‘So?’
‘Legal battles are not only won by clever advocacy,’ he said. ‘A wise disputant finds out as much as he can about the person who’ll challenge him before the judges. It’s a case of knowing your enemy. I suspect that you knew everything that could be known about Hermer the Steward.’
‘I did!’ she said, scowling darkly. ‘I knew him for the villain he was.’
‘What of Starculf?’
‘He’s not important here.’
‘But he is,’ insisted Gervase, seeing that she was holding something back. ‘If he was Hermer’s assistant, Starculf would have travelled with him. You might not have met him in person but I dare say you picked up what information you could about him. It would’ve been in your interests to do so.’
Olova went off into a rueful silence. Gervase turned to Eustace Coureton.
‘She won’t help us,’ he said, speaking in French. ‘She claims that she never met Starculf. I’m not sure that I believe her.’
‘Press her a little harder, Gervase.’
‘That’s not the way to get her on our side.’
‘No,’ sighed Coureton. ‘I suppose not. She’s a fiery character, isn’t she?’
‘Fiery and determined.’ He looked back at Olova and slipped back into her language. ‘My colleague was just saying that he has great sympathy for you.’
‘You’re lying,’ she said, crisply. ‘I’ve picked up enough French to guess at what he told you. Know your enemy. As you suspected, it’s advice that I took long ago. One way to know your enemy is to learn something of his language.’
‘I didn’t come here as an enemy.’
‘You’re a Norman.’
‘My mother was a Saxon like you, my father was a Breton.’
‘That makes no difference.’
‘I’m not your enemy.’
‘You’re in the pay of King William. What else can you be?’
‘Tell me about Starculf.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Because it might stand you in good stead when you come before us,’ he said, appealing to her self-interest. ‘Starculf was Hermer’s assistant but the two of them had an argument and Starculf was dismissed. Do you know what that argument was over?’
‘Ask the lord Richard.’
‘I have a feeling that you might know.’
Olova pondered. ‘All I can say is this,’ she volunteered at length. ‘Starculf was trained as a falconer but he had higher ambitions than that. He wanted to be the estate reeve like Hermer. Starculf worked himself into the lord Richard’s favour and was taken on as Hermer’s assistant. He was good at his job until the two fell out.’
‘Over what?’
‘I don’t know but I could hazard a guess.’
‘Money?’
‘No, Master Bret.’
‘Then what?’
‘Women. That was what interested Hermer most, as we discovered to our cost.’
‘In what way?’
‘That’s not important,’ she said, abruptly.
‘Why should Starculf argue with him over women?’
‘It’s just a guess, Master Bret.’
‘Based on your knowledge of Hermer. Do you know where Starculf is now?’
‘If he had any sense, he’d have fled the county.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the lord Richard doesn’t like people who let him down,’ she said with rancour. ‘He wouldn’t merely have dismissed Starculf. He’d have hounded him. Beaten him, probably.’ Her eyelids narrowed. ‘What’s your interest in the man?’
‘We’d like to talk to him about Hermer’s death.’
She went silent again and glowered at her two visitors. After collecting another meaningful look from Coureton, Gervase smiled at Olova and changed the subject. ‘I’m sorry if I said anything to offend you,’ he began. ‘A few more questions then we’ll be on our way again.’
‘You won’t be detained,’ she muttered.
‘Do you know the abbey of St Benet at Holme?’
‘Everyone in Norfolk knows it, Master Bret.’
‘Something was stolen from there recently. Something very valuable.’
She bridled instantly. ‘Are you accusing me?’
‘Of course not. I just wondered if you’d heard what was taken?’
‘Abbot Alfwold would hardly tell me.’
‘He might,’ said Gervase, remembering some details he had seen when going through the returns for the county. ‘Your late husband was a generous man. He endowed the abbey with land. You must have had dealings with the monks.’
‘That was many years ago.’
‘Isn’t the gossip from the abbey carried this far? If you and your husband took such an interest in the abbey, I’m surprised that you don’t at least keep in touch with it.’
Olova was trenchant. ‘My husband gave them land,’ she said, ‘but what good did it do us? When the Normans came and we fell on hard times, where was Abbot Alfwold? He turned his back on us like everyone else. My husband was a thegn,’ she said, her chin jutting out with pride. ‘Our house was much bigger and finer than this. We had land in four different hundreds in Norfolk. The abbey was glad of our friendship then. Not now, Master Bret.’
‘Shall I tell you what was stolen?’
‘I haven’t the slightest interest,’ she said, rising angrily to her feet. ‘To be honest, I don’t care if they lost all the valuables they possessed. Don’t ask me about the abbey. I don’t care if it got burned to the ground.’
Olova was so upset that further conversation with her was clearly pointless. After bidding her farewell, the visitors left the house and mounted their horses. Olova stood in the doorway and watched the little troop ride off. None of the men looked back. When they were out of sight of the old woman, Coureton reflected on their visit.
‘We learned something, anyway.’
‘Did we?’
‘Given the chance, Olova would’ve strangled Hermer with her bare hands.’
‘She was delighted when she heard about his murder, that was obvious. We brought some cheer to her house with that news. I just wish that she’d told us more about Starculf,’ said Gervase, thoughtfully. ‘I had a distinct feeling that she was hiding something from us.’
‘Is it worth talking to her again?’
‘No, my lord. We’d only be wasting our time.’
‘You’re probably right.’
‘The person I’d really like to question is that grandson of hers.’
‘Skalp. A surly fellow, if ever there was one.’
‘I didn’t see him when we left. Did you?’
‘How could I when he was hiding behind the hut.’
Gervase looked across at him. ‘Olova’s house?’
‘Didn’t you realise that?’ said Coureton. ‘He heard every word that was spoken.’
Brother Joseph was a tall, slender, lugubrious man in his fifties who seemed to be carrying all the cares of the world on his stooping shoulders. As the sacristan of the abbey, he was responsible for the safety of its valuables and he looked upon the theft of the miniature elephants as the grossest failure on his part. No sooner had he met Ralph Delchard than he was apologising to the commissioner for the loss of the treasures. The three men were in the abbey church. Hands fluttering like a pair of renegade doves, the sacristan was showing the visitors the table on which the elephants had been displayed along with the abbey’s extensive stock of gold plate.
‘I’ll never forgive myself,’ he wailed. ‘Abbot Alfwold assures me that it was not my fault but I believe that it was. I should have taken more care.’
‘Where are your valuables normally kept?’ asked Ralph.
‘In a locked chest.’
‘Is that where they spent the night in question?’
‘No, my lord,’ said Joseph. ‘To my eternal shame, I left them on this table.’
‘Had you ever done so before?’
‘Many times. The one place you do not expect theft is inside an abbey, especially one as remote as this. Don’t you agree, Brother Daniel?’
‘Yes,’ said the monk. ‘It’s the same at Winchester. Gold plate, sacred vessels and holy relics are frequently set out yet are never under the slightest threat.’
‘When did you become aware of the theft?’ said Ralph.
‘Not until after Prime.’
‘Wasn’t that rather late, Brother Joseph?’