Hunched in concentration, Balki nodded in approval at the accuracy of the translation. Strang stood proudly with hands on his hips as if the mere recitation of the charter’s contents would be enough to secure the property under discussion. When he realised that the Dane had been one of the royal housecarls, Ralph viewed him with slightly more respect. Housecarls were elite soldiers, members of a standing bodyguard who had been selected for their courage, loyalty and military skills. Strang must have given good service to be repaid so handsomely with various grants of land. Qualities which aroused Ralph’s admiration only served to increase Canon Hubert’s antipathy towards the first claimant. He resented his insolent manner and his total lack of deference before them. Nor did Hubert warm to the oleaginous reeve whom he suspected of being far too devious to be trusted.
He decided to wipe the irritating grin off Balki’s face.
‘How do we know that the charter is genuine?’ he asked.
‘Because you have my word that it is,’ roared Strang.
‘Why else should it be presented to you?’ said Balki, hurt by the very suggestion. ‘That property was acquired by fair means and lost by foul ones. I swear that the document is authentic.’
‘It has every appearance of being so,’ admitted Gervase, subjecting it to close scrutiny, ‘but I would value more time to examine it.’
‘You shall have it,’ announced Ralph. ‘And if it is found to be a clever forgery, those who perpetrated it will be duly arraigned.
We have already uncovered one grotesque attempt at deception.’
‘There is no deception here,’ said Strang, simmering with anger.
‘We speak before you under oath, my lord,’ added Balki.
‘Find in my favour and let us away.’
‘Before we have even questioned the others?’ asked Ralph.
‘What kind of justice is that? All four of you will be given a fair hearing.’
‘Four?’ repeated Strang. ‘Four? We know of only two rivals. The first is Hamelin of Lisieux who unjustly seized the land from me and the second is Querengar the Breton.’
‘They still contest your claim.’
‘Then where does this fourth person come from?’
‘Wales.’
Strang was derisive. ‘Do you jest with me, my lord?’
‘Not on the subject of a Welshman, I do assure you.’
‘What is the man’s name?’
‘Abraham the Priest.’
Strang let out a long hiss of disgust and Balki turned an anxious eye towards his master. Ralph found their different reactions interesting. Evidently, they knew and disliked the Archdeacon of Gwent. While Strang dismissed him with contempt, however, Balki was quietly alarmed by the mention of his name. His master rebuked him with a long stare then turned his ire upon the commissioners again.
‘Are you not capable of making a decision?’ he demanded.
‘Of course,’ said Ralph sternly, ‘and we have already decided that your manner is too bold and your words too ill-chosen.
Whatever the merits of your claim, you will not advance your cause by unseemly behaviour.’
‘No offence was intended,’ said Balki with an apologetic smirk.
‘I’ll speak for myself,’ contradicted Strang. ‘And I do so honestly and fearlessly. If some are offended by what I say, it is of no account to me. I’ll not be muzzled.’
‘Remember who we are,’ warned Hubert.
‘I can see all too well!’ sneered the other.
‘We’ll brook no disrespect.’
‘Nor will you have to,’ said Balki, trying to calm his master.
‘Simply ask the questions you have no doubt prepared and we will answer each and every one of them to your satisfaction.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Ralph.
‘Those hides in Westbury belong to me!’ insisted Strang.
‘Then how do they happen to be in the possession of Hamelin of Lisieux?’ asked Gervase quietly, introducing a more moderate note. ‘You have one charter, he, it seems, another. Which should we accept?’
‘Mine!’
‘Why?’
‘Read it, man.’
‘I have already done so.’
‘It bears the King’s seal.’
‘That of King Edward,’ agreed Gervase, glancing at the charter,
‘but Hamelin of Lisieux has a document which bears the seal of King William. I do not need to remind you which of the two now occupies the throne.’
‘Hamelin took my land by force.’
‘Do you have any proof of that?’ said Ralph.
‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Strang, rolling up his sleeve to display a long, livid scar on his forearm. ‘Here is one piece of evidence. I have others on my body. I fought to protect what is rightly mine but I was outnumbered. Hamelin of Lisieux is a barefaced robber.’
‘That is slander!’ said Hubert.
‘It is the truth.’
‘I can vouch for that,’ said Balki. ‘You have two witnesses here.’
Strang glowered. ‘I have not been the only person in this county to suffer. Consult the returns from the first commissioners. The name of Hamelin appeared many times regarding land which he did not acquire by legal means. He is a master of unjust seizure.
Because he is rich and powerful, most people are too frightened to resist him, let alone challenge him openly. I am not.’
‘Nor,’ observed Ralph, ‘is Abraham the Priest.’
‘Not to mention Querengar the Breton,’ Gervase reminded them.
‘Both of them are prepared to stand up against Hamelin of Lisieux and, of course, against you.’
Strang was about to issue a tart rejoinder but Balki put a hand on his arm to restrain him. He contrived his most obsequious smile yet.
‘My master is sorry if his passion spills over but he has been most grievously treated. He looks to you for retribution. Now,’ he said, gazing at each of them in turn, ‘you have the charter before you. We have a dozen witnesses who will vouch for the fact that the land in question was once — and still should be — the property of Strang the Dane. How else can we convince you of the strength of our claim?’
Though he took his duties very seriously, Brother Frewine carried them lightly. Since he was in charge of the church services, the Precentor was the most important of the obedientiaries. It fell to him to arrange the daily services, to take charge of the abbey’s music, to teach the monks how to sing, to decide the readings in church and to provide materials for the repair of books from the choir and the cloister. Responsibilities which would have weighed heavily on a lesser man were discharged with ease by a man whose philosophical calm was the envy of his holy brothers.
‘Are the funeral arrangements complete, Brother Frewine?’
‘Yes, Father Abbot.’
‘I will not pretend that I am looking forward to the service.’
‘No more am I. The nature of Brother Nicholas’s death makes it a peculiarly sad occasion. But I am sure,’ he said with gentle sincerity, ‘that you will find exactly the right words of consolation.’
‘I hope so, Brother Frewine.’
‘You have a gift, Father Abbot.’
‘I pray to God that it will not desert me now.’
They were in the abbot’s lodging and, in the course of a busy morning, the Precentor somehow found the time to visit Serlo with a request. When they had discussed the details of the funeral service, he raised the subject which had brought him there.
‘I came in search of your permission, Father Abbot.’
‘To what end?’
‘It concern’s Brother Nicholas’s cell,’ explained Frewine. ‘I know that it was searched by the sheriff’s officers and that you gave orders for it to be swept clean. But the officers did not really know where to look and those who went in with brooms were too scared to stay there long enough to be thorough.’
‘Too scared?’
‘To linger in the cell of a murder victim.’
‘Why?’
‘They are superstitious.’
‘Superstition has no place in a religious house,’ said Serlo with uncharacteristic acerbity. ‘God has cleared our minds of such nonsense. I am glad you brought this to my attention, Brother Frewine. Who were the weak vessels? Name them to me and I will make sure they go back to sweep and scrub the cell properly.’