the trees in no particular manner that the Templar could see, but before long they came to a track that was more defined, with plentiful piles of deer dung and hoofprints, mingled with the deeper marks of the shod feet of horses. The sheriff and his brother must have taken the same route. This track appeared to be well used by both man and beast. In the distance the ring of an axe sounded and there was the smell of smoke in the air.
“It’s just a little way on from here,” Tostig flung back at Bascot over his shoulder. The narrow path had forced them to ride in single file and, as they neared the spot where the poached deer and Hubert’s body had been found, Bascot took care to look about him, telling Gianni to do the same. The boy may be mute, but his other senses were sharp, especially his eyes. With Bascot being blind on one side, he would have to depend on Gianni to notice anything he missed.
Before long Tostig led them to a spot on the path where the slain deer still lay, half-buried under a hump of leaves. “I shall have to get help to remove the carcass. Looks like scavengers have already been at it.”
Tostig dismounted and Bascot did the same, Gianni dropping lightly to the ground with the resilience of youth. The light was beginning to fade, but the scuffs of the poachers’ feet could still be seen amongst the multitude of tracks and the blood of the dead deer was splattered in dark patches onto the moss beside the path.
“Where was Hubert?” Bascot asked, and Tostig led them a few feet off the trail, pointing to the branches of a large oak tree.
“Up there,” he said.
From a solid bough about halfway up, a remnant of rope still hung, cut at one end. It dangled a few feet above the ground and swayed slightly as a cold breeze shook the tree, sending down a shower of dead brown leaves. Through the denuded branches could be seen the other end of the rope, fastened to one of the lower limbs.
“I cut the lad down. Could just reach him while I was mounted,” Tostig said. “Didn’t wait to see where the other end was fastened.”
The forester strode towards the trunk of the oak, moving with the familiarity of one who has spent his life in the forest, and loosened the knot that held the rope in place. He pulled it down and coiled it over his shoulder and brought it for Bascot to look at. It seemed fairly new, with little fraying and no other marks except where Tostig’s knife had sliced it. The forester scuffed among the leaves and held up the noose, still knotted into place.
“Here’s the bit I took off his neck,” he said unnecessarily. “I’ll put it and the rest away at the lodge. Shame to waste a good bit of rope.”
Bascot made no comment as he and Gianni searched the ground. It was fairly untouched except for a faint disturbance of dead leaves that must have been made by whoever had hanged the boy and, later, by Tostig. Gianni went a little way into the trees. Bascot could hear the soft swish of his steps as he moved through the dying bracken.
The Templar gazed around him. They were completely encircled by trees, most of the branches bare. In full summer it would be a dense forest of green, but now it was damp and smelled musty, with a tang of sharpness to the air that heralded winter.
“How far is the nearest village?” he asked Tostig.
“A little over a half of a mile north.”
“And the sheriff’s hunting lodge?”
Tostig swung about, gesturing with his hand in the opposite direction. “About twice the distance that way. The old hunting lodge is a little nearer but, like I said, it’s not used anymore.”
Due south a thin trail of smoke was rising. The scent of burning wood came again in faint wisps. “That smoke, where is it coming from?”
The forester shaded his eyes and looked up. “Oh, that’s just old Chard burning his charcoal. He’s within the chase, but he has permission. The castle needs a good supply with all the guests coming. Usually Chard does his burning outside of the chase, but there’s a good stand of birch over there and it’s one of the best for his trade, so the sheriff gave him licence to use it.”
The sky was beginning to darken as they stood talking, not only for the lateness of the day but also from the shadow of rain clouds that were beginning to gather, blowing in from the east.
“I shall need to go to the village, Tostig, to see if anyone there heard or saw anything untoward last night. I will also want to talk to the charcoal burner, but it’s too late today. It will be full dark before long. Tomorrow morning, as soon as it gets light, I would like you to meet me here and take me to the village.”
Tostig nodded his agreement and suggested he also bring the agister for the area. He was the forest official that collected payments from the inhabitants of the villages for the exercising of their rights as agreed with Gerard Camville and the king. “He knows more of the people in the village than I do,” Tostig said. “As I told you, I stays away from ’em if I can, except to watch they don’t trespass on the chase. His name is Copley.”
Tostig began to walk back to the path where they had left their horses. “Besides, he often acts as deputy for the chief forester of the king’s chase. He’ll know who had licence to be out here gathering nuts or bracken, maybe chopping wood or letting their pigs loose to forage.”
He gave a satisfied grin. “Time he did a little work for a change; he likes his wine cup too much. I’ve had to cover for him more than once. He’s lucky he gets his stipend from the crown and not the sheriff. My master is meticulous about his hunting ground and its keeping. If any of us who were in his pay shirked our duties like Copley does, we’d soon be sorry.”
This last was said with a kind of affectionate pride. Bascot was surprised. It was not an emotion that he would have expected Gerard Camville to foster in his servants. Perhaps the choleric sheriff had a side to him that was seldom seen outside the greenwood.
Six
“Well, Alys, are you going to tell me what Hubert said or not?” Alinor demanded. She stood over her companion, face set in determination, hands clenched into fists and set on her hips.
The other girl looked up at her, soft blue eyes awash with tears. “Yes, I will. But you must promise me that you will not tell Alain, or your father.”
It was the next morning. Outside the weather was gloomy from a light rain that had fallen overnight and the temperature had dropped. The two young women were in a small chamber at the top of the new keep, both wearing gowns of heavy wool as protection against the chill. For the moment, they were the only two occupants of the room, but soon, with the arrival of more guests for the king’s visit, others would invade their privacy. The floor was spread with pallets and covers in anticipation.
Alinor was daughter to Richard de Humez, who was married to Petronille, one of Nicolaa de la Haye’s two younger sisters. Although both her parents were dark haired, Alinor had inherited the Haye glints of copper in her tawny-coloured locks, which now streamed down her back in two long plaits. She was a forceful girl, fifteen years of age, gently rounded and passingly pretty, but with an intractability that she had inherited from her Haye forbears.
The girl she was berating was Alys de Carston, sister to Alain. Alys had lived in the de Humez household for the past three years, since she had been betrothed to Alinor’s younger brother, Baldwin, a boy who was four years her junior. As the two girls were of an age they had been thrown much into each other’s company and had become fast friends. Alys resembled her brother only in her upright posture. She was a gentle girl, with long fair hair that stubbornly curled in tendrils around a heart-shaped face, and with an air of innocence about her that was genuine.
Now she mopped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve and said, “It was the time Sir William came to your father’s manor house, in the summer, and brought Hubert with him.”
“I remember,” said Alinor. “When we had that new minstrel from Anjou.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Alys confirmed. “I was in the chapel-Baldwin had just had a bad attack of his illness and I had gone there to offer up a prayer for him-and Hubert came up behind me. I was all alone, and…” She began to sob softly again, but Alinor interrupted her, impatient.
“Get on with it, Alys. What did he say?”
