The Elephants of Norwich (12 page)

Ralph Delchard was soon regretting his decision to embark on a hunt for Jocelyn the Anchorite. Forced to leave the castle when he was only half awake, he missed the comfort of a soft bed and the presence of his wife beside him. He also began to have doubts about the wisdom of searching for a man who, whatever else he might be, was obviously neither a thief nor a murderer. The confidence of the night before had vanished and he was sceptical about his chances of finding the anchorite at the exact spot suggested by Gervase Bret. Because he had retained a tiny pocket of land, it did not mean that Jocelyn Vavasour still inhabited it. All sorts of motives might have prompted him to hang on to the last vestige of his estates. The instinct that prompted Ralph to go there now seemed like recklessness. The further they went, the less certain he became, chiding himself for setting out on what might well be a long, wasted journey.
    The one saving grace was that Eustace Coureton had volunteered to accompany him, intrigued, like Ralph, by the notion of a soldier’s becoming a hermit. Defying his years, Coureton was up early and without complaint. Four of his men rode with two from Ralph’s escort to give the search party some flexibility and to safeguard the two royal commissioners who rode at the head of the little cavalcade. They went north-west from the city, making the most of the early start before the sun was fully up to dazzle their eyes and set the sweat running beneath their hauberks. Flat terrain made for swift progress. They met no obstacles on the way.
    Sensing his friend’s mood, Coureton tried to cheer him up. ‘I’m sure that this visit will be profitable,’ he said.
    ‘Will it?’ moaned Ralph. ‘What if we don’t find the man in the Holt hundred?’
    ‘Then we look elsewhere.’
    ‘Why, my lord?’
    ‘Because it’s important.’
    ‘What can he tell us?’
    ‘When and for what reason he gave those gold elephants to the abbey.’
    ‘It was when he took leave of his senses and became an anchorite.’ Coureton smiled. ‘I can see that such a life has no appeal for you.’
    ‘What’s the point of needless suffering?’
    ‘It isn’t needless. You should talk to Brother Daniel.’
    ‘No, thank you,’ said Ralph, rolling his eyes. ‘I like the man as much as I could bring myself to like any Benedictine but I heard all that Brother Daniel had to say on our ride to the abbey. On the way back, I heard it all for the second time.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘At least, he didn’t try to quote Horace at me.’
    ‘Is that a complaint?’
    ‘No, it was a gasp of relief.’
    ‘I take the hint,’ said Coureton, affably. ‘Even though my beloved poet wrote a line that describes your state of mind perfectly.’
    ‘Me?’ said Ralph.
    ‘Yes.
Post equitem sedet atra Cura.’
    ‘Does it come with a translation?’
    ‘It comes with
my
translation, though Gervase and Brother Daniel might give you slight variations of their own. My version is this. “At the rider’s back sits dark Anxiety.” Am I right?’
    ‘Not quite. It’s more a case of sheer irritation.’
    ‘At whom?’
    ‘Myself,’ said Ralph, disconsolately. ‘My convictions don’t seem so trustworthy in the light of day. I have a horrible feeling that we’ll never find this elusive anchorite, and that even if we do he’ll be of no practical use to us.’
    ‘I disagree,’ said Coureton. ‘When I woke up, I felt that fortune would smile on us this morning. We’ll track the fellow down, I’m convinced of it. He is, after all, entitled to know the fate of those gold elephants. They have great significance for him. Don’t forget that we’re talking about someone who went all the way to Rome on foot in order to acquire those treasures. They were blessed by the Pope.’
    ‘I don’t care if they were made by St Peter and polished by the Archangel Gabriel. Popes are not held in high esteem by me. Nor,’ added Ralph, grimacing, ‘are bishops, monks, nuns and anchorites.’
    ‘I’ll wager that Jocelyn Vavasour might be the exception.’     ‘Will you back that wager with your purse?’ Coureton laughed. ‘I’m not that headstrong. I’m just more optimistic than you. What I can say is that we’ll most definitely find him.’
    ‘And what do we gain from that?’
    ‘An interesting story, to start with. Come, Ralph,’ said the other, ‘you’re as eager as I am to know why he traded in his hauberk for the holy cross. He was one of us, born and brought up in Normandy, moulded into a warrior just as we were. Why did we end up as royal commissioners while he prefers the company of birds and a Bible?’
    ‘I’m very keen to learn that,’ conceded Ralph, ‘but that’s a personal matter. I’m just having second thoughts about his usefulness to our inquiry. How can a hermit possibly help us to solve a murder?’
    ‘By giving us the history of the treasures whose theft started the whole business off.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘By telling us what he knows about some of the characters we’ve so far met.’
    ‘Such as?’
    ‘Olova,’ said Coureton. ‘That potent lady whom Gervase and I visited yesterday. I may speak Latin and Greek but I’ve never felt my deficiency in the Saxon tongue more painfully than in her hut. I was longing to speak to Olova.’
    ‘Why didn’t you try a line or two from Horace on her?’
    ‘I don’t think she’d have much sympathy for noble Romans, somehow. But she and her husband did have sympathy for the abbey of St Benet, it seems. According to Gervase, they endowed the place generously.’
    ‘Was that a case of generosity or spite?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘We’ve seen it so often, Eustace,’ said the other. ‘Wealthy Saxons who gave property to a monastic foundation to save it from falling into the hands of people like us.’
    ‘That wasn’t what happened here, I’m sure. Olova may have been aggressive but I detected a piety about her as well. She and her husband donated that land to the abbey out of Christian impulse. That gives her an immediate connection with Jocelyn Vavasour.’
    ‘Except that he took his Christian impulse to extremes.’
    ‘He must have known Olova. Some of his holdings were in the same hundred as hers. He also had land in the Taverham hundred at one time so he must have been acquainted with Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot. And if he knew them, he’d be familiar with their respective stewards. You see?’ Coureton, reached across to pat his companion on the shoulder. ‘He knows almost everyone of importance. This anchorite will tell us things that we could never get from anyone else.’
    ‘That’s true,’ admitted Ralph, revived by the thought.
    ‘You can even discuss Abbot Alfwold with him.’
    ‘And poor Brother Joseph.’
    ‘I told you that an anchorite would be able to help us.’
    ‘In more ways than one,’ said Ralph, buoyed up. ‘I’d like to hear what he has to say about the movement of property in this county. A man who’s willingly forfeited his lands has no vested interest. Jocelyn Vavasour will be honest and dispassionate. He’ll know who stole what from whom and be prepared to name them. It may well be,’ he went on, grinning as the idea took a firm hold, ‘that he can provide weaponry for us to use in the shire hall against the likes of the lord Richard and his ilk. Imagine that. It’ll save us endless time.’
    ‘Doesn’t that make you glad you got up early today?’
    ‘No,’ replied Ralph, still grinning.
    ‘It must have some benevolent effect.’
    ‘It does, Eustace. It makes the pain easier to bear.’
    Riding in pairs, the travellers clattered over a rickety bridge and continued on their way. Their eyes were trained on the twisting road ahead. None of them thought to look over their shoulders and therefore remained completely unaware of the fact that they were being trailed by a man at a cautious distance.

The decision to make the visit had been reached after a long debate with his fellow commissioners and Roger Bigot on the previous night. Since it called for tact and diplomacy, Gervase was felt to be the best person to send on the embassy. While Ralph and Coureton were riding in the direction of the Holt hundred, therefore, he was making his way to the estate of Richard de Fontenel, accompanied by Brother Daniel and two of Eustace Coureton’s men-at-arms. The monk was as talkative as ever.
    ‘The lord Eustace speaks Latin better than I do,’ he confessed.
    ‘But for a different purpose,’ said Gervase. ‘His interest is in ancient Rome.’
    ‘Mine is in eternal life.’
    ‘You have something in common, then. His passion is for the Eternal City.’
    ‘St Augustine wrote unforgettably about it.’
    ‘I know, but he didn’t have Rome in mind.’
    Gervase was pleased to be riding beside the monk, even though the latter’s shortcomings as a horseman were all too apparent. It gave the young commissioner an opportunity to ask about the discoveries of the previous day. Having already heard Ralph’s version of events, he wanted to see if it tallied with that of Brother Daniel.
    ‘Did you enjoy the visit to the abbey?’ he asked.
    ‘Very much.’
    ‘Why?’
    The monk needed no more invitation. He gave a detailed account of the journey, the architecture of the abbey and the people they met within it. Nothing he said contradicted Ralph’s version but it was considerably embellished. The monk may have said little but he had looked and listened with care.
    ‘What did you make of the sacristan?’ asked Gervase.
    ‘He was far too trusting. He should never have been taken in by a guest.’
    ‘We’re not absolutely certain that’s what happened, Brother Daniel.’
    ‘What other explanation is there?’ said the monk. ‘Someone stole those gold elephants from the abbey. They didn’t stampede out of there of their own accord. They were taken by Starculf and given to the lord Richard.’
    ‘Even though Starculf swore revenge against his former master?’
    ‘An intermediary must have been involved. Hermer, perhaps.’
    ‘Starculf hated the man.’
    ‘Those elephants came into the lord Richard’s possession somehow.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘That’s why we’re going to see him. But we must be sure not to accuse him of anything, Brother Daniel. That will get us nowhere. We must try to draw information out of him by more subtle means.’
    ‘I’ll leave the talking to you.’
    ‘Watch his reactions.’
    ‘From what I’ve heard about the lord Richard,’ said Daniel, worriedly, ‘you’d be well advised to watch how close his hand gets to his sword. He’s inclined to violence.’
    ‘Only if he’s provoked. Ours will be a softer approach.’
    ‘I’m glad to hear it.’
    Men were working in the fields as they drove past. They looked up briefly at the passing visitors before returning to their work. Sheep were the only animals on view, scuttling out of their way with noisy protests. When the travellers got to the manor house, a servant met them at the door. They were soon conducted into the empty parlour. While Gervase took a swift inventory, Daniel clicked his tongue at the ostentatious display of wealth in the room.
    Richard de Fontenel swept into the parlour, more puzzled than irked by their unannounced visit. Gervase performed the introductions but that only deepened the lines in their host’s forehead.
    ‘Why have a royal commissioner and a monk come to see me?’ he wondered.
    ‘We come in other guises, my lord,’ explained Gervase. ‘I’m helping the lord sheriff to solve the crimes that have occurred here and Brother Daniel is the person who actually stumbled on the dead body of your steward.’
    ‘I shudder whenever I recall it,’ said Daniel.
    ‘What exactly happened?’ pressed de Fontenel, interested to hear. ‘Why did you look into that derelict house in the first place and what state was Hermer in when you saw him?’
    Brother Daniel took a deep breath before he told his story once again. Gervase was grateful to him. He could see the effort that it was costing the monk but the grim details were lapped up by their host. When they were offered seats, the visitors began to feel more welcome. Richard de Fontenel wanted to know everything that the monk could tell him, making him repeat some parts of his narrative. Beneath the man’s simmering anger, Gervase could sense a real affection for the dead steward.
    ‘Thank you,’ said de Fontenel at length. ‘I’m glad to hear it all from your own lips, Brother Daniel. It was good of you to come here.’
    ‘That wasn’t the only reason for our visit, my lord,’ said Gervase, taking over. ‘I’m here on the lord sheriff’s behalf to talk about the theft that took place.’
    ‘Well?’
    ‘I understand that the objects stolen were extremely valuable.’
    ‘They were solid gold, Master Bret, and fashioned in Italy.’
    ‘Is that where you bought them?’ asked Gervase, softly.
    ‘Not exactly.’
    ‘Then how did they come into your hands?’
    ‘Does that matter?’
    ‘I’m afraid it does, my lord.’
    ‘A merchant sold them to me,’ said de Fontenel briskly. ‘When I was in Normandy, I heard that this man had something very special to sell and it was exactly what I needed at that particular time. So I bought the elephants from him.’
    ‘In Normandy?’
    ‘Further south than that, Master Bret.’
    ‘When was this, my lord?’
    ‘Quite recently.’
    ‘Could you be more specific, please?’
    ‘It must have been - what? - ten or twelve days ago. I only returned to England earlier this week. The two elephants were a gift. Before I could present them to the person for whom they were intended, they were stolen and my steward was murdered.’
    ‘Let’s just concentrate on the elephants,’ suggested Gervase. ‘Would you describe the merchant from whom you bought them as an honest man?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘You had no reason to doubt him?’
    ‘Why should I?’
    ‘Because what he sold you, my lord, was stolen property.’
    ‘Never!’
    ‘It was,’ maintained Gervase, ‘and I think that your memory may be at fault with regard to the precise time of the purchase. Ten or twelve days ago, you said.’
    ‘That’s when it was, Master Bret.’
    ‘Somewhere in France.’
    ‘Do you have any proof to the contrary?’
    ‘I don’t, my lord, but Brother Daniel has.’
    ‘Yes,’ said the monk, taking up his cue. ‘I had the pleasure of visiting the abbey of St Benet at Holme yesterday. According to Brother Joseph, the sacristan, those gold elephants belonged to them and were regarded as holy objects. Unfortunately, they were stolen from the abbey church at the very time you claim to have bought them in France.’
    Richard de Fontenel’s face was ashen. There was a long pause before he spoke. ‘I think there’s been a mistake,’ he said at last. ‘The elephants that I bought didn’t come from Holme. They may have been similar to the ones stolen from the abbey but they couldn’t possibly have been the same ones.’
    ‘We believe that they might be, my lord,’ said Gervase.
    ‘But that’s impossible!’
    ‘On the face of it, yes. The objects could hardly have been taken from the abbey and sold in France on the same day. As far as I’m aware, elephants don’t fly.’
    ‘Don’t jest with me, Master Bret.’
    ‘I’m in earnest, my lord.’
    Brother Daniel nodded vigorously. ‘Theft of holy treasures is an abomination.’
    ‘I didn’t steal them!’ shouted de Fontenel.
    ‘Nobody is suggesting that you did, my lord,’ said Gervase. ‘Our fear is that you were the victim of an unscrupulous merchant. In which case, the transaction between the two of you must have taken place more recently than you have told us.’
    ‘Well, yes, that’s true,’ mumbled the other. ‘I can’t be precise about the date.’
    ‘It would have taken days for them to reach you in France.’
    ‘I’m aware of that, Master Bret,’ said de Fontenel through gritted teeth. ‘But I’m still not convinced that the gift I bought in good faith came from the abbey of St Benet. Who gave you the idea that it did?’
    ‘Judicael the Goldsmith.’
    ‘He’s never seen my elephants.’
    ‘He hasn’t seen the ones at the abbey either,’ said Gervase, patiently, ‘but he had a very clear description of them from a goldsmith who had. That description matched in every detail the one you gave to the lord sheriff. The objects are quite unique. There’s no room for error here.’
    ‘There must be!’
    ‘Two holy treasures are stolen from an abbey and you buy identical objects shortly afterwards? No, my lord. That would be far too great a coincidence. In any case,’ said Gervase, blithely, ‘the matter will soon be resolved.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘When the elephants are recovered, the abbot and sacristan will be able to identify them as belonging to the abbey. You’ll be allowed to examine them yourself, of course, but there’ll be an even more important witness.’
    ‘Witness?’ echoed de Fontenel.
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    ‘Who are you talking about?’
    ‘The man who presented the gift to the abbey - Jocelyn Vavasour.’
    ‘But he’s disappeared. The lord Jocelyn has become an anchorite.’
    ‘My colleagues are on their way to find him at this very moment.’
    Richard de Fontenel was checked. His jaw tightened and his eyes darted. He was mortified by the notion that, even if they were located, the missing elephants would not be returned to him. His wedding gift would be confiscated and his plans thrown into confusion. He was caught unawares by the next question from Gervase.
    ‘Does the name Olova mean anything to you, my lord?’
    ‘Who?’ said the other, blinking in surprise.
    ‘Olova. She lives in the Henstead hundred. Your steward had dealings with her.’
    ‘That may well be, Master Bret. I didn’t keep track of every person that Hermer saw in the course of his duties. I’ve never heard of this Olova.’
    ‘Even though you acquired land that once belonged to her?’
    ‘It was done legally, I assure you.’
    ‘Not in her opinion. The lady is ready to challenge you in the shire hall.’
    ‘Let her.’
    ‘She didn’t speak too highly of your steward.’
    ‘You’ve talked to her?’
    ‘The lord Eustace and I rode out to see Olova yesterday.’
    ‘Do you give preference to a Saxon?’ said de Fontenel, flaring up. ‘The place to settle a dispute is in the shire hall, not behind my back. I’ll register the strongest complaint about this, Master Bret. Judges should be quite impartial.’
    ‘Olova made no attempt to influence me, my lord,’ Gervase assured him.
    ‘Then why visit the woman?’
    ‘To seek her views on another subject.’
    ‘You went all that way to listen to an embittered old Saxon crone?’
    ‘Olova is half Danish, my lord. Her late husband was a thegn with estates large enough to match your own. I found Olova a woman of intelligence and determination.’
    ‘Neither will do her any good when she takes me on in the shire hall.’
    ‘Are
you
trying to influence a commissioner, my lord?’ said Daniel, waspishly.
    ‘Not at all,’ blustered the other. ‘I didn’t introduce Olova into the conversation.’
    ‘The only reason that I do so,’ said Gervase, ‘was that she talked about Hermer. She was less than grief-stricken when I told her of his fate.’
    ‘I’m not interested in her, Master Bret.’
    ‘Then let’s forget her for the moment, my lord. What I wanted to ask you about was your steward’s hands. Why do you think they were cut off?’
    ‘Sheer savagery!’
    ‘I was appalled when I saw the mutilation,’ recalled Daniel.
    ‘The hands were returned to you,’ resumed Gervase. ‘Why was that, my lord?’
    ‘I wish I knew.’
    ‘Was it a symbolic gesture, perhaps?’
    ‘Symbolic of a brutal mind. It would be typical of the lord Mauger.’
    ‘The lord sheriff has absolved him of the crime.’
    ‘I know,’ grunted the other, ‘and I’ve learned for certain that it was not his doing.’
    “How?’
    ‘That doesn’t concern you, Master Bret,’ said the other, eager to move them on their way. ‘You come at an awkward time. I’m a busy man and have much to do. If you’ve told me all you came to say, I’ll bid you farewell.’
    The visitors rose to their feet and walked across to the door, where Gervase halted. ‘I believe that you once employed a man called Starculf,’ he said.
    ‘Not for long. He was dismissed.’
    ‘What did he look like, my lord?’
    ‘A tall, handsome, upstanding young fellow. A strong one, too, who used to be a falconer. To look in his face, you’d have thought him the soul of honesty. But he let me down, Master Bret. Nobody does that with impunity.’
    ‘So I understand.’
    There was an exchange of farewells, then Gervase led the way out. It was only when they were riding away from the house at a trot that he spoke to his companion. ‘What did you learn from that, Brother Daniel?’
    ‘That the lord Richard is a poor liar. He didn’t buy those elephants in France.’
    ‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘He knew exactly where they came from. He may not have stolen them in person but I’m certain that he instigated the theft. Without knowing it, he may even have told us who the thief was.’
    ‘It wasn’t Starculf,’ said the monk. ‘The description he gave of the man was nothing like the one we had from the sacristan at the abbey. Brother Joseph told us that the thief was short, stocky and thirty years or more. He was no handsome young man.’
    ‘The sacristan was not describing Starculf at all, Brother Daniel.’
    ‘Then who was he talking about?’
    ‘Hermer.’