Forne brightened. ‘Very fair.’
‘What of Ralph?’ said Aelgar.
‘He will not stand on ceremony. But where are you staying?’
‘In the town with Forne’s kinsman.’
‘Then let us go there so that we can have a proper talk. It seems such an age since we last met and I have a thousand questions for you.’
‘I have a few for you, too, Golde,’ said her sister.
‘Then why do we dawdle here?’ Yet when she tried to lead them out of the castle, they hesitated. ‘What is wrong?’
‘Are you going to walk?’ said Forne.
‘I have not lost the use of my legs.’
‘The streets are filthy. That dress is too beautiful to soil.’
‘Let me worry about that,’ said Golde, standing between them to link arms with them both. ‘What is a dirty hem beside the pleasure of seeing my only sister again? Not to mention the delight of meeting you, Forne. I would walk through a swamp to be with the pair of you. Come on. Tell me all about the journey from Hereford.’
And the three of them sauntered happily out through the gate.
Abbot Serlo surpassed himself. Conducting the burial service with due solemnity, he spoke so movingly in the abbey church that every eye was soon moist and every heart touched. The Precentor watched the service with growing admiration. When mass was sung, the abbot delivered a eulogy which was a masterpiece of careful selection. By stressing the finer qualities of Brother Nicholas, he made the less attractive aspects of the dead man’s character fade into temporary oblivion, and nobody listening would have guessed what dark secret had been unearthed by a search of his cell. Even those who disliked Nicholas the most — Kenelm and Elaf among them — found themselves consumed with genuine pity.
Since the church had no burial rights, part of the cemetery was set aside for the graves of deceased inhabitants of Gloucester, brought to the abbey by means of Lich Lane. Serlo led the solemn procession to the area reserved solely for the bodies of departed monks, a corner of the cemetery which was tended with loving care. The coffin was borne aloft on the shoulders of six monks before being lowered on ropes into the gaping slit in the earth.
More prayers were said in unison then the abbot committed the body to its last resting place. Those who died of natural causes excited sorrow enough among the monks, but the nature of Brother Nicholas’s death brought additional misery. Some of the older people around the grave had to be supported as that misery robbed them of strength and movement.
It was a long time before the assembled monks began to disperse in silence. Abbot Serlo went back to his lodging with Brother Frewine but most of the others adjourned to the church to pray once more for the salvation of the murder victim’s soul and the speedy capture of his killer. Everyone was so caught up in their own anguish that they took little note of anyone else around them. Nobody lingered to see the solitary figure who hovered in the deserted cemetery.
Owen was torn between grief and remorse. As he looked down at the grave, his tears poured forth once more. When handfuls of earth had been tossed reverentially on to the coffin, spades had taken over to complete the burial and to leave a mound which would in time disappear as the earth slowly settled into the cavity.
Owen glanced around to make sure that nobody was watching him, then he opened his hand to reveal something which had been burning a hole in his palm since the funeral began. It was a bright new coin from the Gloucester mint and he could no longer keep it. Scooping a hole in the mound of earth, he inserted the coin as deep as it would go then quickly covered it up.
Having paid his last respects, Owen trudged slowly away.
The horses moved at a steady trot through pleasant countryside towards Gloucester. Ralph and Gervase rode into a leafy arcade of trees and emerged to find that they could now see the River Severn on their left as it surged down the estuary. A small boat sailed past as Ralph watched.
‘I hate water,’ he said soulfully. ‘It frightens me.’
‘Nothing frightens you.’
‘It does, Gervase. Crossing the Channel in rough weather was a nightmare. It made my stomach heave for days. I have no wish to return to Normandy if it entails trusting my life to a piece of wood that floats on the sea. One thing I’ve learned is that I’m no sailor.’
‘Would you not like Golde to see where you were born?’
‘Of course.’
‘To show her the beauties of Normandy?’
‘Nothing would please me more.’
‘Nor her. Golde has more than once confided to me that she would love to cross the Channel with you to your homeland.’
‘This is my homeland now, Gervase.’
‘But you also have estates in Normandy.’
‘Administered by trusty people,’ said Ralph. ‘I keep in touch with them by letter. They manage well enough without me. No, I will be more than happy if I never have to take to the water again.’
‘Not even on a river?’
‘Not even then, Gervase. Especially one as churlish as the Severn. Look at it,’ he said, waving an arm. ‘Even from here you can see the strength of the current. I’ll remain on dry land.’
A stand of sycamores rose up on their left to obscure the river and allow their thoughts to turn once more to the murder that had brought them out to visit Osgot.
‘Brother Nicholas was an odd character,’ said Gervase. ‘Everyone took a dislike to him yet they will not tell you exactly why.’
‘We can guess Osgot’s reason.’
‘Not every tenant has a well-favoured son, Ralph. Why did the others turn away from him? Nobody likes to pay rent but they do not always despise the rent collector, especially if they inhabit abbey land. When I was at Eltham, our rent collector, Brother Saul, was one of the most popular monks in the abbey.’
‘Perhaps he did not look at young boys in a peculiar way.’
‘There’s more to it than that.’
‘Is there? Remember what those novices told you.’
‘I do, Ralph, but they only gave part of the story. I cannot believe that Brother Nicholas was entirely without friends. An abbey is a haven of tolerance. There must be someone within its precincts who liked him enough to overlook his unfortunate manner.’
‘What about the Precentor?’
‘Brother Frewine defended him, it is true, but I suspect that he would defend anyone in a Benedictine cowl out of sheer loyalty.
The abbot would probably do the same.’
‘He did, Gervase. I probed him hard but he would admit to no faults in his rent collector. Serlo pretended to admire the man but I sensed no real affection. Brother Nicholas was an outsider at the abbey.’
‘That brings us back to the sheriff’s conviction that the victim was murdered by one of his fellow monks.’
‘I refuse to believe that.’
‘So do I.’
‘Monks are more guileful. They would hide a dead body where it could never be found. No, it was not one of them, Gervase.’
‘We may both be proved wrong.’
‘If we are, it will not be by Durand. His investigation has so far achieved nothing beyond stirring up a lot of dust. We have already discovered things which completely eluded him and his officers.
And if we are to be given the dubious honour of a royal visit,’ said Ralph as they came out into open country once more, ‘our peppery sheriff will have his hands full at the castle. He’ll not be able to conduct this inquiry properly.’
‘Will the King come?’ asked Gervase.
‘He may, he may not. You know how changeable he is.’
‘I also know that he does nothing without a purpose, Ralph.’
‘Granted.’
‘So what purpose could bring him to Gloucester?’
‘Affairs of state.’
‘Can you guess what they might be?’
‘No, Gervase,’ said the other. ‘It sounds like a decision made on the spur of the moment. Why send a messenger to forewarn Durand of a possible visit when we could have brought the same information from Winchester? The King knew when and where we travelled.’