World Without End Page 0,410

to keep Wulfric in Wigleigh? He could not chain a man to a plough all day and all night.

Gregory spoke to Nate. "Tell me, bailiff, do you have a suggestion for your lord?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"I thought you might."

Nate took that as an invitation. Addressing Ralph, he said: "There is one thing you could do that would guarantee that Wulfric would stay here in Wigleigh until the day he dies."

Ralph sensed a trick, but had to say: "Go on."

"Give him back the lands his father held."

Ralph would have yelled at him, except that he did not want to give Gregory a bad impression. Controlling his anger, he said firmly: "I don't think so."

"I can't get a tenant for the land," Nate persisted. "Annet can't manage it, and she has no male relations living."

"I don't care," said Ralph. "He can't have the land."

Gregory said: "Why not?"

Ralph did not want to admit that he still held a grudge against Wulfric because of a fight twelve years ago. Gregory had formed a good impression of Ralph, and Ralph did not want to spoil it. What would the king's counsellor think of a knight who acted against his own interests in pursuit of a boyhood squabble? He cast about for a plausible excuse. "It would seem to be rewarding Wulfric for running away," he said finally.

"Hardly," said Gregory. "From what Nate says, you'd be giving him something that no one else wants."

"All the same, it sends the wrong signal to the other villagers."

"I think you're being too scrupulous," Gregory said. He was not the kind of man to keep his opinions tactfully to himself. "Everyone must know you're desperate for tenants," he went on. "Most landlords are. The villagers will see that you're simply acting in your own interest, and consider that Wulfric is the lucky beneficiary."

Nate added: "Wulfric and Gwenda will work twice as hard ii they've got their own land."

Ralph felt cornered. He was desperate to look good in Gregory's eyes. He had started but not finished a discussion about the earldom. He could not put that at risk just because of Wulfric.

He had to give in.

"Perhaps you're right," he said. He realized he was speaking through gritted teeth, and made an effort to be nonchalant. "After all, he has been brought home and humiliated. That may be enough."

"I'm sure it is."

"All right, Nate," Ralph said. For a moment words stuck in his throat, he hated so much to give Wulfric his heart's desire. But this was more important. "Tell Wulfric he can have his father's lands back."

"I'll do that before nightfall," Nate said, and he left.

Gregory said: "What were you saying about the earldom?"

Ralph picked his words carefully. "After Earl Roland died at the battle of Crecy, I thought the king might have considered making me the earl of Shiring, especially as I had saved the life of the young prince of Wales."

"But Roland had a perfectly good heir - who himself had two sons."

"Exactly. And now all three are dead."

"Hmm." Gregory took a draught from his goblet. "This is good wine."

"Gascon," said Ralph.

"I suppose it comes into Melcombe."

"Yes."

"Delicious." Gregory drank some more. He seemed to be about to say something, so Ralph remained silent. Gregory took a long time choosing his words. At last he said: "There is, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Kingsbridge, a letter that... ought not to exist."

Ralph was mystified. What was coming now?

Gregory went on: "For many years, this document was in the hands of someone who could be relied upon, for various complicated reasons, to keep it safe. Lately, however, certain questions have been asked, suggesting to me that the secret may be in danger of getting out."

All this was too enigmatic. Ralph said impatiently: "I don't understand. Who has been asking embarrassing questions?"

"The prioress of Kingsbridge."

"Oh."

"It's possible she may have simply picked up some hint, and her questions may be harmless. But what the king's friends fear is that the letter may have got into her possession."

"What is in the letter?"

Once again, Gregory chose his words warily, tiptoeing across a raging river on carefully placed stepping stones. "Something touching the king's beloved mother."

"Queen Isabella." The old witch was still alive, living in splendour in her castle at Lynn, spending her days reading romances in her native French, so people said.

"In short," said Gregory, "I need to find out whether the prioress has this letter or not. But no one must know of my interest."

Ralph said: "Either you have to go to the