many of these ponds are there?’ said Ralph in exasperation. ‘I’d have thought that God would have grown tired of making them in such profusion.’
‘I’m not sure that they’re natural, my lord.’
‘What else can they be, Brother Daniel?’
‘Peat was dug here for centuries,’ said the monk. ‘I’ll wager that’s how most of these smaller depressions were created. Over the years, water rose to fill them and this is the result. Ponds and lakes in abundance. Broadland has a strange beauty.’
‘Not to my eye.’
‘I could enjoy living here, my lord.’
‘Even in winter?’
‘Especially then.’
Ralph shivered at the thought. Brother Daniel was a jovial ascetic. Much as he liked living within the enclave at Winchester, he found the Norfolk broads full of appeal. He was unworried by the fact that the area would be exposed to the extremes of climate. That was part of its attraction. To suffer in the service of the Almighty was a form of joy.
‘There it is!’ he said, pointing excitedly.
‘At last!’ sighed Ralph.
‘It can’t be more than a mile or two now, my lord.’
‘Even less if you could arrange for us to walk on water.’
Daniel laughed. He had recovered from the shock of finding the dead body near the castle and was ready to lend his assistance in the murder inquiry. A visit to the abbey of St Benet at Holme was an incidental bonus to him. When he took the cowl, he never expected to leave the cloistered world of Winchester, still less to see a distant monastic house about which he had heard so much. His curiosity would now be satisfied. More to the point, crucial information might be gleaned about the theft of the gold elephants.
The abbey was constructed in the shape decreed by tradition. Occupying pride of place, the church looked down on all the other buildings that had grown up around it. Chapter house, cloisters, kitchen, refectory, cellarium, rere-dorter, infirmary and warming room were arranged to best advantage. Bakehouse and brewhouse were kept in regular use. The large gardens were tended with care by monks who subsisted on what they could grow. Holy brothers whose life in the Benedictine Order had run its full course now rested in the cemetery. When the visitors arrived, the hospitaller came shuffling out of the main gate to welcome them and to learn their business.
While the men-at-arms were given refreshment, Ralph and Brother Daniel were conducted to the abbot’s lodgings, which were above the cellar and next to the chapel. The monk who escorted them went into the private chamber alone to announce their arrival. Reappearing almost at once, he beckoned them inside before taking his leave. The visitors found themselves in a large room with few concessions to comfort or decoration. Seated behind the table and below the crucifix on the wall was Abbot Alfwold, a frail old man with a silver tonsure around his gleaming skull. His face was emaciated. Bared in a smile of welcome, his teeth were chiselled and discoloured by time. Alfwold set aside the Bible he had been studying to rise to his feet.
Introductions were made in French but the old man then spoke to Brother Daniel in Latin. Ralph refused to be excluded from the conversation and used the tongue that he had learned from his wife. Alfwold was pleasantly surprised.
‘Few Normans have mastered the intricacies of our language,’ he said, lapsing into it himself. ‘You’re to be congratulated, my lord.’
‘My wife is a Saxon. She taught me well.’
‘Then your union is clearly blessed.’
Ralph held back the ribald rejoinder that immediately came to mind. He and Daniel were waved to a bench and their host lowered himself carefully back into his chair. Before he could disclose the purpose of their visit, Ralph heard a tap on the door and looked up to see a tray of food being brought in by a young monk who placed it respectfully on the table. Wine was served to Ralph but Daniel preferred a cup of ale. Both men were grateful to chew the cakes that were offered. When the young monk withdrew, Alfwold sat back and appraised his visitors.
‘What do you think of the abbey of St Benet?’ he asked.
‘Inspiring, Father Abbot,’ said Daniel. ‘Truly inspiring.’
‘It lacks the grandeur of Winchester but it has other virtues.’
‘I’ve just eaten one of them,’ said Ralph, before washing down the cake with a sip of wine. ‘This is self-denial indeed. Living in a stone citadel, miles from anywhere.’
‘Isolation is vital, my lord.’
‘It wouldn’t suit me, Father Abbot. If I’m isolated from my dear wife for one night, I feel lonely and deprived. And I could never live so close to water.’
‘It supplies fish and attracts all manner of birds. When you come to know it, you realise that Holme is a species of paradise.’
‘Save your breath, Father Abbot,’ said Ralph, genially. ‘You’ll not persuade me to take the cowl, whatever attractions your abbey may offer. I’m too besmirched by sin to move in the direction of sainthood.’
Daniel’s grin was immediately vanquished by a reproachful glance from Alfwold. ‘This is not a chance visit, I take it?’ said the abbot.
‘Certainly not,’ said Ralph, candidly. ‘Only a very good reason would make me ride through that endless broadland.’
‘What is that reason, my lord?’
‘The theft of two miniature gold elephants.’