The one saving grace was that Eustace Coureton had volunteered to accompany him, intrigued, like Ralph, by the notion of a soldier’s becoming a hermit. Defying his years, Coureton was up early and without complaint. Four of his men rode with two from Ralph’s escort to give the search party some flexibility and to safeguard the two royal commissioners who rode at the head of the little cavalcade. They went north-west from the city, making the most of the early start before the sun was fully up to dazzle their eyes and set the sweat running beneath their hauberks. Flat terrain made for swift progress. They met no obstacles on the way.
Sensing his friend’s mood, Coureton tried to cheer him up. ‘I’m sure that this visit will be profitable,’ he said.
‘Will it?’ moaned Ralph. ‘What if we don’t find the man in the Holt hundred?’
‘Then we look elsewhere.’
‘Why, my lord?’
‘Because it’s important.’
‘What can he tell us?’
‘When and for what reason he gave those gold elephants to the abbey.’
‘It was when he took leave of his senses and became an anchorite.’ Coureton smiled. ‘I can see that such a life has no appeal for you.’
‘What’s the point of needless suffering?’
‘It isn’t needless. You should talk to Brother Daniel.’
‘No, thank you,’ said Ralph, rolling his eyes. ‘I like the man as much as I could bring myself to like any Benedictine but I heard all that Brother Daniel had to say on our ride to the abbey. On the way back, I heard it all for the second time.’ He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘At least, he didn’t try to quote Horace at me.’
‘Is that a complaint?’
‘No, it was a gasp of relief.’
‘I take the hint,’ said Coureton, affably. ‘Even though my beloved poet wrote a line that describes your state of mind perfectly.’
‘Me?’ said Ralph.
‘Yes. Post equitem sedet atra Cura.’
‘Does it come with a translation?’
‘It comes with my translation, though Gervase and Brother Daniel might give you slight variations of their own. My version is this. “At the rider’s back sits dark Anxiety.” Am I right?’
‘Not quite. It’s more a case of sheer irritation.’
‘At whom?’
‘Myself,’ said Ralph, disconsolately. ‘My convictions don’t seem so trustworthy in the light of day. I have a horrible feeling that we’ll never find this elusive anchorite, and that even if we do he’ll be of no practical use to us.’
‘I disagree,’ said Coureton. ‘When I woke up, I felt that fortune would smile on us this morning. We’ll track the fellow down, I’m convinced of it. He is, after all, entitled to know the fate of those gold elephants. They have great significance for him. Don’t forget that we’re talking about someone who went all the way to Rome on foot in order to acquire those treasures. They were blessed by the Pope.’
‘I don’t care if they were made by St Peter and polished by the Archangel Gabriel. Popes are not held in high esteem by me. Nor,’ added Ralph, grimacing, ‘are bishops, monks, nuns and anchorites.’
‘I’ll wager that Jocelyn Vavasour might be the exception.’
‘Will you back that wager with your purse?’ Coureton laughed. ‘I’m not that headstrong. I’m just more optimistic than you. What I can say is that we’ll most definitely find him.’
‘And what do we gain from that?’
‘An interesting story, to start with. Come, Ralph,’ said the other, ‘you’re as eager as I am to know why he traded in his hauberk for the holy cross. He was one of us, born and brought up in Normandy, moulded into a warrior just as we were. Why did we end up as royal commissioners while he prefers the company of birds and a Bible?’
‘I’m very keen to learn that,’ conceded Ralph, ‘but that’s a personal matter. I’m just having second thoughts about his usefulness to our inquiry. How can a hermit possibly help us to solve a murder?’
‘By giving us the history of the treasures whose theft started the whole business off.’
‘And?’
‘By telling us what he knows about some of the characters we’ve so far met.’
‘Such as?’
‘Olova,’ said Coureton. ‘That potent lady whom Gervase and I visited yesterday. I may speak Latin and Greek but I’ve never felt my deficiency in the Saxon tongue more painfully than in her hut. I was longing to speak to Olova.’
‘Why didn’t you try a line or two from Horace on her?’
‘I don’t think she’d have much sympathy for noble Romans, somehow. But she and her husband did have sympathy for the abbey of St Benet, it seems. According to Gervase, they endowed the place generously.’
‘Was that a case of generosity or spite?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve seen it so often, Eustace,’ said the other. ‘Wealthy Saxons who gave property to a monastic foundation to save it from falling into the hands of people like us.’
‘That wasn’t what happened here, I’m sure. Olova may have been aggressive but I detected a piety about her as well. She and her husband donated that land to the abbey out of Christian impulse. That gives her an immediate connection with Jocelyn Vavasour.’
‘Except that he took his Christian impulse to extremes.’
‘He must have known Olova. Some of his holdings were in the same hundred as hers. He also had land in the Taverham hundred at one time so he must have been acquainted with Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot. And if he knew them, he’d be familiar with their respective stewards. You see?’ Coureton, reached across to pat his companion on the shoulder. ‘He knows almost everyone of importance. This anchorite will tell us things that we could never get from anyone else.’
‘That’s true,’ admitted Ralph, revived by the thought.
‘You can even discuss Abbot Alfwold with him.’
‘And poor Brother Joseph.’
‘I told you that an anchorite would be able to help us.’
‘In more ways than one,’ said Ralph, buoyed up. ‘I’d like to hear what he has to say about the movement of property in this county. A man who’s willingly forfeited his lands has no vested interest. Jocelyn Vavasour will be honest and dispassionate. He’ll know who stole what from whom and be prepared to name them. It may well be,’ he went on, grinning as the idea took a firm hold, ‘that he can provide weaponry for us to use in the shire hall against the likes of the lord Richard and his ilk. Imagine that. It’ll save us endless time.’
‘Doesn’t that make you glad you got up early today?’
‘No,’ replied Ralph, still grinning.
‘It must have some benevolent effect.’
‘It does, Eustace. It makes the pain easier to bear.’
Riding in pairs, the travellers clattered over a rickety bridge and continued on their way. Their eyes were trained on the twisting road ahead. None of them thought to look over their shoulders and therefore remained completely unaware of the fact that they were being trailed by a man at a cautious distance.
The decision to make the visit had been reached after a long debate with his fellow commissioners and Roger Bigot on the previous night. Since it called for tact and diplomacy, Gervase was felt to be the best person to send on the embassy. While Ralph and Coureton were riding in the direction of the Holt hundred, therefore, he was making his way to the estate of Richard de Fontenel, accompanied by Brother Daniel and two of Eustace Coureton’s men-at-arms. The monk was as talkative as ever.
‘The lord Eustace speaks Latin better than I do,’ he confessed.
‘But for a different purpose,’ said Gervase. ‘His interest is in ancient Rome.’
‘Mine is in eternal life.’
‘You have something in common, then. His passion is for the Eternal City.’
‘St Augustine wrote unforgettably about it.’
‘I know, but he didn’t have Rome in mind.’