“Then who was it?”
“Tanchelm of Ghent. A member of the other tribunal. He sat in commission in the shire hall and that is where he was murdered.”
“By whose hand?”
“They do not know and they have curtailed their business until they find out. That could take a long time.”
“How long?”
“Days, at least. Weeks, even.”
“And we have to wait for judgement until then?”
“Go home, Inga,” he urged, sheathing his sword. “You wait here in vain. They have more important concerns than your mother’s false claims to my land. When the commissioners resume their work again, they will have forgotten all about you. Go home.”
“Not until a settlement is reached.”
“It has been reached. And I am riding back to my estate to cel-ebrate.” He pointed a finger. “You and your mother were very stupid to come here. I will not forget.”
Tugging on the reins, he turned his horse and trotted off in the opposite direction. Inga was demoralised. She was shaken by the news about the murder and even more so by the consequences of it.
Nigel Arbarbonel was quitting York with alacrity. As far as he was concerned, the dispute was over. He had won.
Ralph Delchard read the letter with surprise and irritation.
William, by grace of God king of the English and duke of the Normans, sends greetings to Tanchelm of Ghent and the assurance of friendship.
I order you to accompany and assist my tribunal, going into Yorkshire to look into abuses that have been revealed in the Exchequer returns for that county in relation to the Great Survey of my kingdom. Render what service you may to the following, my commissioners, Ralph Delchard, Gervase Bret and Canon Hubert of Winchester, sitting with them as an equal partner in their judgements.
I further order you to conceal your true purpose, the gathering of most secret intelligence concerning the safety of my kingdom, which we lately discussed at London.…”
By the time he finished, Ralph’s temper was up.
“Why did he not tell us?” he demanded.
“My lord Tanchelm is expressly ordered not to.”
“I do not mean him, Gervase. I talk of the King himself. He spoke to me in person before we set out from Winchester. Why did he not have the grace to tell me that we were carrying a spy in our cargo?”
“Because he chose not to, Ralph.”
“I had a right to know. I could have helped Tanchelm. Hell and damnation! I could have shielded the fellow from attack.” He waved the parchment in the air. “This is not a letter-it is a death warrant!”
“Only because someone divined his deeper reason for coming to the North. What does that suggest to you?”
“Tanchelm grew careless.”
“Quite the opposite, Ralph. He was achieving success.”
“Is that what you call success?” said Ralph with scorn, thrusting the letter into his hands. “Getting himself throttled to death in the shire hall. Take sense, Gervase.”
“I will when you calm down enough to hear me.”
They were in Gervase’s apartment at the castle and Ralph was pacing restlessly up and down like the lions in their cage. The contents of the letter had dealt a serious blow to his self-esteem. Dispatched from Winchester on the King’s business, he now learned that he had been deliberately misled in a way that might have put the whole commission in jeopardy. If Tanchelm had been unmasked as a spy, the whole team could well have been suspected of being in league with him. Ralph dropped down onto the stool and punched a fist into the palm of his other hand.
“I deserved better than this!” he said. “I have done King William much good service. He owed me the truth. I should have known about Tanchelm.”
“But you did,” reminded Gervase.
“What?”
“You did-in your heart. Have you forgotten? You had doubts about my lord Tanchelm from the start. Canon Hubert was fooled by him, so was Brother Simon, so, I confess, was I at first. But not you, Ralph.
You sensed that something was amiss.”
“Yes, yes, I did.”
“And that suspicion never fully left you.”
“True,” said Ralph, partially mollified. “I could never quite believe in him. I did know that he was beguiling us. But it would still have been a courtesy to have been told.”
“No, Ralph. We must be honest with ourselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“My lord Tanchelm was trained for this work. You and I are not.
Think how well he played his part and how effective he was when he sat in commission with Canon Hubert. Gould we have carried the burden of a double life so easily?”
“I could, Gervase.”
“Well, I could not,” admitted the other, “and I am glad that King William did not lay it upon my shoulders by taking me into his confidence. We have problems enough to contend with in our work here without taking on the responsibilities that my lord Tanchelm had.
And the grave danger that they incurred.”
Ralph sat brooding for a long time before rising again.
“You are right,” he said. “This was not for us.”
“Had all passed off smoothly, we would never have known the truth and never needed to know.”
“But it did not pass off smoothly, Gervase.”
“Alas, no.”
“That is why the word ‘success’ jarred on my ear.”
“Let me explain why I used it just now. I think that my lord Tanchelm was skilled at his profession. The King would not otherwise have chosen him for so difficult a mission.”
“I accept that.”
“You know this county far better than I, Ralph. It has always been highly volatile, has it not?”
“It still is. Look at my friend Aubrey. He has been here for years, yet he has to hide behind castle walls and protect himself with wild animals.”
“What does he fear?”
“Revolt from within or invasion from without, Gervase.”
“Then that is what my lord Tanchelm came in search of,” said Gervase.
“Signs of stirring among the old nobility of the North. Or rustlings from the Scots or the Danes. I believe that he was successful enough to find out something of real importance. Why else would they have needed to kill him?”
Ralph became pensive. Moving to the window, he looked out over the city. He ran a hand slowly across his chin.
“What did he find out, Gervase?”
“I have no idea.”
“How, then, will we track down his killer?”
“By learning what he discovered.”
Ralph nodded firmly, then turned to face him once more.
“Where did you get that letter?” he asked.
“It was given to me.”
“By whom?”
“A friend.”
“Friends have names.”
“This one prefers to remain anonymous.”
“Secrets between us, Gervase?”
“I gave him my solemn word.”
A long pause. “So be it.”
“I must now ask you to give me your word, Ralph.”
“What about?”
“This letter,” said Gervase, holding it up between his fingers. “Nobody must know its contents.”
“Nobody will-except Aubrey, of course.”
“Nobody. Including our host.”
“Why not?”
“Because the letter has already cost one life. The fewer people who know about it, the less chance there is of it causing another death.” He held the missive over the candle flame. “I need your promise, Ralph.”
“You have it.”
Gervase dropped the letter onto the floor and watched it burn. As the parchment curled in upon itself, the writing was blacked out and the seal began to melt. He waited until it was burned through before grinding it beneath his heel.
“It is gone,” he said. “There was no letter.”
“Would that Tanchelm had done the same with it!”
“He was not betrayed that way, Ralph. But by his own diligence. He got too close. That is what brought him down.”