‘Unhappily, yes.’
‘I will feel contaminated to be in the same room as him.’
‘I feel appalled to be in the same county. Yet,’ added Hubert with a wheezing practicality, ‘we must respect his position. Hugh d’Avranches is more than merely an earl. Cheshire is a county palatinate. King William has no land under his direct control here. To all intents and purposes, Earl Hugh is king. He is a law unto himself.’
‘Will he accept the authority of royal commissioners?’
‘He must, Brother Simon.’
‘And if he does not?’
Canon Hubert displayed his most ecclesiastical scowl.
‘Then we have all made a very long journey in vain!’
The riders ahead of them came to a sudden halt and Hubert had to tug on the reins to prevent his donkey from colliding with the rump of a bay destrier. Simon brought his straggly mare to a standstill and feared the worst.
‘Is there trouble up ahead?’ he wondered nervously.
‘We are well protected, Brother Simon.’
‘The countryside is crawling with outlaws.’
‘That’s why we brought such a sizeable escort with us. I am sure there is an explanation for this pause.’
Gervase Bret’s horse came trotting back towards them.
‘We have decided to break the journey here,’ he said. ‘It will give everyone a chance to stretch their legs before the last few miles to Chester.’
Most of the riders were already dismounting. Tethering their horses, they took advantage of the stop to satisfy the wants of nature among the trees. Canon Hubert rolled off his braying donkey and tied the animal to a bush.
‘Brother Simon and I are deeply disturbed,’ he confided.
‘About what?’ asked Gervase.
‘The character of Hugh d’Avranches, Earl of Chester.’
Gervase shrugged. ‘He is no saint, certainly, but he has served the King exceedingly well. North Wales has been quiescent since Earl Hugh inherited the earldom. He rules the border with a strong hand.’
‘We have no complaint about his military exploits,’ said Hubert with a sniff. ‘It is to the other activities to which he puts that strong hand that we take exception.’
‘The earl’s private life is his own.’
‘Even when it spills so outrageously into the public arena?
Come, Gervase, you must have heard the gossip.’
‘Heard it and disregarded it, Canon Hubert.’
‘How can one disregard such villainy?’
‘We are not here to make moral judgements about Earl Hugh,’
observed Gervase quietly. ‘Our task is simply to determine who owns what land in this county and how much tax they should pay on it.’
‘It is not as straightforward as that,’ said Simon, as he dropped from the saddle with astonishing nimbleness. ‘We are not able to separate Earl Hugh from his actions.’
‘Indeed, we are not,’ boomed his companion. ‘Actions, may I remind you, Gervase, have consequences. In the case of the Earl of Chester, those consequences are all too apparent. He has populated the whole county with his illicit progeny. I was expecting to see their faces peep out from behind every hedge.’
He raised a homiletic finger. ‘More to the point, he has misappropriated land on a vast scale and the major victim has been Bishop Robert.’
‘Earl Hugh is not directly concerned in any of the cases that will come before us,’ noted Gervase. ‘If he were, then we would not be able to accept his hospitality at the castle. Show me where his name appears in our documentation.’
‘It does not,’ confirmed Simon.
‘Exactly!’
‘I have been through every inch of those documents.’
‘Earl Hugh is far too cunning to be caught working his wickedness directly,’ said Hubert with vehemence. ‘He uses others as the instruments of his evil will. They bear the blame while he pockets the benefits.’
‘That is only your supposition, Canon Hubert.’
‘I feel it in my bones, Gervase.’
‘We need a more reliable test than that.’
‘My instincts are never wrong.’
‘Until now,’ said Gervase, gently, ‘your instincts led you unswervingly along the path of justice and truth. In the past, you would neither prejudge someone you had not met nor reach hasty decisions about a case without sifting all the evidence very carefully.’
‘The evidence here is overwhelming, Gervase.’
‘Everyone deserves a fair hearing.’
Canon Hubert bit back a reply and nodded soulfully.
‘I am properly rebuked,’ he admitted. ‘You are correct. I should not condemn a man solely on the basis of common report.
Reputation can often distort the truth. Look at King William.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Simon, ‘he has a fearful reputation.’
‘Those of us privileged enough to get close to him have been able to appreciate his finer qualities. Earl Hugh may yet turn out to have some redeeming features.’ His voice hardened. ‘Though I harbour grave doubts on that score.’
‘Suspend your judgement,’ suggested Gervase.
‘I will try.’
‘We must be strictly impartial.’
‘You will not find me wanting.’
‘I am sure we will not,’ said Gervase. ‘You understand the implications of our work better than any of us.’
‘That is so true!’ chimed in Simon with an admiring glance at his colleague. ‘Canon Hubert is an exemplary arbiter.’
‘He is, Brother Simon. And his even-handedness was never more in demand. Almost every case which comes before us sets Church against State. We must show favour to neither side.’
‘It would never cross my mind to do so,’ asserted Hubert.
‘Quite so,’ said Gervase.
‘I judge every dispute on its individual merits.’
‘So do we all.’
‘This assignment will be no different from any other.’
‘No different, Canon Hubert.’
‘My integrity speaks for itself.’
‘Loud and clear!’ declared Simon.
Hubert basked in the unquestioning reverence of the scribe for a full minute before a tiny crack appeared in the facade of his impartiality. His eyes rolled and his cheeks inflated.
‘I am prejudiced against no man,’ he remarked with an upward tilt of his chin, ‘but I will not be seen to approve of drunkenness and debauchery. It is a mockery of all Christian precept. I condemn the earl’s behaviour.’
‘Robert de Limesey is not entirely without fault,’ said Gervase softly. ‘Even bishops go astray at times.’
‘Bishop Robert is above reproach. His name has no place in this discussion, Gervase, and I am disappointed that you strive to bring it in. All things are relative,’ continued Hubert as if addressing a larger congregation than two people from his woodland pulpit. ‘Place the two men side by side and you see what so dramatically divides them.’
‘What?’ asked an open-mouthed Simon.
‘Self-respect. Earl Hugh is sadly deficient. He lacks even a vestige of self-respect or he would not indulge so openly in licentious behaviour.’ The finger came into play again. ‘Compared with him — whatever minor indiscretions the bishop may have committed in the past — Robert de Limesey is an archangel.’
Robert de Limesey, Bishop of Chester, was a tall, thin, stately man of middle years with an odour of sanctity about him that was intermingled with a whiff of distant scandal. As he sat at the table with his Bible open before him, he wore the saturnine expression of someone who was not entirely content with his lot yet was unable substantially to improve it. There was an air of resignation in the sag of his shoulders. He stared at Holy Writ through lacklustre eyes. For once in his life, the Revealed Word failed to restore his spirits and provide sure guidance.
There was a polite tap on the door, then it swung back on its hinges. The bishop did not even look up when a short, stout, red-faced man in his thirties padded in to stand before him.
Archdeacon Frodo waited in patient silence until Robert deigned to notice him. An obedient little smile lit up the archdeacon’s chubby countenance.
‘Well?’ said the bishop.
‘You asked to hear news of their approach, your grace.’