They waved him off, then made to leave themselves. Gervase glanced through the record of the proceedings before slipping it into his own satchel.
“We are blessed in Brother Francis,” he said. “His mind is quick and his hand is sure. I did not think we would find as conscientious a scribe as Brother Simon.”
“No,” agreed Ralph. “I never thought to hear myself speak well of a monk-for they are mostly sanctimonious eunuchs in flight from the world-but Brother Francis has been an asset to us. It is good to have a scribe who does not turn scarlet in the presence of a woman.”
“Brother Simon has many virtues.”
“That is my complaint against him, Gervase. Too many virtues but not a single vice to lend them some colour. Life is there to be lived.”
They came out into the street to find the sentries waiting for them but there was no sign of Tanchelm’s men-at-arms. Ralph turned to one of his soldiers.
“Have the other commissioners departed?” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” replied the man. “Canon Hubert left with Brother Simon some minutes ago. They headed for the minster with a small escort. Their work is concluded for the day.”
“What of my lord Tanchelm?”
“He came out to dismiss his men and went back into the shire hall alone.”
“He is still there?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good,” said Ralph. “I need to speak with him on several matters. He can ride back to the castle with us.”
“I would appreciate a word with him myself,” said Gervase. “It concerns his visit to the Abbey of St. Mary.”
He followed Ralph into the shire hall and entered a long room with a low ceiling and narrow windows. Tall candles were set at intervals on the table to give further illumination, but their flames had been extinguished and smoke was still curling up from their wicks. Ralph and Gervase stopped with surprise in the middle of the room. There was no sign of Tanchelm of Ghent.
“Where can he be?” asked Ralph. “There is only one door and he could not have left without being seen by my men.”
“Then he must still be here.”
It did not take long to find him. When Gervase crossed to the table at which the commissioners had sat, he saw that one of the stools had been knocked over. Tanchelm of Ghent lay on his back in the shadows beyond it. His mouth was agape, his tongue protruding and his bulging eyes staring upwards. Gervase rushed to kneel beside him but found no signs of life. Tanchelm of Ghent would now have his name in-scribed in another Domesday Book.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ralph Delchard moved swiftly to join his friend beside the body.
They examined it with care and soon found the cause of death.
Tanchelm of Ghent had sat in judgement bareheaded. An ugly red weal encircled his unprotected neck. Someone had choked the life out of him with brute force.
“He was attacked from behind,” decided Ralph. “He must have been sitting at the table when the assailant struck.”
“It was the work of a powerful man,” noted Gervase. “My lord Tanchelm was fit and strong. He would have fought an attacker. Even with surprise on his side, the man would have needed strength to subdue him.”
“Strength and skill, Gervase. He was proficient at his trade. Tanchelm was killed by a practised assassin.”
“But how did he get into the room?”
“And how leave it unseen?”
They stood up and looked around. At the rear of the room, some yards behind the table, was a small window high up in the wall. Its shutters were closed but not bolted. When Ralph went to stare up at it, his foot kicked something on the floor. He picked up some fragments of plaster and held them in his palm. When he reached up with his other hand, he could just touch the sill of the window.
“He came and went this way, Gervase,” he said.
“Then he must have been very agile.”
“One leap would have brought him within striking distance of the table. Tanchelm had no chance.” He grabbed the chair and set it against the wall. “Let’s see what is beyond.”
Standing on the chair, he was able to peer out at the narrow alley that ran at the rear of the shire hall to connect two larger thorough-fares. A few people were hurrying along it with baskets over their arms. Ralph jumped down and bellowed for his men. Hearing the urgency in his voice, all ten of them came running at once with their hands on their swords. They fanned out in the middle of the room.
“Foul murder,” said Ralph, pointing to the corpse. “My lord Tanchelm has been killed. The assassin, we believe, came and went by that window.”
The men were shocked. Only five minutes earlier, they had seen Tanchelm alive and well. It seemed impossible that he could have been murdered while they stood outside in the street. Ralph whipped them into action with his commands. Two of them were sent to guard the door and to admit nobody without his express permission. Two more were dispatched in the direction of York Minster to alert Canon Hubert and Brother Simon. Four men were ordered to hasten around to the alley at the rear of the building to search for clues before looking for possible witnesses to the entry or departure of the assassin. One man rode off to raise the alarm at the castle and to return with the members of Tanchelm’s escort who had been on duty outside the shire hall throughout the day.
Only the captain of Ralph’s guard remained behind.
“The North has not been friendly to us, Fulco.”
“No, my lord.”
“We are robbed on the way here, and now one of our number has been slain. What horror can we next expect?”
“I do not know, my lord.”
“When exactly did you last see my lord Tanchelm?”
“When he came out of here to dismiss his men.”
“And when was that?”
“Shortly before you and Master Bret emerged.”
“How close were you standing to him?”
“I was no more than five yards away, my lord. I had been talking to one of his men-at-arms. When my lord Tanchelm appeared, I saw and heard him very clearly.”
“What did he say?”
“He sent four of his men to escort Canon Hubert and Brother Simon to the minster.”
“And the remainder?”
“They were told to return to the castle.”
“Why?”
“My lord Tanchelm had no further need of them. Somebody was meeting him at the shire hall, he said, and he would make his own way back in due course.”
“Did he name the person he was meeting?”
“No, my lord.”
“What happened next?”
“His men withdrew and he came back in here.”
“And nobody came in after him?”
“No, my lord.”
“Are you quite certain, Fulco? Could not someone have slipped in when you were chatting among yourselves?”
Fulco was adamant. “Nobody entered through that door save my lord Tanchelm himself. We know better than to let our attention wander.
We could see this building at all times. A mouse could not have got in without being observed.”
“It is not mice that we are after,” said Ralph darkly, “but rats. Of the two-legged variety. This county seems to have a superfluity of them.
We will do some assiduous rat-catching before we quit this place.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Stay at the door with your men. If a meeting was arranged here, someone will turn up to see my lord Tanchelm. Do not tell him what has happened, Fulco. Conduct him in.”
“I will, my lord.”
The soldier nodded and went off to take up his post. Gervase, meanwhile, had been conducting a more thorough search of the body and of the area surrounding it. He stood up.
“We are not looking for a thief,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“His purse is full but untouched. Whoever killed him did not do so for money.”
“Then what was his motive, Gervase?”