‘Then you will have a long ride, my lord.’
‘Why?’
The abbot looked him in the eye and gave an enigmatic smile.
‘I sent him back to Tavistock at first light.’
Brother Simon’s suggested compromise was willingly accepted.
Gervase Bret and Canon Hubert accompanied him to the shire hall and began their examination of the last claimant. Tetbald was a clever advocate. Having scrutinised the relevant documents with care, he was able to argue cogently on behalf of the lady Catherine. A note of ingratiation sometimes crept in, but it was offset by an occasional lapse into arrogance. He held up under even the most hostile questioning.
‘Was the lord Nicholas prone to seize land illegally?’ asked Hubert.
‘No,’ said the steward.
‘Our evidence suggests otherwise.’
‘Then your evidence is wrong.’
‘Our predecessors found several irregularities relating to the lord Nicholas’s estate. Why was that, do you think?’
‘You will have to ask them.’
‘The returns for this county make sorry reading,’ said Hubert.
‘We studied them at the Exchequer in Winchester. The name of Nicholas Picard occurs time and again.’
‘The lord Nicholas is dead, alas,’ said Tetbald smoothly. ‘He cannot be called to account for any supposed irregularities. I am here to represent his widow, the lady Catherine, and shield her from further distress. The will lies before you. As you can see, all property and worldly goods of the lord Nicholas have been bequeathed to his widow.’ He became almost cocky. ‘That document, along with all the others I have produced, surely seals the dispute in our favour.’
‘No,’ said Gervase.
‘Why not?’
‘Because those holdings may not have been his to give. Our task is to establish whether or not the lord Nicholas acquired that land by just means or by seizure. If the latter is the case,’
he cautioned, ‘then the portion of the will relating to Upton Pyne is rendered invalid.’
Tetbald protested and the argument rumbled on for another hour. The commissioners dismissed him but told him that he would be summoned before them again. The steward stalked out.
Hoping for a final decision, he was disappointed to be sent away without one and he was now regretting the boasts with which he had left the manor house. On his return to the lady Catherine, he would be forced to show more humility.
Hubert was at once impressed and vexed by the man.
‘He spoke well enough,’ he said, ‘and knows every detail of the lord Nicholas’s tenure, but I found his manner irritating at times.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Gervase. ‘He was far too unctuous for my liking.’
‘It was that proprietorial tone which irked me. The fellow is only the steward yet there were moments when he sounded like the beneficiary.’
‘Perhaps he is.’
The thought was intriguing. Not for the first time, Hubert provided an insight which set up a whole train of new possibilities.
Gervase’s mind was racing. One of the images which kept returning was that of Nicholas Picard’s funeral where Tetbald escorted the widow of the deceased as if he were one of the chief mourners.
It was time to break for refreshment before recalling one of the other witnesses for the second time. Gervase was about to rise from his seat when one of the sentries came into the hall. He bore a small packet in his hand and offered it to Gervase.
‘This bears your name, Master Bret,’ he said.
‘Who gave it to you?’
‘I do not know. It was tossed out of the crowd at us as we stood outside the hall. We have no idea who threw it or what it contains.’
Gervase thanked him, sent him on his way, then inspected the package. It was a bundle of letters, bound together by a ribbon.
His name had been scrawled across the back of one missive.
Watched by the others, he undid the ribbon and spread the letters out on the table. Then he opened one of them. Gervase read no more than a few lines before his jaw dropped.
Chapter Ten
Golde became increasingly restive. When she heard about the mysterious disappearance of Hervey de Marigny, her first instinct was to join the search, but she heaved herself off the bed only to find that her ankle would not support her weight. Confined to her chamber, all that she could do was wait, pray and ponder. It was frustrating. The longer she lay there, the more anxious she became about the commissioner’s safety and the more she chafed at her isolation.
When she heard footsteps ascending the stairs outside, she hoped that it would be her husband with reassuring news about their missing friend, but the man who knocked on the door before putting his head round it was Joscelin the Steward. He gave her an apologetic smile.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, my lady,’ he said.
‘Is there any news of the lord Hervey?’
‘Not yet, I fear.’
‘When there is,’ she asked, ‘please bring it to me.’
‘I will, my lady. But I have brought something else now.’
‘Oh?’
‘You have a visitor.’
Golde was pleased. ‘That will break the tedium. Who is it?’
‘Bishop Osbern.’
Pleasure turned to consternation and Golde plucked at her chemise, worrying that she was not properly dressed to receive such an illustrious visitor and feeling at a severe disadvantage.
Osbern immediately put her at ease. Stepping into the room, he thanked Joscelin with a smile, then turned his attention to Golde, who was struggling to rise.
‘Rest, my lady,’ he said softly. ‘Do not get up for me.’
‘This is an honour, your Grace.’
‘For me also.’
‘Your arrival has caught me rather unawares.’
‘It is good to know that the Church can still spring an occasional surprise.’ He dismissed Joscelin with a nod, then moved to the stool. ‘May I sit down, my lady?’
‘Please do.’
‘The stairs are steep and my legs are no longer young.’ He lowered himself on to the stool and appraised her with sympathy.
‘How do you feel now?’
‘Much better, your Grace.’
‘You were thrown from your horse, I hear. They are unreliable animals at times. I can see why Canon Hubert prefers a donkey,’
he said with a wry grin. ‘A small creature like that would be quite unable to dislodge such a portly rider. But I am pleased to see you looking so well, my lady. You have colour in your cheeks and are patently in good spirits.’
‘I was until I heard the sad tidings.’
His face clouded. ‘Ah, yes. The missing commissioner. It is very disturbing. I have only just heard,’ he explained. ‘I came to the castle for an appointment with the sheriff but discovered that he was out leading a search party. It was his wife who told me of your accident. When the lady Albreda mentioned that you hailed from Hereford, I felt that I had to make your acquaintance and enquire after your health.’
‘That was very kind of you, your Grace.’
‘I was happy to turn my visit into an errand of mercy.’
‘I feel overwhelmed.’
Golde was touched by his concern for her. Though she was still in awe of her visitor, she found his a gentle presence and was able to relax to the point where she could begin to enjoy their conversation. Bishop Osbern smiled benignly and seemed completely at home in the chamber.
‘Tell me about Hereford,’ he said.
‘I have not lived there for some time, your Grace.’
‘When did you last visit the town?’
‘Some months ago,’ she said. ‘When my husband travelled to Chester with the other commissioners, I took the opportunity to stop at Hereford on the way in order to see my sister. It was good to be back there again. The town holds happy memories for me.’
‘It does for me as well, my lady. If you spent your childhood there, you will no doubt remember my brother, who was earl of Hereford.’
‘Oh, yes, your Grace. We all knew Earl William.’
‘It was always a delight to visit him in such a beautiful town.