Almost 3,000 people lived in Gloucester and it sounded as if they were all helping to swell the tumult.
The mounting cacophony wafted across to the castle on a light wind and brought even the deafest of its inhabitants awake. Ralph Delchard did not complain. He and Gervase Bret were already up at dawn, sharing breakfast alone in the hall so that they could make full use of the day. A combination of soft beds and Stonehouse wine made them sleep soundly, and they awoke refreshed, ready to shake off the memory of their friction with the sheriff so that they could give all their attention to the work which had brought them there. Accompanied by half-a-dozen of Ralph’s men, they were soon leaving the castle to ride to the shire hall in Westgate Street. The commotion was now greater than ever and they inhaled the distinctive smell of the city, compounded of fish, flowers, ripe fruit, stagnant water, animal dung, human excrement, filthy clothing and the accumulated refuse over which flies were already buzzing crazily.
‘What a stink!’ said Ralph, wrinkling his nose.
‘We’ll get used to it,’ said Gervase.
‘We’ll have to now that our stay is likely to be much longer than we imagined. What fool told me that we would be gone in a week?’
‘That may still be the case, Ralph.’
‘I doubt it. We could be here for months!’
Gervase smiled. ‘It will give you time to get to know Durand better.’
‘I know his kind only too well already. The sheriff will do little to make our visit more pleasant and much to impede us. Left to him, we would be on the road home this very morning.’
Arriving at the shire hall, they tethered their horses and went inside, taking two men with them while leaving the other four on guard at the door. Canon Hubert and Brother Simon were already there, having walked from the abbey, and they greeted the newcomers with polite nods. Ralph and Gervase took their bearings. The shire hall was a substantial building of timber and interwoven wattle. Open shutters allowed light to flood into the room, but fresh air did not completely dispel the reek of damp.
An oak table and bench had been set out facing a series of much longer benches to accommodate any witnesses they had to examine. The place had been recently swept and a jug of wine with four cups provided for them. Apart from its greater size, there was nothing to set it apart from the many other shire halls which they made use of in their travels. It was an adequate but nondescript courtroom.
Ralph was just about to ask where the reeve was when the man himself swept in through the door with a flourish. It was a dramatic entrance by someone who had deliberately waited until they were all present before he saw fit to make his own appearance.
‘Good morrow, sirs!’ he declared. ‘Welcome to our fair city.’
‘Thank you,’ said Ralph.
‘I am Nigel the Reeve. Tell me your requirements and they will be satisfied to the letter. The first commissioners, who included Remigius, Bishop of Lincoln, did not find me wanting. Indeed, one of their number, the lord Adam Fitzherbert, went out of his way to compliment me. I trust I will earn similar approval from you.’
While introducing himself and his companions, Ralph took a moment to weigh the man up. Short, compact, well dressed and clean-shaven, Nigel the Reeve had an air of unassailable self-importance. It was not just the lordly pose he adopted nor the condescending tone in which he spoke. He exuded pomposity.
Now in his forties, he had the solid look of a soldier overlaid with the trappings of office. Nigel was a royal reeve who administered Gloucester on behalf of the crown yet who acted as if he were wearing that symbol of majesty. Taking an immediate dislike to the fellow, Ralph sought to put him in his place from the start.
‘We sent full instructions from Winchester,’ he said, meeting the reeve’s supercilious gaze. ‘I trust that they have been obeyed.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Good.’
‘The first disputants will arrive when the abbey bell rings for Sext. That will give you and your fellow commissioners plenty of time to settle in here and prepare yourselves. When the Bishop of Lincoln was here-’
‘I want no anecdotes about our predecessors,’ interrupted Ralph sharply. ‘If they had done their job thoroughly — and, by implication, you had been as efficient as you obviously think you are — the problems which we have come to solve would not have existed.’
‘I do not think you can fault me, my lord.’
‘We shall see.’
‘My reputation goes before me.’
‘It will be put to the test.’
‘Respect my position,’ warned the other, drawing himself up to his full height. ‘I am not at your beck and call. Many other duties fall to me as well. Important commitments which must be honoured. I have shown you the courtesy of a personal welcome but will have to assign most of your requests to one of my underlings.’
‘You will still be responsible for their actions.’
‘Naturally.’
‘Make sure that they are diligent.’
‘Do not try to teach me my occupation, my lord.’
‘I merely advise you to answer our demands with celerity.’
Nigel replied with a look of disdain. Gervase stepped in to see what information he could glean from the reeve with a more friendly approach.
‘It was kind of you to have the shire hall prepared for us,’ he said.
‘I did no less for the first commissioners,’ said the other, sniffing meaningfully. ‘Though they seemed to carry more authority than those that follow them. The bishop had a clerk and two monks in attendance, supported by three lords of high standing. You travel much lighter.’
‘Our pronouncements have equal weight,’ said Ralph.
‘Tell us something about Gloucester,’ invited Gervase, riding over his friend’s comment. ‘As reeve here, you must know it as well as anyone and we are anxious to hear your insights. The sheriff, alas, did not feel able to furnish us with much intelligence.’
‘That is not surprising,’ muttered Nigel.
‘You and he must see a great deal of each other.’
‘Yes, Master Bret.’
There was a wealth of regret in his voice but he was too diplomatic to put his hostility into words. Gervase understood the situation at once. Though the reeve held a crucial administrative position, his powers were severely limited by a domineering sheriff. Evidently, there was no love lost between the two men. Gervase introduced some gentle flattery.
‘I suspect that you are a surer guide than our host,’ he said.
‘Durand sees little that happens outside the castle.’
‘Whereas you do.’
‘Inevitably.’
‘What kind of place is Gloucester?’
‘It is mine,’ said Nigel with a gesture of pride, ‘and I have made it indisputably one of the finest cities in the realm.’
‘How did you do that?’
The reeve needed no prompting. He described the city, its history and its relationship to the surrounding county. Though his lecture was couched in unashamed self-admiration, it was both lucid and concise. Hubert threw in a few questions of his own and they were answered frankly. By the time the reeve had finished, the visitors had a much clearer idea of the place they had come to and the personalities they would encounter.
Gervase was sincerely grateful. Feeling that he had established his primacy once more, Nigel the Reeve gave a token bow and withdrew with dignity.
‘I’ll teach the rogue to mend his manners before I’m done,’
said Ralph, glowering at the door. ‘Those airs and graces will get short shrift from me. Who does he think he is?’
‘I found his comments enlightening,’ observed Hubert.
‘So did I,’ Brother Simon piped up.
‘He needs to be handled in the right way,’ said Gervase.