‘Leave Idwal out of this,’ said Ralph. ‘Intelligencers are stealthy and no man has less stealth than our archdeacon. His idea of open warfare would be to talk us all to death. He is not the problem here.’
Simon trembled. ‘He is if you lodge under the same roof.’
‘No,’ said Ralph, warming to his subject, ‘the real source of interest is this Raoul Lambert.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Gervase. ‘I have been making a few inquiries about him. Everyone at the castle knew him. Honest, reliable, skilled at his trade. That is how most remember him.’
Ralph nodded. ‘That was Earl Hugh’s epitaph. According to him, Raoul Lambert was a man with no enemies.’
‘None within the city, perhaps,’ said Gervase, ‘but he may have been less popular on the Welsh border. It is a pity that he will not appear before us for examination. I would have pressed him to explain how his berewics increased steadily in size over the past couple of years.’
‘Unjust seizure!’ asserted Hubert. ‘This county has a deplorable record of it. And the worst culprit is Earl Hugh himself. Raoul Lambert was only following his example.’
‘There is certainly a curious bond between the two men,’ opined Ralph, ‘and it was not just a mutual interest in hunting. Did you discover what that bond was, Gervase?’
‘No, Ralph, but I did learn something else.’
‘From whom?’
‘The town reeve,’ said Gervase. ‘A most obliging fellow. I made a point of arriving here this morning early enough to talk at length with him. He is a fount of wisdom with regard to matters concerning Chester and its environs. He knew our huntsman and spoke well of him. Like everyone else, he was shocked to learn of the murder. Raoul Lambert will be mourned. But the reeve did recall certain events which may cast a slight shadow over Lambert’s reputation.’
‘Dark deeds in his past?’ said Ralph hopefully.
‘Not necessarily,’ warned Gervase. ‘He may be innocent of any involvement. The town reeve certainly thought so. This is what happened. Two of the berewics held by Raoul Lambert encroached on Welsh soil. In both instances, there was strong local resistance.’
‘What form did it take?’ asked Hubert.
‘Verbal abuse then threats of violence.’
‘How were the cases resolved?’
‘In the most abrupt way,’ explained Gervase. ‘One of the men who protested was drowned in mysterious circumstances in the River Gowy. There was talk of suicide.’
‘And the other case?’
‘The man whose land had been taken simply disappeared. He set off for Chester to register his protest with Earl Hugh and was never seen again. To this day, nobody quite knows what happened to him.’
‘Do you think that our huntsman did?’ said Ralph.
Gervase shrugged. ‘I am not sure. In both instances, he was the beneficiary. Protest was effectively stifled. There were vague rumours that he may have been implicated.’
‘Rumours prove nothing,’ Simon pointed out.
‘True,’ said Gervase. ‘At their best, they amount to hearsay evidence and that is notoriously unreliable. But I would say one thing. The elements which characterise the disputes in which Raoul Lambert was involved are repeated time and again in other cases that will come before us. It is almost as if he set a pattern for others to follow.’
‘Yet he was no baron of high rank,’ said Hubert, frankly bewildered. ‘How did he achieve such pre-eminence? What made this huntsman stand out above all others?’
‘Find that out,’ concluded Ralph, ‘and we will know why he was murdered in the Forest of Delamere.’
It was a simple funeral. Barely half a dozen people were gathered in the church to hear the white-haired Father Ernwin sing Mass for the souls of the departed. Most of the congregation were too stunned to listen to the words and none understood the melodious Latin. All that they knew was that two men were going into their grave before their time. The crude wooden coffins held mutilated bodies which bore vivid testimony to the ruthlessness of the Earl of Chester. That thought subdued all who were present.
Gytha sat on the front bench in the tiny nave, cradling her brother who was too frightened either to look or to listen. To comfort Beollan, she had to control her own grief and that required a supreme effort. It was only when the coffins were finally lowered into the ground and earth was tossed on to them that the loss of her father and elder brother hit her with its full impact. Her control suddenly vanished. She burst into tears, began to sway violently, lost her footing and all but fell into the grave after them.
It was Beollan who showed strength then, putting an arm round her to steady her and muttering words of comfort. Gytha slowly recovered. When the service was over, the ancient priest braved the long walk to escort them all the way back to the cottage and offered what little consolation he could. He promised to call again the next day to see how they were faring. Gytha and Beollan were left alone. An hour passed before either of them could even speak.
Gytha broached a subject which she had put aside after the discovery of the bodies in the ditch. It could not be ignored any longer.
‘Beollan.’
‘Yes?’ he murmured.
‘Tell me what really happened that day.’
‘I have, Gytha. I lost sight of them.’
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘That is not the truth. You are still hiding something from me. There will be no secrets in this house. I must know. Tell me everything. I am not going to blame you or chastise you.’
‘There is nothing to tell.’
‘Yes, there is. I saw you speak to Master Bret when he came to see us. You told him the truth. I could see it in his face. He knows what I have a right to know. I am your sister.’ She took him by the shoulders to stare deep into his eyes. ‘Why are you so guilty? What did you do that day?’
The memory brought tears to the boy’s eyes and he tried to turn away, but his sister was determined to wrest the truth from him. She held him firmly and saw his resistance fade.
‘What did you do, Beollan?’
‘I ran away,’ he whimpered.
‘When?’
‘When the earl’s hawk was killed. We were hiding in a ditch and I bolted like a coward.’
‘That was not cowardice.’
‘They were caught and I escaped, Gytha.’
‘I thank God for that small mercy!’ she sighed. ‘Think how much worse it would have been for me if all three of you had been captured. Your age would not have saved you, Beollan. You would have been hanged with them.’ She gave him a hug. ‘I love you and I do not blame you. God has spared you for a purpose. You were right to run.’
‘I feel so ashamed.’
‘There is no cause.’ She released her hold. ‘What else did you tell Master Bret?’
‘That I saw someone sneaking away in the forest.’
‘Sneaking away?’
‘Carrying a bow.’
‘The archer who shot that arrow!’ she decided. ‘He was the one who should have been hanged from that tree. Not Father and our dear brother Arkell. They were innocent. Master Bret will know that now. You were a witness.’
Beollan nodded and squeezed her arm affectionately. He had expected his sister to be angry with him, but she was instead kind and understanding. It made all the difference. He was closer to her than he had ever been before and felt able to part with one last secret.
‘There is something that I have not told anyone,’ he said.
Chapter Ten
Towards the end of another day, Robert de Limesey carried out his routine inspection of the work being done on his beloved cathedral. There was little perceptible change behind the scaffolding but he felt somehow reassured each time he visited the scene. It was heartening to reflect that while he was conducting services within the cathedral, a team of able men was improving the outer fabric of the building. The blessed time would come when the scaffolding was finally removed and the bishop could view the renovations in their full glory.