‘I understand that.’
‘Keep her close, Ordgar. Tell her nothing. Bring her early to the castle tomorrow.’
‘I will.’
‘Bristeva will sleep there overnight,’ said Arnulf. ‘I will ensure that nothing of this tragedy disturbs her. She will be kept in ignorance.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Bristeva is almost a woman yet we must keep her a child. And children must be shielded from such horrors. When it is time to tell her, I will frame it as gently as I can.’
‘I would prefer that she heard it from you,’ said Ordgar. ‘My tongue would surely blunder. You would choose the right words and Bristeva has such great admiration for you.’
‘I will wait until the banquet is out of the way first. At least, she will not be robbed of that joy. Bristeva will stand in the hall where Helene last stood to sing for the company.’
The old man came to a sudden halt as a thought intruded.
‘I talked to Helene once.’
‘Did you?’
‘When I came to pick up Bristeva from a choir rehearsal. My daughter introduced me to her. Helene was a good girl. I remember how polite she was. Even to me.’
‘Helene always showed respect.’
‘She said how much she loved to sing,’ recalled Ordgar. ‘She was so grateful to you for making that possible. At home, she was enjoined to hold her peace and attend to her work, but in church she was allowed to be herself.’
‘It would have been a crime to suppress that talent.’
‘Yet that is what happened when she was forced to leave the choir by her brother. My lord Wymarc was the one who suppressed that wonderful voice of hers.’ He looked up questioningly. ‘Could that be her motive? Despair at being taken away from you and the choir?’
‘No, Ordgar. I think not.’
‘Helene was like Bristeva. She lived to sing.’
‘Leaving us no doubt hurt her,’ said Arnulf, wincing at the memory.
‘It certainly caused us pain. But that would not be enough to incite her to such a dreadful act. There are other reasons behind this and I suspect that they are nothing to do with the choir.’
The two men set off again, walking in step towards the house.
When they got close enough, they could see Bristeva waving enthusiastically to them from the window. Ordgar felt a pang of remorse when he saw her. Her joy depended wholly on her innocence. Arnulf nursed his own recriminations. He would have to hide an ugly truth from someone with a right to know it.
Unaware of the calamity which had struck down her predecessor, Bristeva was singing at the top of her voice.
Ralph Delchard was overcome by a deep sadness. For a while he was quite dazed. When his head cleared, he grabbed Gervase Bret by the shoulders and sought corroboration.
‘Is this true?’ he gasped.
‘Unhappily, it is.’
‘Suicide? An unborn child?’
‘This is what I have been told,’ said Gervase. ‘Arnulf went out to the house in answer to a summons. Before he left, he confirmed to me that Helene had taken her own life.’
‘But this other horror? The baby?’
‘I had it from our host. The doctor gave a full report to my lord sheriff. The facts are no longer in doubt.’
Ralph released him and walked away a few paces to grapple with the frightful intelligence. They were alone together in the hall. A meal was set out on the table and others would soon join them. Gervase had been keen to forewarn his friend about the news which would surely dominate the conversation. He was surprised by Ralph’s reaction.
Close acquaintance with the savagery of war had left Ralph largely impervious to the shocks and setbacks which troubled others. Since he usually treated the Church with a cheerful irreverence, he could hardly be expressing the disgust of a true Christian at the dreadful implications of the act of suicide.
Walking back to him, Ralph gave an apologetic shrug.
‘Forgive me, Gervase. This news unnerved me.’
‘But you did not know Helene.’
‘She is a girl,’ said Ralph quietly. ‘That is enough. A young girl and a mother-to-be. Two lives cut hideously short. There is no comparison with my situation, I know, but I was hurled back into it for a moment.
I thought of Elinor, my first wife, my first love. It was a happy marriage, Gervase, but it lacked the one thing which we both dreamed about.
Children. Time went past but Elinor simply would not conceive. The doctor told me that Nature might be showing kindness.’
‘Where is the kindness is keeping a woman barren?’
‘That is what I said to him. He pointed out that Elinor was not strong. She had a delicate constitution and was prone to minor ailments.
Childbirth held danger for her.’ He bit his lip as the memory took a tighter hold. ‘Then, out of the blue, against all expectation, Elinor conceived our child. We were overjoyed, Gervase. What two people in our predicament would not be? We spurned the doctor’s warnings. God had blessed our union and that was paramount. You know the rest.’
‘Your wife and child did not survive the delivery.’
‘Elinor must have known,’ insisted Ralph. ‘In her heart, she must have known the appalling risk that she was taking. But she was so determined to give me the son I longed for that she bravely accepted that risk. Can you understand what I am saying?’
‘I think so, Ralph.’
‘Childbirth was a form of suicide for her.’
‘That is not true.’
‘It seemed so at the time.’
‘Then you must rid yourself of that thought,’ said Gervase seriously.
‘Elinor could not have foreseen what would happen. No woman woman would sacrifice her own life and leave her husband with a stillborn child. In any case, your experience is very different from the situation we find here. Your child was conceived with love within the bounds of holy wedlock. Helene’s was patently not.’
‘I know that, Gervase, and I am sorry to talk of my own sorrow when my sympathy should be given elsewhere. But the news caught me unawares. A mother and child lying dead. It brought back a vivid picture I have tried to wipe from my mind.’ He straightened his back.
‘No more of me. Let us think of the girl and what brought her to such an ignoble end.’
Gervase looked up as servants brought in more food and wine to set out on the table. He waited until they left.
‘There will be time enough to talk of this with the others,’ he said.
‘While we are still alone, I am anxious to hear your news. How did you find Milo Crispin?’
‘His blood is ice-cold, Gervase. When he makes water, it probably congeals in the air. I never met such a master of self-possession.’
‘What did you learn from him?’
‘A great deal,’ said Ralph. ‘He did not prevaricate.’
He gave his companion a brief account of all that had passed between him and Milo Crispin, adding salient details which his men had picked up while talking with members of the garrison at Wallingford Castle. Gervase was particularly interested in the news that Walter Payne had pursued Helene with lecherous intent. He was bound to wonder if the soldier might be the father of her child.
‘Milo did, indeed, give you straight answers.’
‘So I thought at the time,’ admitted Ralph. ‘But that was before I talked to Ordgar. He made me look at Milo from a slightly different angle. Some of those straight answers began to seem as crooked as the hind leg of a donkey.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The best way to divert attention from yourself is to accuse another.
That is why he pointed a finger at Wymarc. Walter Payne clearly pestered Helene in a way that angered her brother, but would that anger be enough to provoke Wymarc to such extreme action? No, Gervase. Perhaps we should go back to the race itself again and search for motives behind that.’
‘You think that Milo Crispin was involved in the murder?’
‘Examine the facts,’ said Ralph. ‘He knew and hated Walter Payne.