“My lord Nigel is a cruel enemy,” warned Brunn. “Fight him with legal argument, not with intemperate language. We have seen to what depths he will sink to achieve his ends.”
“We need Toki here,” said Sunnifa. “He would advise us. Toki would know what to do.”
“He would furnish us with the proof we require,” said the priest. “My lord Nigel holds the reins in this dispute. Our word alone is not strong enough to knock him from the saddle. Only Toki could do that. And we do not have him.”
“No,” said Inga sadly. “We never will.”
Ralph Delchard subjected him to far more robust questioning that morning. Something about Nigel Arbarbonel’s manner irritated him and he could not decide if it was the easy charm, the studied helpfulness or the deep complacence that lay behind both. Ralph worked hard to unsettle him, hurling a continuous stream of questions at him and wagging an admonitory finger for effect. Prompted by Gervase, he took the witness on a tour of his holdings, demanding to know how and when each came into his possession, and seizing on minor points in the title deeds to try to fluster him.
Nigel Arbarbonel was unscathed by the assault. His smile remained intact and his voice calm and unhurried. He behaved with the subdued arrogance of someone who knows that his position is quite unas-sailable. When Ralph finally paused to get his breath back, the witness smirked.
“How much longer must we play this game, my lord?”
“Game?” said Ralph.
“Asking me questions that are already answered by the documents that lie beside you and that are quite outside the scope of this inquiry.”
“It is for us to say what is and what is not relevant.”
“Of course,” conceded the other. “But when you summon me here to discuss some disputed land in the wapentakes of Bulmer, Halikeld and Manshowe, why waste time arguing about my property in Allerton and Langbargh?”
“It all has a bearing on the case.”
“Let us turn to the disputed holdings,” said Gervase Bret. “We are still concerned about the manner in which they were transferred to you.”
“Deed of gift is a legal process, is it not?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then what is the cause for concern?”
“Thorbrand’s state of mind at the close of his life. Sunnifa and Brunn the Priest told us that he was very fevered and faded rapidly.”
“That is true.”
“He kept saying how anxious he was to safeguard the future of his wife and daughter.”
“Any husband and father would feel the same.”
“At the very end, when the fever tightened its grip on him, and the herbal compound no longer kept out the pain, Thorbrand could do little more than babble incoherently.”
“I anticipate your question, Master Bret.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” said Nigel. “You wish to know how it was that a man who cared so much for his family, and who was racked by a terrible disease, nevertheless had the wisdom to revoke his will at the eleventh hour in favour of me.”
“That is precisely what I wish to know, my lord.”
“Ask of the witnesses at his deathbed.”
“I prefer to hear your explanation,” said Gervase.
“Then you shall. Fever is a capricious tormentor. It will bring a man to his knees, then allow him moments of calm and clarity before setting about him again with vicious intensity. It was during such a period of remission-when Thorbrand came briefly to his senses-that he voiced a decision he had long contemplated.”
“To surrender his land to you.”
“To ensure that his wife and daughter enjoyed my protection. That is why he willed his holdings to me. I am the trustee of their safety.”
“That is not how they see it, my lord.”
“They will. In time.” He became restless. “Need we sit here, speculating endlessly on the death of a good man? You are a lawyer, Master Bret, and I do not need to remind you of the legal position here. That land is in my possession. If someone wishes to wrest it from me, they have to provide conclusive proof of ownership. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” admitted Gervase.
“Can they provide such proof?”
“They believe so.”
“Then they are deluding themselves,” he said softly. “And so are you.”
It was a long, tiring and singularly unrewarding day. Hours of questioning Nigel Arbarbonel ended in stalemate. Another extended session with Inga, Sunnifa and Brunn was equally depressing. All that they could do was to talk nostalgically about the time when Thorbrand was alive and to rehearse their grievances against their landlord. No documents were forthcoming to give their complaints any legal impetus.
The commissioners had to turn them away yet again without the recompense they sought.
“We need more time!” pleaded Inga.
“I wish that we could offer it to you,” said Gervase. “But this dispute has already eaten up two days.”
“Another twenty-four hours. That is all we ask.”
“You ask in vain,” said Ralph peremptorily. “Enough is enough. My colleague and I will review this case and give our judgement first thing in the morning.”
“Then we have lost!” sighed Sunnifa.
“They could not be so heartless,” said Brunn.
“Is there no way we can persuade you?” implored Inga.
“This session has ended,” said Ralph, signalling to a guard to escort them out. “Come back tomorrow to learn our decision. We will weigh all the evidence with scrupulous care. Be assured of that.”
Sunnifa and Brunn went out with an air of resignation but Inga paused in the doorway to look back at Gervase. She searched his face for a hint of encouragement but she could not find it. Gervase writhed in discomfort. Desperate to help her and to relieve her sorrows, he was quite unable to do so. It made him feel weak and inadequate.
Inga made a last attempt to win them over.
“What of the reeve’s messenger?” she challenged. “The one who misled us so that we were unable to appear before the first commissioners. Did you not look closely into that?”
“We did,” said Gervase. “The reeve swears that he sent his man days earlier to fetch you.”
“Why did the summons take so long to reach us?”
“We do not know.”
“Then it is your duty to find out.”
“We know full well what our duty is,” said Ralph, stung by her accusatory tone. “What happened in the past is of no account to us. If you were prevented from giving testimony before our predecessors, that is to be regretted, but nobody has stopped you from appearing before this tribunal. The evidence you would have presented to them, you have instead given to us. We will consider it with all due care.”
Inga looked wounded. Disappointment clouded her eyes. When a soldier put a hand on her arm, she did not resist. He assisted her gently out through the door.
“I am glad to see her go,” said Ralph, sighing with relief. “She does not help her mother’s case by showing contempt in that way. Inga is too headstrong.”
“We must make allowances for youthful zeal.”
“Not when it gets out of control.”
“My concern is with Nigel Arbarbonel,” said Gervase. “Given his position, I am surprised that he has not been more assertive with us.
All the advantages lie with him, yet he behaves with utmost civility.
I wonder why.” He gathered up his papers. “And there is another thing that worries me.”
“What is that?”
“My lord Nigel parried your questions so adroitly.”
“I tried hard to break him,” said Ralph, “but I failed. He always seemed to be one jump ahead of me.”
“Yes, it was almost as if he knew what was coming.”
The minster bell interrupted their conversation.
“Vespers,” said Brother Francis, rising to his feet. “If you have finished with me for the day …”
“We have,” said Ralph.
“Thank you again for your help,” added Gervase.
“I kept a record, as instructed,” said the monk, pointing to the papers on the table. “I think you will find it both accurate and legible. Pray excuse me,” he continued, moving to the door. “Another duty calls. I would not be late.”