‘Is this where you seduced Helene as well?’
*
Edric the Cripple led his horse into the abandoned mill and tethered him to a wooden spike. The animal took time to settle after the long gallop from Oxford. When he nosed the hay at last, he began to chomp it contentedly. Disappointment gnawed at Edric. His careful plan had failed at the last moment. Walter Payne had been killed but a worse enemy had escaped. The consolation was that Edric had survived to fight another day. He allowed himself a congratulatory chuckle. A man with one leg had outwitted and outrun all of them. It had cost him a ducking in the river but he did not mind. He was safe.
It did not take him long to start the fire. Holding a long, straight twig between his palms, he rotated it quickly until the friction produced a spark and the other twigs ignited. He now had a source of light in his refuge and a means of drying his wet apparel. After feeding the fire, he began to remove his tunic. Nobody would find him there.
Before dawn, he would have left the county.
‘Edric the Cripple!’
The voice cut through the stillness like an axe.
‘Come on out!
Edric peered through the gap between the timbers and saw a solitary man, sitting astride a horse some twenty yards away. There was enough moonlight for him to pick out the sword in his visitor’s hand.
‘My name is Ralph Delchard!’ called the other. ‘I am here to arrest you for the murder of Walter Payne and for the attempted murder of Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances.’
Edric looked around in despair. There was no way out. His horse was tired. If one man had found him, there would be others nearby.
Resistance was useless. He might prevail in combat against most opponents but there was something in Ralph’s voice and the way that he held himself in the saddle which suggested a fearsome adversary.
‘You hid in the ground at Woodstock,’ said Ralph. ‘You cower in a mill here. Come out and fight in the open like a man, Edric. I am ready for you.’
The challenge awakened the warrior in him but Edric still held back. He foresaw only too clearly the gruesome fate he would meet if he was taken prisoner. It was futile to lie low and hope that Ralph would go away. The fire gave him away. Ralph could see its glow and knew that he was in there.
‘I know why,’ shouted Ralph, circling the mill on his horse. ‘You were a mercenary in the pay of Roger of Breteuil. You fought for him during the revolt of the three earls. But you picked the wrong side, Edric. You lost. The uprising was put down by an army led by Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances.’
‘He is an animal!’ howled Edric.
‘He was short on mercy that day,’ admitted Ralph. ‘When he overpowered your army, he ordered his men to cut off the leg of every soldier who raised a weapon against him.’
‘I was crippled for life!’
‘So was your mind, Edric’ Ralph was working himself closer. ‘Walter Payne served under the bishop. He took part in that hideous mutilation.
You waited a long time for your revenge on him.’
‘It was worth it!’
‘Come out now! I will not ask again.’
There was a long silence. Ralph’s patience snapped and he nudged his horse forward. He did not get far. The door of the mill opened and Edric’s horse came out, slapped on the rump to make him run. The door shut again but not before Ralph had seen a glimpse of the fire.
Fed by Edric, it started to crackle and blaze. Ralph’s horse shied and backed away. He rode it across to a tree and dismounted before tethering it. When he turned back to the mill, he saw that the fire had taken a real hold. Sword in hand, he ran towards the building until he was stopped by a wall of heat. It sent him reeling.
Coughing in the acrid smoke, he made one last appeal.
‘Come out, Edric! This is madness.’
But there was no reply. Edric reserved the right to quit the world in his own way. As the blaze lit up the night sky and the heat pushed Ralph further back, there was a loud cackle of triumph from inside the mill.
Edric the Cripple had eluded them all again. They found the charred remains of his crutch beside the body.
Epilogue
There was a full congregation in the church of St George’s-in-the-Castle next morning. The service was taken by Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances and he preached a sermon of thanksgiving for his narrow escape from death. All those present were acutely aware that the chaplain who normally presided at the altar was now lying in one of the dungeons to face a charge of attempted rape. Arnulf had readily confessed to the paternity of Helene’s child and was tortured with contrition. When the service came to an end, the bishop felt that he had not so much officiated in the church as conducted an exorcism.
A resident devil had been put to flight.
Thoroughly chastened, the congregation trickled out of the building and dispersed throughout the castle. Ralph Delchard was among the last to leave. Golde was beside him. Gervase Bret and Brother Columbanus soon joined them. The monk came over to congratulate Ralph.
‘You were justly praised in the sermon,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Ralph drily. ‘I have always wanted to lay rough hands on a bishop, but when I finally get the chance he ends up thanking me from the pulpit.’
‘You saved his life,’ reminded Golde.
‘No, my love. Edric’s crutch did that.’
‘His crutch?’
‘Yes. When Gervase and I searched the copse at Woodstock, we puzzled over these circular indentations in the ground. A staff? An implement of some kind? I could not work it out. Then I saw Edric the Cripple at the banquet.’
‘With his crutch.’
‘And there was my answer.’
‘You needed more evidence than that,’ said Columbanus. ‘What else drew your attention to the steward?’
‘His service to the Earl of Hereford.’ He turned to Golde. ‘My wife garnered that crucial piece of information. It gave me a motive for Edric. If someone cuts off your leg as an act of wanton violence, you tend to nurse a grievance.’
Golde grimaced. ‘Is that what happened?’
‘The bishop sounded holy enough in that church this morning but there was not much Christian spirit about him when he helped to put down the revolt of the earls. Edric was not the only prisoner crippled that day. By the time the bishop rode away, a lot of crutches were needed.’
The monk crossed himself. ‘The horrors of war know no limit.
Blessed are the peacemakers.’
‘What else convinced you, Ralph?’ asked Gervase.
‘His absence from the race at Woodstock,’ said Ralph. ‘Edric raised that colt and trained its rider. Would he really miss a chance to see them compete against such fine horses?’ He shook his head. ‘Not unless he had a good reason. That reason was the murder of Walter Payne.’
‘Was he certain the man would be in the race?’
‘Completely, Gervase. He watched him in the earlier races, remember, and noted his line of running. Then Edric and the boy practised for many hours over that course.’
‘So he could pick exactly the right place for the attack.’
‘He proved that in the hall last night,’ said Golde.
Ralph grinned. ‘Almost proved it.’
‘You were the bishop’s guardian angel,’ said Columbanus.
‘There is nothing angelic about me!’ he denied hotly.
‘Yes, there is,’ teased his wife.
They strolled across the bailey towards the keep. Oxford Castle seemed oddly silent and deserted after the dramatic events of the previous day. Gervase recalled that Hyperion was still stabled there.
‘How do you know that Edric was the horse thief?’
‘I don’t, Gervase.’
‘Then why suggest it?’
Ralph shrugged. ‘A guess. Hyperion is a spirited animal. Only a very experienced horseman could ride him. Ordgar told me how expert Edric was even with his disability.’
‘It does not seem to have been a disability,’ said Golde. ‘In some ways, it spurred him on.’