‘I loathed the man,’ confessed the other.
‘Why?’
‘Because he was working with Richard de Fontenel to dispossess me of land that’s rightfully mine. Drogo and I were going through the deeds once again when you arrived, Master Bret. My claim is incontrovertible.’
‘That remains to be decided, my lord.’
‘At the appropriate time,’ added Ralph.
Gervase was tenacious. ‘Tell us more about Hermer.’
‘I scarcely knew the fellow.’
‘You knew him well enough to loathe him.’
‘Naturally,’ replied Livarot. ‘He was the lord Richard’s creature. I’d hate anyone who was employed by that unprincipled rogue.’
‘Did you ever meet Hermer?’
‘A number of times, Master Bret.’
‘Describe him to us.’
‘A short, stout, ugly fellow, somewhat older than you but younger than the lord Ralph. He looked solid enough, but Hermer was a weak, frightened, cringing man when his master was near. Able, I dare say, but terrified to contradict the lord Richard.’
‘And you say that you hardly knew the man,’ observed Gervase with irony.
‘I know of him and that’s quite different.’
‘How would he deal with his master’s tenants?’
‘Unmercifully.’
‘You just told us that he was weak,’ said Ralph.
‘Only in the presence of Richard de Fontenel. When his master wasn’t around, Hermer could strut and bully very effectively on his behalf.’
‘Was he capable of whipping a slave on the estate?’
‘Easily.’
‘Even if the man were old and defenceless?’
‘That would give the punishment more appeal.’
Gervase took over again. ‘Hermer must have been very unpopular, then.’
‘Only among the men,’ said Livarot with a sly grin. ‘From what I gather, it might have been another story with the women. Isn’t that so, Drogo?’
‘According to the rumours,’ said the steward, trying to conceal a snigger.
‘You seem well informed about life on another estate,’ remarked Gervase.
‘News travels, Master Bret.’
‘So I see.’
‘Is there anything else you wish to know?’ asked Livarot with a benign smile. ‘I’m always more than ready to indulge royal commissioners.’
‘That wasn’t the experience of our predecessors, my lord.’
‘No,’ said Ralph, pointedly. ‘If you’d been more honest and less evasive with them, our journey might not have been necessary. But that’s something we can resolve in the shire hall when these crimes have been solved.’
Livarot shrugged. ‘I’m sorry that my steward and I were unable to help you there.’
‘But you did help us,’ Ralph countered.
‘Immensely,’ said Gervase. ‘Without even realising it.’
Their host exchanged a baffled glance with Drogo.
‘We’ll probably need to speak to you again,’ decided the sheriff, rising to his feet. ‘Meanwhile, if anything comes to mind that’s in any way relevant to our investigations, I’d be grateful if you’d let us know.’
When Ralph and Gervase got up as well, Livarot escorted his visitors to his front door, pausing to scratch his head when he got there.
‘There is one thing that I should perhaps mention,’ he began.
‘Well?’ prodded the sheriff.
‘It may have nothing to do with the murder, of course, but who can tell?’
‘Does it concern Hermer?’
‘I think so, my lord sheriff. Some weeks ago, a man was seen trespassing on my land near nightfall. When he realised that he’d been spotted, he turned tail and ran off.’
‘What’s the significance of this story?’
‘According to the tenant who saw him, the man was Hermer the Steward.’
‘Why should Hermer be creeping around your property?’
Mauger Livarot opened the door and waved his guests through it. ‘I’m afraid that it’s too late to ask him,’ he said. ‘Goodbye.’
Slumped in a chair, Richard de Fontenel brooded on his misfortune. A few days earlier, he had been confident that he could at last overcome the resistance of the lady to whom he wished to be married. It was something for which he had worked zealously over a period of months. What gave him additional pleasure was the fact that his joy would provoke rage and frustration elsewhere. The imminent arrival of royal commissioners appeared to offer him another opportunity to secure an advantage over a despicable rival. Mauger Livarot would be completely routed. On other fronts, too, the tide seemed to be running in de Fontenel’s favour. Then, suddenly, everything had changed. The gifts intended to ensnare his bride were stolen, his steward vanished and his plans began to fall apart. Discovery of Hermer’s corpse served to exacerbate the situation. He was deprived of a vital ally in the property dispute that lay ahead and, while he was embroiled in a murder investigation, the field was clear for Livarot to court the lady Adelaide. It was galling.
The unannounced visit to the castle had been a grave mistake. He saw that now. Anger had clouded his judgement. Not only had he insulted Roger Bigot, the person on whom he relied for justice, he had also lowered himself in the esteem of the very woman he sought to impress. Unaware of the lady Adelaide’s presence in the hall, he had blundered in and shocked her along with all the other guests. It would take more than two gold elephants to woo her once more to the verge of accepting his proposal. He meditated for a long while on how he might win back her good opinion. Recriminations were still sweeping through his mind in waves when there was a knock on the door. He did not even hear it. A louder knock made him sit up and listen.
‘Come in!’ he called.
The door opened and a servant entered with a wooden box in his grasp.
‘Yes?’ said his master.
‘This was brought to the house, my lord.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ve no idea, but it bears your name.’
‘Who delivered it?’
‘I can’t tell you, my lord. I found it lying on the step.’
‘Bring it here.’
The servant trudged across the room. He was a tall, gangly young man with a mop of dark hair and a curly beard. He gave the box to his master. Attached to the top by a nail was a scrap of paper on which the name of Richard de Fontenel had been scrawled.
‘Stand off, Clamahoc,’ he snapped, waving the servant away with an irritable hand. ‘I don’t need you to bend over me like that.’
‘No, my lord,’ said Clamahoc, taking a few paces backwards. ‘Shall I go?’
‘Not until I see what this is.’
The box was crudely made. Having no lock, its lid was secured by means of two hooks that were hammered into a tight embrace. It took de Fontenel some time before he could prise the hooks apart with his dagger. He replaced the weapon on its sheath and lifted the lid. One glance was enough to make his blood run cold. Slamming the lid shut, he jumped up from the seat and thrust the box at his servant.
Clamahoc took it, mystified. ‘What am I to do with it, my lord?’
‘Take it to the priest. Ask him to put it into Hermer’s coffin.’
‘Coffin?’
‘That’s where it belongs. See for yourself.’
The servant was tentative. He slowly raised the lid of the box to peep in, then gaped in horror. His master’s command was explained. Lying side by side in the box were two blood-covered hands. On one of the fingers, he recognised Hermer’s ring.
Chapter Five
Seen from the vantage point of the castle, Norwich was a large city built in the loop of the river and replete with rows of timber dwellings whose thatched roofs shone in the morning sunlight like burnished gold. The dominating influence of religion was attested by the presence of almost forty churches and chapels, many of them constructed of local flint and possessing the distinctive round towers for which the city was justly renowned. Norwich had a sense of order and permanence to it. Closer inspection, however, revealed it to be a more decayed and cluttered place than at first appeared. As Golde and Alys rode through the dusty streets escorted by two of Ralph’s men, they saw countless examples of dire poverty and the fell hand of war. The weight of resentment was heavy. Even after twenty years of occupation, Normans were seen as odious foreigners, an imposition to be endured rather than a people with whom the inhabitants could make common cause.