Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [258]
He stared at her.
“Pregnant?”
She nodded.
“We’ll do what we can for him.”
She looked up. Her face seemed to wear a kind of scorn, though it was hard to tell.
“He’s killed a deer, hasn’t he? So he’ll behung.” Her voice was flat, but bitter.
He could not remember what he had replied before he had ridden on, but he knew that she was probably right.
Nor as the day approached did there seem to be any more hope. News came that the rebels now had taken not only Worcester and Hereford, but two more castles in the south west as well.
“Perhaps the forest justices will not come,” he suggested to the warden: but Waleran shook his head:
“The king holds all the country except the west. They’ll come.”
It was only on the night before the swanimote that Nicholas came to him with a last proposal. He arrived at the manor at dusk; his round face seemed thinner than usual, drawn with worry; his short, thick fingers were clasped round a small leather pouch which he handed solemnly to the knight and asked him to open it. Godefroi counted the contents out on the table. The bag contained nine marks: six pounds: a sum that it must have taken him years to collect. Nicholas stood awkwardly, afraid to look at Godefroi, but obviously determined.
“What’s this, Masoun?” the knight asked.
“For the agister,” Nicholas replied solemnly.
“Nine marks.”
“It’s all I have my lord.”
Godefroi frowned.
“You mean you wish me to bribe him?” He thought of the stiff, humourless agister, always so precise with every detail of his accounts.
Nicholas reddened, but nodded.
The knight of Avonsford was half angry and half amused.
“You really think he’d take it?”
“Men say he does,” the stoneworker mumbled.
Godefroi was astounded. He had known Nicholas all his life and he knew he would not lie. Obviously there were underhand dealings at Sarum that he did not know about.
“And you dare to ask me to do this?” he thundered.
Nicholas looked at the floor. His stubby hands trembled, but he did not move.
“I am only a poor villein, my lord. The agister would not speak to me.”
But he’d take the fellow’s money, Godefroi thought.
“Get out!” he roared.
Nicholas left hastily. But the nine marks remained on the table.
The following morning, moved by curiosity as much as anything else, Godefroi went early to the agister’s house. Without a word, he tossed him the little bag; and was astonished by the response. With exactly the same blank stare and fixed smile with which he did everything else, Le Portier carefully counted the money.
“You want the boy to get off?” he asked.
“Obviously,” the knight replied drily.
The agister’s expression was serene.
“Nine marks is not enough.”
“It’s all there is.”
Le Portier shook his head. Scarcely able to believe his ears, Godefroi demanded:
“How much then?”
“For Godric Body? Twelve marks.”
With a gesture of contempt the knight gave him three more marks. The agister bowed politely.
“How will you get him off?”
Le Portier considered carefully before speaking.
“The deer was a raskell, you know,” he said thoughtfully. The meant that it was not fit enough for the king’s hunting. “The crime would still be serious, but the court would be less interested. Fewer questions asked.” He paused. “Then,” he pursed his thin lips, “I saw an identical snare set the other day, and a man running away from it. Godric Body was locked up by them, so it probably wasn’t him that set the original snare at all.”
Godefroi listened carefully.
“As for his slitting the deer’s thoat,” Le Portier went on, “I shall say I told him to, seeing her leg was broken. I assumed he had set the snare you see, so in that sense he was caught bloody-handed. Of course, if he didn’t, he wasn’t.” He appeared satisfied. “Of course, the dog will have to be lawed. He’ll pay a fine for that.”
Godefroi could not help admiring the fellow’s cleverness.
“You should have been a priest,” he muttered darkly, and strode away. It was well known that the forest officers often made a profitable business out of their offices, usually