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When Ordgar came out of the house, Amalric was waiting for him.

Seated astride Cempan, he wore a knee-length outer tunic of linen with a decorated hem and gartered trousers. Like his father’s, the brooch on his mantle was fastened on his right shoulder. Ordgar saw the dagger in his belt.

‘You will not need that,’ he said sharply.

‘It is for defence, father,’ said the boy. ‘We ride home at night. It would be folly to travel without a weapon.’

‘I will keep it for you.’

He held out a hand. Amalric resisted at first but his father was determined. Only when the boy had surrendered his dagger did Ordgar climb into the saddle of his own horse.

‘Before we leave, a word of warning.’

‘Edric has already told me,’ said Amalric sulkily.

‘Do nothing to disgrace this family.’

‘It is Bristeva who is doing that.’

‘Amalric!’

The boy nodded. ‘I will obey,’ he sighed.

‘I expect more than obedience.’

‘Yes, father.’

‘Think of your sister for once.’

‘That is what Edric said. And I will try.’

‘Good,’ said Ordgar. ‘Let us go. We need to be at the castle well in advance. We will meet Edric there.’

‘Will he not ride with us?’ said Amalric in surprise.

‘No. He went on ahead.’

Edric the Cripple took his horse at walking pace down the hill towards Grandpont. Most of the traffic was going in the other direction as guests headed towards the castle for the banquet. When Edric went over the bridge, he swung to the right and picked his way slowly along the southern bank of the river. It was a warm evening. A few boats were gently spearheading their way through the water. Ducks paddled aimlessly. Geese honked menacingly in the rushes.

When he reached the castle, Edric nudged his horse into the shallows so that it could stretch its neck to take a drink. The rider’s attention was on the stone keep which reared up over him on the opposite bank. Through the open windows, he could hear the noisy preparations for the banquet and smell the mingled aromas which emanated from the kitchen. He could almost feel the excitement that was building inside the hall.

Edric had seen what he wanted. It was time to go.

The attack of nerves came when they were just about to leave her chamber. She was tingling all over.

‘I am afraid,’ said Bristeva, cheeks ashen with fear.

‘You have no need to be,’ reassured Arnulf.

‘I can hardly speak, let alone sing.’

‘You will be fine, Bristeva.’

‘No, Father Arnulf. I do not feel well.’

‘Everyone is uneasy before an occasion like this.’

‘I am not just uneasy,’ she said. ‘I am frightened. I cannot forget the terrible sight of that man tied to his horse. It scared me, Father Arnulf.’

‘It upset us all,’ he soothed her. ‘It was a dreadful thing to behold.

The wounded man deserves our deepest sympathy.’

‘Do you know who he is?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘It does not matter.’

‘But I want to know.’

‘The sooner you can put him out of your mind, the better.’ Arnulf took her by the shoulders. ‘Cheer up, Bristeva. This is a big occasion for you. Will it help if I tell you that the man is recovering? The doctor has tended him. I have seen the patient myself and he revives.’ He pulled her to him. ‘Now put him aside and think only of the banquet.’

‘I cannot sing tonight!’

‘Bristeva!’

‘I hate to let you down but I have no heart to sing.’

‘You are bound to feel nervous.’

‘They will not miss me, Father Arnulf. There is plenty of other entertainment. What are two songs in the middle of a feast such as that? Nobody will notice I am not there.’

He stepped back to take her chin in his hand.

I will notice,’ he said firmly. ‘And your father will notice. And your brother. And my lady Golde. Will you betray us all? I expect more of you.’

‘I know,’ she said guiltily.

‘Then no more of this weakness. We have practised the songs many times. When you stand up in the hall, your fears will drop away. You will sing as beautifully as I have taught you and everyone will applaud.

Do you understand?’

She lowered her head and gave a reluctant nod.

‘Let me hear you say it, Bristeva.’

‘I understand,’ she whispered.

‘Good girl!’

He lifted her chin and placed a delicate kiss on her lips. Bristeva looked up at him with her eyes shining. All her fears and reservations were suddenly receding. Arnulf the Chaplain had favoured her above all the other choristers. She could not let him down. Only by performing well could she retain his interest and his love.

‘I am ready,’ said a cheery voice behind them. ‘Shall we go across to the hall together?’

They stepped instinctively apart and turned to see Brother Columbanus in the doorway. Hands hidden in the sleeves of his cowl, the monk gave them his most benign smile.

‘I am hungry,’ he said.

Robert d’Oilly strove to dispel the air of gloom which hung over the hall. Ordering the musicians to play, and the cups of wine to be distributed, he strode about to greet each new guest with exaggerated affability. His wife Edith, resplendent in a garment of pale blue silk, was a more poised figure, extending her welcome with a warm smile and a friendly gesture of the hand. Between them, husband and wife slowly managed to lighten the pervading atmosphere.

Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret watched them in action.

‘He is such a daunting host,’ commented Ralph.

‘Daunting?’

‘Yes, Gervase. I do not not know which aspect of Robert d’Oilly is the more unsettling, the violent sheriff or the gushing host. He fairly swooped upon me when I entered, as if I were his sworn brother.’

Gervase smiled. ‘You are certainly not that.’

‘Look at him now with his son-in-law.’

Milo Crispin had come into the room with his wife, Maud, on his arm. They were a striking couple. Milo was as stately as ever and his wife, in a mantle of olive green over a white gown, had a dignified beauty. When she embraced her mother, the resemblance between them was clear. The sheriff greeted them both effusively as if he had not seen them for several years. Then his manner changed in a flash as he took Milo aside for a moment to whisper in his ear.

‘We know what the sheriff is telling him,’ noted Ralph.

‘But does he need to be told, Ralph?’

‘What?’

‘Milo Crispin does not seem at all surprised to hear about the beating that Bertrand Gamberell took,’ observed Gervase. ‘It is the sheriff’s face that is grim.’

‘Milo has hardly raised an eyebrow, let alone blenched.’

‘He will repay careful watching.’

The next guest who came through the door astonished them both.

Wymarc looked furtive and self-conscious but he forced a smile when he was greeted by his hosts. The wine that was put into his hand was immediately gulped down.

‘He is the last person I expected to see,’ said Gervase.

‘Yes. And he would rather be anywhere else but here.’

‘What brought him?’

‘Six of the sheriff’s men.’

‘By force?’

‘Originally,’ said Ralph. ‘I saw him when he was escorted into the castle earlier. My guess is that our genial host had him arrested on suspicion of assaulting Bertrand Gamberell. He obviously proved his innocence and was released.’

‘Released from custody but not from his guilt. He still frets over Helene’s suicide. You can see it clearly.’

‘Yes, Gervase, but he may have taken consolation from the news about Bertrand. It did not cause a ripple on the surface of Milo’s face but I wager that it raised at least a smile of satisfaction on Wymarc’s.’

Guests surged through the door in greater numbers and the hall began to fill rapidly. The plaintive sound of rebec and harp were drowned beneath the tidal murmur. Ralph looked around for Golde and saw her talking with Brother Columbanus. When he turned back to Gervase, he saw that they had company. Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances was bearing down on them.