The Elephants of Norwich Read Online Free

sword. The remainder of the escort was now picking its way through the copse, searching in vain for any confederates. The old man was patently alone.
    Golde had instructed her husband well. His mastery of the Saxon tongue enabled him to speak to the captive on his own terms.
    ‘What’s your name?’ he said.
    ‘Alstan, my lord.’
    ‘Where are you from?’
    ‘Taverham hundred.’
    ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘I was driven out,’ whimpered the other. ‘When King Edward sat on the throne, I was a villein and happy to work the land for my master. Times have changed. Under the new king, I became a mere bordar, then my master treated me as a slave. When I tried to protest, he had me whipped and driven out.’
    ‘Whipped?’
    ‘Yes, my lord. I still bear the scars.’
    Alstan struggled up into a kneeling position so that he could peel off his tunic. When he turned his bare back to them, they saw the livid wounds across the pale torso. It was surprising that the old man had survived the punishment. Coureton was shocked and Ralph felt a surge of sympathy.
    ‘We’ll give you food, then you can tell us the full story.’
    ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Alstan, weeping with gratitude.
    ‘That doesn’t mean I condone theft,’ warned Ralph. ‘On the other hand, I don’t condone savage punishment such as you’ve endured. Taverham hundred, you say?’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    ‘Who is this cruel master of yours?’
    ‘The lord Richard.’
    ‘Richard de Fontenel?’
    ‘He drove me out to starve in the wilderness.’
    ‘For what offence?’
    ‘Old age.’
    ‘Do something!’ insisted Richard de Fontenel. ‘Summon your men and do something!’
    ‘My deputy is already looking into the matter.’
    ‘I don’t want a mere deputy. I want the sheriff himself in charge of the case.’
    ‘I have more important things to do than to go searching for missing trinkets.’
    ‘Trinkets!’
    ‘And you’ll not endear yourself to my deputy by insulting him. Why not calm down, Richard? Nothing will be gained by trying to browbeat me.’
    De Fontenel held back a tart rejoinder. Roger Bigot, sheriff of Norfolk, was not a man to be intimidated by a loud voice and a threatening manner. While his visitor ranted at him, he remained icily calm. Bigot was a power in the land, a man who had the King’s trust and a place at his Council table. Constable of the castle, he had recently been elevated to the shrievalty of Norfolk and of its southern neighbour, Suffolk, two large counties with a healthy respect for the name and reputation of Roger Bigot. He was a tall, slim man of middle years with a sagacity and imperturbability rare in a soldier. When de Fontenel came riding angrily into the castle to harangue him, he was given short shrift.
    ‘Return home,’ advised Bigot. ‘Let justice take its course.’
    ‘How can it when you stand idle here, my lord sheriff?’
    ‘I’m never idle, Richard. In addition to affairs of state that require my attention, I have to welcome the commissioners who’ll soon arrive in Norwich.’
    ‘Not before time!’ grumbled the other. ‘They can oust Mauger from my land.’
    Bigot was amused. ‘Mauger is hoping that they’ll shift you from what he claims is his property. Don’t expect too much from the commissioners. They’ll be quite impartial.’
    ‘In that case, I’m bound to win.’
    ‘Mauger feels the same.’
    ‘I don’t care what he feels. Mauger is a sly rogue. An unscrupulous cheat.’
    They were standing in the bailey of the castle, a timber fortress that had been erected soon after the Conquest to attest Norman supremacy and to act as a bulwark against any Danish incursions along the eastern seaboard. The conversation between the two men