Three of us vote in favour of this plan to expedite matters, and Brother Simon, I am sure, will also see its essential wisdom.”
“Indeed I do, my lord,” said Simon, before quailing under a glare from Hubert and qualifying his comment. “Not that my opinion has any value here. I am but the humble scribe.”
Ralph smiled. “That still leaves three to one, Hubert.”
The canon squirmed visibly for a few minutes. He hated the feeling of being outmanoeuvred and of suffering even the most miniscule loss of authority. Unable to prevent the new dispensation, he was nevertheless determined to haggle over its constituent elements.
“So be it, my lord,” he said. “Gervase is our lawyer and I am the most skillful interrogator. It is thus appropriate for he and I to form the senior of the two teams and grapple with the intricate cases.
You and my lord Tanchelm will, I am sure, be capable of dispensing justice where the more trifling issues are at stake.”
Ralph glowered at the bland insult and framed a barbed reply but it was Gervase who answered for him.
“That may not be the best deployment of our strengths.”
“Then what is?” challenged Hubert.
“The most powerful advocate should sit with the least experienced,”
said Gervase persuasively. “If you and my lord Tanchelm join forces, he may follow where you lead.”
“Sound reasoning,” observed Tanchelm.
“Brother Simon would naturally act as your scribe,” continued Gervase, indicating the monk, “giving you another seasoned mind at your beck and call.”
Touched by a rare compliment, Simon acknowledged it with a little nod and positively glowed with satisfaction. Canon Hubert, meanwhile, was scrutinising the partnership that was being offered to him.
Tanchelm’s lack of experience was a severe handicap but it did have one major benefit. Much more responsibility would be shifted to Hubert’s shoulders, ensuring virtual control of events. He would lose Gervase’s legal expertise but he felt that his own thorough grounding in canon law would compensate for that loss, and at least he would not be sitting alongside the combative Ralph Delchard. Tanchelm of Ghent might turn out to be the ideal colleague.
“It is settled,” Hubert decided at length. “We will handle all matters of consequence while you, my lord, offer judgement on cases too trivial to tax your limited abilities.”
“My abilities are not limited!” retorted Ralph.
“They are best suited to the more undemanding cases.”
“Those are your province, Canon Hubert. It would be unfair to my lord Tanchelm to expose him to the full rigour of legal debate when he has only just been recruited to our cause.”
“I endorse that wholeheartedly,” said Tanchelm. “I am not proud. I do not insist on sounding the deeper waters. Put me on the side of simplicity. It is where I belong.”
“But not where I belong!” insisted Hubert.
The argument continued for the best part of an hour before the canon finally gave way to the weight of numbers. As a concession to him, Ralph allowed them to have the use of the shire hall while he and Gervase operated in the adjacent premises. Application would be made to the archbishop for someone who could act as scribe during the proceedings conducted by the two friends. The reeve was brought in and given separate lists of witnesses to be summoned for the following day. When the debate finally broke up, considerable progress had been made.
Canon Hubert departed in a huff towards the minster with Brother Simon padding at his heels and savouring the remark about his seasoned mind. Tanchelm of Ghent elected to explore the city while he had the opportunity, leaving Ralph and Gervase to ride back to the castle alone. Their horses picked their way through the milling crowd.
“I do not like him,” opined Ralph.
“You and Canon Hubert will never be soulmates, I fear.”
“I talk of Tanchelm, that devious Fleming.”
“I do not find him devious,” said Gervase in surprise. “He is the most open and straightforward of men. He has been nothing but a source of help since he joined us.”
“That is my main strike against him, Gervase. The fellow is too helpful. Too ready to defer to us. Too damned obliging.”
“I’d call that a virtue rather than a vice.”
“So would I with anyone else but this Tanchelm of Ghent.…” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Somehow I cannot bring myself to trust him.”
“Why not?”
“I do not know. It is just a feeling I have.”
“Are you sure?” said Gervase, fishing politely. “Could it not be just a case of pique?”
“Pique?”
“You were very annoyed last night when my lord Tanchelm tried to stop you from riding off in pursuit of those outlaws. He was not obliging then.”
“No, Gervase. He was an infernal nuisance.”
“Who made a sensible point. It was a wild-goose chase.”
“It need not have been if Tanchelm had not delayed me for those vital moments. We might have caught the rogues.”
Gervase was sceptical. “Might you?”
“No,” said Ralph after a considered pause. “We might not. It was an impulsive act. We were chasing moonbeams. Tanchelm gave wise counsel.” He inhaled deeply through his nose. “Perhaps I am mistaken about him. You like him. So does Golde. So does Aubrey, though he is something of a friend to all the world. And even Canon Hubert has been won over by our Fleming. Maybe that is the objection I have.
Tanchelm of Ghent is not a fellow Norman.”
“Nor am I,” reminded Gervase.
A hearty laugh. “You? You are just a mongrel.”
“My father was a Breton, my mother a Saxon.”
“A mongrel of mongrels!”
“Do not let Golde hear you. She might take offence.”
“Justly so,” said Ralph with a fond smile. “Golde has taught me to show more respect towards Saxons. She is a good influence on me, Gervase. I have learned tolerance. Henceforth, I’ll pour no mockery on your dear mother.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“I’ll save my contempt for your father.”
Gervase laughed. “Bretons are used to being undervalued by their neighbours in Normandy. But I ask you this. What hope would you have had at Hastings without an army of Bretons to help you? Not to mention the Flemings. My father was a mercenary in the pay of the Duke-so was Tanchelm of Ghent.”
“I had forgotten that. Something in Tanchelm’s favour at last. He is a soldier.” He turned his mind to a more pressing concern. “Enough of Bretons, Saxons and Flemings. All that I am really interested in at the moment is the Vikings.”
“Vikings?”
“One in particular. Olaf Evil Child.”
“Does that wound still smart so?”
“It opens afresh every time I think about that night. He stole our property, Gervase. I do not care how long it takes but one thing I have promised myself: before I leave York, I will come face-to-face with Olaf Evil Child.”
“Can we be sure that he was indeed the thief?”
“Aubrey was convinced of it.”
“He could have been mistaken.”
“I doubt it,” said Ralph. “He was reared as a soldier like me. He knows how to read the marks of an enemy. And he has lived in this city for many years now. If Aubrey tells me that I must search for Olaf Evil Child, then I will.”
“Our work here will leave you little time to do so.”
“I’ll contrive it somehow.”
They were over the bridge now and trotting towards the castle. When Ralph looked up at its wooden palisade, another memory nudged him.
He gave a quiet chuckle.
“Did you enjoy the banquet last night?” he asked.
“It was the best meal I have eaten in a year.”
“I’ll wager you’ve never feasted with lions before. Romulus and Remus.
What amazing beasts!”
“They were frightening, Ralph.”
“Yet as harmless as rabbits when Aubrey stroked them. I could not believe my eyes. If you or I had tried to fondle them, they’d have torn us to shreds.”