The sub-tenants refused to a man to discuss the competing claims. As far as they were concerned, Hamelin of Lisieux was their overlord and they accepted him without protest. The commissioners realised why.
‘Fear!’ said Ralph as they cantered on. ‘That’s why they’re all so tight-lipped, Gervase. Naked fear. The stink of it is unmistakable.’
‘The lord Hamelin knows how to instil loyalty.’
‘With a sharp sword. Not one of them has the courage to speak up for Strang or Querengar yet they clearly know both men. What’s happened to Saxon bravery? Is it extinct in these parts?’
‘Apparently.’
‘There must be someone who will tell the truth.’
‘Under oath, perhaps. And guaranteed indemnity.’
‘Then that is how it must be,’ decided Ralph. ‘I’ll summon every man in the Westbury Hundred before us if I have to. Get them in the shire hall and I’ll make the rogues talk.’
‘Do not blame them, Ralph. They are frightened.’
‘Then I will frighten them even more!’
‘Turn your terror on the lord Hamelin.’
‘If we find he is at fault, I certainly will.’
‘Why not mention it to him?’
‘What’s that?’
‘You have a chance to do it right now,’ said Gervase, gazing off to the left. ‘If I am not mistaken, he is coming to meet us in person.’
‘God’s tits!’
Ralph’s bellow was prompted by the sight of Hamelin of Lisieux riding towards them on a destrier with a dozen armed men at his back. Coming around a stand of trees in an orderly column, they galloped towards the visitors and came to a noisy halt in front of them, fanning out so that a wall of armour blocked their path.
Hamelin gave them a quizzical smile of welcome.
‘What are you doing on my land?’ he asked politely.
‘Finding out if it is really yours,’ said Ralph.
‘Can there be any doubt about that? Speak to the sub-tenants.’
‘We have,’ said Ralph. ‘They are too scared to talk.’
‘Too scared?’ mocked the other. ‘Scared of what? Of whom?’
‘Overlords who ride around with their men-at-arms.’
‘But that is exactly what you are doing.’
‘I am fulfilling the King’s command,’ said Ralph sternly, ‘and that means that nobody, however many swords at his beck and call, can stand in my way.’
‘We are not standing in your way, my lord. Ride where you will, ask what you wish. We merely came out to see what brought you here.’
‘We might ask you the same thing, my lord,’ said Gervase. ‘Your manor house is several miles from here, as are the bulk of your holdings. Why come to the Westbury Hundred?’
‘To check that all was well, Master Bret.’
‘Could not your reeve have done that?’
‘Of course,’ said the other airily, ‘but I wanted to remind myself what beautiful land this is. Well worth fighting for in the shire hall.’
‘Is that the only place fighting has taken place?’ asked Ralph.
‘You tell me, my lord.’
‘Your armed escort speaks for itself.’
‘The roads are dangerous. I need protection.’
‘So do your sub-tenants.’
‘That is perilously close to an insult.’
‘No offence was intended, my lord,’ said Gervase, anxious to keep the exchange on a moderate note. ‘Our real purpose is to determine exactly which land you actually hold. Your charter would seem to suggest that Strang’s eight hides are contiguous with, but separate from, the twenty hides granted to you.
Querengar’s ten hides overlap with both of you but also seem to contain land which is distinct from yours and Strang’s. The only way for us to resolve the confusion was to rely on the evidence of our own eyes and ears.’
‘I admire your conscientiousness, Master Bret.’
‘Thoroughness is the only path to justice.’
‘Quite so.’
‘Then perhaps you will stand aside while we ride on,’ said Ralph.
‘With pleasure, my lord,’ said Hamelin obligingly. ‘I must get back to Gloucester. I want to be in the city well before the King arrives.’
Ralph was stung. ‘You know about his visit?’
‘Of course.’
‘How?’
‘I told you. I am well informed.’
‘Nigel the Reeve again?’
‘Excuse us. We must bid you farewell.’
‘Before you go, my lord,’ said Gervase, recalling what Caradoc had told them. ‘I believe that you know a Brother Nicholas?’
‘I know of him. The abbey’s rent collector.’
‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘My taste does not turn to Benedictine monks, Master Bret.’
‘Then why is he granted privileges?’
‘Privileges?’
‘Yes,’ said Gervase. ‘Safe conduct across your land. Nobody can trespass here without impunity, that is clear. Yet Brother Nicholas, we hear, was able to traverse your holdings at will.
Why was that?’
‘He represented the abbey. I respected him.’
‘Even though you would spurn him as a friend?’
‘I do not persecute monks,’ said Hamelin suavely. ‘Why should I? They are not trying to seize lawful property from me. A black cowl will always guarantee a man safe passage across my land.’
‘Abraham the Priest wears a black cowl.’
Hamelin of Lisieux tried to force a smile but it refused to come.
He was an accomplished horseman. Being an archdeacon was no sedentary occupation; Abraham conducted services before many altars throughout Gwent and the peripatetic nature of his work obliged him to spend a fair amount of time in the saddle.
He made virtue of a necessity and learned to ride well. The copse was a few miles away but he covered the distance at a steady canter. There was no sign of habitation among the trees, no telltale column of smoke rising above them. Yet he knew they would be there. Leaving the winding track, he headed for the copse and plunged in between the trunks of some stout elms.
The men were on their feet, alerted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Hands rested on weapons. When they saw who it was, they relaxed and gave him a cheerful welcome. Abraham dismounted and went across to Madog who was holding a piece of half-eaten chicken.
‘We didn’t expect you so soon,’ said Madog.
‘I know.’
‘Is it settled already?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Then why have you come?’
‘To warn you of the delay,’ said Abraham, lowering himself on to a fallen log. ‘After hearing my evidence, the commissioners decided to ride out to the Westbury Hundred to view the property for themselves. There will be no more work at the shire hall today. I will have to stay in the city for another night at least.’
Madog waited. ‘We will remain here.’
‘Have you enough to eat?’
‘More than enough. Thanks to a kind man who keeps chickens.’
‘You stole them?’ chided the archdeacon.
‘He had more than enough to spare. But what news of Gloucester? Are these commissioners honourable men? Is there any hope at all that you may carry the day?’
‘If justice exists, I will carry it but it is only a faint hope.’
‘Those hides are part of Wales!’
‘That argument did not impress in the shire hall.’
‘It’s not an argument but a fact of life.’
‘There are other facts of life which we must accept, Madog,’
said the other softly. ‘The main one is that power lies in the hands of the commissioners. Their verdict is final. They are decent men, more honest and reasonable than I dared to expect, but that does not mean they will find in our favour.’
‘They must!’
‘We shall see. Meanwhile, you’ll have to be patient.’ Madog gave a nod and took another bite from the chicken. ‘But there’s other news, my friend. The King is due to arrive in Gloucester.’
‘The King!’
Madog was so startled that he spat the chicken straight out.