‘Did she say why her interest was waning?’
‘No. And I believe that it was merely an excuse.’
‘What was her real reason for leaving?’
‘My guess is that it had more to do with her elder brother than with Helene herself. She lives in his house and must do his bidding. He was never happy about her being in the choir in the first place and Helene had many disagreements with him.’
‘Could you not argue with him on her behalf?’
‘I did so repeatedly, Gervase.’
‘But without success.’
‘Helene was taken away. Her voice can delight us no more.’
‘It seems like an act of wilful cruelty.’
‘Her brother, alas, does have a cruel streak.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘My lord Wymarc.’
Helene sat in the window of her bedchamber and stared sorrowfully out at the garden below. Birds were heralding a fine morning with full-throated relish and the sun was already burnishing the trees and the grass. The sky was cloudless and the wind a mere whisper.
A squirrel darted up the trunk of a beech tree. A frog explored the slime at the edge of the pond. Insects were buzzing with early frenzy.
A gardener was ambling through the bushes.
Helene drew no pleasure from the tranquil scene. Its quiet beauty only served to sadden her even more. She was a tall, pale, willowy girl of fourteen with nothing of her brother’s ugliness or obesity. Her features were pleasant rather than handsome and there was a childlike awkwardness about the way she held herself. Still in her night attire, she ran a comb absent-mindedly through her long, black hair and let her eyes wander aimlessly around the garden.
A loud knock on her door brought her out of her reverie.
‘Helene?’ called a voice.
‘Yes?’ she said, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.
‘What do you want?’
‘You have eaten no breakfast this morning.’
‘I am not hungry.’
‘You said that yesterday. Are you unwell?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sickening for something?’
There was no sympathy in her brother’s enquiry. Wymarc did not have a close relationship with his younger sister. Since the death of their parents, the girl had been withdrawn and secretive. Helene resented having to live with him and his wife. After two years in their care, she had still not come to accept him as her guardian. For his part, Wymarc found her an irritating burden but she was his sister and duty prompted him. Vows made to his parents had to be honoured. Besides, his sister was a valuable commodity on the marriage market. Betrothed to the right man, Helene could bring her brother real advantage.
‘Shall I summon a doctor?’ he asked.
‘No!’ she protested.
‘He may have a cordial to restore your appetite.’
‘There is nothing wrong with me.’
‘Then why do you keep refusing food?’
‘I will eat in a while.’
Wymarc paused to consider his own diagnosis.
‘You cannot deceive me,’ he said. ‘I know what this is all about. You are still angry with me, are you not? You are still hurt because I took you away from St George’s-in-the-Castle.’
‘That is not true.’
‘It is, Helene. I remember how bitterly you railed at me. But I only did it for your own good. You will come to see that in time. While you were at the castle you were vulnerable, and it is my duty as your brother to protect you. That is why you had to leave the choir.’
‘I will never go back,’ she murmured.
‘You still hold it against me.’
‘No, I do not.’
‘It had to end,’ argued Wymarc. ‘A certain person was starting to pay too much attention to my sister. You are only a child but that would not stop him. I know him too well. When I saw him at the race two days ago, he asked after you yet again, Helene. In a way that disgusted me. He hoped that I would have brought you out to watch his black stallion run. Can you hear what I am saying?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you understand my reasoning?’
‘You did what you thought best,’ she said dully.
‘Then stop hiding up here from me. Come downstairs.’
‘I am not hungry.’
‘We would still like to see you, Helene. We are worried about you.
Stop behaving like this.’ A long silence. He became brusque. ‘Very well. I will send for the doctor.’
‘There is nothing wrong with me.’
‘I will let him be the judge of that.’
‘No!’ she protested. ‘Please!’
‘Then come out of there.’
Helene stood and made a forlorn gesture with her hands.
‘Very well,’ she capitulated. ‘I will get dressed.’
Bertrand Gamberell did not have long to wait. On the following morning, he timed his arrival perfectly. He leaned nonchalantly against the trunk of a tree while Hyperion cropped the grass behind him. It was only when he heard the drumming of the hooves that he crouched down out of sight. There were five of them but his only interest was in the man who led them at a canter along the winding track. When they had ridden past, he stood up and slapped his thigh with satisfaction.
But he took no chances. Gamberell was far too wily and experienced to do that. Leaving his own horse tethered, he strolled up the wooded slope until he reached the summit of the hill. The vantage point allowed him to see a dim outline of Oxford on the distant horizon. He watched the five riders as they continued steadily on their way towards the town. When they were a mile or more away, he strolled casually back to Hyperion and mounted the horse.
‘Come on, boy!’ he urged. ‘We must not keep her waiting.’
Ralph Delchard had to wait until after breakfast for the chance to speak to Gervase Bret alone and tell him about his findings at Woodstock the previous day. Alone in the hall at the castle, they spoke in subdued voices to cheat the echo. Gervase heard him out with rapt attention.
‘What did you conclude?’ he asked.
‘That the assassin did not flee into the forest at all. Not at first. Too many eyes were against him. He was bound to be seen as he ran across that field.’
‘Unless those eyes were deliberately blind.’
‘That is a possibility but I think it unlikely.’
‘Why?’
‘Accomplices would not simply have ignored what they saw. They would have distracted everyone else’s attention as well and there was no diversion. No,’ decided Ralph, ‘I think that there is another explanation.’
‘The assassin remained hidden in the copse.’
‘Yes.’
‘But it was thoroughly searched, you say.’
‘That is what Wymarc told me but I think they blundered about too hastily among those trees. They missed vital signs. I would like to have conducted a proper search myself but Wymarc was panting at my heels like a hunting dog. I need to go back to Woodstock when he is not around to hinder me.’
‘What does he think?’
‘That the murderer is here under lock and key.’
‘Ebbi?’
‘Yes, Gervase. According to him, Ebbi threw the dagger at his victim then hared across that field before the murder was discovered. But that is impossible.’
‘Is it?’
‘Only a fit and lithe young man would have risked a wild dash to the forest. Ebbi is none of those things. I only saw the fellow from a distance, but he looked too old and gaunt to have a turn of foot.’
‘He is, Ralph. No question of that.’
‘If Ebbi was indeed the assassin, I believe that he took refuge somewhere and remained hidden. It was only after everyone had left the area that he came out and made his escape to the forest. Except that it was no escape.’ He pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘I come more and more to doubt that Ebbi is involved at all here.’
‘Of that I am certain, Ralph.’
‘How?’
‘I spoke with the man.’
‘When?’
It was Gervase’s turn to take over. He described his visit to the dungeon the previous day and explained how it helped to reinforce his earlier suspicions. Ralph was fascinated.