The Lions of the North by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston [Marston, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Bright Dart, Genre Fiction, Historical Fiction, Historical, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 9781906288181
Google: 6VStQQAACAAJ
Amazon: B004BLK6LM
Publisher: Ostara Publishing
Published: 1996-11-14T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

RALPH DELCHARD MOVED swiftly to join his friend beside the body.

They examined it with care and soon found the cause of death.

Tanchelm of Ghent had sat in judgement bareheaded. An ugly red weal encircled his unprotected neck. Someone had choked the life out of him with brute force.

“He was attacked from behind,” decided Ralph. “He must have been sitting at the table when the assailant struck.”

“It was the work of a powerful man,” noted Gervase. “My lord Tanchelm was fit and strong. He would have fought an attacker. Even with surprise on his side, the man would have needed strength to subdue him.”

“Strength and skill, Gervase. He was proficient at his trade. Tanchelm was killed by a practised assassin.”

“But how did he get into the room?”

“And how leave it unseen?”

They stood up and looked around. At the rear of the room, some yards behind the table, was a small window high up in the wall. Its shutters were closed but not bolted. When Ralph went to stare up at it, his foot kicked something on the floor. He picked up some fragments of plaster and held them in his palm. When he reached up with his other hand, he could just touch the sill of the window.

“He came and went this way, Gervase,” he said.

“Then he must have been very agile.”

“One leap would have brought him within striking distance of the table. Tanchelm had no chance.” He grabbed the chair and set it against the wall. “Let’s see what is beyond.”

Standing on the chair, he was able to peer out at the narrow alley that ran at the rear of the shire hall to connect two larger thorough-fares. A few people were hurrying along it with baskets over their arms. Ralph jumped down and bellowed for his men. Hearing the urgency in his voice, all ten of them came running at once with their hands on their swords. They fanned out in the middle of the room.

“Foul murder,” said Ralph, pointing to the corpse. “My lord Tanchelm has been killed. The assassin, we believe, came and went by that window.”

The men were shocked. Only five minutes earlier, they had seen Tanchelm alive and well. It seemed impossible that he could have been murdered while they stood outside in the street. Ralph whipped them into action with his commands. Two of them were sent to guard the door and to admit nobody without his express permission. Two more were dispatched in the direction of York Minster to alert Canon Hubert and Brother Simon. Four men were ordered to hasten around to the alley at the rear of the building to search for clues before looking for possible witnesses to the entry or departure of the assassin. One man rode off to raise the alarm at the castle and to return with the members of Tanchelm’s escort who had been on duty outside the shire hall throughout the day.

Only the captain of Ralph’s guard remained behind.

“The North has not been friendly to us, Fulco.

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