‘How much longer until dawn?’ moaned the other.
‘Hours,’ said the watchful one.
‘I hate sentry duty, even in summer.’
‘Do not let the lord Henry hear you say that. He believes that it is good for discipline and does wonders for the soul.’
‘Why is he not out here with us then?’
‘There is an easy answer to that.’
‘Yes, he lies abed with the lady Adela and-’
‘Stay!’ interrupted the other.
He stepped quickly outside and scanned the bailey. His friend followed him out. It was as dark and deserted as ever.
‘I thought I saw a figure moving across the grass,’ said the first guard. ‘There is nobody there now.’
‘Perhaps you saw a ghost.’
‘I thought it might be that lunatic monk.’
‘Brother Benedict?’
‘He goes to the chapel at all hours of the night. It may have been him. Or nobody at all. Fancy sometimes plays tricks with my eyes. Let us go back inside away from this wind.’
They stepped back into the guardhouse but their respite did not last long. The sound of a loud splash made them start. It was as if something very heavy had dropped into the river outside.
One of them took a torch from its holder and they scrambled up the steps to the rampart. Looking over the wall, they stared down at the water, convinced that someone had jumped from the castle into the river.
‘Call the others,’ said the man with the torch.
‘Who but a madman would go swimming in this weather?’
‘We will find out. Call them. I will open the gate.’
More men were summoned and extra torches were brought.
They went running through the gate and over the bridge to the other side of the river, moving along the bank to see if anyone was trying to clamber up it. An uneventful night had at last delivered some interest for them. They were so caught up in the excitement of their search that they did not see the burly figure who stole out through the open gate, crossed the bridge and trotted off in the opposite direction.
Boio was soon swallowed up in the blackness of the night.
Chapter Nine
Gervase Bret was in the chapel when he heard the commotion.
During his time as a novice at Eltham Abbey, the habit of prayer had been firmly inculcated in him and, though he had chosen not to take the cowl, preferring instead a secular existence which permitted such delights as marriage and freedom of movement, he remained regular in his devotions. He was not alone as he kneeled before the altar. Brother Benedict, who seemed almost to have taken up residence in the chapel since their arrival at the castle, was also there, lying prostrate on the cold paving stones in an attitude of complete abnegation. When the noise filtered in from the bailey, Gervase heard it at once but the monk seemed beyond reach, lost in communion with his Maker and impervious to any sound but that which would signal the end of the world.
When Gervase went out of the door the full clamour hit him.
The whole bailey seemed to be alive. Voices yelled, soldiers ran to and fro, horses were brought from the stables, hounds were loosed from the kennels and the castle gates were being flung wide open to allow a mass exodus. Standing in the middle of it all, imposing order on the chaos, was the tall figure of Henry Beaumont, wearing helm and hauberk and directing operations with a brandished sword. He barked commands at Richard the Hunter, who nodded obediently and ran to his horse. Gervase was baffled. Something more than a day’s hunting was afoot.
Dodging a troop of riders, he hurried across to the constable.
‘What has happened, my lord?’ he said.
‘The prisoner has escaped!’ hissed the other.
‘Boio?’
‘He got out of the dungeons in the night and made off.’
‘But how?’ said Gervase. ‘Was he not closely guarded?’
‘He should have been!’
‘And securely locked in his cell?’
‘One of the guards on duty last night saw fit to leave his post,’
growled Henry, puce with rage. ‘He will not do that again! While one guard was away the other was tricked into opening the cell door.’
‘What did Boio do?’
‘Overpowered him then left him bound and gagged.’
‘But how can that be, my lord? The prisoner was shackled.
Brother Benedict was shocked when he saw the way you had him chained up.’
‘And rightly so! He is a dangerous felon.’
‘Hobbled by those fetters, he would hardly be able to move.’
‘He had got free of them.’
‘Free?’
‘And from his manacles.’
‘Was the man’s strength so great?’
‘He did not tear his bonds asunder. A file was used.’
‘But how could he get hold of such a thing?’
‘That is what I wish to know,’ said Henry vengefully, ‘and the first person I will question is Brother Benedict.’
Gervase blenched. ‘You cannot suspect him, surely?’
‘I can and do, Master Bret.’
‘Benedict is a holy man.’
‘With foolish notions about the prisoner’s innocence. Apart from the guards he is the only person who went into that cell with Boio. The sleeves of his cowl would easily hold a file.’
‘You malign him, my lord.’
‘Who else could have helped the prisoner?’
‘I do not know.’
But even as he spoke, Gervase realised that there was another possibility. The image of Asmoth came into his mind, so anxious to do what she could for Boio that she had scoured the area to find someone to verify the existence of the stranger with the donkey who had called at the forge. Gervase recalled his own visit to the place. It was filled with tools and implements of all kinds and would certainly contain a file. The woman had walked through snow and sleet to bring her information to him. Gervase wondered if she also brought something else. His eye travelled across to the windows of the dungeons.
A howl of outrage took his attention back to the chapel. Two guards were holding Benedict and hurrying him across the bailey.
The monk was struggling to shake them off and invoking divine assistance. When they reached Henry, the men released the quivering monk.
‘We found him in the chapel, my lord,’ said one of the guards.
‘Yes!’ cried Benedict. ‘I was plucked rudely from my prayers. It is an act of sacrilege to lay rough hands upon a holy brother.
Why did you send these ruffians in search of me, my lord?’
‘Because you are under suspicion.’
‘Of what?’
‘Aiding the escape of the blacksmith.’
Benedict gaped. ‘Boio has escaped?’
‘Do not pretend to be so surprised.’
‘I am utterly astonished. No man could get out of that dungeon.’
‘Boio did — thanks to your help.’
‘All that I offered him was spiritual solace.’
‘You gave him the file which he used to get rid of his shackles,’
said Henry. ‘You helped to set a murderer at liberty.’
‘I did not. I swear it, my lord.’
‘Take him away!’
‘Wait!’ said Gervase. ‘Brother Benedict is innocent.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
Henry’s nod set the guards in motion. Ignoring the monk’s wild protests and taking a firm grip on his flailing arms, they marched him unceremoniously off in the direction of the dungeons.
‘He can enjoy the comforts of a cell himself,’ said Henry with a callous unconcern. ‘It will make him more penitent.’
‘You are making a grievous mistake, my lord,’ said Gervase.
‘My mistake was to let him visit the prisoner on his own.’
‘Benedict is a monk, devout and honest.’
‘I do not care if he is the Abbot of Westminster,’ snarled Henry.
‘No man works against me and escapes my ire. Benedict is lucky that I do not have him put in chains.’
‘But he is our scribe, my lord. We need him at the shire hall.’
‘He will remain in custody.’