I do not see this connection you talk about.’
‘No more do I, my love. But I know it is there. That is why Brother Columbanus was helpful for once. He has set me looking in the right direction.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘They are here, Golde.’
‘Who are?’
‘The men behind it all,’ he argued. ‘The one who killed Walter Payne or arranged his murder. The one who stole the black stallion.
The one who seduced that poor creature and drove her to suicide.
The one who is provoking violence between Wymarc and Gamberell.
The one who is so keen to win a horse race that he will take another’s colt away by force.’
‘How many men are you talking about?’
‘One, two, perhaps more,’ he said. ‘But this much I know. I have met them, Golde. Talked with them all. Wymarc, Ordgar, Milo Crispin, Bertrand Gamberell and Robert d’Oilly.’
She was surprised. ‘You include the sheriff?’
‘He is waist-deep in this morass.’
‘But it is his task to solve the crimes,’ she reasoned. ‘You heard his complaints this evening. He is finding the cares of office very burdensome.’
‘Those cares are more than outweighed by the rewards.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look around you, Golde,’ he urged. ‘This castle is one of the finest and strongest in England. Only a rich man could afford to build it.
Robert d’Oilly holds ten manors in Oxfordshire and collects rent from his subtenants on twenty-one others. And do you not remember your walk through the town with Arnulf?’
‘Only too well.’
‘What struck you most?’
‘The number of derelict houses.’
‘How did they get in that condition?’
‘I do not know.’
‘Then let me tell you. The sheriff has forty-two inhabited houses in Oxford but only sixteen of them pay tax and tribute. The other inhabitants are too poor. Robert d’Oilly has a further eight dwellings which are derelict because the families who lived in them have been forced out.’
He eased her on to her side. ‘This sheriff of ours, who finds the cares of office so burdensome, has bled this town dry. To build his castle and construct his bridge, he levied taxes on every household in Oxford.’
He checked himself and gave her an apologetic kiss.
‘But what sort of conversation is this for a man and wife to have in their bedchamber?’ he said softly. ‘I am sorry, my love. These arguments should be heard in daylight.’
‘Go on,’ she encouraged him. ‘I am interested.’
A yawn threatened. ‘We need our sleep.’
‘Not until you explain your charge.’
‘It is no charge, Golde. I am thinking aloud.’
‘You truly believe that the sheriff is involved?’
‘If a shire is corrupt, its sheriff must take much of the blame.
Maurice Pagnal was probably bribed by the sworn brother of our host. I too was probed to see if I would yield to influence. Oxford is rotten to the core.’ He stroked her hair. ‘None of this may make the sheriff an accessory to murder. But the speed with which he sought to prosecute an innocent man keeps his name on my list.’ He grinned in the dark. ‘Here endeth the lesson.’
‘I have had quieter nights,’ she said.
‘My fault. I will make amends.’
‘I am fully awake now.’
‘That is why I will administer a sleeping draught.’
‘Sleeping draught?’
‘Yes, my love,’ he said, rolling gently on top of her. ‘We will take it together then slumber in each other’s arms.’
Golde smiled lazily and pulled him to her.
Dawn found them riding side by side over the last mile to Oxford. A fine drizzle was carried on the breeze. Ordgar brooded anxiously but Bristeva was in a cheerful mood. As her pony trotted along the track, she watched the distant town grow slowly in size on the horizon.
‘I cannot wait to get there,’ she said excitedly.
‘It will not be long now, Bristeva.’
‘Just think, father. I am to sleep at the castle tonight.’
‘You must be on your best behaviour.’
‘In my wildest dreams, I never thought to have such an honour,’
she said, eyes still on the town. ‘To be a guest at Oxford Castle then to sing at a banquet. These things do not happen to someone like me.’
‘They did,’ said Ordgar wistfully. ‘In the old days, my family were accustomed to have such privileges heaped upon them. We were always invited to banquets. We mixed with the greatest in the land. Your father was a thegn, Bristeva, and you must never forget it. You are the daughter of nobility.’
‘I know.’
‘Then think yourself entitled to these honours.’
The pride in his voice made her heart leap and she put out a hand to squeeze his arm. Ordgar was a pragmatic man. He adapted with dignity to changes he could not resist but his memories of former glory remained undimmed.
‘I saw Amalric before we left,’ she recalled. ‘He was in the stable with Cempan when I went for my pony.’
‘Did he speak to you?’ he asked with slight alarm.
‘Only to bid me farewell.’
‘He said nothing else?’
‘Nothing, father. That is what surprised me. Amalric knew where I was going this morning yet he did not even tease me about it. I thought he would berate me again.’
‘I am delighted to hear that he did not.’
‘Did you speak sternly to him?’
‘Amalric was warned.
‘Thank you for that,’ she said. ‘I feared that he might try to stop me riding to Oxford today. He and Edric have been so cruel in their comments.’
‘That is all past, Bristeva.’
‘I do hope so.’
‘Neither of them will tax you again.’
‘I am pleased to know that, father.’ A frown surfaced. ‘Amalric seemed in a happy mood today.’
‘Happy?’
‘I have never seen him like that before.’
‘He has little to be happy about at the moment.’
‘Unlike me.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Unlike you.’
Conscious of the dark secret he was hiding from her, Ordgar was finding it difficult to keep up a conversation with his daughter. Her joy came in such sharp contrast to his own sadness. Ordgar was pleased that she would sing at the banquet but he regretted the circumstances in which her performance would take place. In shielding her from the knowledge of Helene’s suicide, he felt that he was being both kind and cruel to her. He was fearful how Bristeva would react when she realised that he had conspired with Arnulf to keep her ignorant of the tragedy. He and the chaplain were partners in betrayal.
‘Do all that you are told,’ he instructed.
‘I will, father.’
‘None of this would have happened without Father Arnulf. We are indebted to him and you must show your gratitude by your obedience to him.’
‘I always do.’
‘Listen to nobody else but him, Bristeva.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘No reason.’
The drizzle thickened and they increased their pace. As Oxford came ever nearer, the girl’s excitement knew no bounds.
‘I am to sing before my lord sheriff and his lady,’ she said, luxuriating in the thought. ‘The Bishop of Coutances will be there with his train.
And Father Arnulf tells me that royal commissioners are staying at the castle. Everyone will hear me,’ she said with a giggle. ‘I will be famous!’
‘Enjoy the moment.’
‘I will, I will.’
‘You deserve it Bristeva.’
‘I do. I worked so hard in the choir. And now I’ve been chosen to take over from Helene.’ A thought nudged her. ‘Do you think she will be there?’
‘Who?’
‘Helene. Her brother will surely be invited.’
‘That is true.’
‘Will he bring her along with him?’
Ordgar had to force the words out between his lips.
‘No,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Helene will not be there.’
Wymarc had spent so long before the altar on his knees that his whole body was aching. His thighs were on fire, his calves were assaulted by cramp and his shoulders felt as if a great weight was pressing down on them. When he struggled to his feet, he tried to rub some of the stiffness out of his neck. Discomfort had brought its rewards. Wymarc had prayed for help and a measure of consolation had come. His earlier rage had been drained out of him to leave him calm and reflective. He was even ready to take some share of the blame for the desperate action of his sister. An hour of humility had taught him many things about himself as well as about Helene.