‘I demand more assistance, my lord sheriff!’ he said.
Robert d’Oilly turned a jaundiced eye upon the interloper.
‘I never respond to demands,’ he said.
‘We have been searching for Hyperion all day.’
‘Without success, by the look of you.’
‘It is your duty to help me.’
‘A troop of men has been combing the countryside.’
‘I need more.’
‘You have all that I can spare,’ said the sheriff. ‘Now, please excuse me. Master Bret and I have a more important topic to discuss.’
‘Nothing is more important to me than Hyperion,’ returned Gamberell.
‘You do not seem to appreciate what a remarkable animal he is. He has been stolen. That is a crime.’
‘I have sent men out in search of the criminal.’
‘Not enough of them.’
‘The theft of a horse is not a priority, Bertrand.’
‘It is for me.’
‘Have you forgotten the murder of your knight?’ scolded d’Oilly.
‘The killer is my main target. I would much rather catch an assassin than a mere horse thief. That is where I have assigned most of my men. To the murder hunt.’
‘I want Hyperion back!’
‘Excuse me, my lord,’ said Gervase, intervening to prevent the violent row that was about to break out. ‘You have clearly not heard the sad tidings. My lord sheriff and I were talking about the tragedy when you stole upon us.’
‘The only tragedy I know is the theft of my horse.’
‘And the murder of Walter Payne,’ said the sheriff.
‘Yes. That, too, of course.’
‘Let me add a third misfortune,’ said Gervase politely. ‘You are, I am sure, familiar with my lord Wymarc’s family.’
‘I have met his cold fish of a wife, if that is what you mean. Mean, maggoty, thin-faced lady who twitches all over you. What about her?’
‘I am referring to his sister.’
‘Helene?’ A confiding chuckle. ‘Now she is a different proposition altogether. A truly gorgeous young creature. I have waited outside the church for her more than once, I can tell you. Helene is a girl to be cultivated.’
‘Not any more, my lord.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Helene is dead.’
Gamberell gaped at him then turned to the sheriff. The latter gave a nod of confirmation. Gamberell reeled.
‘Dead? Helene? She was so full of life.’
‘It was not a natural death, my lord.’
A gasp of incredulity. ‘Someone killed her?’
‘Helene took her own life,’ said Gervase softly, ‘and that of the child she was carrying.’
Bertrand Gamberell was rocked. He looked from Gervase to the sheriff and back again. Then, without another word, he ran down the steps and across the bailey. He was soon spurring his horse out through the gates of the castle as if the hounds of hell were on his tail.
Chapter Twelve
Bristeva was singing quietly and sewing assiduously when she caught a glimpse of the visitor through the window. She gave a little cry of excitement. Abandoning her chore at once, she set it aside and went scurrying out to greet Arnulf the Chaplain. He looked pained and fatigued but he managed a welcoming smile for her. She held the reins of his horse while he dismounted.
‘How are you, Bristeva?’ he said.
‘Very well, thank you.’
‘Have you been practising that song I gave you?’
‘I was singing it to myself as I was at my sewing.’
‘Good.’ He glanced around. ‘Is your father here?’
‘In the lower field.’
‘I want to speak to him.’
‘Let me fetch him for you,’ she volunteered.
‘No need.’
‘I will run all the way.’
‘You stay here. I will find him myself.’ He looked at her for a moment and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Go back to your sewing and practise that song, Bristeva. It must be perfect. On Saturday, you will sing before a bishop.’
‘I know.’
‘Do not let me down.’
‘I would never do that, Father Arnulf.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘I give you my word of honour!’
He was touched by her earnest commitment. Waving a farewell, he started off on the long walk to the lower field. Bristeva ran back into the house and took up a position in the window from which she could keep him in view. Watching the man who had given a meaning to her life, she gathered up her sewing and sang with more pleasure than ever.
When the chaplain came up, Ordgar was supervising two of his men as they tried to repair a broken plough. Still in their yoke, the oxen bellowed mutinously. At the sight of Arnulf, the old man left the cottagers to struggle on alone with their work. He and his visitor walked a short distance away so that they could converse in privacy.
‘What brings you out here, Father Arnulf?’ said Ordgar.
‘Sorry news.’
‘Not about Bristeva, I hope?’
‘Indirectly.’
Ordgar was alarmed. ‘Her place at the banquet is not in jeopardy, is it? My daughter has set her heart on singing at the castle. It would destroy her if that chance were somehow snatched away from her.’
‘That is why I came to see you.’
‘What has happened?’
A considered pause. ‘Let us walk back to the house.’
They fell in beside each other and trudged up the field.
‘I came straight here from my lord Wymarc’s home,’ said Arnulf. ‘An appalling tragedy has befallen the family.’
‘Someone has died?’
‘It is worse than that, Ordgar.’
‘Worse? How can that be?’
‘His sister, Helene. Suicide.’
The old man was struck dumb. He had weathered many losses and ordeals in his long life, and witnessed much crime and brutality, but here was something quite outside his experience. The very notion of suicide made him shudder. The fact that it involved a girl, who was younger than his own daughter, gave the blow greater impact. He looked up at the distant house.
‘Have you told Bristeva?’
‘No.’
‘She liked Helene. They were friends.’
‘That is why she must not know yet, Ordgar,’ said Arnulf. ‘It would upset her too much. Bristeva would never be able to sing at the banquet with this on her mind. I came to beg you to keep this from her until afterwards.’
‘That will not be easy.’
‘But very necessary. You do see that?’
Ordgar thought it through. ‘Why, yes. You are right. Tell her now and she would be distraught. I am stunned myself in spite of all my years. A suicide? Dear God! By what means?’
‘Poison.’
‘What provoked such an act?’
‘We do not yet know.’
‘Did her brother have no explanation?’
‘My lord Wymarc is too distressed to talk about it. I offered what comfort I could in the household but there is a limit to what anyone can do.’
‘Taking her own life! This is dire news.’
‘It is all around the town by now and will soon spread out to the countryside. I wanted you to hear the truth from me and not some butchered account of it from the local gossips.’
‘That was very considerate.’
‘Bristeva must be protected from this.’
‘She will be, Father Arnulf. Trust me.’
‘I do. It is your son and your steward who worry me. Sooner or later, they will surely hear the rumours. I would hate to think of one of them blurting it out to Bristeva.’
‘They will not.’
‘Should I speak to them?’
‘It is my office. I’ll not shirk it.’ A long sigh escaped him. ‘There is no love lost between myself and my lord Wymarc but I do pity him.
And his wife. They have a terrible burden to bear from now on.’
‘The guilt will never leave them.’
‘Nor the ignominy. Suicide. It is against Nature.’
‘Helene must have been pushed to extremes.’
‘How? By whom?’
‘That will emerge in time,’ said Arnulf. ‘My immediate concern is to safeguard Bristeva’s performance at the banquet. It may be a long time before another chance like this presents itself.’