They speculated for some time before coming to agreement.
Gervase was just putting the list away again when an animated figure came bursting through the abbey gate. Abraham the Priest was in a hurry. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw them.
‘Thank heaven I found you!’
‘What is the trouble?’ asked Gervase.
‘They have gone.’
‘Who have?’
‘I took your advice, Master Bret, and sought to prevent the attempt on the King’s life. But the person I needed to see is no longer in the place where he was hiding.’
‘What’s this?’ said Ralph, angering. ‘Have you been riding off to see your confederates?’
‘Friends, my lord. Not confederates.’
‘They are one and the same.’
‘It was at my suggestion,’ explained Gervase. ‘But the archdeacon was too late. We cannot blame him for that.’
‘I rode back as fast as I could to warn you,’ said Abraham. ‘It means that the attempt will go ahead. Have you warned the King?’
‘Yes,’ said Ralph sharply, ‘and if he knew where the information came from, he’d have you hanging from the nearest tree. You gave enough information for a warning but none whatsoever for an arrest.’
‘I hoped to avert this crime by myself.’
‘And failed.’
‘Yes, my lord. I own it willingly.’
Abraham was contrite but Ralph continued to abuse him until Gervase came to the man’s rescue, pointing out that security at the castle was now so tight that fears of a successful assassination attempt could be discounted. Owen’s real predicament, he argued, was far more important than the rumoured danger to the King. The others quickly came to the same view. Gervase explained to the archdeacon what they had learned from Bishop Wulfstan. When he heard about Brother Nicholas’s role as the supplier of victims, the Welshman searched avidly through his own memory of abductions.
At long last, the name of a possible suspect emerged.
‘Strang the Dane!’ he murmured.
Ralph was taken aback. ‘Strang?’
‘I have had my suspicions for some time, my lord, but lacked the proof I needed. He is the man we want, I am certain of it.’
‘But he is wealthy enough without getting involved in this vile business. What could be the attraction to someone in his position?’
‘Rich men always want more and this trade is very lucrative.
Look at his circumstances,’ reasoned Abraham. ‘He has holdings scattered all over the county and in the Welsh commotes so he has a legitimate excuse to travel around. The iron mines in the Forest of Dean provide him with ore which he ships downriver so he has regular sailings to Bristol. But I believe he carries an additional cargo.’
‘I am not persuaded,’ said Ralph.
‘One moment,’ recalled Gervase. ‘Think back to their appearance in the shire hall, Ralph. When they first heard that the archdeacon was to challenge their claim to land in the Westbury Hundred, both of them were discomfited. Strang was irate and Balki was plainly worried.’ He turned to Abraham. ‘Were they aware of your suspicions?’
‘They were certainly aware of my campaign against the slave trade. I spoke freely and openly on the subject. Strang would have known that I was on the alert.’
‘Another factor comes in here. Strang is desperate to regain land which would give him direct access to the river. I thought he wanted to defray the cost of transporting his ore overland but his eagerness may be the result of a secondary motive. The river is his best way of moving any kidnap victims. Who can stop a boat when it is surging along in the middle of the Severn?’ Gervase pieced it together in his mind. ‘The most obvious clue passed us by. Strang the Dane. Who else would trade with the Irish Vikings but one who spoke their language? You have given us the name we needed, Archdeacon. Strang must be apprehended.’
‘But he has already sailed from Gloucester,’ said Ralph.
Abraham started. ‘Sailed? Today?’
‘Yes, we saw him off from the quayside ourselves.’
‘But he may have had the boy aboard his boat, my lord.’
‘No, he didn’t. Gervase searched it thoroughly.’
‘Balki helped me,’ confirmed Gervase. ‘Before they set sail.’
‘Balki?’ The archdeacon was puzzled. ‘He is the estate reeve, is he not? Why should Balki be sailing a boat when he should be looking after his master’s holdings? Strang surely employs sailors to take his vessel up and down the river.’
Ralph was impressed. ‘That is sound reasoning, Archdeacon.
We were blind not to see what was in front of our eyes. Not only was Balki hoisting the sail, Strang himself was at the tiller.’
‘A man in his position doing such a menial task?’
‘Ordinarily, he would not,’ decided Gervase, ‘but this time he will be carrying more than iron ore so he cannot entrust the cargo to anyone else. He has to supervise the transaction in Bristol himself. That is why he was so furious at the delay in our proceedings, Ralph. He was anxious to get Owen aboard a ship to Ireland and on his way to slavery.’
‘But you searched his boat,’ said Ralph. ‘Owen was not there.’
‘Not when it left Gloucester.’
‘They mean to pick him up on the way,’ said Abraham.
‘Where?’
‘There is only one way to find out, my lord.’
It was a strange way to make conversation but it brought Owen a mild sense of pleasure. When he kicked the wall, he heard a response from the other side of the mill. If someone was thumping the wall, it was likely that they, too, were bound and gagged and unable to communicate in any other way. Both were imprisoned in the abandoned mill but a shared fate was somehow easier to bear. Although his legs were aching, Owen kept up steady contact with his unseen friend. It stopped him from dwelling too much on what horrors might lie ahead.
Another sound intruded and it caused him to break off at once.
Owen tried to sit up so that he could listen more carefully. His fellow prisoner had also heard the noise because he, too, had stopped banging the wall. Too weak and tired to be able to get himself upright again, Owen abandoned the attempt and lay there on the rotting floor. The sounds grew louder until he was able to identify them. Someone was coming. A boat thudded into the bank outside. Voices could be heard. Owen’s hopes rose. His ordeal was over. Rescue was at hand.
Then the two men came into the mill. The older of the two, a thickset individual with a grey beard, ordered his companion to carry the boy aboard then went swiftly out. Owen squirmed and kicked as much as he could but his resistance was futile. The spare man with the straggly red beard cuffed him into obedience, lifted him bodily and flung him over his shoulder. Owen was taken out to the waiting boat and carried aboard before being lowered roughly to the deck. A second boy emerged from another part of the mill, trussed up like Owen and slung over the shoulder of the other man. He, too, was dumped aboard. The two victims lay side by side, unable to move. The man with the straggly red beard pulled a tarpaulin over them so that they could no longer see.
Fresh sounds penetrated the sudden darkness. They were muffled by the tarpaulin but were soon easy to identify. Horses were coming at a gallop. The thickset man was yelling and his companion was making frantic efforts to cast off and set sail.
The two boys were bewildered.
Ralph Delchard’s horse was galloping hell-for-leather along the bank with Gervase Bret and Abraham the Priest close behind.
Four of Ralph’s men formed an escort, their swords already out, their blood up at the promise of action. They had spotted the boat from two miles away. When its sail was seen turning into the tributary where the mill was located, they knew that they had their only chance to catch it. Once in midstream, it would be beyond their reach.
Strang the Dane was bellowing orders, but they only helped to confuse Balki, who was still struggling with the mooring rope when the horses thundered up. For once Ralph overcame his fear of water. As the boat pulled away from the bank, he leaped down from his horse and flung himself headfirst after the vessel, catching the bulwark and hauling himself aboard. Balki grabbed an oar to try to push him away but he was no match for Ralph.