The Elephants of Norwich (3 page)

The last few miles began to tell on the travellers. Weary from so much time in the saddle, they were finding the heat more oppressive and the terrain less diverting. When their destination finally came within sight, they heaved a collective sigh of relief.
    Gervase Bret was riding beside his wife, who was bearing up bravely.
    ‘Take heart, Alys,’ he said. ‘We’re almost there.’
    ‘Good.’
    ‘I’m sorry that the journey has been so tiring.’
    ‘I was enjoying the ride until we met that poor man. He was all skin and bone.’
    ‘At least we were able to give him one good meal today.’
    ‘It was distressing to see someone in that terrible state,’ she said. ‘Did I hear Ralph tell you that he’d been turned out to fend for himself?’
    ‘Yes, my love.’
    ‘What kind of master could be so cruel?’
    Gervase did not answer. The name of Richard de Fontenel was already known to him because the man was involved in one of the property disputes they had come to settle. Alys was upset enough already. Her husband did not wish to alarm her by telling her that he would soon be locking horns with the very Norman lord who had treated the old man so callously. Gervase had promised himself to keep his work and his domestic life rigidly apart. His wife would hear nothing of his deliberations with his colleagues.
    He glanced across at her and was disturbed by what he saw. ‘Are you unwell?’ he said with concern.
    ‘No, Gervase.’
    ‘But you look pale.’
    ‘This heat is bothering me.’
    ‘Do you wish to stop for another rest?’
    ‘I can hold out until we reach the castle.’
    ‘It’s not very far to go.’
    ‘I long for a cool drink and a place in the shade.’
    Gervase reached out a consoling hand. ‘You’ll have both very soon.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘I hope that you don’t regret coming with us.’
    ‘No,’ she said, rallying slightly. ‘For the most part, it’s been very exciting. I am simply in need of a long rest now. I shall sleep very soundly tonight.’
    ‘So will we all.’
    The closer they got to Norwich, the more able they were to appreciate its size and character. It was the principal town in one of the most populous counties in the entire kingdom. The soil was rich, the harvest plentiful and the rivers stocked with fish. Larger boats ventured out to sea in search of even bigger catches. Extensive deposits of salt supported a flourishing trade and there were dozens of other occupations in what was the fourth largest county in England. Much of the country was plagued with drought that summer, but Norfolk seemed to have suffered less from its effects than some of the other areas through which they had travelled. Sheep and cows grazed in the fields. Pigs could be heard in patches of woodland. There was an abiding sense of contentment.
    It disappeared the moment they rode into Norwich. Eustace Coureton’s description of the place was accurate. It bore the scars of war as blatantly as Alstan bore the mementoes of his whipping. Almost ninety buildings had been destroyed to make way for the castle, creating a huge hole in the fabric of the city. Of those that remained, the best part of two hundred houses were unoccupied, abandoned by owners who had fled for a variety of reasons. The streets were full and the market was busy, but there was no zest about Norwich. Its indigenous population had yet fully to accept that it was now under Norman control. When Ralph Delchard led his party towards the castle, they gathered the usual mixture of hostile stares and muttered resentment.
    Riding beside her husband, Golde was grateful for their safe arrival. ‘The journey didn’t take as long as I’d feared,’ she said.
    Ralph grimaced. ‘The best road in Norfolk is the one that takes us out of it.’
    ‘Aren’t you looking forward to our stay here?’
    ‘No, Golde. I’d rather be at home with my lovely wife.’
    ‘Travel adds body to a marriage.’
    ‘You sound like the brewer you once were,’ he remarked with a grin. ‘What did you add to your ale to give it some sparkle?’
    ‘That’s a closely guarded secret.’
    ‘Even from your loving husband?’
    ‘Especially from you, Ralph,’ she pointed out. ‘When you were in Hereford, you refused to touch my ale. You’re a true Norman. Wine is all that you’ll drink.’
    ‘I’m glad you mention Hereford, my love.’
    ‘Why is that?’
    ‘Do you recall your ill-fated earl?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Well, this is where he sacrificed his earldom,’ said Ralph, pointing to the castle ahead of them. ‘My namesake, Ralph Guader, was earl of Norfolk, a man of mixed parentage and uncertain temper. He decided to marry Emma, sister of Roger, earl of Hereford.’
    ‘You don’t need to remind me of that. It was the talk of the town. We could not understand why the wedding was not held in Hereford cathedral. Had the ceremony occurred there, I might have been engaged to provide ale for the table. Not all the guests were as fond of wine as you are.’
    ‘It was not only drink that flowed at the wedding, Golde. Blood was up and passions ran high. The noble earl of Hereford conspired with Ralph Guader and with Waltheof, earl of Northumberland, to overthrow the King with the help of Danish invaders. A doomed enterprise from the start,’ he said with contempt. ‘It robbed Waltheof of his life and both Norfolk and Herefordshire of an earldom. This is where the plot was first hatched. Norwich has much to answer for.’
    ‘That was well over ten years ago, Ralph.’
    ‘You still see the effects, my love. Look around you. Much of the destruction here came as a result of Earl Ralph’s forfeitures. His supporters quit the city in fear. Houses that were not burned to the ground still stand empty.’
    Golde gazed around her. ‘I’d certainly prefer to live in Hereford.’
    ‘Are you not happy in our home?’
    ‘On the few occasions when we actually spend time there,’ she said with a teasing smile. ‘But at this moment, after a long day in the saddle, I have to confess that I am delighted to be here in Norwich.’
    ‘So am I.’
    ‘What kind of welcome may we expect?’
    ‘A cordial one, I hope.’
    No sooner had he spoken than a man came riding out of the castle at a reckless speed, heedless of what lay ahead and jabbing his spurs hard into his horse’s flanks. Richard de Fontenel was in no mood to bid the commissioners welcome. Face dark and teeth gritted, he rode straight at the cavalcade, scattering it uncaringly as he headed for the city gate. Ralph had grabbed the reins of Golde’s palfrey to pull it out of the way of the galloping stranger who missed others in the party by a matter of inches and went hurtling on to send the townspeople scurrying for safety. There was great commotion in his wake. Everyone turned to look in bewilderment after the furious rider.
    It was left to Ralph Delchard to put their thoughts into words.
    ‘Who the devil was
that!
’ he exclaimed.

Mauger Livarot arrived at her manor house with an escort of six knights. When he was admitted to the parlour, the lady Adelaide could not resist teasing him.
    ‘Have you come to arrest me, my lord?’ she said, feigning apprehension.
    ‘In a manner of speaking.’
    ‘Does it take seven men to overpower one woman?’
    ‘We’ve been hunting,’ he explained, indicating the mounted riders who could be seen through the open shutters. ‘Since our way home led directly past your house, I felt it only courteous to call on you.’
    ‘You are always welcome here.’
    ‘More welcome than Richard de Fontenel?’
    Her smile was calculated. ‘Both of you are equally welcome.’
    ‘How long will you keep us on the same footing?’
    ‘Only time will tell.’
    ‘You’re as evasive as ever, my lady.’
    ‘Would you be interested in a woman who submitted without any delay?’
    Livarot grinned. ‘There’s only one woman who excites my interest.’
    She waved him to a seat, then lowered herself on to an oak bench with her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. His gaze never left her. A tall, thin, angular man with a long face that tapered down to a pointed chin, he was now in his late forties, the once attractive features ravaged by a life of excess. The lady Adelaide would never have chosen him as a husband on the strength of his appearance. It was his other assets that appealed to her. Livarot was a wealthy man with estates in England and Normandy. He was also a skilful politician, employed by the King on occasional diplomatic missions abroad and, it was rumoured, destined for high office in the fullness of time. His bride might find that she had wed a future sheriff.
    ‘I hear that the lord Richard is having domestic problems,’ he said, complacently.
    ‘You have keen ears, my lord.’
    ‘Little that happens in Norwich escapes me.’
    ‘Then you’ll know the circumstances in which the robbery took place.’
    ‘I can guess at them.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘Richard de Fontenel acquired some costly gifts in the hope that they might make you look more favourably upon his ugly visage. Exactly what they were I don’t know, but they seem to have disappeared.’ Another grin surfaced. ‘I must confess that I regard the theft as an act of God.’
    ‘Can crime ever be providential?’
    ‘This one is.’
    ‘Evil can surely never come out of good.’
    ‘To steal from such a confirmed thief as the lord Richard is not exactly an evil act. He’s spent the last twenty years grabbing land at will from those too weak to defend themselves. The loss of a little gold is small retribution for his misappropriations.’
    ‘They were elephants, my lord.’
    ‘Elephants?’
    ‘Fashioned out of gold. Objects of great beauty.’
    ‘He’ll need more than two elephants to plead his case.’
    ‘They were powerful advocates,’ she admitted. ‘I coveted them.’
    ‘Then I’ll have something similar made for you.’
    ‘Why bother when the originals may soon be recovered?’
    ‘Whatever he offers you,’ said Livarot, jealousy flickering, ‘I’ll match. Remember that, my lady. There’s no gift that the lord Richard can dangle in front of you that I’ll not give you as well. Simply name it and it’s yours.’
    ‘There’s nothing I want.’
    ‘You wanted those gold elephants.’
    ‘I was tempted by them,’ she corrected, ‘but the animals did not, alas, come alone. They bore the lord Richard on their backs. His gift
was conditional upon my accepting his hand in marriage.’
    ‘That would be a disaster for you.’
    ‘Not necessarily.’
    ‘Look at his reputation,’ he urged, leaning forward to gesticulate. The man is a household tyrant. He’s already buried two wives and their deaths were a blessed release from a bullying husband. Do you wish to be his third victim?’
    ‘You’ve been married yourself,’ she noted, bluntly, ‘and that union was scarcely an example of wedded bliss.’
    Livarot was stung. ‘My wife and I were reasonably happy together.’
    ‘Reasonably?’
    ‘We had no more unhappiness than most marriages.’
    ‘Then why did she try to flee back to Normandy?’
    ‘She didn’t, my lady,’ he retorted, smarting at the accusation. ‘That was a wicked lie put about by the lord Richard. Judith was a good wife to me and bore two fine sons. But she could never settle in England. Judith missed her parents sorely. That was why she longed to return to Normandy.’ He sat back with a sigh. ‘Her death came as a great shock to me. I mourn her still.’
    ‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ she said, adopting a more conciliatory tone. ‘Only those involved in a marriage know its true nature. But I must warn you that you’ll not win my hand by speaking ill of the lord Richard. He is just as harsh in his judgement of you and it does him no good. If you must woo me, do so by telling me about your own virtues and not about the supposed vices of others.’
    ‘The lord Richard’s vices are established fact.’
    ‘I’m already aware of them.’
    Mauger Livarot pursed his lips to hold in any further comment. Taking a deep breath, he spread his hands in a gesture of apology. The lady Adelaide was right. He would make more headway by emphasising the positive aspects of his own character than by listing the negative attributes of his rival. Long before his wife died, the marriage had crumbled, not least because of his repeated infidelity and his long absences abroad. Though there were mercenary instincts involved as well, he saw a union with the lady Adelaide as a means of atoning for the mistakes of his first marriage. She would be altogether more outspoken and self-possessed than her predecessor. As he now reminded himself once again, she was also considerably more beautiful and gracious. Infidelity would no longer be a factor.
    ‘I offer everything that I have, my lady,’ he said. ‘And everything that I am.’
    She was direct. ‘I’d look for more honesty than you’ve so far shown.’
    ‘Honesty?’
    ‘Yes, my lord,’ she continued, pointing towards the window. ‘You claim that you’re on your way home from a day’s hunting yet none of your men have any carcasses with them. You travel empty-handed. Was it such a poor day in the forest or am I the only prey you seek?’
    ‘You’re no prey,’ he assured her.
    ‘Then why invent this tale about hunting?’
    ‘It was no invention. The truth is that we hunted this morning. I thought it a pretty excuse to gain admission to your home. Forgive me, Adelaide. It was a small deception.’
    ‘Small deceptions hold the seeds of larger ones.’
    ‘You’ll have no cause to doubt my honesty.’
    ‘None at all?’
    ‘You have my word on it,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Put me to the test.’
    ‘I will,’ she replied, watching him closely. ‘When you first arrived, you said that you’d heard about the theft from the lord Richard’s house but you didn’t know exactly what was taken. A little later, you mentioned that gold had been stolen and, when I told you about the elephants, you knew that they were two in number. How?’
    Mauger Livarot weighed his words carefully before replying. ‘If you want a straight answer, my lady, you shall have one.’
    ‘I’d appreciate that.’
    ‘My steward’s name is Drogo,’ he said airily. ‘He’s a resourceful man who acts as my eyes and ears. Drogo has a friend who’s employed in the household of Richard de Fontenel. By that means, I get to know almost everything that occurs under his roof. In short,’ he added with a smirk, ‘I follow the rules of combat.’
    ‘Combat?’
    ‘I keep a spy in the enemy camp.’
    ‘Oh,’ she said with astonishment. ‘I see.’
    ‘You did ask for honesty.’

Ralph Delchard was impressed with the way that they were received. Everything was in readiness. As soon as they entered the castle, the sheriff himself greeted them. Servants were on hand to conduct the guests to their respective apartments while their escort was taken to lodgings in the bailey by one of the guards. When his wife was safely bestowed in their chamber, Ralph went off to speak at more length to their host. Gervase Bret joined the two men in the hall.
    ‘A fine castle,’ observed Ralph. ‘Well-sited and heavily fortified.’
    ‘Yes,’ replied Bigot. ‘Of necessity we keep our defences in good repair. Raiding parties have a habit of sailing up the River Yare. In time, of course, we’ll replace the timber with stone and make Norwich Castle into an even more impregnable fortress.’
    ‘There’s safety enough
inside
your walls, my lord sheriff,’ said Gervase. ‘The danger we encountered was on your threshold.’
    ‘Danger?’
    ‘Some madman tried to run us down with his horse.’
    ‘Yes,’ Ralph affirmed. ‘Had we not moved out of the way, we’d have been knocked from our saddles. He came riding hell-for-leather out of the castle as if the hounds of Hades were on his tail. I’ll tell you this, my lord sheriff. But for the fact that I had ladies to protect, I’d have been on his tail as well. And I wouldn’t have stopped until I’d caught up with the rogue and taught him some manners.’
    ‘That lesson would have been long overdue,’ said Bigot, ruefully.
    ‘Who was the fellow?’
    ‘Richard de Fontenel.’
    ‘No wonder he didn’t wait to be introduced.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘We had already heard about his lack of courtesy,’ said Ralph, hands on hips. ‘On our way here, we met an old man who’d been a bordar on one of the lord Richard’s estates in Taverham hundred. When he was reduced to the status of a slave, the old man made the mistake of complaining to his master. The lord Richard not only turned him out of house and home, he had the poor devil whipped until he was half dead.’
    Bigot rolled his eyes. ‘That sounds like Richard de Fontenel.’
    ‘We offered to bring the man to Norwich,’ explained Gervase, ‘so that we could intercede on his behalf. But he was too terrified to come anywhere near the lord Richard. So we gave him food and directed him to a church we’d passed earlier. The priest will take him in and show him a kindness he never got from his master.’
    ‘Kindness is not one of the lord Richard’s virtues.’
    ‘Does he
have
any virtues?’ wondered Ralph.
    ‘You might well ask.’
    ‘I will, my lord sheriff. He’s due to come before us in a property dispute. I’ll tax him with his rudeness and beat an apology out of him. He had no cause to scatter us all over the street like that.’
    ‘The lord Richard will claim that he did,’ said Bigot, wearily. ‘What’s more, he’ll point an accusing finger at me.’
    ‘At you?’
    ‘Yes, my lord. A robbery occurred at his home. Something of great value was taken. When the crime was reported, I ordered my deputy to investigate but that only served to enrage the lord Richard. He accosted me here and demanded that I abandon all my other commitments to take charge of the inquiry myself. When I refused, my angry visitor leaped on his horse and galloped out of here. I’m sorry that you met him at such a bad time.’
    ‘I’m sorry that we met him at all,’ said Ralph.
    ‘What was stolen from his house?’ asked Gervase.
    ‘Two elephants.’
    ‘Elephants? Here in Norwich?’
    ‘They were not live animals, Master Bret, but gold miniatures.’
    He gave them a full account of the crime and explained its significance. Ralph had no sympathy for the victim, hoping that the theft would at least rescue the lady Adelaide from the fate of marrying him. Gervase’s ears pricked up at the mention of another person.
    ‘The lord Mauger is a suspect?’
    ‘Not in my estimation,’ said the sheriff. ‘But he and the lord Richard are arch-enemies so he takes the blame for everything that upsets his rival. The truth of the matter is that each man is as bad as the other.’
    ‘Which one will the lady Adelaide choose as a husband?’ said Ralph.
    ‘Neither, if she has any sense.’
    ‘And does she?’
    ‘Oh, yes. She’s a redoubtable woman.’
    ‘Then why does she let them court her?’
    ‘You’ll have to ask her that, my lord,’ said Bigot with a note of sadness. ‘Geoffrey Molyneux was her first husband, as decent and upright a man as you could wish to meet. Compared with him, her two suitors are arrant rogues.’
    ‘Rich ones, however,’ commented Gervase. ‘I went through the returns for this county with great interest. The names of Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot crop up time and again. They have substantial holdings.’
    Talk turned to the work that had brought the commissioners to Norwich. Roger Bigot could not have been more helpful. He gave them friendly advice and told them of arrangements he had already made on their behalf. Ralph and Gervase were grateful. Other sheriffs had been more grudging in their hospitality, trying to hurry their guests on their way and resenting what they saw as interference. Bigot seemed genuinely interested in the disputes that had come to light during the visit of the earlier commissioners. Unlike most people, he did not view the Great Survey as an odious imposition.
    ‘It helps to clarify the situation,’ he decided.
    Ralph chuckled. ‘That’s a polite way to describe it, my lord sheriff,’ he said. ‘Most people call it the Domesday Book, for it represents a Day of Judgement. Our job is to lift stones so that the truth can crawl out into the sunlight. I’m afraid that there’ll be a lot of stones to lift in the county of Norfolk. And I’m not only referring to men like Richard de Fontenel and Mauger Livarot.’
    ‘No,’ said Gervase, taking a signal from Ralph. ‘The Church’s hands are not entirely clean in this county. Bishop Alymer set a bad example. When he succeeded his brother, Stigand, he seized manors such as Thornage, Hindringham, Hindolveston, North Elmham and Helmington in addition to outliers like Colkirk and Egmere. Other prelates followed suit with a vengeance.’
    Gervase rattled off a score of misappropriations and left the sheriff gaping in admiration at his mastery of detail. He had already been struck by Ralph’s air of authority. It was the lawyer’s turn to impress him now. Bigot could see that the two men would make a formidable team when they sat in judgement.
    ‘What manner of man is your colleague?’ he asked.
    ‘Eustace Coureton will make a fine commissioner,’ said Ralph. ‘He’s a shrewd man who’ll show neither fear nor favour. All we have to do is to ensure that he’s not allowed to quote Greek and Latin authors at us.’
    ‘Is he a scholar, then?’
    ‘His only fault.’
    ‘I see it more as a strength,’ argued Gervase.
    ‘You would.’
    ‘A Classical education is a source of joy.’
    ‘Not for the person on the receiving end of it, Gervase. For several miles, I had Eustace riding beside me. It was purgatory. How would you like to have someone called Horace poured relentlessly into your ears?’
    ‘I’d love it, Ralph.’
    ‘Well, it gave me a headache.’
    ‘
Vos exemplaria Graeca, nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.
’
    ‘Now you’re doing it!’ wailed Ralph.
    ‘Horace gives sage counsel.’
    ‘What’s the translation?’ asked Bigot. ‘My Latin is a trifle rusty.’
    ‘Our colleague, Eustace Coureton, has been doing what Horace urges. “For your own good, turn to the pages of your Greek exemplars by night and by day.” Do you hear that, Ralph?’
    ‘I hear it and I ignore it,’ said the other. ‘Keep your Greeks and your Romans. I’ll do my duty by day and turn to my wife at night.’
    ‘We must agree to differ.
Concordia discors.
’
    Ralph waved an arm in protest. ‘He’s at it again!’
    ‘Even I can translate that,’ said Bigot. ‘It means “harmony in discord”. Correct?’
    Gervase nodded. ‘Yes, my lord sheriff.’
    ‘You provide the harmony and the lord Ralph supplies the discord.’
    All three of them shared a laugh. The commissioners warmed to their host. He treated them as welcome guests rather than interlopers. It boded well for their stay.
    Roger Bigot became serious. ‘Will you hear the cases in strict order?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Ralph. ‘Gervase has devised the plan. Minor cases will be dealt with first before we move on to more complicated disputes like the one involving that surly horseman, Richard de Fontenel.’
    ‘Couldn’t you deal with him and the lord Mauger first?’
    ‘For what reason?’
    ‘It would get him off our back while we investigate this robbery. My deputy will be able to work more effectively if the lord Richard is entombed in the shire hall with you for a few days.’
    Ralph pondered. ‘We’ll consider that possibility,’ he said at length.
    ‘Thank you. Meanwhile, you might consider something else.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘An invitation to the banquet we’re giving in your honour this evening.’
    ‘That’s very kind of you, my lord sheriff,’ said Gervase.
    Ralph was circumspect. ‘I take it that the lord Richard will not be there?’
    ‘No, my lord.’
    ‘Then we accept with gratitude.’