“That is how it came to our notice.”
“We are very thankful. It shows that our journey to Beverley was not in vain.”
“Did you not then return to York?”
“It would have taken us out of our way,” she said. “We took ourselves home by another route and still have no idea why the reeve’s summons did not reach us when it should have.” She turned to Ralph. “I urge you to look into it.”
“Do not try to tell us our job.”
“It is a request and not a demand.”
“We will handle this case in our own way.”
“Then I have nothing more to add.”
“That still leaves the vexed question of documents,” said Gervase.
“Your father must have been able to prove his right and title to that land.”
“He was,” she affirmed.
“Then where are those charters now?”
Inga turned to her mother. The speed of the argument had left the older woman confused and her daughter had to explain the situation in her own tongue. Sunnifa and Brunn grew increasingly anxious.
Inga attempted to reassure them.
Gervase prompted her. “Well?”
“The charters are in existence,” she said, “but we do not have them in our possession at the moment.”
“Where are they?”
“We will bring them to you.”
“When?”
Sunnifa and Brunn looked forlorn but Inga drew herself up to her full height. Her voice had a confident ring.
“Soon.”
Canon Hubert was quick to realise his error of judgement. Tanchelm of Ghent was by no means the silent observer he had anticipated. The Fleming became too interested in the cases before them to stand completely apart from the proceedings in the shire hall and began to make comments of his own. Hubert clicked his tongue in disapproval at first but he came to see how pertinent Tanchelm’s questions were, putting more than one witness in difficulty and eliciting valuable information that might otherwise have remained hidden. Since the canon’s authority was in no way jeopardised by his colleague’s interventions, he began to encourage them.
As another case was dispatched, he turned to Tanchelm.
“Thank you for your assistance, my lord.”
“It was your interrogation that was decisive.”
“I sensed that the fellow was lying.”
“And I took my lead from you, Canon Hubert,” said Tanchelm. “That is why I pressed him so hard. Between us, we finally broke him.”
“Indeed we did. Though I do have a reservation.”
“Reservation?”
“Yes, my lord. At one point, you spoke to him in Danish.”
“That is the language he best understood.”
“But I did not understand it,” said Canon Hubert.
“No more did I,” added Brother Simon. “I could record nothing of what was said between the two of you because I have no command of that tongue.”
“I learned it from my wife. Marry a Danish woman and she will do the same for you, Brother Simon.”
“Never!” gasped the monk, blanching at the notion. “I prefer to remain ignorant of the language and isolated from females of every description. I embrace chastity.”
“It does you credit,” said Tanchelm without irony.
“Be more sparing in your use of Danish,” said Hubert pleasantly.
“That is all we ask, my lord.”
“I obey your instruction.”
“Thank you.”
Canon Hubert was content. He shuffled through the papers in front of him to see what their next case was. Dispensing summary justice was a source of great pleasure to him. He had the satisfaction of sitting in judgement on lesser mortals without having to get too embroiled in complex legal debate. Ralph Delchard’s absence was a double blessing.
It saved Hubert from the usual bickering with his fellow commissioner and enabled him to have the final word in each case. Piety and practicality informed his approach. A high moral framework and an almost saintly fair-mindedness were tempered by the need to move the business of the day along. Brother Simon was duly impressed.
“You have shown the wisdom of Solomon,” he said.
“I simply wield the sword of justice, Brother Simon.”
“With consummate skill.”
“The Lord guides my hand.”
“You are too modest, Canon Hubert,” said Tanchelm. “Take pride in your own abilities. Without your knowledge of law and understanding of human nature, we would still be toiling through the first case that came before us. Thanks to your adroit handling of affairs, we have already settled half a dozen disputes. I will sing your praises to Ralph Delchard.”
“That will be most gratifying, my lord.”
“My own contribution has been small, I know, but it is good to feel that church and state can work so effectively side by side.”
“Unhappily, that is not always so,” said Hubert with a sidelong glance at the adjacent building. “Some colleagues are not as amenable as yourself. However, we delay. Let us turn our attention to the next case. It concerns a dispute in the wapentake of Skyrack.”
Six of Tanchelm’s soldiers stood on duty at the rear of the shire hall.
Two of them were dispatched to bring in the people involved in the next case. Waiting for a fresh batch of witnesses, Hubert recalled the last who had stood before them. He turned to Tanchelm.
“What did you say to him, my lord?”
“To whom?”
“The man from Barkston Ash whom we examined even now. When you spoke in Danish, what did you ask him?”
Tanchelm of Ghent gave an enigmatic smile.
“Nothing of importance,” he said.
Intense discussion followed the departure of Inga, Sunnifa and Brunn the Priest. Their evidence had intrigued Gervase Bret but struck a different chord in Ralph Delchard. While the former believed that they had told the truth, the latter suspected that their stories were largely confected, especially as they could produce no written proof of their claims.
Nigel Arbarbonel himself had still to be questioned, and they would reserve their judgement until that examination had been completed, but their respective sympathies were already tipping in opposite directions.
Brother Francis preserved a tactful silence. Completely detached, his sole aim was to fulfill his duties as a scribe in a satisfactory way.
Ralph and Gervase were more than pleased with him. When they read through his record of what had so far transpired, they could see a penetrating mind behind the neat calligraphy. Brother Francis had missed nothing of significance in Inga’s impassioned testimony.
Before continuing, the commissioners elected to take a break for refreshment. Ralph went out with Brother Francis, and the men-at-arms also vacated the room. Gervase remained behind to clear up his papers and put them back into the satchel. When he was ready to leave, he was astonished to see Inga standing just inside the door.
There was a long pause. Some of her earlier confidence seemed to have drained away and there was a hint of apprehension in her eyes.
For the first time, Gervase saw how vulnerable she really was. His sympathy welled up.
“May I please speak with you?” she asked softly.
“Not if it concerns the dispute under consideration.”
“But there is something you must know.”
“You should have divulged it under oath when you had the opportunity.”
“And risk the scorn of your colleague?” she said with asperity. “You listened to what we said. He simply attacked our evidence.”
“My lord Ralph is a just man,” said Gervase firmly. “You will not find a more honest and impartial judge. It is his job to sift every allegation with care just as it is mine to support him. We may have a different approach but we seek the same end: to establish the true facts of every claim and to rectify any illegalities.”
“What are you telling me?”
“Do not try to advance your cause by seeking me out alone so that you may in some way influence me.”