‘His people did and so do I. We should give every man his due.
Earl Harold seized the crown at Edward’s death and wore it proudly until it was knocked from his head at Hastings. They do not think of him as a mere earl in this county,’ he said. ‘To the men of Devon, he was and will always be King Harold. With good reason.’
‘What reason is that, your Grace?’ asked Simon.
‘His father’s family held considerable property in the West Country. King Harold himself owned Topsham, which is barely four miles away, and held fifteen other manors in Devon. That is why there was so much resistance here. The sons of King Harold chose to stir up rebellion in Exeter because they could rely on local support for their cause. This city was once under siege.’
‘The lord Hervey de Marigny has told us all about it, your Grace,’
said Hubert. ‘He took part in that siege and praises the bravery of Devonians.’
‘He is right to do so. They are courageous men.’
‘But a conquered people all the same.’
‘Not in their hearts, Hubert. There the flame of freedom still flickers.’
‘Does it?’
‘Baldwin the Sheriff rules here but only because he has a garrison at his back. After all this time, the old resentments remain. Well,’ said the bishop, ‘look at the funeral we had this morning. I took care not to say this in my eulogy because I did not want to incite anger at such a solemn ceremony, but it does seem likely to me that the lord Nicholas was murdered because he was a symbol of what is perceived as Norman oppression.’
‘Nobody could be less oppressive than you, your Grace,’ said Simon.
‘A cathedral with a Norman bishop can be just as potent an image as a castle with a Norman garrison. Church and State are viewed together by the Saxons. Blame attaches to us all.’
‘I have not been aware of undue resentment,’ said Hubert.
‘That is because you have not so far been exposed to it,’
explained the bishop. ‘But it is there below the surface. Is it not, Jerome?’
‘Yes, your Grace,’ agreed the dean. ‘Saxons have long memories.’
‘And indomitable spirits. Even a man as fearsome as Baldwin of Moeles is unable to quell them completely.’ He turned to Simon.
‘But you have not yet met the sheriff, I understand?’
‘No,’ said the other. ‘Nor do I wish to, your Grace.’
‘Why not?’
‘Simon flees from boisterous company,’ said Hubert paternally.
‘He is still shaken by the encounter we had with one of the lord sheriff’s men.’
‘Oh?’ said Osbern. ‘Who was that?’
‘Berold the Jester.’
The bishop grinned. ‘A humorous fellow!’
‘Only if you find humour in blasphemy, your Grace,’ said Hubert as he worked up some indignation. ‘We were shocked and disgusted by his antics. Had the man stayed longer, I would have upbraided him in the strongest terms.’
‘Why?
‘Berold the Jester — mark this, your Grace — had the gall to appear before us in a Benedictine cowl.’
‘That sounds like him!’ sighed Jerome.
‘He is a law unto himself,’ said Osbern easily. ‘He will stop at nothing.’
Hubert was not appeased. ‘Register a protest on our behalf.’
‘To whom?’
‘The sheriff.’
‘There is not much point in that,’ said Jerome gloomily. ‘Berold is a licensed fool and the sheriff encourages his outrageous behaviour. The marvel is that he only came to you in the guise of a monk. He has worn the mitre of a bishop before now.’
‘There is no real harm in the fellow,’ said Osbern.
‘I disagree, your Grace.’
‘Do not take it personally, Canon Hubert. Ignore the jester.’
‘What if he comes to taunt us again?’
A smiling Osbern spread his arms in a gesture of tolerance.
‘Turn the other cheek,’ he suggested.
It was late when they retired to their apartment and Ralph Delchard had to suppress a yawn. Grateful for time alone with him at last, Golde took the opportunity to hurl questions at him.
‘Why was the sheriff in such a jovial mood tonight?’ she said.
‘Because he thinks that he has solved the crime.’
‘Has he?’
‘No, Golde.’
‘Have you told him so?’
‘Gervase did that office for me, but Baldwin would not listen to him. He prefers to believe that he has Nicholas Picard’s killer languishing in one of the dungeons.’
‘What will happen to the man?’
‘He will be convicted and hanged.’
‘Even though he is innocent?’
‘Innocent of the murder, my love,’ said Ralph, ‘but guilty of a hundred other crimes. Weep no tears for him. He has robbed and beaten travellers for years. When he found the murder victim lying in the wood, he even stripped him of his rings. What kind of villain thieves from the dead? No,’ he continued, raising a palm to hide another yawn, ‘he is not worth a heartbeat of sympathy.
He deserves to hang.’
‘Will nobody speak on his behalf?’
‘Baldwin is resolved. The man must die.’
‘Is there no way to save him?’
‘Not from the sheriff’s wrath,’ he said. ‘What we are hoping to do is to find the real killer. That will at least spare the prisoner the ignominy of going to his grave for a murder he did not commit.
He has crimes enough to fill his coffin without that unjust charge.’
‘Do you have any suspects in mind?’
‘One or two.’
‘Who are they?’
‘The first is a certain Walter Baderon.’
‘Who is he?’
‘A knight in the service of the abbot of Tavistock. Captain of the guard at the North Gate when Nicholas Picard rode through it for the last time. Hervey talked to the man this evening. He told me of their conversation over our meal tonight. We both think Baderon merits investigation.’
‘Why should he wish to kill the lord Nicholas?’
‘That is what we need to find out.’
‘Surely the abbot is in no way involved?’
‘Stranger things have happened, Golde.’
‘Who else is under suspicion?’
‘You are a torrent of questions tonight.’
‘I am interested, Ralph.’
‘And I am weary, my love. Interrogate me in the morning.’
‘But you will leave at first light.’
‘Then you must wake me up in the middle of the night to examine me more closely.’ He embraced her gently. ‘I will give you all the answers you require in the dark. That is a promise. In any case,’
he said, releasing her, ‘I have questions of my own to put.’
‘To me?’
‘Who else?’
‘I am at your disposal, my lord,’ she said with a mock curtsey.
‘When was the rift healed?’ he asked.
‘Rift?’
‘With the lady Albreda. You and she were talking away as if the pair of you were old friends. Your tongues were wagging so much, I wonder that you had time to put any food in your mouths.’
‘We had much to discuss.’
‘That was not the case on our first night here.’
‘Things have changed.’
‘How?’
‘We got closer.’
‘When?’
‘Who is a torrent of questions now?’ she teased him.
‘The lady Albreda is a lump of ice. How did you manage to melt her?’
‘She offered the hand of friendship.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I am a woman. She felt that she could confide in me.’
‘And did she?’
‘Yes, Ralph.’
‘I love scandal,’ he said, rubbing his hands. ‘Tell me all.’
‘No.’
‘But I am your husband.’
‘That makes no difference.’
‘Golde!’
‘I was sworn to secrecy.’
‘You can trust me.’
‘I can,’ she said, ‘but the lady Albreda cannot. Besides, there was no scandal. She simply wanted to unburden her soul. And apologise for her coldness towards me.’
‘There must be something you can tell me.’
‘There is, Ralph.’ She kissed him. ‘I love you.’
‘Something about Baldwin’s wife, I mean.’
‘I can tell you that she is unhappy, but you guessed that for yourself.’