‘I can see now that it wasn’t my place to go with you, Gervase,’ she said. ‘Am I forgiven?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, my love.’
‘The truth is that I felt so very tired today.’
‘Did you manage to get any sleep?’
‘Yes, this afternoon.’
‘You couldn’t have done that on horseback.’
‘I know,’ she said, cheerfully. ‘All things considered, I was better off here.’
Gervase was pleased at the way in which she had come to accept the situation. A sincere apology made for a warmer welcome than would a sharp rebuke for leaving his wife behind. When he had put on dry attire, he gave her a hug of gratitude. Knowing that he would not divulge them, Alys had sensibly not pressed him for details of what he had learned on his visit. That, too, earned his thanks. By the time they adjourned to the hall to join the others, they had put their disagreement completely behind them.
The visitors were dining with the sheriff and his wife, attentive hosts who made sure that their guests lacked for nothing. Brother Daniel ate with them again, appetite heartier than ever, mind alert to engage in any friendly debate that arose. Golde seemed to have recovered from the exhausting ride, having shed her wet garments and looking resplendent in a blue chemise and gown. While Eustace Coureton amused the ladies with a succession of anecdotes about his own wife, Gervase took the opportunity to pass on his news to Ralph Delchard and Roger Bigot, hearing in turn what progress each of them had made with their inquiries. The sheriff was interested to hear that Olova had actually met Starculf.
‘What sort of man risks his place by castigating the steward under whom he works?’ he said, thoughtfully. ‘A brave one, surely.’
‘And an honourable one,’ added Gervase. ‘The argument between them arose because Hermer boasted about violating Aelfeva, a defenceless girl whom he’d stalked. Starculf was outraged on her behalf.’
‘Yes,’ added Ralph. ‘Even to the extent of finding the victim’s kinfolk in order to apologise to them. Starculf is a considerate man.’
‘He’s a murderer,’ said Bigot, sternly. ‘He showed little consideration to Hermer.’
‘How much consideration did Hermer show to that girl?’
‘That’s not the point at issue, my lord.’
‘Starculf was provoked by what the steward did.’
‘It doesn’t excuse his own actions.’
‘No, my lord sheriff,’ agreed Gervase, ‘but it does suggest that Starculf is a man with a strong moral sense. It may have driven him to extremes but it can’t be entirely ignored. I’d like to meet him.’
‘You will, Master Bret. When my men arrest him.’
‘Where are they searching?’
‘All over the county. The main roads are being watched to cut off his escape.’
‘What about the ports?’
‘Word has been sent to all of them. A reward has been offered for information leading to the capture of Starculf. It’s only a matter of time before we take him.’
‘I wonder how the lady Adelaide will react,’ said Ralph.
‘She’ll rejoice at the arrest of a killer,’ replied Gervase.
‘Oh, I think she’ll be pleased that the crime is solved but I suspect she’ll wish that the perpetrator were anybody but Starculf. She liked the fellow, I could tell, and knew him far better than she was prepared to admit. Though she’ll deplore what he did, I fancy that the lady Adelaide will show him a little sympathy as well.’
The sheriff was brusque. ‘That’s more than I’ll do!’
‘Or me,’ said Ralph evenly. ‘But the lord Eustace and I were both struck by the way she talked about Starculf. Her denials were far too hot to be taken seriously.’
‘The lady Adelaide won’t have all that much sympathy for him,’ said Gervase. ‘Had it not been for Starculf, she might now be the owner of the gold elephants she covets so much. If the murder had not occurred, the earlier theft of the treasures might never have come to light and she would have regarded herself as their rightful owner. Instead of which, she now knows that they’re beyond her reach.’
‘Yes, Gervase. They’ll be returned to the abbey.’
‘As a wedding present, they’re null and void.’
Ralph chuckled. ‘That puts paid to the lord Richard’s hopes.’
‘But it raises an interesting question,’ noted Gervase. ‘Now that Richard de Fontenel is no longer a possible suitor, will the lady Adelaide turn to his rival? Are we to hear the announcement of a marriage between her and the lord Mauger?’
‘That depends on what he has to offer.’
The blow was so hard that it sent him reeling backwards until his body slammed against the wall. All the breath was knocked out of Judicael the Goldsmith.
‘Tell me!’ demanded Mauger Livarot.
‘My lord,’ gasped the other, shaking with fear. ‘Don’t strike me again.’
‘I won’t use a fist next time,’ warned Livarot, drawing his dagger. ‘Now, speak!’
Judicael shook his head. ‘I can’t, my lord.’
‘Yes, you can.’
‘I gave my word.’
‘Who cares about that?’
‘I do,’ whimpered the other. ‘I have to. I’m a craftsman. My customers trust me. If I abuse that trust, I lose their faith.’
‘You’ll lose more than that if you continue to defy me!’
Livarot brandished the dagger and the goldsmith cowered against the wall. It had been the worst possible start to a new day for Judicael. No sooner had he opened his shop than Mauger Livarot burst into it, demanding private information and threatening violence if it were not forthcoming. Impatient and irascible, he had already demonstrated his readiness to resort to physical assault. Judicael was neither brave nor resourceful. He lacked the courage to stand up to his visitor or the guile with which to talk himself out of his predicament. The blow across his face had not only shocked him and left the first tentative signs of a bruise, it made him fear for the safety of his hands, the essential tools of his trade. If his truculent customer were to inflict serious damage on them, Judicael’s occupation would be gone.
Standing up straight, he made a doomed effort to assert himself. ‘If you come any closer,’ he said, ‘I’ll report this to the lord sheriff.’
‘Go on, then,’ taunted Livarot, blocking his way.
‘I must ask you to leave the premises, my lord.’
‘What if I refuse?’
‘ Please!’ he begged.
‘Not until you tell me what I came here to find out.’
‘That’s impossible, my lord.’
‘I won’t wait much longer, Judicael.’
The goldsmith tried to sound firm. ‘I’ll be forced to summon the lord sheriff.’
‘Will you?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘And what will you tell him?’
‘That you assaulted me for no reason at all.’
‘But I’ve a very good reason.’
‘My lord-’
‘And you’re giving me an even better one,’ continued Livarot, jabbing the point of his dagger at the man’s throat to pin him against the wall. ‘You won’t be able to say much to Roger Bigot if I slice that ugly head of yours from its fat body.’
‘No, no!’ pleaded Judicael.
‘Then answer my question.’
‘It’s more than my life is worth.’
‘You won’t have a life if you don’t tell me the truth.’
‘You’ve no right to treat me this way.’
‘Try stopping me.’
‘I implore you, my lord. Leave me be.’
‘Only when you have the sense to tell me.’ His dagger pricked the goldsmith’s neck hard enough to draw blood and to instil terror. Eyes bulging and mouth agape, Judicael was now running with sweat. There was no way out. Mauger Livarot would not be denied. The goldsmith gently touched the scratch on his throat and saw the blood on his finger. He shuddered.
‘You’re asking me to break a confidence,’ he said, weakly.
‘No, Judicael. I’m ordering you to do it.’ A second jab with the dagger produced a yelp of pain. ‘You had a visit from the lord Richard yesterday. I have a witness who saw him come into your shop. He’d not take the trouble to ride all the way here unless it was on important business. What was that business?’