The Elephants of Norwich (11 page)

Made out of rough timber and roofed with thatch, the hut amid the marshes was small, bare and primitive. From a distance, it looked less like a human dwelling than a random collection of logs washed up by the sea. Birds perched familiarly on it. Wind plucked at the thatch and carried salt spray in its wake. It was remote and unwelcoming terrain. The man who emerged from the hut had chosen its location with care, yearning for a solitary existence where he could atone for what he saw as the sins of his past life. No comforts were needed, no company sought. Jocelyn Vavasour was a true anchorite, spending his days in prayer and meditation before sleeping at night on the cold ground. When he came out of his simple abode, the birds on his roof were not disturbed. They were used to him by now, accepting him as one of their own, a creature of the marshland.
    Vavasour was a big, powerful man in his forties, muscles hardened by long years as a soldier, face craggy and weather-beaten. A hot summer had darkened his complexion and his bare arms. Dressed like a Saxon peasant in ragged tunic and gartered trousers, he had almost nothing of a Norman lord about him now. His earlier swagger had been replaced by a gentle gait, his boldness by complete selfabnegation. He had shed the personality of Jocelyn Vavasour like an outer skin that had died and become useless. The world of the anchorite brought him deep satisfaction. Only one book shared the hut with him and he read from his Bible at regular intervals throughout each day, educating himself and searching for guidance in its wonderful Latin cadences. Psalms had been learned by heart, favourite passages studied again and again. Nobody ever disturbed him. A life once committed to violence was now dedicated wholly to God.
    The sky was almost dark now and a breeze had grown up to ruffle his hair and his long, curly beard. It was the time of day that he liked most. Alone with the elements and unable to see anything apart from the crescent moon and a scattering of stars, he felt closer to his Creator and more keenly aware of his own purpose on earth than at any other hour. Inhaling deeply, he smiled up at the heavens. Then he fell to his knees to begin his prayers.

The first lash of the whip produced a howl of anguish. A plea for mercy soon followed. Richard de Fontenel ignored it and wielded the whip even harder the second time, slicing open the man’s naked back and sending a rivulet of blood curling its way down his body. Clamahoc jerked and struggled but there was no escape. His wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden hurdle. By the light of a flaming torch, his master administered some more punishment, turning the white flesh into a raw expanse of agony. The tall figure of Clamahoc sagged under the onslaught, his cries of pain dwindling to mere whimpers.
    Grabbing him by his bushy hair, de Fontenel glared into his face. ‘
Now
will you tell me?’ he demanded.
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ gasped the other.
    ‘No lies, mark you.’
    ‘I’ll tell you everything, my lord.’
    ‘Or I’ll flay you.’
    Richard de Fontenel had been in an irate mood when he returned to his house. Not even a surprise visit from the lady Adelaide that afternoon could assuage his fury. Indeed, her presence only served to remind him of the ignominy he had faced at the hands of his rival. Not only had he been outflanked by Mauger Livarot, but the sheriff had been alerted to his strategy and caught him in the act. There was nothing he could do but slink away with his tail between his legs. One thought occupied his mind. If his adversary knew of his imminent arrival, he must have been forewarned by a member of de Fontenel’s own household. Stern questioning of each and every man had eventually delivered the culprit. Clamahoc was the last person he suspected: a young man who courted the shadows and gave least offence yet one who was well placed to listen at doors and to spy on his master. He deserved no compassion.
    Taking the torch from his servant, de Fontenel held it close to Clamahoc’s face. ‘I want the truth,’ he insisted.
    ‘You’ll have it, my lord,’ groaned the other.
    ‘Who paid you to spy on me?’
    ‘Drogo.’
    ‘The lord Mauger’s steward?’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    ‘Did you warn him that I was riding against his master?’
    ‘I had to,’ said Clamahoc, still wincing at the pain. ‘If I’d failed him, he’d have taken his revenge on me.’
    ‘That’s nothing to the revenge
I’ll
take on you, if I don’t get the answers I want. Do you hear me?’ he said, thrusting the torch closer so that its heat made Clamahoc yell. ‘I’ll send your head back to Drogo with your eyes burned out.’
    ‘No, no, my lord! Please!’
    ‘Then tell me all you know.’
    ‘I will!’ exclaimed the other. ‘Take the flame away and I will.’
    The torch was drawn back. ‘How long have you been spying on me?’
    ‘For months.’
    ‘What were the lord Mauger’s orders?’
    ‘To report anything that happened under this roof,’ said Clamahoc, breathlessly. ‘I was to take a particular interest in what happened between you and the lady Adelaide.’
    ‘You eavesdropped on
those
conversations?’ roared de Fontenel.
    ‘I had to, my lord. Drogo forced me to do it.’
    ‘And paid you, no doubt,’ sneered the other. ‘Let’s have no more talk about being forced. I’m your master, Clamahoc, not that weasel of a steward. Your first loyalty was to me yet you betrayed me.’
    Clamahoc hung his head in shame. His back was on fire, his temples pounding. Ropes were biting into his wrists and ankles. His only hope of clemency lay in complete honesty. He had neither strength nor duplicity enough to hide anything.
    ‘What did you tell them about those gold elephants?’ asked de Fontenel.
    ‘That they were a wedding gift for the lady Adelaide.’
    ‘Did you say where they came from?’
    ‘That you brought them back from Normandy.’
    ‘Are you sure?’ said the other, squeezing the man’s throat.
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ spluttered Clamahoc. ‘It’s what I heard you say to the lady Adelaide. I was outside the door at the time.’
    ‘Those elephants were stolen from my house not long afterwards.’
    ‘It was none of my doing, I swear it!’
    ‘What about Hermer? Was he in the lord Mauger’s pay as well?’
    ‘No, my lord. He couldn’t be bought.’
    ‘So Hermer didn’t steal the elephants on his behalf?’
    ‘How could he?’ said Clamahoc, relieved that the grip on his throat had been relaxed. ‘The lord Mauger didn’t know of the existence of the gold elephants until I told him and that was after they’d disappeared.’
    His master was at once annoyed and reassured. He was angry that his assumptions about his rival were false. Mauger Livarot had not instigated the theft nor, it now seemed, the murder of the steward. At the same time, Hermer was exonerated. Instead of being another traitor in the household, he was a faithful servant who became a hapless victim. It was one consolation; there was another. Mauger Livarot, it now transpired, did not know the true origin of the gold elephants. Fortunately, that had been kept from him. Richard de Fontenel was baffled by the revelations. If his rival was not responsible for Hermer’s death, the killer had to be someone else. He looked back at Clamahoc.
    ‘Who killed Hermer?’ he said, still holding the torch.
    ‘I don’t know, my lord.’
    ‘But you were listening outside my door.’
    ‘Only until you called for Hermer to bring the wedding gift,’ said Clamahoc. ‘I hid in the kitchen until he went out again. I heard him open the door of the strong room to put the gold elephants away again.’
    ‘What else did you hear?’
    ‘What you said to the lady Adelaide.’
    ‘Didn’t you hear a cry from Hermer?’
    ‘No, my lord.’
    ‘Not even the sound of a scuffle?’
    ‘Nothing. I had my ear pressed to your door.’
    ‘But while you were doing that, someone was overpowering Hermer and stealing my priceless wedding gift. They must’ve made some sort of noise.’
    ‘I didn’t hear them, my lord,’ whispered Clamahoc. ‘Truly, I didn’t.’
    ‘Who else was in the house at that time?’
    ‘Nobody, as far as I know.’
    ‘Then how did Hermer and those gold elephants disappear?’
    ‘It’s a mystery.’
    ‘Don’t you dare lie to me, Clamahoc,’ said the other, waving the flame close to his victim’s face again. ‘Tell me everything you know about Hermer’s death.’
    ‘There’s nothing to tell, I swear.’
    ‘You were the one who brought his hands back in that box.’
    ‘I found it lying outside your door, my lord.’
    ‘Did you put it there in the first place?’
    ‘No!’ protested the other as the torch made his eyes smart. ‘If I’d known what was in that box, I’d never have looked into it. The sight of those hands turned my stomach.’
    ‘Be glad that I don’t cut off your own hands and hang them up in front of you.’
    ‘Please don’t!’ begged Clamahoc. ‘I’ll do anything for you.’
    ‘It’s too late.’
    ‘But it isn’t, my lord. It’s true that I spied on you but I can work against the lord Mauger instead. I can find out things that will be of use to you,’ the man gabbled, desperate to avoid further punishment. ‘I can mislead them, if you wish. I can give false information to Drogo. I’ll do anything, if only you’ll spare me.’
    Richard de Fontenel handed the torch back to the servant and toyed with his whip. He looked at the sweating face and blood-covered torso in front of him. Clamahoc had suffered enough for the time being. He might yet come in useful. His master turned to the two brawny men in attendance on the beating.
    ‘Lock him up without food,’ he ordered. ‘Just give him water.’
    After one final swipe with his whip at Clamahoc’s back, he walked quickly away.

To travellers who had come all the way from Winchester, it was a relatively short ride. The lady Adelaide lived in the hundred of Humbleyard, slightly to the east of Heigham. It was attractive countryside, making the journey from Norwich a source of pleasure and curiosity. Alys and Golde were accompanied by four of Ralph’s men, for whom it was an easy assignment and a welcome change from the long ride to the abbey of St Benet.
    ‘What did
you
think of him, Golde?’ asked Alys.
    ‘Of whom?’
    ‘Richard de Fontenel.’
    ‘I thought him a veritable ogre.’
    ‘Could the lady Adelaide ever love such a man?’
    ‘The question I’d ask is whether or not he could ever love her,’ said Golde with scepticism. ‘All that interests a man like him is power. That’s what he loves. Power over his servants, power over his rivals and power over his wife.’
    ‘She must see that.’
    ‘The lady Adelaide is an astute woman. She sees everything.’
    ‘Then why does she let such a man near her?’
    ‘He’s one of two suitors, remember. We haven’t seen the other yet, though Ralph tells me that the lord Mauger is every bit as abominable.’
    Alys gave a wan smile. ‘It makes me feel grateful for Gervase.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Golde. ‘Ralph may not have wooed me with a pair of gold elephants but he’s a paragon compared with that oaf who interrupted our banquet the other night.’
    ‘Which one of them will the lady Adelaide choose?’
    ‘I don’t know, Alys. Let’s hope that she tells us.’
    They rode on until the manor house rose up before them in the middle distance. Constructed of local flint, it was a long, low building with large windows and a thatched roof whose eaves undulated gently like golden waves. At the front was an avenue of trees and shrubs, at the rear a well-tended garden. It was an impressive house, larger than the one that Golde shared with Ralph on his Hampshire estate and much bigger than the modest abode in Winchester where Gervase and Alys lived. The visitors were duly struck with the size and solidity of the exterior. Once inside the house, however, they had even more cause for approbation.
    ‘What a beautiful house, my lady!’ exclaimed Golde admiringly.
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘There’s so much colour and ornament.’
    The lady Adelaide nodded. ‘I could never live in drab surroundings.’
    ‘It’s more comfortable than the castle,’ said Alys in wonderment.
    ‘Give the lord Roger more time and that will be improved out of all recognition. It was only built of timber in the interests of speed. When a stone fortress is erected, I’m sure it will be more daunting on the outside and more opulent within. That, at least,’ she said with a confiding smile, ‘was what the lady Matilda told me. Norwich is still growing. It’s only a matter of time before Bishop William moves his seat here.’
    ‘Why, my lady?’ Golde wanted to know.
    ‘Thetford is too small a town from which to administer a diocese.’
    ‘Is it?’
    ‘Can you imagine anyone wanting to build a cathedral there? Norwich is the only fitting place for such a structure. Come back in five or ten years and we’ll have a stone castle and the foundations of a magnificent cathedral.’
    They were seated in the parlour of the house. Golde and Alys had both worn their finest attire but it seemed dowdy beside the pale blue silk chemise and gown of the lady Adelaide. A gold necklace and a large brooch sparkled in the sunlight that flooded in through the open shutters, and her fingers were adorned with rings. The lady Adelaide looked supremely at home in a room that featured oak furniture, splendid wood carvings, a series of tapestries on the walls and some gleaming gold plate, worthy of display in any cathedral. Sitting in the middle of it all, she exuded wealth and sophistication. As she talked about the future of Norwich, her visitors were astonished at how well-informed she was.
    ‘You seem to know everything about the city, my lady,’ said Alys, curiously.
    ‘I like to keep abreast of affairs. I know that women are not supposed to take an interest in such things but I don’t see why men should make all the decisions.’
    ‘I agree with that,’ said Golde, firmly.
    ‘Do you influence the lord Ralph’s decisions?’
    ‘As often as I can.’
    ‘What about you, Alys? Your husband seems to me a most considerate man.’
    ‘He is, my lady. Gervase is an angel. He does everything I could wish.’
    ‘Does he discuss his work with you?’
    ‘No,’ admitted Alys. ‘He fears it would bore me.’
    ‘Is that the only reason?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well,’ said the lady Adelaide, casually, ‘when I spoke to the lord Ralph at the banquet, he told me that this was the first time Gervase had brought you with him on one of his outings as a royal commissioner. Whereas you, I believe,’ she went on, looking at Golde, ‘have been at your husband’s side a number of times.’
    ‘That’s true,’ said Golde.
    ‘So your husband is much more open with you.’
    ‘Gervase is very open with me, my lady,’ said Alys, loyally.
    ‘He is,’ confirmed Golde. ‘I’m sure that he wasn’t deliberately trying to keep Alys ignorant of his work. What concerned him was the tedium of travel and the dangers involved. Gervase didn’t want to expose Alys to either.’
    ‘Well, I’m glad that he changed his mind,’ said the lady Adelaide, sweetly. ‘Or I shouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting her. I’m so glad you were both able to visit me here. It was impossible to talk properly at the banquet.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Golde. ‘Especially when the lord Richard barged in.’
    ‘That’s his way,’ said the other, tolerantly. ‘The lord Richard will never be renowned for his good manners but he has other things to commend him.’
    ‘Does he, my lady?’
    The arrival of a servant with refreshments saved his mistress from having to answer the question. Wine and honey cakes were served to the visitors, while the lady Adelaide looked fondly around.
    ‘I love this room,’ she said softly. ‘My husband and I designed it together. Geoffrey was so amenable. He kept nothing from me and always took my advice before he made an important decision.’
    ‘Ralph is just the same,’ said Golde, proudly.
    ‘And Gervase,’ said Alys, determined not to be left out of any display of marital credentials. ‘He’s so kind and patient with me.’
    ‘Yet he never confides in you about his work,’ noted the lady Adelaide. ‘And I dare say the lord Ralph is equally secretive about affairs of state. Like most men, he believes that a mere woman could never begin to understand them.’
    ‘You’re quite wrong,’ replied Golde, stung by the implication but remaining cool. ‘My husband frequently talks about his work as a royal commissioner.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘There’ve been times when he’s deliberately sought my counsel.’
    ‘When was that?’
    ‘In York, for instance. Or when we visited Exeter.’
    ‘You were excluded from those visits, I gather,’ said the lady Adelaide, glancing at Alys. ‘Didn’t you mind being left behind?’
    ‘It was only proper, my lady. Gervase and I were not married at the time.’
    ‘No,’ said Golde, ‘and if they hadn’t managed to speed up their deliberations in Exeter, Alys might not have been married at all. As it was, Gervase had to race back to Winchester to get there in time. He was a rather breathless bridegroom.’
    Alys beamed. ‘But all the more welcome.’
    ‘When will the commissioners start work in the shire hall?’ asked their hostess.
    ‘Not until the murder of Hermer the Steward has been solved, my lady.’
    ‘There’s the other crime as well,’ added Golde. ‘The theft of two gold elephants. You’ve actually seen them, I believe, my lady. Are they as exquisite as report has it?’
    ‘They were,’ said the other with feeling. ‘I have a passion for gold that amounts to an obsession but even I have never seen anything like those two miniatures. They were works of art. Simply to hold them in my grasp was a privilege. To possess them would be a form of ecstasy.’
    ‘And will you possess them?’
    ‘How can I when they’ve been stolen?’
    ‘If they’re recovered, I mean,’ said Golde, fishing gently.
    ‘We shall have to wait and see.’
    ‘Would you be ready to accept them as a wedding gift?’
    A noncommittal smile. ‘I’d be prepared to accept them, most certainly.’
    The lady Adelaide deftly shifted the conversation to another topic, and her visitors gradually relaxed. They could see why suitors were drawn by her beauty but they were now able to appreciate her other qualities as well. She would be no timid wife. After one happy marriage, she would clearly impose stringent conditions before she entered into a second. Alys marvelled at her self-possession. Golde liked her candour.
    ‘Have they any idea who the killer is yet?’ said Adelaide, after a brief pause.
    ‘No,’ confessed Golde, ‘but my husband says that they are getting closer all the time. He’s gone to search for a man called Jocelyn Vavasour today.’
    The other woman sat up. ‘Why on earth should he do that? He surely can’t suspect the lord Jocelyn of being the murderer. The man has become an anchorite.’
    ‘So I understand.’
    ‘What possible help can he be to your husband?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ said Golde, sensing that she should not divulge any more details. ‘It was late when they got back last night and I had no time to talk to Ralph. Shortly, after dawn, he and the lord Eustace set off.’
    ‘Didn’t your husband go with them, Alys?’
    ‘No, my lady. He’s continuing the search nearer home.’
    ‘Where?’
    When she felt Golde’s gentle nudge, Alys bit back her reply. ‘I don’t know,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’m not sure that I want to know. It was such a foul murder. I just want them to arrest the culprit. We’ll all sleep safer in our beds then.’
    ‘The lord sheriff thinks that the steward was killed by the man who stole the elephants,’ observed Golde, watching the lady Adelaide. ‘Would you still want to possess them, knowing that they’d provoked a murder?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘I wouldn’t,’ put in Alys.
    ‘Nor me,’ said Golde.
    ‘That’s only because neither of you actually saw them. Or held them in your hands, as I did.’ The lady Adelaide’s eyes ignited. ‘They were like nothing I’ve ever seen before. As for provoking a murder, the elephants can hardly be blamed for that. Men kill for lust or gain. Would you condemn a woman because her beauty led a man to kill for her sake? That would be absurd. Why be so coy about those gold elephants?’ She looked from one to the other. ‘If they’d provoked a dozen murders, I’d still want to own them. In some ways, it would give them even more value.’
    Alys was shocked but Golde was simply intrigued, wondering if there were aspects to the woman’s character that had been carefully concealed until now. In that one fleeting moment, the lady Adelaide had not looked quite so incongruous a partner for Richard de Fontenel. The conversation returned to the visitors’ impressions of Norfolk. Both of them spoke at length about the journey they had endured and the cordial welcome they had received. Alys talked movingly about their visit to the market. The open hostility she had met still worried her at a deep level. It was only when they were leaving that she and Golde realised that they had failed in their mission.
    Each of them had been asked by their respective husbands to sound out the lady Adelaide about her two suitors. Golde was to ask questions and Alys was to listen to the answers, but neither of them had fulfilled their duty. Riding back to the castle at a leisurely pace, they reflected on their visit and reached the same conclusion. Instead of finding out more about the lady Adelaide, they had been manipulated into volunteering information about themselves and their husbands. The invitation was not as innocent as it had at first seemed. Golde and Alys had not gone to the house simply as honoured guests.
    They were there to be interrogated.