The Elephants of Norwich (4 page)

When Golde called to see her in her chamber, Alys was just waking up from a short sleep. She rubbed her eyes with a white knuckle. Her visitor was contrite. ‘Did I wake you, Alys? I’m so sorry.’
    ‘I didn’t mean to doze off.’
    ‘The long ride tired us all. To be honest, I had a nap myself.’
    ‘Gervase left me alone in here so that I could rest,’ said Alys. ‘The bed was too tempting to resist. I only intended to lie on it for a while.’
    ‘It looks to me as if you needed the sleep,’ said Golde, studying her friend’s puckered features. ‘You’re pale and drawn, Alys. Do you feel unwell?’
    ‘No, no. I’m in good health.’
    ‘Perhaps you’d like a longer sleep?’
    ‘Not at all,’ said the other, detaining Golde with an outstretched hand when the latter moved to the door. ‘Don’t leave me. I’d value some company.’
    ‘You’ll have plenty of that this evening.’
    ‘Will I?’
    ‘Gervase hasn’t told you, obviously.’
    ‘Told me what?’
    ‘We’re bidden to a feast. The lord sheriff and his wife have prepared a banquet for us and invited a number of guests they wish us to meet. Ralph is delighted. We’ve not always had such warm hospitality on our travels.’
    ‘That’s what Gervase told me.’
    ‘You chose the right part of the country to visit.’
    Alys forced a smile. ‘So it seems.’
    ‘Put the rigours of the journey behind you,’ advised Golde. ‘We’ll not have to take refreshment in open country any more. You’ll be going to a banquet on your husband’s arm this evening.’
    ‘I look forward to it.’
    ‘You don’t sound very excited at the prospect.’
    ‘Oh, I am, Golde,’ said the other, trying to inject more interest into her voice. ‘When I’ve woken up properly, I’ll be as excited as you clearly are. It’s a wonderful surprise. I’ve never feasted in such august company before.’
    ‘Nor had I until I met and married Ralph. The life I lead now is a far cry from working as a brewer in Hereford.’
    ‘Do you have any regrets?’
    ‘None at all, Alys.’
    ‘I’m sure that Ralph would say the same.’
    ‘What about you?’
    ‘I couldn’t be happier.’
    ‘Gervase is thrilled to have you at his side. He’s a changed man.’
    ‘I just hope that I don’t let him down.’
    ‘What a strange thought!’
    ‘This is all so new to me, Golde.’
    ‘You’ll have nothing to worry about, I promise you. Gervase will be even more proud of his lovely wife than he already is. Be yourself, Alys. That’s all you must do.’
    ‘I’ll try.’ Alys crossed to the window. The room was at the top of the keep, a timber structure that was perched on a huge mound of earth to make it easier to defend. Down below in the bailey, there was considerable activity. Soldiers were exercising, the guard was being changed and the armourer was busy in his forge, hammering on the blade of a new sword and producing a rhythmical noise that could be heard throughout the entire castle. Horses were being groomed. Servants ran to and fro. An elderly priest ambled towards the chapel. An unseen dog barked a slow lament. Alys was fascinated.
    ‘I’ve never stayed in a castle before,’ she confessed. ‘What is it like?’
    ‘Very draughty in the winter,’ said Golde, crossing to stand beside her. ‘These places are built for safety rather than comfort. We’re lucky to be here in the summer, Alys. We’ll be able to spend less time around a fire.’
    ‘What will we
do
all day?’
    ‘See something of Norwich, for a start.’
    ‘I’d like that.’
    ‘We may even do some shopping in the market.’
    ‘What will we buy?’
    ‘Things that we’re unlikely to see in Winchester,’ said Golde. ‘Norwich does a thriving trade with other countries. Goods are brought upriver from Yarmouth. We may well find silks and cloths that catch our eye, not to mention small items of jewellery.’
    ‘Gervase doesn’t like me to wear anything too gaudy.’
    Golde gave a subversive smile. ‘Please yourself, not your husband.’
    ‘I’m not sure that I’d dare. Doesn’t Ralph tell you what to buy?’
    ‘Of course, but I usually ignore him.’
    Alys laughed. ‘You’re so bold.’
    ‘I lived alone for some time after my first husband died. That taught me to stand on my own feet. And to follow my own instincts when I went to the market.’
    ‘Then I’ll do the same,’ said the other, conspiratorially.
    ‘There’s one way to ensure that Gervase doesn’t criticise what you buy.’
    ‘Is there?’
    ‘Yes, Alys. Get something for him as well.’
    The younger woman laughed again and turned to face her companion. It was Golde’s presence on the expedition that had convinced her to join it. Eager as she was to be with her husband, Alys would never have left Winchester if she had been the only woman in the party, yet that hitherto had been Golde’s position. She marvelled afresh at her friend’s courage and independence. To be with her husband, Golde had ridden to places as far apart as Chester, York, Canterbury and Exeter. Bad weather and uncomfortable accommodation had been endured without complaint. It made Alys resolve to make light of any problems she encountered. The slight queasiness had passed off now. She would soon be able to respond to the notion of a banquet with real enthusiasm.
    Golde sensed that something was troubling her and stepped in closer.
    ‘What ails you?’ she asked.
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘The life seems to have drained out of you.’
    ‘It will come back.’
    ‘Are you not in a mood for celebration this evening?’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ Alys lied.
    ‘Something’s on your mind, Alys. What is it?’
    Alys gave a shrug and moved back to the middle of the room to give herself a moment to collect her thoughts. She looked at Golde again. ‘It was that old man,’ she said. ‘The one we met on our way here.’
    ‘Poor wretch. I felt so sorry for him.’
    ‘How could anyone treat a human being like that? Ralph wouldn’t beat a dog the way that that old man was beaten. It was painful to look at him.’
    ‘I know. But his is not an isolated case, I fear.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Perhaps we should break off this conversation,’ suggested Golde tactfully. ‘I don’t want to say anything out of place.’
    ‘How could you possibly do that?’
    ‘I’m from Saxon stock and you’re not, Alys. You were born in Winchester, I know, but your father came from Normandy and fought at Hastings. That sets the two of us apart. I belong to the conquered and you to the conquerors.’
    ‘What does that have to do with the old man we met?’
    ‘I’ve seen him before a hundred times,’ explained Golde. ‘Sometimes he’s old, something young, sometimes neither. But he’s always badly treated by his master. He’s always a reminder that a Saxon peasant lives at the mercy of his Norman overlord. Not that all members of your nation are harsh,’ she added, quickly, ‘because they’re most certainly not. Some are much kinder than the thegns they replaced. But I can’t change what I am, Alys. Though I married a Norman soldier and love him to distraction, I never forget where my roots lie. That old man we saw today was a symbol to me.’
    ‘Of what?’
    ‘You’ll understand in time,’ Golde brightened. ‘But enough of such thoughts! A banquet is being prepared for us. That should raise our spirits.’
    ‘Are we all invited?’
    ‘Oh, yes. Including Brother Daniel.’
    ‘Is a monk allowed to eat rich food?’ asked Alys, innocently.
    ‘You wouldn’t pose that question if you’d ever seen Canon Hubert at table. He has the appetite of half a dozen men. My guess is that Brother Daniel will not restrict himself to bread and water either,’ said Golde cheerfully. ‘He’s not just a scribe to the commissioners. He’s a Benedictine who’s been released for a while from his abbey.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘He’s here to enjoy himself, Alys.’

Brother Daniel was brimming with energy and filled with curiosity about his new abode. After he had been shown to the tiny room where he was to sleep, he found his way to the chapel and knelt down to offer up a prayer of thanks for their safe arrival. He then befriended the ancient chaplain, pumped him for information about the castle, and went out into the town to take stock of his surroundings. A paradox confronted him. Though there were plenty of people about, Norwich seemed curiously empty. In a city of almost five thousand souls, the monk felt oddly alone, as if the crowds that were drifting away from the market were mere assemblies of ghosts. Daniel was puzzled. It was not so much a question of what he could see as what he felt. He sensed bitterness, neglect and a resignation that bordered on despair. The castle was casting a long shadow.
    As he walked down one of the side streets close to the fortress, he saw evidence of a destructive past. During the ill-fated revolt of the earl and his confederates, the castle had been besieged for three months. Many of the nearby dwellings were razed to the ground or simply abandoned by their panic-stricken owners. Those that remained were grim reminders of those troubled times. Daniel glanced into a few of them. The first was barely standing and the second boarded up with pieces of rough timber. Through the cracks in the shutters, he saw a small room with a sunken floor that was littered with rubbish. Something was crawling about in the gloom. Flies buzzed noisily. The stench made him hold his breath and move away.
    The third house was in a more dilapidated state. Its wooden walls were pitted, its thatch all but done and its shutters hanging off like torn limbs. Brother Daniel went up to the entrance, then stepped back in surprise as a cat suddenly darted out between his bare legs. He gave an indulgent smile. The front door was simply propped against the opening. When he took hold of it, he was able to lift it aside. The room into which he now gazed was long, low and covered in the charred remains of furniture. The stink was even more powerful but it did not dispatch him on his way. Something had captured his attention. Revealed by the light that came in through the open door and the broken shutters was a piece of sacking in the far corner. It was heavily stained and seemed to be covering a large uneven object. Picking his way through the ashes, the monk took hold of the corner of the rough material and drew it slowly away.
    Daniel was shocked. His stomach heaved and his temples pulsed. His legs went limp. Sweat broke out all over his body. He wanted to replace the sacking and hurry away to raise the alarm but he had no strength even to move. He was forced to stand there and gaze down in silent horror at the mutilated corpse.
    Staring back at him were the sightless eyes of Hermer the Steward.

The discovery of the dead body threw the castle into a turmoil. When the trembling Brother Daniel broke the news, the sheriff immediately surrounded the derelict house with an armed guard. Ralph Delchard and Gervase Bret went into the building with him to investigate. The murder victim was in a sorry condition. The blood that stained the sacking came from a series of stab wounds in the chest. Hermer’s throat had also been cut and both hands had been hacked off. Congealed blood from a head wound formed a gruesome mask across the upper half of his face. All the ritual humiliations of death had set in. The foul smell made Ralph turn away in disgust.
    ‘What a way to end a life!’ he said. ‘Who is the poor devil?’
    ‘Hermer the Steward,’ said Bigot.
    ‘You
recognise
him?’
    ‘More by his apparel than his face, my lord. But that’s the lord Richard’s man, I’m sure. I’ve met the fellow often enough to pick him out even in that hideous state.’
    ‘When did he go missing, my lord sheriff?’ asked Gervase.
    ‘A couple of days ago.’
    ‘That accounts for the stink.’
    ‘It’s not the only cause,’ said Ralph, looking around at the accumulated excrement on the floor. ‘This place is a latrine. No wonder there are so many flies in here.’
    ‘One thing is certain,’ observed Bigot.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Whoever stole those elephants, it wasn’t Hermer. The lord Richard was wrong about that. His steward is a victim, not a villain.’
    Gervase knelt down to peer more closely at the corpse. Evidence of a violent death was horribly clear but the killer had left no clues as to his identity. Gervase peeled the sacking away to reveal the lower half of the body. The feet were tied together with a stout rope. To the surprise of his companions, Gervase then rolled the man briefly on his side so that he could look at his back before lowering him gently into his former position. Shaking his head in bafflement, he stood up again.
    ‘Where are his hands?’ he said.
    ‘Heaven knows,’ said Ralph.
    ‘That’s not the question that his master will ask,’ said Bigot, leading the two of them out of the room. ‘He’ll want to know where his priceless gold elephants are. The lord Richard will insist that the killer be brought to justice, but not out of consideration for Hermer. A steward can be replaced; those two gold elephants cannot.’
    All three men took a deep breath when they came out into the fresh air again. The sheriff was decisive. He ordered his men to disperse the small crowd that had gathered, then sent two of them to fetch a litter so that the body could be carried to a more dignified resting place in the morgue at the rear of the chapel. Reflecting on what they had seen, Roger Bigot and the two commissioners walked back towards the castle.
    ‘I feel that I owe you both an apology,’ said the sheriff.
    ‘Why?’ asked Ralph.
    ‘This is a poor welcome for such important guests. Examining a corpse like that is hardly the best way to whet your appetite for a banquet.’
    ‘True, my lord sheriff, but no blame attaches to you. Any apology is unnecessary. It’s not as if you deliberately arranged to have a murder victim laid at your very door.’
    ‘Someone did,’ remarked Gervase.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘The steward was meant to be found, Ralph. Why leave him so close to the castle when he could have been buried where nobody would ever have found him? There’s calculation here. That house was empty but I dare say that children play in it occasionally and,’ he added, wrinkling his nose, ‘it’s certainly used by people for another purpose. It was only a matter of time before the body was discovered.’
    ‘Unfortunately,’ said Bigot, ‘it just happened to be on the day of your arrival.’
    Gervase was unconvinced. ‘I wonder.’
    ‘Why?’ demanded Ralph.
    ‘Because it might not be such a coincidence.’
    ‘What else can it be?’
    ‘A warning.’
    ‘To whom?’
    ‘To the lord Roger and to us.’
    Ralph frowned. ‘How do you reach that conclusion, Gervase?’
    ‘It’s not a conclusion,’ replied the other. ‘It’s just a possibility that we have to consider. On the very day that we ride into Norwich, a dead body is found in the shadow of the castle. It’s no anonymous corpse left there at random. The murder victim is Hermer the Steward.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘You’ve not read the returns for the Taverham hundred as closely as I have, Ralph. Hermer was not only going to support Richard de Fontenel when he appeared before us in the shire hall. He was actually claiming land in his own right, one of the outliers at the heart of the dispute. It was a gift from his master for services rendered.’
    ‘And the lord Mauger contests that?’
    ‘Not against the steward any longer,’ said Gervase, sadly. ‘The only place where Hermer will be able to state his claim is before his Maker. I trust that God will be more merciful than the murderer.’
    ‘And more merciful than
I’ll
be when I run that killer to ground,’ vowed Bigot. ‘This was a brutal murder and it must be answered. But go on with what you’re saying, Master Bret,’ he continued as they strolled in through the castle gate. ‘You spy a link between this crime and your presence in the city?’
    ‘A potential link, my lord sheriff.’
    ‘I have my doubts,’ said Ralph.
    ‘Suspend them until we learn the truth,’ advised Gervase. ‘It may be that my guess is wide of the mark. What does seem clear is that the murder of the steward and the theft of the gold elephants are somehow connected.’
    ‘I’d already decided that,’ said Bigot.
    Ralph nodded solemnly. ‘So had I. Hermer was probably killed by someone who wanted the keys to the room where the gold elephants were kept. What puzzles me is this. The lord Richard’s manor is several miles away. Why bring his steward all the way here in order to stab him to death?’
    ‘That’s not what happened, Ralph,’ said Gervase.
    ‘No?’
    ‘Hermer was killed elsewhere then brought here. Under cover of darkness, most likely. You didn’t see the man’s back. His tunic was badly torn as if he’d been dragged along the ground and there were wounds in his scalp and neck. I think that his feet were tied together so that he could be pulled along behind a horse.’
    ‘Who could do such a thing to another human being?’
    ‘We’ve both seen worse on a battlefield, my lord,’ said Bigot.
    ‘That’s different,’ said Ralph. ‘We’re not on a battlefield now.’
    ‘Yes, we are,’ said Gervase as they came to a halt in the bailey. ‘We’re royal commissioners who’re caught in the middle of a battle over land. Instead of fighting with deeds and other legal documents, someone is resorting to more effective methods.’
    ‘That can only mean the lord Mauger,’ reasoned Bigot.
    ‘Is he capable of such an act?’ said Ralph.
    ‘Capable of ordering it, if not committing it.’
    ‘Then he’s the villain you must arrest.’
    ‘Not so fast, my lord,’ said the sheriff. ‘I prefer to gather evidence before I make an arrest. Mauger is the first person I’ll question but I’ll do so cautiously. He’s as slippery as an eel. Be warned. You’ll have to deal with him yourself.’ He ran a meditative hand across his jaw. ‘The crimes may seem to have Mauger’s signature on them but that could be an illusion. He and the Lord Richard are at each other’s throats. Mauger will rejoice in anything that upsets his rival but that isn’t evidence enough to convict him.’
    ‘You think that he may be innocent?’
    ‘It’s not inconceivable.’
    ‘But he’s the person who stands most to gain.’
    ‘Perhaps,’ said Gervase, thoughtfully, ‘but the lord Mauger is also the person who stands least to gain. Here we are, only a short time after we’ve examined a murder victim and we’re already naming him as the chief suspect. He’s too obvious. What if someone is setting out to incriminate the lord Mauger?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Someone who wants to stir up bad blood between him and the lord Richard.’
    ‘That’s easily done,’ said Bigot.
    ‘What advantage would they gain, Gervase?’ asked Ralph.
    ‘I don’t know,’ confessed the other.
    ‘Then they’d have no motive. The lord Mauger does.’
    ‘Motive and means,’ agreed the sheriff, ‘but I was struck by the words that Master Bret just used. He said it was “too obvious”. That’s my feeling. Mauger is cunning and devious. He works in the shadows. Why should he leave a dead body on my doorstep when he knows that it’ll bring me down on his neck?’
    They continued to review the situation and speculate on the possible identity of the murderer. Roger Bigot did not try to exclude them from the investigation in any way. Sensing their ability to give practical help, he took pains to invite their comments. Ralph and Gervase were duly touched. It was not the first time that their arrival in a town had been greeted by a violent death, but they usually had to track down the killer against the express wishes of the sheriff. Bigot was less possessive. He would cooperate with anyone who could lend valuable assistance to him in a murder inquiry.
    It was only when the body was carried past them that they broke off. Placed on a litter and covered with some rough cloth, Hermer the Steward was taken off towards the chapel. The sheriff was reminded of a priority.
    ‘The lord Richard must be informed at once,’ he said.
    ‘Will you go in person?’ asked Ralph.
    ‘No, this is a task for Olivier.’
    ‘Olivier?’
    ‘Yes, my lord. Olivier Romain is my deputy. He won’t relish this particular duty but it has to be discharged. The lord Richard has the right to know of his steward’s fate.’
    ‘How will he react?’
    ‘Violently.’

Richard de Fontenel was at first stupefied by the news. He took an involuntary step backwards as he absorbed the shock and took in the implications. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with anger.
    ‘Dead?’ he cried. ‘You’re telling me that Hermer is dead?’
    ‘I fear so, my lord.’
    ‘Where was he found?’
    ‘In a deserted house close to the castle.’
    ‘What on earth was he doing there?’
    ‘We’ve no idea.’
    ‘Who found the body?’
    ‘Brother Daniel, a scribe who travels with the commissioners.’
    ‘Why should a monk go poking around in an empty house?’
    ‘I don’t know, my lord,’ said Olivier Romain, ‘but we should be grateful that he did. The corpse might have lain there unseen for even longer. We believe that your steward’s been dead for a couple of days.’
    ‘What state was he in?’
    ‘That’s immaterial.’
    ‘Tell me, Olivier!’ demanded the other, lurching towards him. ‘God’s tits, man! My steward has been murdered. I want to know what condition he was in when he was found. Tell me the truth.’
    ‘I wasn’t there when the lord sheriff went to investigate.’
    ‘But he must have told you what he saw.’
    Romain nodded sadly. ‘The killer left nothing to chance.’
    ‘In other words, Hermer was butchered.’
    ‘That’s what I heard.’
    They were standing in the hall of the manor house, a long room with an oaken floor. A table stood at the far end. Swinging on his heel, de Fontenel marched the full length of the room as he tried to subdue the rage that was building inside him. His efforts were in vain. With a loud bellow, he used an arm to dislodge everything that stood on the table, sending goblets and platters clattering to the floor. He turned to face his visitor.
    ‘Were my gold elephants found on him?’ he asked.
    ‘No, my lord.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘There was nothing of value on his person. Or so I’m told.’
    ‘Then where are those miniatures?’
    ‘The lord sheriff is more interested in finding the murderer first,’ said Romain. ‘In solving that crime, he believes, we will also solve the other.’
    ‘Then you must seize Mauger Livarot at once,’ insisted de Fontenel, striding back down the hall. ‘He’s behind all this. He bribed Hermer to steal the two elephants from me then had him hacked to death by way of reward. Mauger is the culprit. I’ve said that all along. If you’d had the sense to listen to me at the start, my steward might still be alive and those elephants would be back under lock and key.’
    ‘That’s pure supposition, my lord.’
    ‘Don’t argue with me, man!’ yelled the other. He raised an arm as if about to strike, but Olivier Romain held his ground. The sheriff’s deputy was a stocky man of medium height, a conscientious officer who took his work with intense seriousness. Still only thirty, he had a composure and fearlessness that made de Fontenel hesitate. The older man lowered his arm and glowered at him. Romain did not flinch. His voice was calm.
    ‘You’re blaming the messenger for bringing bad tidings, my lord.’
    ‘I blame the lord sheriff,’ snarled the other.
    ‘He’s not culpable here.’
    ‘Yes; he is. A robbery takes place yet he refuses to take charge of the case and fobs me off instead with his deputy. A murder occurs and he sends you to report the matter to me. Why isn’t Roger Bigot here himself? What does it take to get him off his backside at the castle?’
    ‘The lord sheriff is already making inquiries,’ said Romain, defensively.
    ‘His place is here, breaking the news to me. I want to know exactly when and how my steward was discovered. I also expect to be told that Mauger has been arrested and thrown into a dungeon for his heinous crimes.’
    ‘If the lord Mauger is guilty, he’ll be taken in due course.’
    ‘Why the delay?’
    ‘Evidence has to be gathered, my lord.’
    ‘The man hates me,’ said de Fontenel, jabbing a finger at him. ‘He’s stolen my land, he’s trespassed on my estate, he’s done everything he can to annoy or obstruct me. Now he’s trying to wreck a marriage that is very dear to my heart. How much more evidence do you need, Olivier?’ He gesticulated wildly. ‘Mauger is a thief and murderer. Take him.’
    ‘The lord sheriff means to interview him first thing tomorrow.’
    ‘Why wait until then?’
    ‘You’ll have to ask him that.’
    ‘Save valuable time and put him in chains this very evening.’
    ‘I don’t make the decisions,’ said the other, reasonably. ‘I simply carry out orders. You needed to be told about the fate of your steward and that’s why I rode out here post haste. It’s bleak news, my lord, and I offer you my sincere condolences.’
    ‘What use are they!’ Richard de Fontenel stormed around the hall, feet clacking noisily on the oaken floor. One hand was on the dagger at his belt, the other clutched at his hair. It was as if he were feeling the full impact of the news for the first time. He came to an abrupt halt.
    ‘The commissioners have arrived, you say?’ he snapped.
    ‘This afternoon, my lord.’
    ‘How many in number?’
    ‘Three with one scribe.’
    ‘Take a message to the leader of the embassy.’
    ‘If you wish.’
    ‘I do wish, Olivier,’ said the other, approaching him again. ‘My message is this. Until these crimes are solved, I refuse to be called to the shire hall to be examined by them. Theft and murder take precedence over their deliberations. Besides,’ he went on with a harsh laugh, ‘I’ll spare them time and trouble. When Mauger is arrested, he’ll have to forfeit his claim to my property. The commissioners will not have to adjudicate between us. I’ll only have to dispute lesser matters before them.’
    ‘Your message will be delivered.’
    ‘Take a second with you.’
    ‘For the commissioners?’
    ‘No, Olivier. For your revered Roger Bigot, sheriff of Norfolk and Suffolk.’
    ‘What am I to say to him?’ asked Romain, warily.
    ‘That he must do his duty and call Mauger to account.’
    ‘Or?’
    The other man drew his dagger and brandished it menacingly. ‘I’ll take the law into my own hands.’