A look of anguish flitted across Alfwold’s face. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, rubbing his temple with a skeletal finger. ‘That unfortunate business.’
‘You can confirm that they were stolen, then?’
‘There’s no other way that they would have left this abbey.’
‘When did they go astray?’
‘Ten days or so ago. The sacristan will be able to tell you the exact date.’
‘Do you know who took them, Father Abbot?’
‘We have our suspicions,’ said the other, sadly, ‘but we can’t be sure. Those two elephants were very precious to us. Not simply because they were made of gold. Their value lay in their origin.’
‘Oh?’ said Ralph, ears pricking up.
‘They were brought from Rome, blessed by the Pope himself.’
‘Who made them in the first place?’
‘A Venetian goldsmith, my lord. A master of his craft.’
‘So I understand.’
‘They were presented to the abbey as a gift and we’ve cherished them.’ A weak smile touched his lips. ‘We like to believe that we are the only abbey in England that houses elephants beneath its roof.’
‘Who gave them to you?’ asked Ralph.
‘A good, kind, God-fearing man called Jocelyn Vavasour. A soldier like you, my lord, but one who was deeply troubled in his mind by all the blood he had spilled on English soil. He wanted to make amends in some way.’
‘A penance?’ said Daniel.
‘Yes,’ replied the abbot. ‘But the lord Jocelyn didn’t ride on his destrier to Rome. Like a true pilgrim, he walked every inch of the way. When he saw those elephants, he said that he felt impelled to buy them for the abbey.’
‘Why here, Father Abbot?’
‘The lord Jocelyn had estates nearby until he forfeited them.’
Ralph was taken aback. ‘Voluntarily?’
‘Yes, my lord. Some years ago.’
‘Did he enter the Benedictine Order?’
‘That was the strange thing,’ said Alfwold, pursing his lips. ‘He refused to do so.’
‘Why?’
‘He felt unworthy of us. He wouldn’t have been the first soldier to exchange the sword for a cowl but it was never even considered. A moment ago, my lord,’ he recalled, ‘you jested about being besmirched by sin.’
‘It wasn’t entirely a jest,’ admitted Ralph.
‘The lord Jocelyn was in earnest. He came to see that the taking of life is a heinous sin even when sanctioned by a state of warfare. His past actions haunted him so much that he couldn’t bear to enjoy their fruits. He surrendered his estates and this abbey, I’m pleased to say, was among the beneficiaries.’
‘What happened to Jocelyn Vavasour?’
‘He became an anchorite, my lord.’
‘Where?’
‘Nobody knows,’ said the old man. ‘He had no family to keep him so he just wandered off alone. All that I can tell is that he lives alone somewhere, enduring a life that’s even more austere than the one we embrace here.’
‘What would he do if he knew his gift had been stolen?’
‘He’d be deeply upset, my lord. I hope that he never finds out.’
‘He has a right to know.’
‘True, my lord.’
‘Have you taken any steps to retrieve your gold elephants?’
‘We’ve prayed day and night,’ explained the abbot, ‘and we’ve made a few inquiries of our own but without success. When the crime was first reported, I wanted to go in search of the malefactor myself but my bones are too brittle. It’s thirty years since I left this abbey and I’ll not step outside its walls again.’
‘Somebody ought to,’ said Ralph. ‘When property is stolen, it’s your duty to alert the sheriff so that he can apprehend the thief.’
‘But we’ve no idea who that thief is.’
‘I thought you told us that you had your suspicions.’
‘We do, my lord. Or, to be more exact, Brother Joseph does.’
‘Brother Joseph?’
‘The sacristan.’
‘A sacristan looks after the contents of the abbey church,’ said Daniel, helpfully. ‘The vestments, linen, robes, banners, gold and silver plate, and the vessels of the altar.’
‘Did he keep those elephants under lock and key?’
‘Some of the time,’ replied the abbot, wheezing slightly. ‘On other occasions, all our treasures are on display so that the holy brothers can draw strength from them. Brother Joseph had arranged them in the church when the traveller came to stay.’
‘Traveller?’
‘He was exhausted from a long ride, he said, and begged a night’s rest in the guest lodging. The hospitaller naturally took him. Next morning, the man left early. It was only after he’d gone that Brother Joseph discovered that the elephants were missing.’
‘Why didn’t you give chase at once?’ said Ralph.
‘We had no notion which road he’d taken, my lord. Besides, it might just have been a coincidence. The traveller may have been innocent. The thief could have been someone else altogether. Even — though I dread to think it — one of our own.’
‘Did this mysterious traveller give a name, Father Abbot?’
‘Oh, yes. One that we all grieve to remember.’
‘What was he called?’
‘Starculf,’ said the old. ‘Starculf the Falconer.’
Their friendly manner slowly helped to weaken her reserve. When he had recounted the details of the murder, Gervase was invited into Olova’s hut with Eustace Coureton. It was a large, rectangular building, its thatched roof supported by wooden pillars sunk into the ground and its walls made up of overlapping timbers, cut to size and trimmed to uniform smoothness. The interior was divided by vestigial screens into three bays, two of which contained beds. Some rough benches provided seating in the central bay. Cooking implements stood beside the slow fire over which a pot was suspended. Steam curled up lazily into the air. Competing smells of fish, smoke, animal skin and general mustiness filled their nostrils. Squatting on the one chair in the room, Olova indicated a bench. She watched her visitors shrewdly as they sat down. Her tears had been wiped away now and bitterness had returned.
‘Hermer the Steward was a monster,’ she said. ‘We’ll not mourn him.’
‘Why do you despise him so much?’ asked Gervase.
‘He drove me off land that I inherited from my husband.’
‘Only because he was ordered to do so by the lord Richard. Hermer was simply his agent. He obeyed orders.’
‘No,’ corrected Olova, vehemently. ‘He enjoyed making us suffer, Master Bret. He did more than obey orders. He humiliated me. And it didn’t end there.’
‘What do you mean?’
She looked away. ‘Nothing,’ she said, quietly. ‘It’s a private matter.’
‘He slighted you in person?’
‘It was far worse than that.’
‘Go on.’
‘There’s no point,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously. ‘Hermer is dead and there’s an end to it. These are glad tidings and I’m grateful to you for bringing them.’
‘Ask her about Starculf,’ suggested Coureton.
Mention of the name made the old woman withdraw into herself. Folding her arms, she sat back in her chair with an expression of quiet defiance on her face. Gervase noted the change in her.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘Do you know a man called Starculf?’
‘I might have done,’ she replied after a long pause.
‘Did you ever meet him?’
‘No.’
‘Are you quite certain of that?’
‘Yes,’ she said, sourly.
‘Yet you confess that you might have known him.’
‘I heard his name, Master Bret. That’s all. Hermer the Steward spoke of him.’
‘Starculf was his assistant.’
‘So I gathered.’
‘What else did you gather?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Come, now,’ he reasoned. ‘You’re an intelligent woman.’
‘Don’t try to flatter me. I’m too old for that nonsense.’
‘It’s not nonsense. I spoke to one of the commissioners who visited this county earlier on. He remembered how well you marshalled your case when you appeared before them in the shire hall.’
‘I was only fighting to reclaim what was mine.’
‘Fighting against the lord Richard. Except that he was absent from the fray so had to be represented by his steward. You and Hermer created sparks when you clashed.’