‘Horrendously late,’ confessed the other, wincing at the memory. ‘Had I noticed it at Matins or at Lauds, we could have taken swifter action.’
‘Only if the thief had already struck,’ argued Ralph. ‘The elephants might have been here during the first two services of the day then been taken before Prime.’
‘Not while we were all still in church, my lord. There’s no gap between Lauds and Prime. We don’t move from here.’
‘Perhaps not,’ ventured Daniel, ‘but you’d all be engrossed in prayer.’
Joseph was shocked. ‘Not even the vilest thief would steal from us at a time like that, surely? It would be sacrilege.’
‘I don’t think this man is hoping to claim his reward in heaven,’ observed Ralph, tartly. ‘Though the abbot did hint at the possibility that he might already wear a cowl.’
‘That’s inconceivable.’
‘Is it?’
‘I simply can’t bring myself to accept that.’
‘Nor can I,’ said Daniel, loyally.
Ralph was characteristically blunt. ‘I side with Abbot Alfwold. When a crime like this is committed, everyone must be under suspicion, regardless of whether or not he belongs to the Benedictine Order. After all,’ he said, indicating the table, ‘the monks go right past here in single file. Even with candles, it must be gloomy in here during Matins and Lauds. What would be easier than for one of your number to sweep up the elephants in his hand and put them into his scrip?’
‘No, my lord!’ protested Joseph.
‘What could he hope to gain?’ challenged Daniel. ‘Monks take a vow of poverty. Gold is no use to them here. There’s no motive, my lord.’
Ralph shrugged. ‘Perhaps someone liked elephants.’
‘They were taken out of the abbey. That much we do know.’
‘Granted, but that doesn’t let the holy brothers off the hook. Who was better placed to know when and where the treasures would be on display? It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility that one of the monks stole the elephants then passed them to a confederate outside the abbey.’
‘Such a thought appals me,’ said Joseph with a shudder.
‘Then let’s set it aside while we consider your theory.’
‘It’s more than a theory, my lord. It’s the only explanation.’ The sacristan gave an apologetic smile before relating his narrative. ‘On the night in question, three travellers were staying at the abbey. Two were pilgrims, on their way to Yarmouth to take ship. The other was a man named Starculf. He told us that he was a falconer, riding north to Lincoln to collect a peregrine for his master. Starculf hailed from an estate on the Suffolk coast. He’d been in the saddle for a whole day when he arrived at our gate.’
‘Who admitted him?’
‘The hospitaller. He had no call to turn him away.’
‘Did you meet this Starculf yourself?’
‘Yes, my lord. I’m not such a poor steward as you might think. Since the abbey’s valuables are under my protection, I make a point of talking to all our guests in case I sense that they are here for nefarious purposes.’
‘What did you think of Starculf?’
‘He seemed honest and open. I had no qualms.’
‘Until the following morning.’
‘He left before any of us really knew that he was gone.’
‘But not on the road to Lincoln,’ said Ralph. ‘He had a shorter journey ahead of him than that. Can you describe this man to us, Brother Joseph?’
‘I’ll never forget him,’ said the sacristan. ‘He was a short man of some thirty years or more. Stout and well built. He carried himself with confidence and was grateful for our hospitality.’ He gave another shudder. ‘Now I know why!’
‘You mentioned that two pilgrims also spent the night here.’
‘They joined us here in church for Prime.’
‘Were they still in the abbey when the theft was discovered?’
‘Yes, my lord. They were so upset that we might think them responsible that they offered to let us search their belongings. But there was no need,’ said Joseph. ‘All I had to do was to search their faces. They were no thieves.’
‘That brings us back to Starculf.’
‘We feel that it must have been him.’
Ralph was puzzled. Starculf had been dismissed from the service of Richard de Fontenel and had every reason to hate his former master. If he had stolen the gold elephants, he would hardly have surrendered them to a man he loathed. There had to be some other explanation of how they came into the possession of de Fontenel. Was it possible that Starculf himself had been robbed of them? Or had he sold the treasures to a third person who made a handsome profit by passing them on to the man who wanted them as a wedding gift? It was evident that de Fontenel knew he was receiving stolen property. He had gone to some lengths to give the impression that the gold elephants had come from abroad. Ralph thought about the lady Adelaide. Pleased at the notion that her suitor had scoured the Continent on her behalf, she would be horrified to learn that he was giving her plunder from the abbey of St Benet.
‘How did you know that the elephants had been stolen, my lord?’ asked Joseph.
‘I picked up a rumour.’
‘From whom?’
‘I can’t remember,’ said Ralph, careful not to give too much information away. ‘It may have been from Richard de Fontenel. Do you know the man, Brother Joseph?’
The monk grimaced. ‘Only by repute.’
‘Has the lord Richard ever visited the abbey?’
‘No,’ said the other firmly. ‘From what I hear, he has no interest in monastic houses. The lord Richard is not among our benefactors.’ He slipped his hands inside his sleeves. ‘How did he come to hear of our robbery?’
‘I’m not sure that he did,’ said Ralph, dismissively. ‘I may have caught wind of it from someone else. That’s why I came here today. I wanted to establish the facts. I don’t hold with theft, Brother Joseph,’ he added, hand on his sword hilt. ‘I’ll do everything in my power to see the elephants returned to the abbey.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
The sacristan followed him out of the church, showering him with gratitude. Ralph summoned his men and they mounted up to depart. Brother Joseph followed his visitors outside and waited until Ralph was in the saddle.
‘Will you be able to recover our little elephants, my lord?’ he asked.
‘If at all possible. To tell you the truth, I’d rather like to see them.’
‘Where will your search begin?’
‘With the man who gave them to the abbey in the first place.’
‘Jocelyn Vavasour?’
‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘He sounds as if he might be a holy treasure himself.’
It took well over an hour to gather his men from the surrounding estates but Richard de Fontenel’s temper did not cool in the meantime. When fifteen armed men had answered his call, he mounted his horse and led them off at a canter. Impelled by the desire to strike at Mauger Livarot, he had no precise idea what form his action would take. At the very least, he intended to wreak havoc on his rival’s land, destroying crops, pulling down fences, even setting fire to barns or dwellings. Confrontation with Livarot himself was what he craved most, however, hoping to provoke him into a duel that he was confident of winning. Surprise was the crucial factor. As they thundered along the bone-hard track, de Fontenel prided himself on the suddenness of his attack. His enemy would be taken completely unawares. Livarot would not merely be humiliated — even killed in single combat — he would be lessened in the eyes of the lady Adelaide. It was de Fontenel who would assuredly rise in her esteem. His assault on his rival was also a road to marriage.
But the road was unaccountably blocked. Cresting a hill, de Fontenel expected to lead his men down the incline to Mauger Livarot’s undefended manor house. The sight that confronted him and his troop made them bring their horses to a sharp halt. Waiting for them in front of the house were twice their number of men, armed and poised for a charge. Richard de Fontenel’s strategy paled in the face of resistance. Mauger Livarot was ready for him, inviting attack and sure of success. He gave a signal with a raised arm, then led his men forward at a trot until they were only twenty yards from the newcomers. Ordering them to halt, Livarot grinned at his visitors.