“No,” said Gervase, “you don’t.”
He met Ralph’s gaze without flinching. His friend soon relaxed again and punched him playfully on the shoulder. He pretended to search under the table.
“I still think you have her hidden away somewhere.” He looked over at Brother Francis. “She’s not lurking under your skirt, by any chance?”
“Who, my lord?”
“The young woman we met earlier.”
“Heavens, no!” said the monk with a worldly chortle. “That is no place for a woman, young or old. I renounced the flesh when I took the cowl.”
“Have you no regrets about such a rash decision?”
“None, my lord.”
“None?”
Brother Francis sat back with a quiet smile.
“None at all.”
“So be it,” said Ralph, anxious to set the wheels of justice in motion once more. “Let us address our minds to the dispute in hand. Whom do we examine next, Gervase?”
“Tenants of my lord Nigel.”
“I am ready. Fetch the first one in!”
Golde stood at the window of her apartment and looked out at the city below. Night was falling but the moon was a kindly lantern. When she gazed across the river, she saw a larger and more forbidding castle on the eastern bank, surrounded by a moat that had been created when the Foss was dammed to form the King’s fishpool. Houses, meadows and orchards had disappeared to make way for the defensive ring of water around the fortress. It was a fearsome sight, yet the castle of Aubrey Maminot somehow had more character and menace to it. When Golde heard the telltale roar from below, she knew why. Romulus and Remus were in residence.
A tap on the door drew her away from the window. Expecting a servant, she was taken aback when Herleve stepped into the room.
The visitor was strangely hesitant.
“May I please come in?” she asked.
“Of course,” said Golde. “This is your home.”
“It is where I live. That much is true.”
Herleve looked as stately as ever but her coldness had gone and the polite expression had changed to a wan smile. She glanced around the room before lowering herself into the chair that was offered to her.
Golde sat on a stool opposite her, waiting for her visitor to speak first and feeling slightly invaded. Eyes downcast, Herleve held her hands in her lap as she chose her words with care.
“I have come to apologise to you, Golde.”
“Why, my lady?”
“For my behaviour towards you.”
“That requires no apology.”
“I have been unforgivably rude to you.”
“That is not true, my lady.”
“Yes, it is,” said Herleve, looking up at her. “When I should have welcomed you, I was cool and distant. Instead of making your stay here a pleasurable one, I have shown you nothing but disdain. I am very sorry.”
Golde could see the effort it had cost her to make such an admission.
Herleve’s face was tense, her eyes were haunted and her fingers were knotted tightly together. Golde was moved. She felt drawn to a woman whose frailty she was now glimpsing for the first time.
“Thank you, my lady,” she said, “but you have nothing with which to reproach yourself.”
“Oh, I do, Golde. I do.”
“It is I who should apologise for offending you.”
“That is nonsense.”
“You did not choose to invite me here.”
“My husband’s guests are mine also.”
“I was forced upon you.”
“Rules of hospitality must be observed,” said Herleve. “I should have been warmer towards you. And more generous. I should have remembered what I knew of Ralph Delchard.”
“Ralph?”
“It is many years since we last met but he is not a man one easily forgets. His wife was alive then. Elinor. She was very beautiful and he gloried in her. Ralph Delchard was a good, kind, loving husband.”
“He has often talked to me of Elinor.”
“A man does not change his character. I should have trusted him. I was wrong to believe that someone like Ralph would dare to come here with … with …”
“His whore?”
“I am ashamed that the thought even crossed my mind.”
“It hurt me, my lady. I must own that.”
“All the more so because it was cruelly unfair.” She reached out to take Golde’s hands in hers. “I watched you in the solar when you folded his tunic. You were so tender with it. So loving. That was not the behaviour of a …”
“I am his, my lady. Whatever name you call me.”
“You are his and he is yours,” said Herleve with a fleeting envy. “I saw you earlier in the chapel, kneeling beside each other in prayer.
That was no man and his mistress. I was filled with such remorse at the evil thoughts I had about you.”
“They were not evil, my lady. They were natural.”
“I was too hasty in my judgement.”
“We are not married. It cannot be denied.”
“You are, Golde. Almost. You and Ralph Delchard have something just as binding and meaningful as a marriage.”
“I like to believe that.”
“Do not let it go.”
Herleve squeezed her hands before getting to her feet.
“I have one other confession to make.”
“It is not necessary, my lady.”
“Yes, it is.” She bit her lip. “You recall that dress that I loaned you on your first night here?”
“Very well.”
“I had it thrown on a fire.”
Golde was jolted as she realised just how low an opinion her hostess had held of her. The dress had been destroyed because Herleve had felt that it was contaminated. Golde struggled hard to make light of the matter.
“Yorkshire is a strange place,” she said. “Olaf Evil Child steals my apparel, then gives it back to me. You loan me a dress, then have it burned. Why do you deal so perversely with your wardrobe in this county?”
They shared a laugh but it did not reach Herleve’s eyes. She seemed to be on the point of saying something else, but the words would not come. Golde waited in vain. After a long pause, Herleve leaned forward to kiss her softly on the cheek before going out of the room. The visit had yielded one real benefit. They were friends.
“Where else have you fought?” asked Aubrey Maminot.
“Wherever my sword was hired,” said Tanchelm of Ghent. “It was a hard life but it taught me my trade and earned me a little piece of Lincolnshire in which to grow old. I may not have anything like your wealth and position but I will die a contented man.”
“How many of us can say that?” wondered Ralph Delchard.
“I can,” boasted Aubrey with a chuckle. “Life has been extremely kind to me.”
“You have earned your good fortune,” said Tanchelm. “They hold you in high esteem hereabouts. Everyone in York speaks well of Aubrey Maminot.”
“Then some of them are arrant liars!”
They were in the hall at the castle. The three men were sitting over their cups of wine at the table. Gervase had retired to bed and left them to it. Aubrey had drunk far too much and Tanchelm far too little.
Ralph had reached the point where the thought of Golde, waiting for him in bed, was infinitely more appealing than the banter of his drinking companions. He began to rehearse his excuse for leaving.
“Only one man spoke ill of you,” said Tanchelm.
Aubrey giggled. “Who was the rogue? I’ll have him flogged at day-break.”
“You’ll have to catch him first.”
“Who was he?”
“Olaf Evil Child!”
“What! You talked with Olaf?”
Aubrey was about to explode with rage when he realized that his guest was teasing him. Tanchelm had not seen the outlaw at all. Aubrey joined in the laughter.
“You fooled me for a moment,” he said, reaching for the flagon. “More wine, Ralph?”
“No, Aubrey,” said the other, standing up. “I have had enough. My legs want to take me to the bedchamber.”
“Not only your legs, I think!”
“Good night, old friend.” Ralph slapped him on the back, then nodded to Tanchelm. “We will confer in the morning.”
“Sleep well.”
As Ralph lurched off, Aubrey looked fondly after him.