“Apparently so.” Hubert sounded peeved. “I have to say that I took it amiss at first. Brother Simon and I had already furnished him with so much information about the minster. What need did he have of more?”
“I have no idea,” said Ralph artlessly.
“And why did he not mention it to me?”
“It?”
“His clandestine inquiry. When he had drained us of all that we could tell, he turned his attention, it now emerges, to other figures in the ecclesiastical hierarchy. The provost, the dean, the treasurer, the precentor, even the master of the schools. All were quizzed about the comings and goings at the minster.” He stared pointedly at Ralph.
“And the comings and goings in York itself. The Church never sleeps.
Its eyes watch over the whole city.”
“What did the archbishop say?”
“He told me of this startling curiosity.”
“And?”
“He wondered if I could account for it.”
“What did you say, Canon Hubert?”
“The truth,” said the other. “That I could not. I did not know my lord Tanchelm well enough to discern the real nature of his interest.”
“Did that answer satisfy him?”
“Yes, my lord. Archbishop Thomas asked what progress had been made in the murder investigation, then promised to include my lord Tanchelm in his prayers.”
“That is kind,” said Ralph seriously. “I will mention that to his widow. It might bring a crumb of comfort.” He saw the shrewd look in Hubert’s eye. “Why are you staring at me like that? If you are going to tell me yet again that I stink of fish, I shall get up and walk away.”
“My nose detects something other than fish.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are keeping something from me.”
“Why on earth should I do that?”
“For reasons of your own. I will not pry, my lord. But let me say this.
I am not a fool. You found my lord Tanchelm searching the harbour for information. I now learn that he was equally inquisitive here.”
“Why, so was Golde,” said Ralph airily. “She visited the harbour with my lord Aubrey, then he showed her every nook and cranny of the minster.”
“There is a difference.”
“Is there?”
“She saw only with the eyes of an innocent traveller.”
“What are you saying, Canon Hubert?”
“I believe that my lord Tanchelm’s death may somehow have been connected with his strange curiosity. I do not wish to know any details. They do not concern me. But I would say one thing.”
“Well?”
“I am part of this, my lord. Use me.”
“In what way?”
“Any way that will help. I, too, can ask questions. And I can get to people and places beyond your reach. Use me.”
Ralph’s face was inscrutable but his mind was whirring. He had underestimated his rotund colleague and that was a mistake. Canon Hubert had caught the whiff of subterfuge. Having come to get certain information by stealth from him, Ralph now wondered if a more direct approach was possible. Hubert might prove an unlikely ally.
“I have no comment to make on Tanchelm,” he said. “His reasons for being here lie in the coffin with him.”
“I understand, my lord.”
“But there is a favour I would ask.”
“It is yours.”
“How trustworthy is Brother Francis?”
“Brother Francis?”
“Is he discreet?”
“I have always thought so.”
“Sound him out for me.”
“Why, my lord?”
“Just sound him out.”
Canon Hubert beamed. “I will.”
“Thank you.”
Ralph rose from the bench. His companion sniffed again.
“The stink of fish has gone, my lord.”
“Has it?”
“Yes,” said Hubert. “You smell of horse again.”
The castle was small but well fortified, and its position on the ridge allowed it to command an excellent view in all directions. Halfdan was seen a mile away by the sentry above the gate. Long before he reached the palisade, he was told to stop and state his business. When Halfdan announced that he would speak only with Nigel Arbarbonel, the guard was minded to send him on his way with an earful of abuse and a torrent of threats, but the visitor was persistent and held his ground, claiming that he had something to impart of a personal nature to the castellan. The guard decided that he might be one of the many paid informers used by his master. He was admitted.
Nigel Arbarbonel was duly summoned.
“How do I know this is not some kind of ruse?” he said.
“I swear a solemn oath, my lord.”
“Only an idiot would trust your word.”
“Then keep me here as a hostage,” volunteered Halfdan. “If anything happens to you, let your men kill me.”
Nigel sensed that his unprepossessing guest was telling the truth.
His offer was certainly an attractive one.
“Tell me more about this girl,” he said.
“She is very comely, my lord.”
“What is her name?”
“She would not say.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen, eighteen. Not much more.”
“The right age,” mused Nigel. “Firm and healthy?”
“Yes, my lord. And of good family. She has breeding.”
“Is she a virgin?”
“No question of that.”
“I will not look at her else.”
“She is a maid, my lord. Take my word. She has the bloom still upon her. I envy the man who relieves her of her maidenhood. She is beautiful.”
“I will come,” he decided.
“And how much will you give us for her?”
“I do not know until I have seen the girl.”
“Murdac told us you would pay handsomely.”
“Why, so I will if she fits your description.” He took Halfdan by the throat. “If she does not, I will cut your tongue out so that you cannot lie again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord,” said the other, backing away.
Nigel Arbarbonel shouted orders to his men, and six men were soon in the saddle behind him. He nudged Halfdan.
“Lead me to her,” he said. “You have whetted my appetite.”
Riding in the company of Olaf Evil Child was an education to Gervase Bret. When he travelled with his colleagues, they moved steadily along a main highway with a sizeable escort. Olaf and his band shunned the roads altogether. Scouts were sent on ahead to reconnoitre. When the others moved, they did so in short bursts, galloping across open ground until they found fresh cover, then resting until the next stage of their journey had been ratified by the scouts.
They had been kind to him. Olaf had dressed his wound and loaned him a horse. Ragnar Longfoot had confirmed that Inga was a good friend and he was most anxious to rescue her. During the search, Gervase tried to stay beside Olaf.
“How did you get your name?” he asked.
“From my father.”
“Sweinn Redbeard?”
“He did not like me at first.”
“Your own father?”
“When I was born, I was puny,” said Olaf. “So I am told. My father could not believe that such a strong man as he could produce such a weak son. It was an insult he could not bear. He gave me a name that made me sound frightening. Olaf Evil Child. There is strength in a name like that.”
“It does not become you.”
The other laughed. “It serves its purpose.”
They were waiting in a grove until the scouts signalled their next advance. There was no sign of weakness in Olaf now. Gervase had observed his physical power and his strength of mind. He was a natural leader. The others deferred to him at all times and he never had to enforce his primacy.
Olaf saw the wave from the distant hilltop.
“They have found something! Come on!”
Gervase was too slow to keep up with him this time. Olaf set off at a gallop with his men behind him in a tight cluster. They went up the wooded slope until they reached the crest. Gervase was the last to arrive.
The man was on the ground, cowering before Olaf’s spear.
“Where is she?”
“I do not know,” blubbered the captive.
“Where is the camp?”