‘All your assumptions about the murder were wrong, my lord sheriff,’ he said cheerily. ‘If you had not misled us so at the start, we’d have solved the crime for you in half the time.’
‘It is solved, my lord. That is the main thing.’
‘By two commissioners and a naked archdeacon.’
‘I would have effected the same arrests in due course.’
‘But you were preoccupied here with affairs of state.’
‘Good night, my lord.’ A cold smile for Golde. ‘My lady.’
‘Good night,’ she replied. ‘Thank you for your hospitality.’
‘You are most welcome.’
‘And the King?’ asked Ralph. ‘Is he well guarded?’
‘Of course,’ said Durand testily. ‘I have seen to that. Go back to your own work, my lord. This is my castle and I am responsible for everything which happens under its roof. You will not take my office on again. I resent it. I deplore it. I forbid it!’
Abraham the Priest kept up his lonely vigil well into the night.
Even when those leaving the castle had finally departed, he remained at his post, close enough to keep the castle under surveillance while keeping out of sight of the sentries who patrolled the ramparts with flaming torches. It was a warm night but low cloud was blocking out the moon. That fact alone, he feared, might tempt Madog to fulfil his threat. The archdeacon strained his eyes to penetrate the gloom but it was his ears which alerted him. There was a padding sound far off to the right, as if someone were keeping to the shadows and heading towards the castle walls. He moved stealthily forward until he caught sight of the man.
A hunched figure was conjured out of the darkness. Abraham did not hesitate. Scurrying up behind him, he threw a restraining arm around his neck and clapped his other hand over his mouth to prevent a yelp which would have alerted the guards. He dragged the assassin away.
The hoot of an owl brought him awake. Ralph was suddenly alarmed. He got out of bed at once and reached for his dagger, sensing that something was amiss without quite knowing why.
Golde was fast asleep. He unbolted the door and let himself out.
The steps felt cold beneath his bare feet but he did not dare to make a sound. It was dark at the top of the staircase but candles burned close to the apartment at the bottom where King William slept. Outside the room, he knew, would be an armed guard who was relieved at regular intervals by a deputy. Ralph crept on until he saw the first flickers of light reflected on the walls. He relaxed.
All was well. The candles burned, the guard was in place, the King was in no danger. His alarm was groundless.
Then the fingers of flame disappeared from the wall with dramatic suddenness. Someone had extinguished the candles.
Gripping his dagger more tightly, he went on down the stairs with a mixture of urgency and apprehension. When he reached the bottom, he almost tripped over something and realised that it was the guard. More than the candle had been snuffed out. As he knelt beside the man, he could feel the blood gushing from the slit throat. Ralph needed no more prompting. The assassination attempt was taking place after all. He flung open the door and charged into the room.
A single candle burned beside the bed but it contained no King of England. A sack of something had been placed beneath the blanket to give the impression that the bed was occupied. The man who had stabbed so viciously at the sleeping King now stood back in amazement and stared down at the empty bed. Ralph was on him in an instant, knocking him flat with the impetus of his attack, then trying to disarm him. But the assassin was a more wily opponent than Strang the Dane. He recovered at once to jab at his adversary and inflicted a flesh wound in Ralph’s arm. Dropping his dagger, Ralph jumped up and used his foot to deliver a kick to the other’s face. A loud grunt showed that his aim was accurate. Ignoring the trickle of blood from his arm, Ralph leaned over to blow out the candle and plunge the room into darkness.
They were on more even terms now. The assassin was armed but Ralph was elusive, darting around him as he rose from the floor and waiting for the moment to attack. It soon arrived. Alerted by the sounds of the struggle, guards came running. A blaze of light appeared in the doorway. It illumined a tall figure in a black cowl. Caught between the desire to kill Ralph and the need to escape, the man hesitated for a fatal second. Ralph was on him, seizing his wrist and bowling him to the ground before punching him with his other hand. Bright light bathed them and a dozen swords brought their struggle to an end.
‘Stop!’ yelled a peremptory voice. ‘Stand back, Ralph!’
Reluctant to get up, Ralph obeyed the King, wondering how he had just come through the door of the apartment in which he was supposed to be sleeping. But his main interest was in the identity of the man he had fought. Seeing the hopelessness of his position, the latter had dropped his dagger and was cowering on the floor. Ralph reached down to throw back his hood, expecting to see the face of a Welsh assassin.
But it was Hamelin of Lisieux who glowered up at him.
‘I am glad that I decided to quit this chamber,’ said the King.
‘He would have been a murderous bedfellow. Take him away!’
Hamelin was dragged out quickly by the guards, Ralph still trying to overcome his amazement. King William gave a weary smile.
‘Once again, I am in your debt, Ralph. You warned us that there would be an attempt on my life. I took the best precaution I could and moved from the bed he would expect me to be in.’
‘I never suspected Hamelin of Lisieux,’ admitted Ralph.
‘That is because you do not know his wife as well as I do.’
‘The lady Emma?’
‘A beautiful but ambitious lady.’
‘Is she involved in this plot?’
‘My guess is that she probably instigated it,’ said William. ‘That is why I did not allow her husband at the council table. Do you know what we discussed here in Gloucester?’
‘No, my liege.’
‘The invasion of the Vexin.’
‘I begin to see the connection.’
‘Guess from which part of France the lady Emma hails?’
‘The Vexin.’
‘Correct.’ He saw the blood on Ralph’s arm. ‘But you are injured.
The wound must be bathed and dressed.’
‘It is nothing, my liege,’ he said, stemming the flow with the palm of his other hand. ‘Tell me more about the lord Hamelin.’
‘There is little more to tell beyond the fact that I have doubted his loyalty for some time. It was given out that he spent much time in Normandy but my intelligencers say that he crossed into the Vexin with his wife.’ He glanced at the bed. ‘Now we know why. And to come in the guise of a monk shows his cunning.
The guard outside the door would not have had suspicion of him until it was too late. Hamelin of Lisieux was a treacherous monk.’
‘Cuchullus non facit monachum.’ said Ralph with a smile.
‘I did not take you for a Latin scholar.’
‘I have many talents. But what will happen to his wife?’
‘She will be executed alongside him. Would you like to have the pleasure of seeing the lady arrested in her chamber?’
‘It is a temptation I will resist,’ said Ralph. ‘A more beautiful woman awaits me in my own apartment. More beautiful and more loyal to her King. Besides,’ he added, holding up his arm, ‘with a wound like this to display, I can be assured of unlimited sympathy.’