Eventually, Gervase was sitting astride the bough which overhung the track. He moved himself carefully along it, making the whole branch genuflect gracefully and rustle its leaves. When he reached a point directly above the track, he was screened from view by the foliage.
‘What can you see?’ called Ralph.
‘Everything.’
‘A good view of the road from Exeter?’
‘A perfect one, Ralph.’
‘Could you jump on to a passing traveller from there?’
‘It would be a long drop.’
‘Long but not impossible.’
‘Not impossible for some,’ said Gervase. ‘Inadvisable for me.’
‘Can you see anything else up there?’
‘Yes.’
Gervase looked at the marks along the bough. The bark had been scratched by sharp claws but there was also a much thicker souvenir, an inch or more in width, running, it seemed, over the whole circumference of the branch. Pale, shiny wood showed through the stripped bark. He ran a meditative finger over it.
‘Are you still up there?’ said Ralph impatiently.
‘Yes.’
‘Well?’
‘I think that someone tied a rope up here and swung down. A fairly heavy man, judging by the marks he left. He may have practised a few times,’ he concluded. ‘That would explain why the bark is worn through.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Scratches made by claws.’
‘What sort of claws?’
‘Come up and see for yourself, Ralph,’ he teased.
‘No thank you.’
‘You’ll get a fine view.’
‘I prefer the one from down here.’
‘The scratches are very deep.’
‘Can you guess what sort of animal put them there?’
‘No,’ said Gervase. ‘Not a big one, I suspect.’
‘There we are, then,’ said Ralph with light sarcasm. ‘All we need to look for is a small creature who uses his claws to climb the tree and a rope to get down from it. Would that description fit the man you saw in the castle dungeon?’
‘No, Ralph. He was not the killer.’
‘How can you be certain?’
‘Only a determined man would take the risk of climbing up here and hurling himself on someone passing below. Two robbers would find a much easier way to stop their victim and, as we both know, they would never let his horse get away. Apart from being a valuable prize, it might return to the man’s stables and alert the household.’
‘Which is exactly what it did.’
‘The prisoner at the castle was telling the truth.’
‘So who was our woodland assassin?’
‘Someone who was strong, fit and daring.’
‘With claws instead of fingernails.’
‘I just can’t explain these scratch marks,’ said Gervase. ‘Unless they were made by some animal at a different time and are unrelated to the ambush. But we have established one thing, Ralph.’
‘What’s that?’
‘How a single attacker gained the advantage over Nicholas Picard.’
‘The element of surprise?’
‘And the force of his descent.’
Gervase lifted a leg over the bough and hung with his arms at full stretch. Without warning, he suddenly dropped to the ground, missing Ralph by a matter of inches and sending the latter scrambling backwards in alarm. Gervase bent his knees to lessen the impact of the landing.
Ralph was indignant. ‘You almost hit me!’
‘That is how he did it.’
‘Putting the fear of death into a friend like that?’
‘No, Ralph,’ said Gervase, dusting himself off. ‘I think that he used that rope to swing down and knock the lord Nicholas from the saddle, then stunned him before slitting his throat.’
‘How did he know that his victim would ride this way?’
‘It is the only road that leads to his manor house.’
‘But how could he be sure that Nicholas Picard would be alone?’
‘Because he saw him enter the city,’ said Gervase. ‘Without an armed escort. Knowing that his victim would have to ride back through the wood on his own, he set up the ambush. We are looking for someone who is well acquainted with the lord Nicholas and his habits. This was no random attack, Ralph. Too much preparation was involved.’
‘What about the claw marks up there?’
Gervase rubbed his smoothly shaven chin while he ruminated.
‘They still puzzle me,’ he admitted.
It was an occasion for a gentler approach. Hervey de Marigny knew that there were times when subtlety achieved far better results than threat and abuse. Those were the weapons for which Baldwin the Sheriff first reached and they were not always the most effective ones against a seasoned knight like Walter Baderon. Softer words were needed.
‘Good even, friend,’ said de Marigny.
‘My lord.’
‘You have a long night ahead of you.’
‘Do not remind us!’ moaned Baderon. ‘While others may sleep in their beds, we have to stay on sentry duty here at the North Gate.’
‘I am surprised you do not fall asleep through boredom.’
‘It is an unwelcome duty.’
‘Whom do you serve?’
‘The abbot of Tavistock.’
‘A churlish gentlemen, I hear.’
‘But a good master,’ said the other loyally.
‘How long have you been with him?’
‘Nigh on fifteen years, my lord.’
‘Yet you still have to mount a guard here?’ said de Marigny.
‘After all that time, I would have thought you might have earned sufficient thanks from the abbot to be excused such onerous duty.’
‘We all have to take our turn.’
‘Is there nothing to liven up the long night hours?’
‘Liven them up, my lord?’
‘Come, sir,’ said de Marigny with a confiding chuckle. ‘I have done my share of standing on guard in the darkness. On cold nights, we had drink brought out to warm us up. In summer, we had a woman or two to help us pass the time. There is good sport to be had up against a wall.’
Walter Baderon sniggered. ‘We learned that long ago, my lord.’
‘Are the ladies of Exeter obliging?’
‘Very obliging.’
‘And not too costly?’
‘They will always do favours for a soldier.’
‘Especially a captain of the guard like yourself.’
‘I always have first pick.’
Hervey de Marigny laughed. He had sauntered out to the North Gate shortly after Baderon and his men relieved their predecessors on sentry duty. Before their stint even began, they looked jaded. Conversation with a visitor to the city was a pleasant relief. Walter Baderon fell into it without realising to whom he was talking.
‘You have my sympathy, friend,’ de Marigny went on, drawing attention once again to the common ground between the two of them.
‘Why, my lord?’
‘Exeter is not the most hospitable city for Normans.’
‘That is true!’
‘I was part of the army which besieged the place. These men of Devon are hostile and unforgiving. I would not turn my back on any of them.’
‘Nor me.’
‘Are you still resented and sneered at?’
‘Daily.’
‘We had more than harsh words hurled at us.’
‘We, too, have incidents from time to time,’ said Baderon, hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘It is usually when some Saxon youths have drunk too much of that foul ale they brew. They taunt us to build up their courage then draw their weapons.’
‘What do you do?’
‘Bang their heads together and send them home.’
‘No bloodshed?’
‘Not unless they really annoy me.’
They chatted on amiably, both of them keeping one eye on the traffic coming in and out of the gate. There was no hurry. The commissioner took time to win the man’s confidence. It would be worth it. They had been together for half an hour when de Marigny came round to the subject which brought him there.