‘Did you want something, my lord?’ he taunted.
‘I’d like your head on a plate,’ said de Fontenel, glaring at him.
‘You’re welcome to come and take it.’
‘Don’t tempt me, Mauger.’
‘We outnumber you. Why not use what little brain you have and go home?’
‘You knew that we were coming. How?’
‘That’s my business.’
‘Who warned you?’ Richard de Fontenel drew his sword and was about to nudge his horse forward when he heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Looking to his left, he saw the sheriff riding round the angle of a copse with several of his men at his back. Roger Bigot took in the situation at a glance. He rode into the gap between the two rivals and reined in his horse, his men pulling up in a line behind him. Richard de Fontenel was startled by the appearance of the sheriff but Mauger Livarot was delighted.
‘Welcome, my lord sheriff!’ he said, smirking happily. ‘I’m glad that you got my message in time.’
‘What’s going on here?’ demanded Bigot.
‘We’re giving our knights a little exercise.’
Bigot turned to de Fontenel. ‘You’re trespassing, my lord. Do you realise that?’
‘Stay out of this,’ was the surly reply. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Keeping the peace in this county is my business.’
‘That’s why I sent for you, my lord sheriff,’ said Livarot with false piety. ‘At least, one of us has a healthy respect for law and order.’
‘Disperse your men, Mauger.’
‘Gladly — when these interlopers have been driven off my land.’
‘Well?’ said Bigot, addressing de Fontenel. ‘What are you waiting for?’
De Fontenel scowled. ‘I’ll be back!’
‘Not if you have any sense.’
‘Mauger killed my steward!’
Bigot was calm. ‘Bring me the proof and I’ll arrest him for the crime. Cause any more trouble on his land, however, and I’ll be forced to arrest you instead. Is that clear, Richard?’ he said, his voice ringing with authority. ‘Nobody takes the law into his own hands while I hold the office of sheriff. Now, away with you!’
Richard de Fontenel glowered at his rival, then looked back at the sheriff. Roger Bigot was a man of his word. Further provocation would be foolish. With a snort of disgust, de Fontenel swung his horse round and dug his spurs into its flanks. He went galloping all over the crest of the hill with his men, enraged, frustrated and outmanoeuvred by the rival he had come to punish. It was a long and cheerless ride back to his home.
Chapter Eight
It was mid-evening by the time Gervase Bret and Eustace Coureton rode back into the bailey of Norwich Castle. Their return journey had been spent in a long discussion about the value of their visit to the combative Olova. The men disagreed. Gervase, who had spoken to her in her own language, felt a natural sympathy for the woman and was inclined to accept her word. Coureton, however, relying on her manner and gestures to form an opinion of her, was a little more sceptical.
‘I think it was deliberate, Gervase,’ he said.
‘What was?’
‘Inviting us into her house like that so that her grandson could eavesdrop outside.’
‘There was nothing sinister about that,’ said Gervase. ‘Skalp was simply making sure that no harm came to Olova. Besides, what did he hear? We were hardly giving away any great secrets inside that hut.’
‘I distrusted him.’
‘Not as much as Skalp distrusted us, my lord.’
‘He was a truculent character. Just like his grandmother.’
‘I dare say that Olova wasn’t quite so truculent when she was the wife of a thegn with appreciable holdings in the county. She was a dignified lady then,’ he said, recalling the proud way she bore herself. ‘The Conquest changed her life completely.’
‘Yes,’ said Coureton. ‘It brought Richard de Fontenel into her life.’
‘And Hermer the Steward. She had nothing but scorn for him.’
‘I couldn’t understand why, Gervase.’
‘Nor me,’ confessed the other, ‘but it seemed to have something to do with Hermer’s fondness for women. I didn’t see any there apart from Olova. Did you?’
‘No, but they probably went into hiding when they saw us coming.’
‘Why should they do that?’ wondered Gervase.
When their horses had been stabled, they made their way to the keep and went off to their separate apartments. Alys was dozing on the bed when her husband entered but awoke at once, sweeping aside his apologies for disturbing her and insisting that she was just taking a short nap. As she talked about how she and Golde had spent the afternoon, she was bright-eyed and animated. It was Gervase who had to suppress an occasional yawn, feeling a slow fatigue settling in. He gave her only the briefest outline of his visit to Olova.
‘She wasn’t exactly pleased to see us,’ he admitted.
‘It was like that in the market this morning. Pure resentment.’
‘I didn’t blame her, Alys. In her position, I’d have harboured a grudge.’
‘No, you wouldn’t. It’s simply not in your nature.’
‘Oh, I bear a grudge from time to time.’
She was hurt. ‘Not about me, I hope?’
‘Of course not. You’d never give me the slightest cause.’
‘Is that the truth?’
‘You know it is,’ he assured her. ‘Why do you think I agreed that you should come with me to Norfolk? I wanted you there at the end of the day, Alys. And first thing in the morning as well.’
‘What about the time in between?’ she asked with a smile.
‘Any time spent with you is pure joy.’
She gave him a kiss on the lips. ‘Thank you.’
Though he embraced her warmly, his mind was not entirely on his wife. Gervase was still remembering his talk with Olova, wondering if he might have got more out of the awkward old woman if he had taken Brother Daniel with him instead of Eustace Coureton. It was the sight of Norman soldiers in helm and hauberk that rankled with her. Gervase had the feeling that Hermer the Steward might have visited her in the past with an armed escort. Intimidation was patently a weapon he had often used. Cowed by his master, it was he who became the bully when dealing with others.
‘We’re bidden to the hall whenever we’re ready,’ said Alys, giving him a playful push when he failed to reply. ‘You’re not listening to me, Gervase!’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘What did I say?’
‘Something about the hall.’
‘You didn’t hear me, did you?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘You were miles away.’ Pretending to be upset, she stalked across to the window and stared out. Gervase went up to put his arms around her waist, nestling his head into her wimple.
‘I’m sorry, Alys.’
‘Are you?’ she asked, pouting.
‘I’m back with my wife now, I promise.’
‘You’re not the only one.’
‘What?’
‘Look down there,’ she said, pointing to the bailey. ‘Ralph has just ridden in through the gate with Brother Daniel. Golde is there to welcome them.’
Gervase gazed over her shoulder to watch the reunion down below. Ralph dismounted to collect a kiss from his wife then walked towards the keep with an arm around her. There was a decided jauntiness in his step.
Alys smiled approvingly. ‘He’s pleased to see Golde again.’
‘That’s not the only reason he’s in such good spirits,’ said Gervase, reading his colleague’s manner and movement. ‘His visit was more profitable than ours. He found out something important at the abbey of St Benet. I wonder what it was.’
Mauger Livarot, dining alone at his manor house, sat back in his chair and drank the remains of the wine. When he set the cup down on the table, he was still grinning broadly. The steward stood a few yards away, smiling obsequiously and rubbing his palms together. Livarot went off into a sudden peal of laughter.