‘He must have given sterling service if he was promoted by the lord Richard.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And yet he was dismissed soon after.’
‘I was sorry to hear that.’
‘Do you know what caused the rift with Hermer?’
‘No, my lord. It was none of my business. Why should it be?’
‘Because it was you who recommended Starculf in the first place,’ said Ralph, noting the way her hands had tightened slightly in her lap. ‘I would have thought you’d show some interest in his fate. Indeed, I’d expect the man to turn to you for help.’
‘I can assure you that he didn’t,’ she said briskly.
‘Even though you were probably the one person who might assist him?’
‘Starculf was my husband’s falconer, my lord. I hardly knew him.’
‘You knew him well enough to suggest his name to the lord Richard and he’s the sort of man who expects the highest standards from anyone in his service. I can’t believe that you’d recommend someone you hadn’t met and liked.’
‘I had met him,’ she admitted. ‘And I knew his pedigree.’
‘What of his character?’ said Coureton. ‘Was he a violent man?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Did you see any change in him when he worked with Hermer?’
‘Why are we talking about Starculf?’ she said with irritation. ‘He left the area some time ago, my lord, for reasons that are quite unconnected with me. I’ve no opinion to offer on the man beyond the fact that he served my husband well.’
‘Let’s go back to the two gold elephants,’ suggested Ralph. ‘Until we met Jocelyn the Anchorite, we couldn’t understand their appeal. Then he showed us some replicas he was carving out of driftwood. They were adorable creatures.’
‘Prime examples of a goldsmith’s art.’
‘And blessed by the Pope,’ said Ralph, piously. ‘Did we mention that?’
‘No, my lord.’
‘That’s why they were presented to the abbey. As holy objects.’
She inhaled deeply before speaking. ‘I was quite unaware of that.’
‘I’m sure you were,’ he continued. ‘If you had not been, you’d have been horrified when the lord Richard offered them to you as a wedding gift. You’d have demanded that they be returned to the abbey immediately.’
‘Of course.’
‘I can’t imagine that you’d accept anything that bore the slightest taint.’
‘That’s quite right, my lord,’ she said, levelly. ‘I, too, have high standards.’
Her manner had become condescending. Ralph resorted to bluntness. ‘High standards, my lady?’
‘Extremely high.’
‘Then why did you consider marriage to Richard de Fontenel?’
The travellers were fortunate. Though the sky remained dark, only one shower actually broke out and they were able to shelter from it beneath the overhanging branches of a tree. When the rain eased off, they emerged to continue their journey with more urgency.
Gervase Bret did not make the same mistake twice. The six men who escorted them were left a short distance away from the destination. Gervase and Golde proceeded on alone until they came to the circle of thatched huts. More inhabitants were visible this time. Skalp was trying to repair one of the derelict dwellings with the help of a much older man. A third man was hacking at a length of timber with his axe. Two small children were playing in the long grass. A young woman was weaving a basket. An older one was waddling off to feed the chickens. Everyone looked up as the strangers rode into the little encampment but there was less hostility this time. Ambling forward towards them, Skalp showed more curiosity than antagonism.
‘Why’ve you come back?’ he asked.
‘To see Olova again,’ said Gervase.
‘We can’t help you.’
‘You can if you try, Skalp.’
The young Saxon indicated Golde. ‘Who’s this?’
‘A friend of mine.’
‘Why have you brought her?’
‘Come with us and you’ll find out,’ said Gervase, easily. ‘You can sit in Olova’s hut with us this time. There’s no need to lurk outside to listen.’
Skalp’s eyes flashed but he bit back a comment. He followed them across to the largest of the huts. Gervase dismounted and helped Golde down from the saddle. On his advice, she was not wearing the fine apparel that befitted the wife of a Norman lord but had chosen more homespun garments, comfortable for the journey and reminiscent of the clothing she had worn when she lived in Hereford. Olova stepped outside to give them a wary greeting and to be introduced to Golde. The visitors were invited into her hut. When Skalp tried to follow, a nod from his grandmother sent him back to his work. Inside the musty hut, the guests were waved to seats.
Olova settled into her own chair and gave them a stern warning. ‘I hope that you’ve not come to insult me as well, Master Bret.’
‘Insult you?’
‘That’s what my other visitor did.’
‘When?’
‘Not long ago. If you’d come earlier, you’d have caught him here.’
‘Did he give a name?’
‘Jocelyn the Anchorite,’ she said, chewing on bare gums. ‘I think that’s what it was. He didn’t speak our language as well as you.’
‘It’s my language as well.’
‘And mine,’ added Golde. ‘How did this man insult you?’
‘He told us about a theft from the abbey,’ said Olova.
‘I tried to do that myself,’ Gervase reminded her, ‘but you wouldn’t listen to me.’
‘I wouldn’t listen to this man and it made him very angry. I thought that an anchorite was a man of peace but this one had more of a warrior about him. When I wouldn’t tell him what he wanted, he more or less accused me of having taken those holy objects myself. That was an insult. I may loathe the abbey for the way it treated me but I’d never steal property from consecrated ground.’
‘I’m sure that you wouldn’t.’
‘We’re God-fearing people, Master Bret. We’re not thieves like the Normans.’
‘Not all Normans steal,’ said Golde.
‘Some of them stole our land, that’s all I know. I told that to the anchorite.’
‘What was his reply?’
‘That he was ashamed of his own part in the pillaging. He’d been a Norman lord himself and grabbed his share of property along with all the other vultures. At least, he had the grace to say that it was unjust. I admired him for that.’ Her voice darkened. ‘But I won’t forgive him for insulting me like that.’
‘Why did he come to you in the first place?’ said Gervase.
‘He was looking for the man that you mentioned.’
‘Starculf?’
‘The anchorite had heard rumours that he’d been seen in this area.’
‘And has he?’
‘Not that I know, Master Bret. It’s more likely that someone was up to mischief when they sent the Norman here. We have enemies. This is the kind of thing they do. I don’t believe that Starculf is within a hundred miles of here.’
‘Jocelyn is after the wrong man.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Starculf didn’t steal those treasures from the abbey.’
‘Then who did?’
‘Hermer the Steward.’
A look of sheer contempt came into her eye but she said nothing. Gervase nudged Golde. On the journey from Norwich, they had already discussed how to approach the old woman. Golde gave a sympathetic smile and leaned forward.
‘I can understand how you feel,’ she said with quiet sincerity. ‘My father was a thegn in Herefordshire with five manors to his name. We lost them all. I was married off to a brewer. It wasn’t what my father had hoped for me. He died a bitter and disappointed man.’
‘My husband didn’t live to see the worst of it. I thank God for that.’
‘We can’t change the past, I’m afraid. We just have to accept it.’
‘You might do that but I won’t. I’ll fight to get some of my land back.’
‘You’re perfectly entitled to do that,’ Gervase put in.
‘But that’s not what brought us here,’ resumed Golde. ‘You know that Hermer was killed and I can see why you shed no tears at his passing, but even the murder of a bad man must be paid for, Olova. The taking of life is a crime.’