“He could see with both eyes then.”
The grin remained on their visitor’s face as he went out. Gervase was disappointed. Though he and Ralph applied pressure on the witness, it did not have the desired effect. Nigel Arbarbonel was too composed and well-defended to give anything away. Frustration made Gervase click his tongue.
“I am sure that he is lying,” he said.
“So am I,” said Ralph, “but how do we prove it?”
“By gathering more evidence.”
“Where?”
“In the land under dispute, if need be. It may be the only way to grapple with this case.”
Ralph shook his head. “Time is against us, Gervase. This is only the first of a number of claims into which we must look. If we ride out to view the property in question each time, we will be stuck in Yorkshire for months!”
“This dispute merits special attention.”
“Because of Inga?”
“No, Ralph.”
“I think that you are falling in love with the girl.”
“That is absurd.”
“Is it? If I did not have my dear Golde beside me, I would be tempted myself. Inga certainly merits special attention.”
“I am only concerned with her testimony,” said Gervase. “And with that of my lord Nigel. Why did he confront us in person when he might so easily have let his reeve speak on his behalf? Why did he wish to have the dispute resolved so quickly? Why try to woo us with a show of assistance?”
“I do not know,” conceded Ralph. “I do not trust him, but no more do I trust Inga and her mother. They made some wild accusations. Nigel Arbarbonel does not resemble in any way the ugly portrait they drew of him.”
“We shall see.”
“What next?”
“We need to pick our way more carefully through this sheaf of documents from my lord Nigel. There is something I have missed here, I feel certain.”
“I leave that task to you, Gervase. I would not know what to look for and my Latin would be woefully unequal to the demands made upon it.
And when you have finished?”
“I need to speak with Inga once more.”
“Ah!” teased Ralph. “So she has touched off a spark in you.”
“It is not like that,” said Gervase. “She is a witness in a dispute and nothing more. But there is something that I must tell her.” Ralph’s rich chuckle threw him even more on the defensive. “I must remind her that the burden of proof lies on her mother. If they are to win this dispute, they must produce the documents that they claim to have.”
“Otherwise, Nigel Arbarbonel retains that land.”
“Quite so.”
A discreet cough turned their heads towards Brother Francis. He had been so quiet and unobtrusive that they had completely forgotten he was there.
“Will you require my services again today?” he asked.
“Not for some time,” said Ralph.
“Then I will withdraw, my lord.”
“Please do, Brother Francis. You have earned a rest.”
The monk beamed. “It has been an education to me.”
“You bore up well in the presence of women. Brother Simon would have been reduced to a quivering wreck. He prefers the safety of the cloister.”
“It has its compensations, my lord.” He padded towards the door.
“You know where to reach me. Farewell.”
Golde was finding life at the castle increasingly irksome. There was nowhere in the building where she could feel completely at ease. If she went to the solar, she was met by the unwelcoming smile of Herleve.
If she strolled in the courtyard, she was the target of lustful comments from the soldiers. If she stayed in her apartment, she was bored. When she ventured down to peer through the lions’ cage, she only sent Romulus and Remus into a frenzy of snarling.
Her growing discomfort made her ask herself what exactly she was doing at the castle. She loved Ralph enough to follow him anywhere but events had forced her to view their relationship through the eyes of others. The romantic glow in which she had abandoned her home in Hereford had faded to a dim flicker in York. Proud to be his lover, she resented being seen as Ralph’s mistress. When she looked into the unforgiving face of Herleve, she was made to feel that she was no more than his whore. It was humiliating.
Golde was distressed. Leaving her house, her occupation and her sister had not been done on impulse. She had given her decision great thought. Her Christian upbringing taxed her conscience sorely and her strong ties with Hereford provided further resistance. Yet she left.
When Ralph asked her to go with him, making no promise of marriage or, indeed, of anything else, Golde had accepted his invitation because it contained both rescue and hope for her. They were delightfully happy when alone together but a dark shadow was now falling across that happiness. As she sat brooding in her apartment, Golde began to wonder if their love would be resilient enough to survive what might well be a lengthy stay in York.
Unable to relax, she adjourned to the one place in the castle that offered peace and seclusion. The chapel was empty. Its very coldness was a source of refreshment to her. Kneeling at the altar rail, she offered up a silent prayer and asked for guidance. No answer came but her mind slowly began to clear. She was able to consider her situation in a more honest and objective light. What was her moral duty? What were her true feelings for the man with whom she shared her life? Where did her future lie? She remained on her knees for a long time. Golde was still trying to reconcile conflicting values when a figure crept up behind her.
Ralph had returned briefly to the castle. Finding her in the chapel, he was struck by her attitude of submission and by the deep concen-tration on her face. Without saying a word, he moved forward to kneel beside her and took her hand gently between his own. Golde did not need to open her eyes. She knew that it was him and drew immense strength from his proximity. Ralph, too, was touched. A wayward Christian, he yet sensed the true power of spiritual commitment in the tiny chapel. He also felt closer than ever before to Golde.
Whatever disapproval they might meet, whatever sneers they might hear, whatever obstacles they encountered, they would not be separated from each other. That certainty now united them. In their hearts and, at that precise moment, in the sight of the Almighty, they were conjoined as firmly as any husband and wife. Golde’s doubts fled. She would withstand anything to be with Ralph Delchard. Reading her thoughts, he squeezed her hand softly in reciprocation.
They remained side by side in perfect union. It was a scene at once so solemn and so joyful that even the watching Herleve was moved.
She stole quietly away.
Tanchelm of Ghent more than proved his worth in the shire hall that afternoon. Not only did he ask searching questions of evasive witnesses, he also acted as an intermediary between Canon Hubert and those who could understand only the Saxon tongue. Gervase Bret’s customary role of interpreter was taken over by Tanchelm, whose command of languages was impressive. He was even able to converse freely in Latin with his two colleagues.
Brother Simon was suffused with admiration for the new commissioner, and Hubert came to rely more and more on the timely interventions of the Fleming. Only one small doubt lingered in the canon’s mind. He wondered why Tanchelm was so keen to question certain witnesses and he had the occasional feeling that their answers were not translated back to him in full. While functioning as a commissioner, Tanchelm of Ghent seemed to be conducting a supplementary inquiry of his own.
As another dispute was resolved, Hubert turned to him.
“You have missed your vocation, my lord,” he said.
“Have I?”
“Instead of being a soldier, you should have taken to the law. You are a born interrogator.”
“I could never match your expertise, Canon Hubert.”
“Thank you,” said the other, basking in the flattery but not allowing it to deflect him. “Why did you ask that last witness about Olaf Evil Child?”