Their captain was peremptory.
‘Seize the murderer!’
Four men leaped on Boio, forcing him to drop his hammer, tongs and horseshoe. He made no effort to resist as they pinioned his arms. He turned a baffled look upon the captain.
‘I am no murderer!’ he pleaded.
‘Be silent!’
‘Has someone been killed?’
‘You know he has, Boio.’
‘But not by me. I am innocent, I swear it.’
‘Take him out!’ snarled the captain.
‘What am I supposed to have done?’
By way of an answer, one of the men used the hilt of his sword to club the blacksmith to the ground. It took four of them to drag him out and throw him across a packhorse. When he was tied securely in position, they took him off on a painful ride to the castle dungeon, leaving a thin trail of blood from his scalp all the way.
Chapter Two
When they were escorted from the hall to their chamber, Ralph Delchard and Golde were reminded that Warwick Castle had been constructed as a stronghold rather than as a place of comfort.
There were few concessions to cosiness. The stairs were slippery, the arched windows were separate hurricanes and the draught found a hundred other apertures through which to invade the keep. Their chamber was at the very top of the building, small but quite serviceable, blessed with a fire around which they immediately huddled and giving them — once their shivers had been banished by the flames — the privacy they needed to embrace and to kiss away the horrors of the interminable ride. Ralph held her face between his hands and smiled affectionately in the flickering candlelight.
‘Gervase is a fool,’ he remarked.
‘Surely not,’ she replied. ‘You could never call him that. If anyone has an old head on young shoulders, it is Gervase Bret.’
‘Oh yes, he is a brilliant lawyer with a quicksilver mind but he is a callow youth when it comes to matters of the heart.’
‘Matters of the heart?’
‘Gervase is here, Alys is in Winchester.’
‘You feel that he should have brought her?’
‘It was folly not to do so, Golde. What kept me going through the day was the thought that you would be here to revive me at night.’ He brushed his lips against her forehead. ‘Gervase could have arranged a similar delight for himself.’
‘And invited me to his chamber?’ she teased.
Ralph chuckled. ‘You are too red-blooded a woman for him, my love. He is content with more moderate passion which is why Alys, pale and wan as she is, a fragile madonna, an image of loveliness, is by far the more suitable wife. Alys appeals to his finer feelings. Gervase has an overwhelming urge to protect her.
In his place, I would also have the urge to bring her with me.’
‘For her sake, I am glad that she is not here.’
‘Why?’
‘The journey would have been a trial for her.’
‘It was for all of us, Golde.’
‘Alys is no horsewoman. It would have been three whole days of purgatory for her. Besides, I do not think she would find the lady Marguerite a fit companion.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Alys has been spared the dubious pleasure of meeting that arrogant lady, not to mention her sour-faced companion and her egregious husband. On second thoughts, perhaps it is just as well that Alys did not come. She is a creature of nervous inclination. I do not think she could sleep soundly in a castle if she knew that it had a brutal murderer languishing in its dungeon.’
‘That knowledge will not make my own slumbers any easier.’
‘Then I will have to assist them.’
He raised a lecherous eyebrow and planted another kiss on her lips. Before she could respond, they were interrupted by a tap on the door and stepped involuntarily apart. Ralph opened the door to admit one servant with their luggage and another with fresh logs for the fire. The second man also delivered the message that a meal awaited them in the hall whenever they cared to return to it. Ralph thanked them, waved them on their way then tossed another log on the fire.
‘What did you make of our host?’ he asked casually.
‘The lord Henry seems like a gentleman.’
‘In the presence of ladies, he certainly is. But that easy charm had a practised air to it and his smile was far too ready. I do not believe that he is as hospitable as he is trying to appear.’
‘Does he not want us here?’
‘Nobody wants tax-collectors at their door, for that, in essence, is what we are, Golde. When we have apportioned land to the rightful owners, they will have to pay in some form or another for the privilege of holding it. That ensures our unpopularity wherever we go. But there is another reason why Henry Beaumont would rather hurry us on our way.’
‘What is it?’
‘I have no idea as yet. But we will find out in time.’
‘We?’
‘You and I, my love.’
‘How could I discover this other reason?’
‘By looking and listening. By bringing a woman’s gifts to bear upon the problem. You notice subtleties that I miss. You sense things. That is why I am so pleased that you came to Warwick.’
‘To notice subtleties?’
‘To be my second pair of eyes.’
‘Is that my only function in being here?’ she said with a provocative smile. ‘To act as my husband’s lookout?’
‘Of course.’
He laughed quietly then enfolded her once more in his arms.
They moved to the bed. Winter was forgotten. The log which he had thrown on the fire began to crackle merrily.
Henry Beaumont did not stint his guests. The meal which awaited them in the hall was sumptuous, consisting, among other things, of frumenty, girdle breads, spiced rabbit, spit-roasted venison, wine and ale. Seated beside their host at the head of the table was his wife, Adela, a gracious woman, handsome and dignified, frugal of speech yet contributing much to the occasion by showing such a keen interest in her guests and by treating them all with equal favour. The lady Adela’s genuine warmth had its effect on even the coldest of hearts. Heloise, an erstwhile model of disaffection, mellowed into purring satisfaction, her presence at the table an indication of the position she enjoyed in the service of her mistress. To the astonishment of all but her husband, the lady Marguerite herself actually managed a civility which trembled on the edge of friendliness, complimenting her hosts on the excellence of their table, thanking them for their generosity and taking particular care to make agreeable remarks to Henry Beaumont.
Along with Ralph Delchard, Gervase Bret, Archdeacon Theobald and, perhaps covertly, the watchful Brother Benedict, the constable of Warwick Castle was duly impressed with her beauty, revealed in full now that she had shed her cloak and her expression of disdain. In a dark blue mantle over a gown and chemise of a lighter hue, she was a pleasure to behold. Feeling herself being treated in accordance with her position, she smiled, tittered, gestured entrancingly with her hands, made polite conversation and even flirted very mildly with her host, much to the amusement of Philippe Trouville, who beamed happily and showed off his wife as if she were a precious diadem. Though they still appeared a wildly incongruous couple, it was now possible to see what gainful impulse, on each side, might have drawn them together in the first instance.
What touched Ralph was that the lady Marguerite made a clear effort to be more pleasant to Golde, exchanging an occasional remark with her and refraining from any tart comment when Golde’s preference for ale over wine was stated and her earlier career as a successful brewer in Hereford was disclosed to the company. Ralph could never bring himself to like Trouville’s wife but she did hold marginally more interest for him now. Gervase was plainly captivated and even the reserved Archdeacon Theobald, secure in his celibacy, kept flicking glances of admiration at her and reflecting on the eternal mystery of womanhood.