Hugh walked forward until he was standing only a few feet from his witness, making even more obvious the height difference between them.
That isn’t smart, Bernard thought despairingly. Hugh’s slender, cloakless figure looked almost boyish in comparison to Richard’s superior height and breadth.
“Sir Richard,” Hugh said in a level, impersonal voice. “I have only a few questions to trouble you with.”
Richard looked down at his adversary’s composed, unreadable face. “Ask them,” he said crisply.
Hugh clasped his hands loosely behind his back. “Were you at home all evening on the night that the Earl of Lincoln was murdered?”
“Certainly,” Richard replied. “You have heard the testimony of my squire that I was at home.”
“I heard your squire tell us that you were home for a late supper. He said nothing about your whereabouts earlier in the evening.”
Richard frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”
“Let me make myself clear, then. We have heard testimony that the earl was probably killed at least an hour before Bernard Radvers found his body. Where were you at that time? Were you at home?”
Richard said, as if addressing a small child who has been rude, “I find your questions impertinent.”
“Humor me,” Hugh said.
Richard’s voice was even as he replied, but the set of his mouth betrayed anger. “I accompanied Lady Elizabeth and Lady Sybil to evening services at the Minster and they invited me to partake of supper with them. I returned home after that.”
“I see.” Hugh regarded him thoughtfully. “You had supper with Lady Elizabeth, and when you returned home you asked for something more to eat.”
“I require somewhat more food than ladies do,” Richard retorted.
Laughter came from the benches behind Bernard.
Careful, lad, Bernard thought worriedly. Don’t let him make you look a fool.
“Did the earl join you and Lady Elizabeth?” Hugh asked.
“He did not,” Richard said.
“Did you see the earl at all that night?”
“I did not,” Richard said.
“Let us move on to another subject,” Hugh said smoothly, not seeming at all discomposed by his witness’s able defense. “John Rye was killed when a group of camp-ball players piled up in an effort to retrieve the ball. Were you in that pileup, Sir Richard?”
At this, Richard turned to the chief justiciar. “My lord, there is no reasonable basis for these questions. Lord Hugh is trying to harass me, and I object.”
Lord Richard Basset looked at Hugh. “What is the reason for these questions, Lord Hugh? For I must tell you, it seems to me as if Sir Richard is right.”
Hugh’s clear, flexible voice reached every corner of the vast hall. “My lord,” he said, “I believe that Sir Richard Canville is guilty of the murders of the Earl of Lincoln, the groom William Cobbett, and John Rye. If you will allow me to continue my questions, I will prove that this is true.”
A loud babble of voices came from the benches.
The sheriff stared at Hugh as if he were a madman.
Jesu! Bernard thought in despair. Now he’s done it.
Grim-faced, the chief justiciar glared at Hugh. He said, each word pronounced with great precision, “This is the trial of Bernard Radvers, Lord Hugh, not of Richard Canville.”
Hugh stood before the justiciar, straight and slim, his gray gaze level with the justiciar’s, his hands resting, open-palmed, at his sides.
Richard stepped forward. “My lord, this is nothing more than the continuation of a grudge that Hugh has held against me since our childhood.” He looked at Hugh, and when he spoke it was pity and not anger that resonated in the deep tones of his voice. “I have always wanted to be your friend, Hugh. There is no need for you to feel you must put me down in order to boost your own importance.”
Hugh ignored him and said to the justiciar, “My lord, the king has charged you with finding and punishing the man who murdered the Earl of Lincoln. I can give you that man if you will allow me to proceed.”
The chief justiciar’s narrowed black eyes were trained on Hugh. Bernard turned around to look at the witnesses assembled on the benches behind him, and found that they too were totally focused on Hugh.
It was a thing that Bernard had seen before, but still it amazed him, this ability of Hugh’s to dominate a room. It was not his words, it was something in him, some quality in his very existence, intangible yet absolutely commanding.
The chief justiciar said, “Give me a reason why Sir Richard Canville should desire the demise of the Earl of Lincoln.” And Bernard knew that he was going to let Hugh continue.
Hugh said, “My lord, I have witnesses present who will testify to the fact that the amount of money the sheriff was charging for the market stalls in the Bail was more than the amount of money he declared to the Exchequer. I believe that the Earl of Lincoln discovered this cheat and was killed in order to keep him from exposing it.”
Pandemonium erupted behind Bernard. The chief justiciar shouted angrily for silence, and slowly the noise died away.
The justiciar turned to look at the sheriff, who was sitting beside him. “How do you answer this charge, Sir Gervase?”
The sheriff’s face was as bloodless as a corpse. When he spoke, his voice was not quite steady. “Lord Hugh’s information is correct, my lord, but my son knew nothing about the cheat. I am the responsible party.”
The room was deadly silent.
Hugh said, “Are you speaking the truth, Sir Gervase, or are you lying to protect your son?”
“It is the truth,” the sheriff said. “I will swear to it on a relic of the Holy Cross if you wish. Richard only discovered what I was doing two days ago. He was…very upset about it.”
“Did the Earl of Lincoln discover this cheat?” the chief justiciar asked.
“Nay, my lord, he did not.” The sheriff’s voice was emphatic. “Lord Gilbert never once asked to look at the tax rolls. His interest was in my military preparations. He knew nothing at all about the tax cheat.”
“Can you prove this?” the justiciar asked.
“I believe I can, my lord. The only way the earl could have found out about the cheat was if he asked the Bail merchants what they were paying and then checked that sum against the tax rolls. I believe if you question the merchants you will discover that the earl made no such inquiries.”
Lord Richard Basset nodded. Then he turned to Hugh. “The Crown thanks you for calling its attention to this matter, Lord Hugh, but I agree with Sir Gervase that it is highly unlikely that the Earl of Lincoln would have discovered it. Which means that neither Sir Gervase nor Sir Richard had any reason to wish the Earl of Lincoln dead.”
Bernard felt sick to his stomach. The whole of Hugh’s case hinged on Richard’s motive of wishing to hide the tax cheat. If it was true that the earl had not known of it, then Richard had no reason at all to kill him.
Hugh said, “If you will allow me to continue to present my evidence, my lord, I promise you that I will establish Sir Richard’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.” The soft intensity of his voice echoed through the silent room.
Give it up, lad, Bernard urged Hugh in his mind. Don’t make yourself look any more petty than you already have.
Leaning back a little in his chair, the chief justiciar yielded before the will of the younger man. “Very well, Lord Hugh. You may proceed.”
Hugh turned to Richard and said, “Were you one of the men in the pileup where John Rye was killed?”
“I was, along with thirty other men.” Anger and contempt rang clearly in Richard’s deep voice.
“But you were there.”
“So I have said,” Richard returned evenly.
“Did John Rye communicate with you in any way during his last visit to Lincoln?”