“Did you agree to take him back?” said Ralph.
“No, my lord.”
“Then how will he return?”
“I do not know.”
“I think you do, Leofstand. That is what Alwin came to knock out of your skull. The date of Berbizier’s departure. Alwin wanted to be here to bid him farewell.”
“He will not do that now,” said the other with a grin.
“Tell me about your passenger.”
Leofstand hesitated again. “My lord …”
“Take him away to the castle!” ordered Ralph.
“No!” yelled the sailor as he was seized.
“You are lying to me.”
“I’ll tell you all you wish to know.”
On a signal from Ralph, his men-at-arms released Leofstand but stayed in menacing proximity. There was no hope of escape.
Ralph understood the man’s quandary.
“It is not just a question of money, is it?” he said.
“No, my lord.”
“What did Berbizier say to you?”
“If I betrayed him, he would have me killed. And he will, my lord. Look what happened to Alwin. When he asked too many questions, they tried to silence him forever.”
“We are on the alert now. You have more protection.”
“I do not feel that.”
“When is he leaving Canterbury?” barked Ralph.
“On Wednesday next.”
“To sail back to Normandy?”
“No, my lord. Boulogne.”
“What time will he arrive in Fordwich?”
“At first light.”
Ralph was satisfied. Philippe Berbizier was still somewhere in the vicinity. If all else failed, an ambush could be set for him when he tried to set sail. Deciding that Leofstand had told him all that he knew, Ralph turned on his heel to walk away. The sailor grabbed at his arm. The bruises from his beating still hurt.
His attacker had been severely punished but Leofstand wanted more vengeance.
“Talk to Alwin again,” he suggested.
“About this villain, Philippe Berbizier?”
“No, my lord. About another passenger of his.”
“From France?”
“Yes.”
“A disciple? Another heretic?”
Leofstand shook his head. “Alwin will tell you.”
“What should I say to him?”
“Ask him about Boulogne.”
Gervase Bret had some difficulty in tracking him down. It was only when he thought to call at the castle that he established where Ralph had gone. His turned his horse toward Fordwich.
The ride gave him time to reflect more deeply on Golde’s predicament. It had to be linked to the investigations that he and Ralph were conducting. No other explanation served. To halt their inquiry, someone had lain in wait outside the house to abduct Ralph’s wife.
It was proof that they had got close enough to Philippe Berbizier to force him to strike back but that was little consolation in the present circumstances. Golde’s safety was paramount. A man who would strangle a young woman and poison an old monk would not draw back from a third murder. If Golde were still alive-and he prayed that she was-she had to be rescued with the utmost urgency. Dozens of armed soldiers were patrolling the streets of the city and yet she had been kidnapped under their noses. That argued skill and preparation on the part of her captors.
The five of them were just leaving the quayside when Gervase arrived at Fordwich. He reined in his horse without acknowledging Ralph’s cheerful wave.
“More progress at last, Gervase!” he announced.
“At some cost, I fear.”
“Cost?”
“Golde has disappeared.”
“What!” growled Ralph, his smile congealing.
“The baby was sick,” explained Gervase. “Golde went to fetch the doctor. It is only a short walk but she had not returned after an hour. Osbern and I rushed to the house ourselves to discover that she never arrived there.”
“Could she not have got lost?”
“In the event, she would surely have asked the way.”
“What was she doing in the streets alone?” demanded Ralph.
“Why did Osbern not send one of the servants?”
“I will tell you on the way.”
“Do, Gervase. There is nothing to keep us here.”
The destrier felt his spurs and galloped away. All six of them kept up a fast pace in the road to the city. It made conversation difficult but Gervase managed to give his friend all the relevant details. Their madcap route took them past St. Augustine’s Abbey and in through Burgate, where they slowed to a canter but still scattered the people who thronged Burh Street. Ralph led them toward Osbern’s house and dismounted to hammer on the front door. The reeve opened it himself and his expression told them that Golde had still not returned.
“Where is my wife?” howled Ralph.
“We do not know, my lord.”
“Why did you send her on a servant’s errand?”
“I did not. It was her own decision. She insisted.”
“Is this the way to treat your guests, Osbern? By giving them chores that lead them into danger?”
“My lord …”
Gervase interrupted to point out that their host was not to blame. The reeve was mortified by the turn of events. On top of the other blows he had suffered, this one was crippling. Ralph was calmed enough to shift his ire to the abductors themselves and he warned what would happen to them if his wife came to the slightest harm. Blind rage was then replaced by speedy action.
His men were ordered to search every turning on the way to King Street and to question people along the route to see if anyone remembered seeing Golde earlier on. He turned back to Osbern.
“What was she wearing when she went out?” he asked.
The reeve looked more uncomfortable than ever. Stepping back into the house for a second, he reappeared with Golde’s gown in his hands and held it up.
“She was wearing this, my lord.”
“Where did you get it?” said Ralph, snatching it away.
“They sent it back. To let you know.”
Golde tried to control her fear in order to work out where she might be. On the journey to her prison, she had kicked and fought in protest, taking no note of the twisting route her captors followed. She was bundled through a door and taken down some steps. Dropped into a chair, she was tied securely to its arms.
When the sack was lifted from her head, a blindfold was quickly put in place. It was pulled very tight and dug into her but the gag on her mouth smothered her complaint.
The dank smell and the sense of oppression told her that she was in a cellar. When the two men left, she heard a trap door close. A heavy bolt slid into position. She was still inside the city and close enough to the cathedral for its bell to reach her, albeit with muffled effect. What it gave her was a purchase on time. If the bell was ringing for Tierce, she had been held captive for over two hours.
They had taken her gown but made no attempt to harm her.
Once she had been restrained, their job was done and that was a faint reassurance. Had they meant to kill her, they would already have done so. The chair was another tiny source of consolation.
Instead of flinging her down on the bare earth, they had thought about her comfort. Not many houses in Canterbury would have such a stout chair with carved arms. The property above her head belonged to a man with a degree of wealth.
Something ran across her foot to bring her speculation to a sudden halt. She could not work out if it was a mouse or a rat but the contact unnerved her. Golde braced herself for more evidence that she was sharing the cellar with vermin. To take her mind off her own plight, she tried to think about others who would now be suffering. Ralph and Gervase would be distraught.
Osbern and Eadgyth would be skewered by guilt, blaming themselves for having been indirectly responsible for her disappearance. The baby caused her less worry. Helto the Doctor must have been summoned by now and he would have treated the child.