He touched Ralph familiarly on the arm. ‘Let us be friends, my lord. I have a strong feeling that we are cut from the same cloth.’
Ralph had an equally strong feeling that they had very little in common but he said nothing. Gamberell was a key figure in the murder inquiry. It would be foolish to spurn his help when he was in a mood to co-operate. Ralph offered him a non-committal smile which the other was quick to misinterpret.
‘That is better,’ said Gamberell happily. ‘We both want the arrest and conviction of this assassin so we may as well work together. All I wish to know is why Ebbi was released.’
‘Did you put that question to my lord sheriff?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That your evidence had been very persuasive.’
‘Then there is an end to it.’
‘But I do not know exactly what that evidence was.’
‘Suffice it to say that it proved Ebbi’s innocence beyond any shadow of doubt. Did you really believe that a skinny old man like that could plot and carry out so cunning a murder?’
‘Well, no, my lord,’ lied Gamberell. ‘To be candid, I always had grave reservations. Ebbi was totally unknown to me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I was the target of that attack. Whoever killed Walter Payne was really striking at me. Ebbi had no motive to do that. I thought at first he might have been hired by someone who had a grudge against me but such a person would surely engage a more reliable assassin.’
‘Someone able to kill then elude arrest.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And to show some ingenuity in the process.’
‘Ingenuity?’
Ralph told him about the hiding place in the copse which he and Gervase had discovered at Woodstock. Gamberell was duly astonished and impressed. He was also puzzled.
‘Why have you become embroiled in this?’ he said. ‘You are here simply to decide who owns what land and how much tax should be paid on it. Tiresome work that should keep you immured in the shire hall. Why ride all the way to Woodstock to look into a crime that can surely hold no personal interest for you?’
‘But it does, my friend.’
‘How?’
‘The major dispute which we have come to Oxford to settle concerns, as you well know, three claimants to the same property.’
‘Milo, Wymarc and myself.’
‘Is it not strange that exactly the same men are involved in a horse race during which a murder is committed? That is too much of a coincidence to ignore.’
‘There was a fourth party involved, my lord. Ordgar.’
‘His name only thickens the stew. Much of the land which Milo Crispin now holds was once in Ordgar’s possession. You, too, have appropriated some of Ordgar’s former manors. Can you see now why I am so curious about this whole matter?’ said Ralph, eyeing him shrewdly. ‘Four people engaged in a tenurial battle also take part in another kind of race.’
‘And I was the loser!’ sighed Gamberell.
‘Suspicion must therefore fall on your three rivals.’
I accused them to their faces.’
‘And how did they respond?’
‘Milo was a block of ice and denied the charge. Wymarc screamed his innocence and swore he’d take out an action for slander against me. Needless to say, he did not. Wymarc is all bark and no bite.’
‘What of Ordgar?’
‘He has neither bark nor bite,’ sneered Gamberell. ‘And none of the guile needed to plan such a crime. Besides, he expected his colt to win. Why set up a murder which is bound to render the contest void?’
‘Apart from these three, do you have any other enemies?’
‘Several, my lord.’
Ralph grinned. ‘Vengeful husbands, perhaps?’
‘Who knows? My concern is that the man is apprehended quickly.
He has already killed one of my men and stolen my horse. The next outrage may be a direct attack on me.’
‘I think that unlikely.’
‘Why?’
‘To begin with, you have no proof that the assassin and the horse thief are one and the same man.’
‘He feels like the same man.’
‘Not to me.’
‘He is hell-bent on hurting me, my lord.’
‘Then ask yourself this,’ said Ralph, watching a horse as it was led out of the stables. ‘Would someone who is ready to kill your man in broad daylight be content merely to take your stallion? He would be much more likely to slaughter the animal and send him back to you in pieces.’
Gamberell saw the logic in his argument and nodded. But the new perspective on the crimes brought him no comfort.
‘It seems that I now have two enemies instead of one.’
Ralph shook his head. ‘I am not entirely persuaded that you have any who would go to such lengths.’
‘I must have. An assassin killed my man.’
‘Then we should be looking at Walter Payne’s enemies. It will be a blow to your self-esteem but you may have to accept the fact that Bertrand Gamberell is in no way involved in this murder.’
‘I am bound to be. Walter was one of my knights.’
‘He was the intended victim.’
‘As a means of getting at me.’
‘No,’ said Ralph, feeling his way through the argument. ‘As a means of getting at Walter Payne. The race was seen by the killer as both an opportunity and a decoy.’
‘Decoy?’
‘It made you look in the wrong direction. Our assassin is more guileful than I thought. He has led you by the nose. All this time, you have wondered who is striving to get at Bertrand Gamberell instead of asking yourself who had a motive to kill Walter Payne.’
‘Nobody.’
‘We all have enemies of some sort.’
Gamberell was perplexed. He was so convinced that he had been the indirect target of the murder that he could not easily accommodate a theory about the crime which relegated him to a peripheral role. He felt obscurely cheated.
Ralph pursued his new line of thought relentlessly.
‘Your stallion, I hear, was previously invincible.’
‘Hyperion won all three races.’
‘And who was in the saddle each time?’
‘Walter Payne.’
‘So he was your preferred rider?’
‘My best horseman. And the only person, apart from myself, who could handle such a fiery animal as Hyperion.’
‘The assassin knew that he would be in the race that day,’ said Ralph. ‘All that careful planning would not be wasted.’
‘Everyone liked Walter.’
‘Everyone but the killer.’
‘Walter Payne was a good man. Loyal to a fault.’
‘Had he always been in your service?’
‘No,’ said Gamberell. ‘He came to me a couple of years ago. Before that, he was in the employ of Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances. Walter fought under the bishop’s banner many a time and talked fondly of those years. That is why his death is such a tragedy. Walter was looking forward to the banquet with real excitement.’
‘Banquet? Here at the castle?’
‘Yes, my lord. On Saturday. The honoured guest is none other than Bishop Geoffrey himself. I promised to take Walter along with me as my guest so that he could be reunited with his old master. Fate can be so treacherous.’
Ralph said nothing. His mind was racing with Hyperion.
Having come to church to pray, Gervase Bret stayed to listen to the choir rehearsal. He sat at the rear of the nave as their voices soared up to heaven under the direction of Arnulf the Chaplain. The eight members of the choir looked vaguely incongruous when they first arrived but their voices blended perfectly. Gervase was enchanted.
He found himself singing the Kyrie eleison with them.
The door opened and a figure slipped quietly into the church. Gervase guessed who he was. When Bristeva sang her solo, the newcomer’s face was a study in pride and pleasure. Gervase waited until the rehearsal was over before intruding on the old man’s joy.
‘You are Bristeva’s father, I believe,’ he said.
‘That is so. My name is Ordgar.’