‘I am delighted to see you, Hubert!’ welcomed Serlo.
‘And I, you, Father Abbot.’
‘It has been too long a time since we last met.’
‘You have ever been in my thoughts.’
‘I only wish this blessed reunion could have taken place in happier circumstances. You have heard of our predicament, I daresay?’
‘Alas, yes,’ said Hubert. ‘Durand the Sheriff told us.’
‘He is no doubt searching the abbey even as we speak.’
‘Looking for evidence?’
‘More than that, Hubert,’ said the other, his face clouding.
‘Durand has seized on the disturbing notion that the killer himself may lurk within these walls.’
‘That is a monstrous suggestion!’
‘So I told him. I can vouch for every monk and novice at the abbey but the sheriff will not trust my word. He is questioning everyone.’
Hubert was glad to find the abbot alone, but concerned to see the distant anxiety in his eyes. It was the quiet desperation of a father who has been told that one of his sons is a callous murderer.
The room was large, low and musty. A crucifix stood on the bare table, a bible open beside it. When Hubert was waved to a seat, he lowered himself on to the wooden bench. Serlo himself sat beside the table.
‘A royal commissioner!’ he said with a congratulatory smile.
‘You have done well, Hubert. Your talents have received due recognition.’
‘Thank you, Father Abbot. I will not pretend that it is work which is close to my heart, but it is a necessary task and the King’s bidding must be done. It has also given me the opportunity to expose much fraud and corruption so, in a sense, I am doing God’s work as well.’
‘Indeed, you are. Loud protests have been raised against this Great Survey but they have not come from me. Though it may lead to more taxes in some cases, this Domesday Book, as they call it, has the virtue of establishing rightful claims to property.
I do not mind telling you, Hubert,’ he said, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, ‘that this abbey was grossly exploited before I came here. All but ruined, in point of fact. Land was wilfully taken, income diverted from our coffers. I fought hard to regain much of what was lost.’
‘You did, Father Abbot,’ said Hubert knowledgeably. ‘I have seen the returns for this county. You have already recovered the manors of Frocester and Coln St Aldwyn.’
‘There are others which were illegally taken during the time of Abbot Wilstan, my predecessor. Nympsfield, for one. Does that come within the scope of your inquiry?’ he asked, fishing gently.
‘I would be indebted to you if it did.’
‘Then I have to disappoint you, I fear. We have not been sent here to adjudicate on abbey property. The first commissioners only identified the worst irregularities and it is those we have come to address.’
‘Could you not find time to hear our case?’
Hubert was firm. ‘It is outside our jurisdiction, Father Abbot.
We are tied by specific instruction. Privately, of course,’ he said with a flabby smile, ‘I will give you the most sympathetic hearing and advise you how best to represent the abbey’s claims. Having acted in a judicial capacity so many times now, I like to think I am well versed in the intricacies of property disputes.’
‘Are you the leader of this second commission?’
‘Technically, no, but my word carries great weight. The lord Ralph, our appointed head, is a veteran soldier who lacks an appreciation of legal subtleties. He is forced to turn to me very often,’ said Hubert with smooth pomposity. ‘But no more of my work. It is an irrelevance at this moment in time. Tell me more about this catastrophe which has struck the abbey. Who was this unfortunate Brother Nicholas of whom the sheriff spoke?’
‘Our rent collector.’
‘How long had he been dead before he was found?’
‘We can only hazard a guess at that, Hubert.’
Serlo ran a palm across his wrinkled brow and gave a detailed account of how the murder victim had been found. Hubert was dismayed at what he heard. After condemning the anonymous killer in the strongest language he felt able to use, he turned his ire on the novices.
‘I hope that they have been soundly swinged, Father Abbot,’ he said, puffing with indignation. ‘Their behaviour was disgraceful.
To leave the dormitory like that, plunder the kitchen and flee into the church from the Master of the Novices! Their backs should be raw for a month.’
‘Far too Draconian a remedy.’
‘Disobedience must be punished. Not,’ he added hastily, ‘that I would presume to teach you how to rule here when you patently do so in the true spirit of the Benedictine Order. Yet, with respect, I do feel that these miscreants should be shown no mercy.’
‘Then you and I must agree to differ, Hubert.’
‘I hope not, Father Abbot.’
‘Kenelm and Elaf are relative newcomers to the abbey. They have yet to understand the sacrifices which they must make.
What they did was deplorable and they realise that now. However,’
he continued, rising to his feet, ‘I do not feel that a flogging is appropriate here. You may wish their backs to be raw for a month but their young minds will be raw for the rest of their lives. Think of what they endured, Hubert. Finding one of the reverent brothers dead. Lunging against his corpse in the dark. A hideous experience. It cured their misbehaviour in an instant.’
‘That is one way of looking at it,’ conceded Hubert.
‘It is my way. Another consideration also guided me.’
‘What was that, Father Abbot?’
‘Kenelm and Elaf are key witnesses here. They were the first to be questioned by the sheriff and will certainly be called before him again. What sort of evidence can they give if they are writhing in pain after a beating with a birch rod?’
‘I begin to see your reasoning.’
‘I am glad you recognise it as reason rather than as weakness.’
‘Nobody could ever accuse you of that.’
‘The Master of the Novices might. He wanted to flay them.’
‘They have vital evidence.’
‘Yes,’ said Serlo, raising a silver eyebrow, ‘and they have yet to release all of it to us.’
‘They are holding something back?’
‘Not deliberately, Hubert. They are still stunned by their discovery. Still in a daze. They are eager to help yet one senses they have more to tell than has so far emerged. We must wait until the shock wears off. Facts which have so far been locked away inside their heads may then be drawn out of them.’
‘Let me speak to them,’ volunteered Hubert.
‘You?’
‘I am a skilled interrogator, Father Abbot, that is why the King has seen fit to employ me in this capacity. I am also used to the wiles and evasions of novices. When they are questioned by the sheriff, or by you and your obedientiaries, they are dealing with people they know, faces from their immediate world. I am a total stranger,’ he argued. ‘It will put them on their guard against me but it will disarm them at the same time because they will not know what to expect. With skill and patience, I might be able to dig out some of those buried facts.’
‘You might be able to, Hubert.’
‘Then I have your permission to speak with them?’
‘Gladly — if it were not a waste of your time.’
‘How a waste?’
‘They are Saxon boys, still struggling to learn our tongue and still unequal to the harsher demands of Latin. Kenelm and Elaf would not really know what you were talking about.’
‘But the sheriff has examined them.’
‘Only through an interpreter, Brother Frewine, our Precentor.’
Hubert felt a thrill of pleasure as he remembered Gervase Bret.
‘Then I will use an interpreter as well.’
When Gervase dined with his host that evening, he realised that the county was served by two sheriffs, both sharing the same name and body but quite distinct in personality. The man who had informed them of the murder was a brusque, arrogant man with no time for civilities and no tolerance of interference. In the presence of women, however, he became a considerate and almost playful character, laughing freely and trading on a rather heavy-handed charm. Seated directly opposite him in the hall, Gervase was grateful that Durand was flanked by his wife, Maud, a tall, slim creature with a pale beauty, and by Golde, looking every inch a Norman lady in a chemise and gown of light green hue with a white linen wimple. The interrelationships fascinated Gervase. Durand the Sheriff was humanised by his female companions and he, in turn, helped to take some of the haughtiness out of his wife’s manner by gently mocking her when she tried to patronise Golde.