‘You are ready to eat something?
‘Not yet, Goda. I have an errand for you.’
‘I will do it at once.’
‘Run to Saewin’s house,’ ordered Asa. ‘Explain my situation.
Tell him that, whatever happens, I must not miss the funeral tomorrow. That takes priority over all else. I will gladly appear before the commissioners after the funeral.’
‘What if they call you for the morning?’
‘I will not go.’
‘That will not help your cause,’ warned Goda.
‘I shall put myself in Saewin’s hands,’ said Asa. ‘He must contrive it so that I can attend both the funeral and the shire hall. A town reeve has some influence in these matters. Ask him to use it on my behalf.’
‘I will.’
‘And Goda …’
‘Yes?’
Asa gave a distant smile which brightened the whole of her face. ‘Tell him that I will be most grateful.’
‘What makes this case so unusual, Ralph?’ she asked. ‘You have talked of nothing else since you returned.’
‘I am sorry, my love,’ he said, giving her an apologetic kiss. ‘I did not mean to bore you with my problems.’
‘They do not bore me at all.’
‘Tell me about your day.’
‘When you have satisfied my curiosity,’ said Golde. ‘I know that the lord Nicholas’s death has given this dispute more intensity, but I do not understand why it rates above all the others.’
‘Two reasons.’
‘What is the first?’
‘Money,’ said Ralph. ‘The holdings in question run to several hides and contain some of the richest farmland in the county.
Whoever inherits that property from Nicholas Picard will become quite wealthy.’
‘And the second reason?’
‘Women, my love.’
‘I do not follow.’
‘Five claimants are involved here,’ he explained, ‘and three of them are ladies. That is not only unusual, Golde, it is unprecedented in my experience. You can expect a wife or a daughter to lay claim to an inheritance, as the lord Nicholas’s widow will do in this instance, but it is rare to have two other women hurling themselves into the fight.’
‘Do they have legitimate claims?’
‘So they believe.’
‘Who are they?’
‘One is a Saxon woman, Asa, who lives here in the city. What her relationship with the lord Nicholas is I can only guess, but she purports to have a letter from him which bequeaths those holdings to her. In other words,’ he observed drily, ‘she only has a claim on the property now that he is dead. While he was alive, this Asa could only sit and wait.’
‘Is that what you think she did?’
‘I do not know, Golde. I have not met her and may be maligning her unfairly. But let me put it no higher than this,’ he said. ‘The death of Nicholas Picard is highly convenient. If we find in favour of Asa, she will be a woman of property.’
‘Who is the other claimant?’
‘One lady Loretta, widow of Roger de Marmoutier. She came out of the blue this morning to attest her right to that property.
I can only surmise how powerful an advocate she will be, but it means that we will be hard put to it to sift out the truth. Three women and two men.’ He gave a wry chuckle. ‘There will be a fierce battle in that shire hall.’
‘Who are the men?’
Ralph pulled a face. ‘The abbot of Tavistock is one of them. You can always rely on the Benedictine Order to make a grab for any property that comes into dispute. Abbots have greedy fingers.’
‘Do not be so irreverent.’
‘Nor so prejudiced,’ he said, chiding himself. ‘I am sorry, my love. I condemn this prelate before I have even set eyes on him.
He may yet turn out to have the strongest claim of all.’
‘You said that there was a fifth contender.’
‘Ignore him, Golde. He is of no account.’
‘Then why does he register a claim?’
‘Out of sheer folly. He will not detain us long.’
‘What is his name?’
‘Engelric’
‘A Saxon, then?’
‘Yes,’ said Ralph dismissively. ‘We only hear him out of courtesy.
He has a claim of sorts, but it has no real worth. The struggle will be between the abbot and the three ladies. Engelric will not figure very much.’
Golde understood why. She also realised why her husband was so reluctant to talk about the man’s claim. Evidently, he was the Saxon thegn who owned the property before the Conquest and had it taken forcibly from him. Engelric’s fate mirrored that of her own father. Out of concern for her feelings, Ralph did not wish to remind her of her lost status. Born into a noble family, Golde was practising her trade as a brewer when he met her in Hereford. It had been a long and painful fall from the position she once occupied. Ralph was glad that marriage to him had elevated her once more to the rank he felt she deserved.
Recollections of her past brought a more immediate memory to mind.
‘I spoke with the lady Albreda today,’ she said.
‘Was she meek and mild or cold and supercilious?’
‘Neither, Ralph. She was polite and almost friendly.’
‘Almost?’
‘I had the feeling that she was trying to apologise to me without quite knowing how to do it. Apology is not something which the lady Albreda has much experience of, I should imagine. But at least she did not patronise me.’
‘I am relieved to hear it.’
‘How she will behave in front of her husband is another matter.
I am not looking forward to sitting beside her at table again.’
‘You will not have to, my love. Leave it to me.’
They were alone in their chamber in the keep, enjoying the pleasure of being together again after a long day apart. Ralph reflected how much more practical and loving his marriage was than that of their hosts. After a tiring session in the shire hall, he could come back to a cordial welcome and a sympathetic ear.
However weary or jaded he might be, Golde had the capacity to revive him. It was one of the things he treasured most about her. He was about to tell her so when there was a tap on the door.
‘Who is it?’ called Ralph.
‘Me,’ said Hervey de Marigny. ‘With glad tidings.’
‘Then bring them in.’ He opened the door to admit his colleague who acknowledged Golde with a smile. ‘Well, Hervey? Do not keep me in suspense. What are these glad tidings? Has Canon Hubert decided to resign his place on the commission? Was Brother Simon caught naked in a brothel? Put me out of my misery.’
‘I have just come from my lord sheriff.’
‘And?’
‘His messenger arrived as we were talking.’
‘And?’ pressed Ralph. ‘And? And? And?’
‘They have been taken,’ said de Marigny. ‘Arrested by the sheriff’s officers. The men who murdered Nicholas Picard will be hurled into the castle dungeons before this night is out.’
Patience did not come easily to Baldwin of Moeles. He was a man of action who chafed at idleness and loathed delay. Instead of waiting for his men to bring the prisoners to him, he took an escort and rode north to meet the returning posse. He was almost five miles away from Exeter when he heard them coming, the hooves of their horses clacking on the hard track. Baldwin, reined in his horse and his escort came to a halt around him. There was enough moonlight to cast a ghostly pallor on the road ahead.
Phantom figures soon came into view. The sheriff waited until they were within earshot.
‘Bring them to me!’ he yelled. ‘Show me these foul villains!’
‘Yes, my lord sheriff!’ replied the captain of the posse.
They were soon drawing up in front of Baldwin. Dropping from the saddle, he went to a horse across which one of the robbers had been tied. The man was exhausted by the pummelling he had taken and was running with sweat. The sheriff grabbed his hair and lifted up the head so that he could stare into the prisoner’s face.
‘Do you know who I am?’ he growled.
The man spoke no French but he clearly recognised the sheriff.
He began to gibber with fear. Baldwin struck him across the face, drawing blood from his nose.