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‘It is my lord sheriff who is fortunate,’ he observed.

‘Thank you. But I will not hold you up,’ she said. ‘I came in search of Brother Columbanus.’

‘He is not in the church, my lady.’

‘I supposed him to be in his chamber nearby.’

‘You may find him there,’ he said, stepping aside to let her past.

‘But I doubt it. We have all been looking for Brother Columbanus. He is a Benedictine magician. He seems to have disappeared into thin air.’

When he came fully awake, Brother Columbanus put the empty flagon aside and started to make a more detailed survey of his surroundings.

He felt warm, happy and strangely guiltless. As he groped around in the darkness, his hand touched nothing but bare earth. It was when he tried to rise that he had some indication of where he was. His tonsured head collided so hard with a wooden beam that he was momentarily dazed. The impact sobered him at once.

The low ceiling and the earthen floor told him that he must be in the undercroft and his brain was now functioning well enough for him to work out how he had got there. On his return from the hall the previous night, he had evidently been too inebriated to find his chamber and had strayed into the undercroft by mistake. He was reassured to learn that he was still on consecrated ground.

Taking care to avoid a second collision, he scrambled around in the gloom until he finally located the door. He was soon rejoining the world of the castle, padding across the bailey and dusting off his cowl with a vigorous palm. Ralph Delchard was talking to some of his men near the stables. He looked up as the monk approached.

‘There you are, Brother Columbanus!’ he said.

‘Did you want me, my lord?’

‘We have all wanted you. Where have you been?’

‘With the canons of St Frideswide’s,’ said Columbanus.

The cheerful lie did not even prick his conscience.

It was early evening and Golde was still engrossed in her conversation with Bristeva. She found the girl delightful and an immediate friendship had formed. Bristeva reminded her so much of herself at that age that it was uncanny. On her side, the girl was thrilled to have such interest taken in her and she revelled in the rare pleasure of talking to the wife of a Norman baron in her own tongue. They were in Bristeva’s chamber close by the church. Neither of them even noticed how cramped and uncomfortable it was.

‘Are you looking forward to the banquet?’ asked Golde.

‘I have thought about nothing else for days.’

‘Your songs will be a joy to hear.’

‘I hope so, my lady,’ said the girl. ‘Father Arnulf has rehearsed me so carefully. For his sake, I wish to do well.’

‘Will your family be there to hear you?’

‘Yes, they have been invited.’

‘You will make them feel very proud.’

‘I will try, my lady. My father will love me whatever I do. It is Amalric who will need persuading.’

‘Amalric?’

‘My brother. He does not want me to sing here.’

‘Why not?’

As soon as she asked it, Golde answered her own question and the girl’s blush confirmed that the answer was correct. If Bristeva had to defy her brother in order to sing, it must take some of the pleasure out of the occasion for her. The girl remembered a compensation and her smile returned.

‘Father Arnulf told me that the guests would be very appreciative if I sang well enough,’ she said.

‘I am sure they will.’

‘They sometimes gave Helene money for her performance. It would be wonderful if they did that for me. Not that I would keep it for myself,’ she stressed with a serious frown. ‘I would give it to Father Arnulf for the alms box.’

‘But you will have earned the reward, Bristeva.’

‘Only because of him.’

‘That is a very noble gesture to make.’

‘It is the least I can do to show my thanks.’ The frown vanished.

‘Do you know how many will be there tomorrow?’

‘As many as a hundred, I am told.’

‘All coming to hear me!’

‘There will be other entertainment, Bristeva,’ Golde reminded her with an indulgent smile, ‘but they will not compare with you, of course. You will have us all at your feet.’

‘My only disappointment is that she will not be there.’

‘She?’

‘Helene.’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘I would so love her to watch me taking her place,’ said Bristeva,

‘but they say she is unlikely to come.’

Golde felt the pain of holding back the truth from her.

‘I’m sure that you will not notice her absence in such a large gathering,’

she said soothingly. ‘It will be late before the banquet ends. Will you ride home through the night with your father and brother?’

‘No, my lady. Father Arnulf wants me to spend a second night here so that I will be able to join the rest of the choir for Matins on Sunday.’

‘That will save you two journeys.’

‘Yes.’ Bristeva was quizzical. ‘May I ask you something?’

‘Please do.’

‘How did you meet your husband?’ Golde laughed in surprise and the girl was immediately contrite. ‘Oh, dear! I did not mean to pry,’

she said quickly. ‘Please do not take offence. I should not have asked.

It is no business of mine.’

‘You took me unawares, Bristeva, that is all.’

‘Forget what I said.’

‘No,’ said Golde pleasantly. ‘I will give you an honest answer. I have nothing to hide. I met my husband by chance when he came to visit my home town.’

‘And where was that?’

‘Hereford.’

‘Edric used to live in Hereford.’

‘Edric?’

‘My father’s steward,’ she said. ‘He never talks about it to me but Amalric told me that he was once in the service of the Earl of Hereford.’

‘Some time ago, then. The county has no earl now.’

‘The name I remember is Earl Roger.’

Golde nodded. ‘Roger of Breteuil. He disgraced himself, Bristeva.

He joined with two other earls in a revolt against the King. The revolt was put down and Earl Roger was sent to prison. We have had no earl in Hereford since.’

‘According to my brother, Edric will say very little about his time there.’

‘That is understandable if he was Earl Roger’s man.’

‘I think there is another reason, my lady.’

‘What is that?’

‘Our steward is known as Edric the Cripple,’ said the other. ‘Hereford has unhappy memories for him. That is where he lost his leg.’

Towing his own horse on a lead-rein, Edric the Cripple gave himself the pleasure of riding Hyperion for the last time. The moon was hidden behind the clouds. He hugged the trees for additional cover. When he got close to the house, he tethered his own horse to a bush and eased Hyperion forward at a walking pace. A dog began to bark but the clank of a chain showed that he was not at large. Edric waited until the barking stopped then nudged the black stallion on.

It was over in a matter of minutes. When he closed the stable door, Edric looked up at the house where a contented man slept unwittingly with a wayward wife. Edric smirked. He took pleasure in being able to destroy their marital harmony. He used his crutch to hop away through the shadows. Hyperion was no longer his problem. The stallion would cause worries for somebody else now. Mounting his own horse, he was soon making his way back home at a steady trot.

When the dog barked again, Edric was miles away.

She was still in her night attire. Sitting on a chair in the bedchamber, she combed her hair with languid strokes and imagined the pleasure of having her lover’s fingers running through her tresses. He had liberated her as a woman. After years in a stale bed with an older man, she had finally found someone who could ignite her passion until it crackled with delight and burned itself out in an explosion of pure ecstasy. She knew that he would come to her again. Her letter had been sent in the code which he had given her. Meaningless to anyone else, it held a promise of utter bliss for them.