Grabbing the reins of her palfrey, he kicked his horse into a brisk trot and pulled her along behind him. The whole company closed in on York in time to hear the minster bell boom out for Nones.
Micklegate was the only point of entry from the south-east. Once inside the city walls, Ralph led the bulk of the party off towards the castle on the left, leaving Canon Hubert and Brother Simon to continue alone towards the bridge over the River Ouse. The two men were relieved to be free of their escort; Hubert because he bore letters to the archbishop of York and was thus assured of an audience with him, and Simon because the minster precinct would offer him an escape from the proximity of a lascivious woman, the rough-tongued jocularity of the soldiers and the foul-smelling sea of humanity that now washed around his ankles.
The others, meanwhile, were being greeted by the castellan. As they clattered into the courtyard, Aubrey Maminot, dressed in his finery and radiating delight, was waiting to embrace his old friend the moment he dismounted.
“Ralph!” he said warmly. “Welcome to my home!”
“It is good to see you again, Aubrey.”
“We have been apart far too long, my friend. What is it? Seven, eight years?”
“Ten at least!”
“We’ll drink away each one of them!” He looked up hospitably at the rest of the party. “Welcome, one and all! Treat my castle as your own.
You shall lack nothing while you are here.”
He signalled to some waiting men-at-arms and they led the escort off to their quarters on the other side of the bailey. Aubrey was introduced to Gervase Bret and Tanchelm of Ghent and he clasped each in turn, but his most cordial salutation was reserved for Golde. He helped her down from her horse, kissed her hand, pressed her to call on him for anything that she needed, offered to give her a personal tour of the city, then kissed her hand again before turning to Ralph with a sly wink.
“I am so glad that you came to York!” he said.
“We are glad to be here,” said Ralph.
“I have a thousand things to tell you but they can wait until a more fit time. You are weary from travel on a dusty road. Take your ease and have refreshment. Tonight, you will banquet in the hall and wipe away all memory of the tiresome journey from Winchester.” He spread his arms wide. “We will set such a feast before you that you will not need to eat for a week. Dress in your brightest array and surrender to my hospitality.”
Golde exchanged a meaningful look with Ralph.
“We are most grateful for your kindness, Aubrey,” he said, “and we will be delighted to sit at your table. But some of us may not be as gaily attired as we might wish. Outlaws fell on us in the night and stole the sumpter-horses and their packs. Much of our apparel vanished.”
Aubrey was shocked. “Outlaws! Where?”
“We were staying at the manor house in Howden.”
“And they dared to attack you there?”
“There was no assault on us, my lord,” said Tanchelm, keen to establish the facts. “The two men guarding the stables were overwhelmed by numbers, and our animals were taken. It all happened so quickly that we had no chance to stop them.”
“Did you pursue them?” asked Aubrey.
“Diligently,” said Ralph. “But we lost them in the darkness. I had not thought to shed any more blood on Yorkshire soil but I would have done so last night had I caught the rogues. I would dearly love to know what brazen rascals had the effrontery to steal my sumpter-horses from beneath my nose.”
“Then I will tell you, old friend.”
“You know?”
“I can hazard a guess. From what you say, the crime was well-planned and swiftly executed.”
“Indeed it was.”
“Then we are talking about audacious thieves who were undeterred by your armed escort and who knew that part of the county so well that they could find their way around it in the pitch dark.”
“They spared our guards,” reminded Tanchelm.
“That makes it certain.”
“I will not spare them when I catch them,” vowed Ralph. “And I mean to track them down, no matter how long it takes me. Will you help me, Aubrey?”
“In every way I can. But it will not be easy.”
“Why not?”
“The man you seek is a notorious devil. He and his band have evaded me a dozen times or more. Chase them and they will outrun you.
Confront them and they will outwit you. Ambush them and they will vanish into the earth like drops of rain.” He gave a bleak smile. “You have come up against a cunning adversary this time, Ralph.”
“Tell me his name that I may call him to account.”
“It is one that I have cause to rue myself.”
“Who is the villain?”
“Olaf Evil Child.”
There was enough food to last them for days and they fell on it with relish. The cargo had been packed by experienced travellers, men who knew how to provision a long journey and who took account of such contingencies as an unexpected night, camping under the stars, or the arrival at a lodging whose kitchens could not cope with the several appetites that descended on them. Bread, cheese and fruit were in abundance. Salted meat, salted fish and cold roasted chicken were also discovered in the hoard.
One man cackled with delight as he found a flagon of wine and he uncorked it at once to take a first guzzling swig, only to spew much of it out again as he learned that French wine was too weak a taste for someone reared on strong English ale. Another of the outlaws located a cache of honey cakes and chomped happily on them. It was a good haul and worth all the risks they had taken.
There were a dozen or more of them, a cheerful crew in rough garb with spears, swords, daggers and other weapons on the grass beside them. They sought the cover of woodland to assuage their hunger and to examine their other spoils. Lookouts had been posted but each man was his own best sentry, eyes constantly scanning the trees and ears pricked to catch the first sound of danger.
Olaf Evil Child sat cross-legged in the middle of them as he searched through the last of the packs. He was a slim, wiry man in his thirties with beard and hair of a reddish tinge. His face had a rugged charm that belied his name and there was a benign twinkle in his eye. Seated beside him was an hirsute giant whose features were all but hidden behind a dark, bushy beard. He popped a whole apple into his cavern-ous mouth, chewed noisily and spat out the pips.
“Have you found them?” he asked.
“No,” said Olaf. “There’s nothing but apparel here. They were probably in those satchels we saw them carrying. It was too much to ask that they’d leave them in the stables as well.” He put the pack aside.
“The horses are the real treasure from last night, Eric.”
“And the food,” said his companion, stuffing another apple into his mouth. “Normans eat well.”
“So will we for a while.”
“And then what?”
A wistful expression came into Olaf’s face. Hauling himself to his feet, he gave Eric a pat on the shoulder before crossing to speak to another of his followers. His orders were brief and explicit. The young man to whom he was speaking nodded as he listened. Olaf Evil Child talked in a quiet voice that yet carried great authority. None of them would ever dare to disobey him. Given his instructions, the young man went straight to his horse, leapt into the saddle and rode off in the direction of York.
A burst of laughter drew Olaf’s attention back to Eric. The giant had rummaged through the clothing in the pack to pull out a woman’s gown. Holding it up against himself, he lowered his eyelids, struck what he thought was a feminine posture and treated them to a winsome smile. His fellows roared their approval and shouted their advice.
“Put it on, Eric!”
“Over your head!”
“It will hide your ugly face!”
“You could pass for a woman in that gown.”
“A bearded woman!”
Eric responded to the guffaws with a gap-toothed grin.