As soon as the archdeacon and the monk who accompanied him entered the shire hall, Ralph began his attack.
‘You were instructed to be here yesterday!’ he accused.
‘We know, my lord,’ said Abraham gently. ‘We regret the delay.’
‘Regret is not enough. I demand an explanation.’
‘Then you will have one as soon as you have the grace to explain to whom the explanation is being given.’
‘To royal commissioners.’
‘Do they possess names?’
‘Damnation! Tell us your paltry excuse.’
‘Are we allowed to sit while we do so, my lord?’
‘Sit, stand or turn somersaults. But stop prevaricating.’
‘There is no prevarication here, my lord,’ intervened Hubert,
‘and I do think it best that the archdeacon and his companion take a seat.’
He waved them to the front bench, performed the introductions and imposed a calmer note on the proceedings. Abraham was a tall, dignified man in his fifties, with a head supremely suited to a tonsure and a manner which combined spirituality and worldliness in the correct proportions. Brother Tomos was younger, plumper and distinctly more anxious. He had none of the archdeacon’s composure. Lacking his master’s command of Norman French, he was struggling to understand what was being said.
Impressed by the archdeacon’s bearing, Gervase sought to make him feel more welcome and to prevent further browbeating from Ralph.
‘We are pleased to see you here at last,’ he said with a smile,
‘and we are sure that only a serious mishap could have held you up.’
‘It was more of a blessing than a mishap,’ said Abraham.
‘Was it?’
‘Yes, Master Bret. We set off in plenty of time but our journey took us through a village where a young woman was with child.
No sooner had we arrived than she went into labour. We could hardly leave her.’
‘Did you linger in order to baptise the child?’ said Ralph.
‘No, my lord. In order to deliver it.’
Ralph was startled into silence, Hubert paled with embarrassment and Brother Simon began to gibber incoherently.
The very notion of childbirth was deeply upsetting to the scribe.
To have it raised so easily by the archdeacon caught him completely off guard.
Gervase was fascinated. ‘You delivered the child?’
‘Of course. Who else would take on the office?’
‘Was there no doctor? No midwife?’
‘None within call,’ said Abraham. ‘The child came slightly ahead of time and took them all unawares. As Tomos will tell you, the mother was in great distress. We heard her cries as we entered the village.’ Simon added to them with an involuntary howl. ‘I could hardly abandon her in her hour of need. She lives in my diocese. That means I must turn doctor, midwife, nurse or anything else on occasion, even if it means putting my shoulder to a plough.’
Hubert gaped. ‘A plough was involved in this delivery?’
‘No, Canon Hubert. I was simply trying to explain that I will become what is needed at any particular moment to relieve those in my care. A midwife was called for and that is what I became.’
‘Was it a safe delivery?’ wondered Gervase.
‘Do not tell us!’ cried Simon.
‘Why not?’ asked Abraham. ‘Is it not always a moment of joy when we bring a new Christian into the world?’
‘Yes, Archdeacon, but we need not dwell on the means by which that joy is achieved. It does not bear thinking about.’
‘But it was such a privilege to be involved in the process.’
Simon emitted another yell and lapsed into open-mouthed horror.
‘Was it a boy or girl?’ said Gervase.
‘A lusty boy, so anxious to come into the world that he would not bide his time. Mother and baby are both well, Master Bret, but it was a difficult labour. We had to tarry. When I realised that we would not reach Gloucester to answer your summons, I sent an apology ahead of me.’
‘It was duly received,’ said Hubert, ‘so perhaps we can put aside your eccentric habit of delivering babies and turn our minds to the question of certain hides in the Westbury Hundred?’
‘Of course, Canon Hubert.’
‘Do you have a justifiable claim?’ said Ralph.
‘Yes, my lord. It begins with a moral right.’
‘You Welshmen will preach about morality!’
‘But it is grounded in legality.’
‘Then why did you not advance it to the earlier commissioners?’
said Ralph. ‘Were you too busy bringing other children into the world?’
‘Fortunately, no. I was visiting the Bishop of St David’s. I did not even know about this Great Survey until I returned.’
‘St David’s?’ said Gervase with interest. ‘In that case, you may have met-’
‘That is not germane to this inquiry,’ interrupted Ralph savagely before another archdeacon could be named. ‘We have Welshmen enough under this roof, Gervase, without adding more. Most especially that one.’
Abraham was puzzled. ‘Why do you have a prejudice against us?’
‘I do not.’
‘Forgive me, my lord, but I feel hostility. Tomos?’
His companion gave a nervous nod of agreement.
‘The lord Ralph is not hostile to anyone,’ said Gervase, shooting him a look of reproof. ‘He strives to be impartial and objective, as do we all. That is why we can assure you of a fair hearing, Archdeacon, be you Welsh, Irish, Dane or Breton. You talk of a legal claim. Have you documentary proof of it?’
‘Of course. Tomos.’
The monk produced a charter from his satchel and handed it to his master. After unrolling it to remind himself of its contents, Abraham rose to pass it over before resuming his seat on the bench. Gervase glanced at the document and noted the seal at its base.
‘This was issued by King Edward,’ he observed.
‘It ratifies a right to property long-held by my predecessors.’
‘Strang the Dane also has a charter from King Edward.’
‘Set one against the other.’
‘It is not as simple as that,’ explained Gervase. ‘The lord Hamelin bases his claim on a charter from King William, as does Querengar the Breton. Each seems to have validity.’
‘I am well acquainted with both men.’
‘And with Strang the Dane, I expect.’
Abraham’s face darkened. ‘I know him best of all.’
‘But like him the least, by the sound of it.’
‘We have had our differences, I will admit, but they touch on other matters and do not belong here in this hall.’
‘Are you familiar with Strang’s reeve?’
‘Balki? Oh yes! We all know Balki, alas.’
‘He is certainly aware of you, Archdeacon,’ said Gervase, recalling the discomfort shown by the reeve at the mention of Abraham’s name. ‘And not at all happy to be ranged against you here.’
‘With cause. I intend to take his master’s land from him.’
‘Strang alleges that it has already been taken away by Hamelin of Lisieux and, given the chance, Querengar the Breton will seize it from all three of you. Which one of you are we to favour?’
‘The one with the most legitimate claim,’ said Hubert.
Abraham smiled. ‘Then that will be me.’
‘Tell us why, Archdeacon.’
‘Without any mention of childbirth,’ begged Simon.
‘Very well,’ said the Welshman calmly. ‘Let us go back to the reign of King Edward for that is when the problem first arose …’
When the others dispersed after choir practice, Elaf lingered to speak to Brother Owl. The Precentor knew why. He sat on a bench with the boy and turned a sympathetic ear to his concerns.
‘Are you still worried about Kenelm?’
‘Yes, Brother Frewine.’
‘He will recover in time.’
‘That is what I thought but he seems to get worse. Fearful thoughts haunt him day and night. Can you not tell by his face?’