‘He has the look of an unruly husband.’
‘So does Ralph Delchard.’ They shared a laugh. ‘I am not holding anything back in order to annoy you. I gave her my word, Ralph.’
‘I understand.’
‘You always respect a confidence. So must I.’
‘No more questions, then,’ he decided. ‘Except perhaps a last one.’
‘Well?’
‘Did the lady Albreda speak fondly of Nicholas Picard?’
Golde was caught unawares and her expression betrayed her.
Ralph was content. Giving her a kiss of gratitude, he swept her up in his arms and whirled her round. Golde was soon laughing.
‘I thought that you said you were tired, Ralph.’
He gave a chortle. ‘I soon will be, my love.’
It was well after midnight when he got there. Tethering his horse, he made his way on foot towards the manor house. A crescent moon was shedding enough light to guide him but retaining enough shadows to give him ample cover. He crouched in the bushes to study the building. Though he had never been inside it, he had a clear idea of what he would find there. He also knew about the hazard which he had to overcome in order to reach the house in the first place. Waiting until a cloud drifted across the moon, he made his way round the property in a wide circle so that he could view it from all directions and consider every avenue of escape. It was an hour before he was ready to move in.
The dogs were waiting for him. Four of them were on patrol, mastiffs with keen ears and strong jaws. Two were asleep but the others remained alert, padding up and down outside the front of the house. When one of them heard a sound, it gave a warning bark which brought the sleepers awake in an instant.
They raced to join the other guard dogs and all four of them went sniffing off into the darkness. He was ready. Instead of trying to avoid them, he knelt down and guided them towards him with a humming noise. They bounded forward through the undergrowth, sensing an intruder and growling with pleasure at the prospect of action.
Then the miracle happened. When they reached him, four dogs who could have torn him apart did nothing of the kind. They sniffed all around him, stopped growling and wagged their tails.
One even gave him an affectionate lick. The man continued to hum to them until all four animals were lying happily at his feet.
After patting each in turn, he made his way towards the house.
Tetbald the Steward was poring over a document when she came into the room. Her sudden entry made him look up in astonishment. She was disturbed and dishevelled. He rose to his feet at once.
‘Is something amiss, my lady?’
‘What are you doing, Tetbald?’
‘Preparing for my visit to the shire hall,’ he said, indicating the pile of charters on the table. ‘I need to know the wording of every document. I did not expect you to rise so early. That is why I am working in here.’
She looked anxiously around. ‘Do you have the box with you?’
‘What box?’
‘The wooden box which belonged to my husband.’
‘No, my lady.’
‘Then where is it?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘It was kept in his bedchamber.’
‘Then it should still be there.’
‘It is not, Tetbald. I have just checked.’
‘One of the servants must have moved it.’
‘I gave clear orders that it was not to be touched,’ she said sharply. ‘My husband kept valuable items in that box. I have been searching for the key to open it.’
‘The box must be in the house somewhere,’ he insisted.
‘Well, it is not in his chamber.’
‘Let me see.’
It was past dawn but Tetbald still needed the candle to guide them up the dark staircase. When they entered the bedchamber, he held the flame over the table on which the box had formerly stood. There was no sign of it.
The lady Catherine became increasingly nervous. ‘We must find it,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘It was the place where he locked important material away for safety. My husband was always opening and shutting that box. I could hear him from my own chamber.’
‘It has to be here,’ he said, conducting a search. ‘One of the servants may have moved it in error and forgotten to replace it on the table.’
‘It is not here! I feel it!’
‘Do not upset yourself, my lady.’
‘Who took it, Tetbald?’
‘I do not know,’ he said, holding the candle in the darkest recesses of the room. ‘What made you want it?’
‘I had a dream that it was being stolen.’
‘There is no question of that. Nobody could get into this house.’
‘But someone could get out,’ she argued. ‘What if one of the servants made off with the box?’
‘They would never get past the dogs, my lady.’
‘In my dream, the box was taken by a man.’
‘Then your imagination was playing tricks on you. Who would want to take a box when there are things of much greater value to steal? Let me rouse the servants, my lady. One of them will know where it is.’
He was about to move away when a gust of wind rapped hard on the shutters before pulling one wide open. It flapped to and fro in the wind. The lady Catherine’s anxiety turned to panic.
She ran to the shutters and saw that the catch had been broken.
Tetbald quickly reached the same conclusion. He looked out through the window.
‘We have had an intruder, my lady.’
‘He stole that box!’
‘Why?’
‘I saw him!’ she said with a shiver. ‘I saw him in my dream.’
‘But how did he reach the house?’ wondered Tetbald. ‘The dogs are trained to attack. One of them must have heard him. Why did they not bark?’ Another thought struck him. ‘What else did he steal?’
Engelric defied their expectations. When they took their places behind the table at the shire hall, the commissioners felt certain that the first witness that morning would be yet another dispossessed Saxon who wished to roar in anger at them. The old man who limped in through the door was anything but bellicose, giving them a cheerful wave of greeting as if they were friends from whom he had been long parted. Short, wizened and white-bearded, Engelric supported himself on a stick. His face was mobile, his mouth almost toothless. Accompanied by a younger man, he made his way to the bench at the front and sat down.
Since he could only speak his native tongue, Engelric had to be examined by Gervase Bret who translated the old man’s answers for the benefit of his colleagues. Married to a Saxon, Ralph Delchard had by now picked up enough of the language to be able to understand it fairly well but he lacked Gervase’s speed and fluency. Hervey de Marigny was fascinated by the old man but Canon Hubert would soon grow impatient at the plodding pace that was imposed upon them by the use of an interpreter. Trying to estimate the witness’s age, Brother Simon wondered how many reigns he must have lived through.
After introducing himself and his colleagues, Gervase administered the oath then began his examination, speaking slowly and with deliberation.
‘What is your name?’
‘Engelric, son of Wulfgar.’
‘Please state your claim.’
‘It is simple,’ said the other with a shrug. ‘The holdings at Upton Pyne belong to me. They were granted by royal charter at the time of King Edward, who held me in high regard.’ He nudged his companion who produced a document from the satchel on his lap. ‘Here is the charter in question. You will recognise the seal of King Edward of blessed memory.’
The document was passed to the commissioners for inspection and Engelric’s opening words were translated by Gervase. After scrutinising the charter, Hubert passed it on to Ralph.
‘It seems genuine enough,’ said Hubert, ‘but completely worthless. That land was granted to the abbot of Tavistock by a charter which renders this one invalid. Later documents supersede the abbot’s claim.’
When Gervase translated, the old man was ready with his reply.
‘Those holdings were not taken from me to be given to the abbot,’ he said. ‘They were exchanged for property that was already owned by the abbey but further afield and less profitable to farm. I yielded up my land in the firm belief that the abbey would give me theirs, but they refused to do so. That is why I am here today. To ask for the return of land which was unfairly taken from me.’ A second nudge brought another document out of the satchel. ‘Here is the deed of exchange.’